TITLE:  Focus 2: Frame By Frame 1/1
AUTHOR:  Laine
EMAIL: loislane@bright.net
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Sure, go ahead.
SPOILER WARNING: Assumes US Season 6 up to, but not including, Rain King

CONTENT WARNING: MSR - no romos (is there such a thing?) won't like this
at all.
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR
SUMMARY: Companion piece to "Focus" This can stand alone, but certain
events and reflections will make a little more sense if you read that
one first. If you'd like to read it, you can visit my webpage at
www.bright.net/~loislane I can and do, however, send emails - so if you
don't feel like searching for it, all you have to do is ask.
DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully don't belong to me (DUH) If they did,
there would be no need for relationshippy fanfic. I'm only borrowing
them, I promise.
COMMENTS:  This is, as always, and most especially, for my eviltwin,
Lana, who gets to sleep with Mulder every night. But, you'll have to ask
*her* about that. It's also for all you wonderful people who sent
feedback and encouraged me to write another. You know who you are! THANK
YOU!
FEEDBACK: yes, please - I write back! loislane@bright.net

Scully stepped away from the closet once more, as if shifting her
perspective would make the proper attire materialize. Texas would be
much warmer than the harsh DC winter, but her dry-cleaning had fallen a
little behind. Not that she was particularly busy of late, she thought
with a rueful shake of her head.

She ran her fingers quickly through her coppery hair, tucking it firmly
behind her ears, and let out a short, loud sigh. It didn't matter anyway
- this wouldn't take long, she was sure. Just a day or two and they'd be
heading back for the bitter weather she was accustomed to, where her
closet made sense once more. If only life would follow suit. Mildly
frustrated, she tossed the last of her necessities into the waiting jaws
of her travel bag and gave the zipper a sharp tug.

As was her custom, she quickly scanned the room for missed items, then
ticked off the mental checklist that had become second nature to her in
the last six years. Satisfied nothing was forgotten, she turned and
headed for the kitchen, where the ritual hot tea awaited, bringing the
promise of nightly reflection. Bubble baths, ice cream and bedtime tea -
three of the limited girlish indulgences she allowed herself.

And so what if having tea seemed quaint and girlish, she thought as she
settled into her sofa, steaming mug of honey lemon in hand. This was the
time she used for herself, to regain some centered feeling of peace in a
world that too often pulled in too many directions at once.

Tonight, however, that familiar feeling of well-being that usually
lulled her into a sleepy state, was not forthcoming. Her delicate
forehead creased softly and she pulled at her bottom lip, replaying the
day's events in her head. She worked through most of the images in her
mind as she glanced idly around her apartment. Her gaze stopped on the
picture of her family, standing proudly around her mother's kitchen at a
time when it had been known as her parent's kitchen.

For one precious moment in time, every member of her immediate family
had been captured effortlessly on film, pressed firmly together as they
struggled to scrunch into the frame. The cheery faces grinned out at
her, looking happy, carefree and loving. Dear Lord it was almost like
trick photography. She remembered the day the photo was taken, and the
emotions flying around that kitchen had been anything but the sitcom
perfection the photo presented.

The frown deepened a bit when the memory spilled forth. Although this
had been one of the very last complete family portraits ever taken of
the Scully clan in all its formidable glory, the day was far from
picture-perfect. Had something to do with her little announcement
concerning a career choice in law enforcement, if memory served. Her
father's anger and disappointment was echoed perfectly by Billy, who
made a grandiose show of huffing and puffing in his own special,
annoying way whenever they inhabited the same room.

Charlie had reacted much like her mother had, sweet and sensitive in
private but furtively avoiding and even downright diverting conversation
of the topic in the presence of The Captain. Why spoil the family
reunion with talk of trivialities, like Dana's future, for instance?
Better to just weather the storm - The Captain wouldn't stay mad at his
little Starbuck for long. Either that, or she would bend to his will
eventually. She usually did, after all.

And Missy, well, Missy was already drifting from the family. She was
gone before she ever left. At the very least, she was stubborn enough to
openly support her kid sister. Scully remembered being grateful for
Missy's championing of her cause, even if she only did it for another
way to grate on their father's nerves. Scully felt her eyes mist over as
she thought of her sister, and the picture softened and swam like a
swirling mezzotint.

