Disclaimer - These characters aren't mine.  The X-Files, Mulder,
Scully, Margaret and the fish all belong to Chris Carter, Ten
ThirteenProductions, Fox and anyone else I may not have thought of.
I mean no infringement, I just wanted to play with them for a while.

Rating - PG for some very naughty swear words. Other than that, your
mother could read it, or even your dear old granny.


Guilt
by Richard655

Two A.M.  Two A.M. and he had already been jolted out of a sound
sleep by one of his nightmares.  Mulder stumbled out of the bedroom
and collapsed on the couch.  He threw an arm over his eyes to block
out the light from the street lamp and tried hard not to think.

Screwing around.  That's what he had been doing.  Getting laid.
Fucking his brains out.  And all the while, his partner had needed
him.  Had called him for help and he hadn't responded.  All because he
had been thinking with his cock.  Mulder turned restlessly, unable to
stop his thoughts.

It was going to be another sleepless night, already broken by
one nightmare and it didn't look promising.  There was nothing on the
TV, even Dionne and her psychic friends had long ago gone off to bed.
The whole world was asleep except for Fox Mulder.  He sighed.

Even Dana was probably fast asleep, untroubled by nightmares. 
Or so Mulder hoped.  At least she had her ratty little dog for
company.  Fish were okay, but lacked a certain companionability.
Mulder sighed again.

Dana.  He never called her that to her face.  Well, hardly ever.
It wouldn't be professional.  And, at all costs, they had to be
professional.  It was only late at night that Mulder let his thoughts
turn away from the professional and toward a more personal point of
view.  Dana's red hair, her blue eyes, even the way she had called
him nuts, all could be a turn-on if only Mulder would let it.  But he
wouldn't.  And he couldn't blame it all on his professionalism
either.

Dana had long ago forgiven him for that horrible night when
Duane Barry had broken into her house and kidnapped her.  She had 
told Mulder over and over that it wasn't his fault.

But Mulder knew better.  And, if Dana knew the truth, he was
certain she wouldn't have forgiven him that easily.  Irritably,
Mulder got up off the couch and padded into the kitchen.  Ice tea
might help.  The kitchen was tidy, reflecting the habits of a man too
busy to cook or not home often enough.  Every time he tried to buy
more than canned goods, he was called away for a week and it spoiled.
One head of black, wet lettuce was enough for him.  He wandered back
to the couch with his drink and settled back in.

His thoughts drifted back...

Mulder had been tired that day.  The fiasco with Barry and the
hostages had drained him more than he realized.  He was keyed up and
edgy and unable to relax. Dana had tried to talk him into going out
to dinner or just going back to her place and ordering in, but Mulder
had refused.

And what if I had gone back to her place?  What if I had been
there when Barry had showed up?  Would any of this had happened? 
Could I have stopped him?  Mulder buried his face in his hands.

Instead of going to Scully's or back to his place, Mulder had
gotten into his car and had driven off to his favorite bar.  Quiet and
dark, he could nurse a beer and vegetate for hours with no one
bothering him.  But the beer hadn't relaxed him and he was still
on edge when she had walked into the bar.  Tall and dark-haired, she
had sat down at the bar with the air of a queen out slumming.  Mulder
had been immediately intrigued.  Few women came in here and those few
certainly didn't look like her.  A new idea to cure his edginess
began to surface. 

He grabbed his beer and got up from his booth, sliding onto the
stool next to her.  "Buy you a drink?" had turned to "Shall we go
back to my place?" within fifteen minutes.  A new record for Mulder.
On the way back to his car, Mulder had turned off his cel phone.  He
didn't want to risk any interruptions tonight.

Back at his apartment, they had kissed feverishly.  Whatever
demons were chasing Mulder, this woman seemed to have some of her
own.  Mulder had been so intent on removing her sweater while
simultaneously shedding his own shirt and tie, that he hadn't even
noticed the red blinking light on his answering machine.  In a frenzy
of need, they fumbled their way into his bedroom.

Mulder scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.  He could
still remember the feel of her skin, see her head thrown back against
his pillow, hear her sharp gasps as he pumped himself into her.  As
desperate for him as he was for her, they had fucked for what seemed
like hours.

And all the while Dana had been trying to call him, had been
frantically begging him for help.

God, sometimes it was just great to be a board-certified
clinical psychologist.  No need to pay out a fancy fee, no need to
even leave his apartment.  He could just stay home and analyze
himself.  Mulder knew that that was why he had given up even the most
casual encounters, why he didn't date.  If it wasn't for his videos,
he might not even remember what a sex life was.  He stood up,
restless, and began pacing.

It wasn't only guilt over Kristen, but guilt at taking such
pleasure while Dana was experiencing such terror and helplessness. 
Mulder was sure that if she had died, the guilt would have killed him
too.  What had he been thinking of, to not only ignore his answering
machine, but to turn off his cel phone as well?  He was an FBI agent,
for God's sake.  He knew better.  He knew that he was supposed to be
available at all times, especially for his partner.  But he had let
his own selfish desires suppress his training.  Make him
irresponsible.

And he had cost Dana three months of her life.  Had made her
experience fear and terror like she had never known before.  Had
caused her innocence to die.  And all because she had put her trust
in a man who thought with his hormones.

Mulder put the now empty glass on the end table and lay back
down.  He was so tired, but he was still too upset to sleep.  He knew
that if he did fall asleep, he would be right back in his nightmare.

Back at Dana's house.  Back with the broken window, the flashing
lights, the broken furniture and the blood.  And Dana's mother,
looking at him with Dana's eyes.  With Dana's trust.  Margaret had
placed all her faith in her daughter's partner, trusting him to find
her daughter and bring her home.  Never knowing that it was all his
fault that Dana was missing at all.

Mulder restlessly turned on his side, watching the brightly
colored fish swimming to and fro in their lighted tank.  Mulder kept
them as a kind of natural tranquilizer, their darting movements
hypnotic and the white noise of the airstone providing a soothing
backdrop. But the fish weren't working tonight.  The guilt was too
heavy a thing to let go of so easily.

Mulder retrieved the remote and began flipping channels.  Dawn
was only a few hours away and it would be easy to catch a few hours
of sleep before work once daylight came.  Somehow the sun made his
fears go away and the guilt lessen somewhat.  In the meantime, there
was always another infomercial.


The End