She squeezed her eyes shut, offering just the right amount of pressure
to shove a solitary tear from her eye. It made a fat, lazy descent down
her smooth cheek, tracing the lines of those shed before in moments of
pain, turmoil, or even in those of joy or quiet reflection.  Her head
felt heavy, weighed down by the memories and thoughts snapping away in
her mind, flashes and fragments interrupted each other, only to be
chased down by the emotions nipping at their heels.

Her fingers clung tightly to the waning warmth of her mug, still
implanted firmly between strong, steady hands. She took a deep, calming
breath and let it out slowly, keeping her eyes closed and

*tap*

Her eyes opened slowly, and she stilled to the point of holding her
breath. The noise was soft, almost not there but

*tap*
*t-tap THUNK*

She sighed as she stood, sitting the mug on her coffee table and swiping
at the remnants of moisture on her face as she made her way steadily
toward the door. She didn't bother checking to see who it was - she
simply gave the deadbolt a swift twist and then yanked on the doorknob,
revealing him, one shoulder propped against her doorframe, one hand
tucked securely in a leather pocket. They appraised each other silently
for a moment and the eyebrow arched quizzically at him before she could
stop it.

"All packed?"

She stepped to one side of the door in wordless invitation and he
entered, turning to face her as she secured the deadbolt once more. She
ignored the question, but not the teasing tone in his voice.

"Am I experiencing missing time, or are you about seven hours early?"

The grin reached his eyes before his lips followed suit in the form of a
fleeting smirk.

"Missing time, Scully?" A slight shake of his head registered mock
disapproval. "Time is a universal invariant. Surely you know that."

The eyebrow reached a record high on that one. But, his earlier mood had
apparently held on, and after this evening's ruminations, it was a
welcomed distraction. *He* was a welcomed distraction.

"All right then, what's your theory?" She crossed her arms in her usual
fashion and allowed her head to fall slightly to one side as she sparred
with him, preparing for whatever was to come next. Feeling only slightly
ridiculous, taking this stance in her white robe, she sought out his
eyes with her own. It was a little harder to keep a straight face than
normal, given their current subject matter and the fact that she was
about three inches shorter than usual, sans heels.

He met her quizzical gaze evenly, and the familiarity of their positions
warmed her more thoroughly than any herbal tea. How many times had they
done this? How many sleepless nights had they thrown theories and
science to and fro in a game of cerebral dodge-ball, waiting for that
one direct hit to shake the other to the core? It was a game started
long ago in a cemetery in the very plausible state of Oregon, where the
rain had pelted her body as his spirit had pelted her soul.

The sudden flash of that night in her mind's eye dimmed as she stared
expectantly up at him, and new images slid forward, gaining speed, frame
by frame, in an endless slide show of circular arguments, each one
sharper and more endearing than the last.

"New phenomenon concerning time." His rich, chocolate voice wrapped
around her, bringing her reverie up short.

"What now?" As she had earlier, she let him take the lead in this game.
She had no choice ó as familiar as it was, she felt the shift in the
rules. Something had changed. The game was evolving. It had been, she
supposed, for years.

"Lost time."

Had she not been so caught up in her attempts to decipher what new joke
he was working to reveal, she might have heard the inflection in his
voice. A subtle change, a slight softening as he spoke the words. As it
was, she continued her attempts at deflection.

"Lost time? Isn't that the same thing, Mulder? If it's lost, it's
missing."

The steps he took to invade her personal space should have been a
warning, but she was used to that. Used to him. They stood too closely
all the time. Nothing new in that. Her heart always sped up, just a bit,
when he leaned into her and lowered his lips close to her ear. It was a
conditioned response in anticipation of the private little thrill it
gave her to hear his raspy whisper. She secretly delighted in the feel
of the little puffs of heated breath against her neck as he drove a
point home. Nothing unusual about that at all, she thought. She was
almost used to that, too.

She always allowed her lashes to lower a tiny amount as he positioned
himself, waiting for the rush of warmth that would come, no matter what
his words, no matter how ridiculous they would be. The practiced
reaction caused her to miss the unusual shimmer in his diamond eyes as
he moved in, ready to speak.

"Wasted time, Scully."

His shoulder brushed hers softly as he walked past her, just a few
steps. She felt, rather than heard, him turn. She could feel the
intensity of his eyes upon her back, and knew, without a doubt, where
this was going. Where he wanted it to go. With them, it was always what
was left unsaid that was the most integral part of any conversation, and
they had mastered hidden meanings in their own special brand of code
years ago. It drove most other agents they worked with batty.

But in his usual, frustratingly touching fashion, she had an out. She
could simply turn and face him, and continue the game. Or she could call
his bluff and force him to explain what he meant. Or, she could simply
throw herself into his arms and tear his clothes off and they could talk
later. Whatever.

OK, maybe not, she thought, the rational side of her brain kicking free
and finding a voice once more. Granted, she could barely hear it over
the rush of emotions and pounding of her heart in her ears. After
waiting for so long for them to reach this point, she felt like she was
the edge of a nervous breakdown. She actually had to fight the urge to
burst out laughing before she switched gears and battled tears. And
still, she could not turn.

She *had* to get a grip before she faced him, but knew that every second
she took was torturing his fragile soul. She simply did not trust her
voice, her heart, or any part of herself at this moment. This was what
she had wanted, needed, *longed* to have for the past four years and
now, when she was faced with it, the most powerful emotion gripping her
was fear. Fear of the unknown, certainly, but, more specifically, an
overpowering fear that no matter which road she chose, it would
invariably be the end of them.

She had thought, on nights when she allowed her imagination and longings
free reign of her soul, that she had successfully battled these demons.
So much so that when faced with this moment, it would come easily, and
be incredibly right - simply adding a new dimension to their perfect
partnership, a new piece to the puzzle, a new frame to the growing store
of picture-perfect moments between them.

But now, doubt reared its ugly head. What if this was wrong? What if
they really weren't compatible in this way? What if leaping headfirst
into this new realm would instantly destroy what had taken years to
build? Could she handle this, could she handle *him* in this new way?

Her heart, and admittedly, her body, screamed at her mind to just shut
*up* already. But her mind knew that she was the rationality of this
partnership, and if her her decision tonight was anything, it needed to
be rational.

Slowly, Scully drew herself up to her full height, such as it was, and
turned to face him. She could do nothing to rid her eyes of the tears
she knew hung there, other than shed them, and that was something she
refused to do. So there they stayed, shimmering in the crystal blue,
forming a small ocean of meaning for him to see. She willed him to see
the love, the depth of feeling in them, and watched as his own flickered
with apprehension over what those tears might mean.

"You're right," she said, finally finding her voice. Was that her voice?
She thought fleetingly. It sounded so weak, so different from the one
she relied upon to announce her authority to all who would hear it.

She cleared her throat slightly and began again. And although the words
were stronger the second time, they were no less laced with feeling.

"It sounds like a phenomenon we should begin investigating ."

Scully would swear later that she saw his own eyes mist over as she
spoke the words, but there would never be a way for him to deny the
sheer relief that filled them as she spoke the words. Her heart sang as
recognition and acceptance washed over his features, and suddenly, she
was taking the lead in their game. The stakes were higher this time, and
she knew he recognized that fact.

"OK, Scully, we'll investigate it, then."

She smiled softly at him, knowing he understood, as he always did, the
true meaning in her words. It had taken them so long to get here,
jumping  into a relationship didn't seem prudent. It wasn't how they
operated. If slow and steady wins the race, then we're a sure bet at any
marathon, she thought.

But with her simple, innocent words, she'd offered consent and
agreement. She'd explore this with him, just as she had explored so many
extreme possibilities in the past. Cautiously. Not unwilling to
believe...just wanting to reach the right decision through a careful
process of weighing the truth.

He stepped close to her once more, taking her face in his hand. Her
heart leapt into an erratic rhythm as he leaned in and brushed his warm,
soft lips against her own in a reverent offering of acceptance and love.
As he pulled away, she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. He was already
wondering if he'd gone to far, pushed her too quickly. She smiled at him
in reassurance, then allowed him to enfold her in the warm circle of his
arms. He dropped another soft kiss atop her head, and stroked her hair
softly with one hand.

When he pulled away, she was immeasurably chilled through, her body
instinctively missing his warmth.

"I'll see you in the morning then," he said, his eyes shining more
brightly than she remembered.

She didn't reply, merely nodded softly and watched him leave, knowing
that whatever they uncovered in this new investigation would bring
truths they had only aspired to find in the past.

End Focus 2: Frame by Frame
Stop here or keep going? Let me know...loislane@bright.net