Subject: NEW: 'I Want You' (1/1) by Catwoman Reply To: TheCatwoman@toosexyforyou.com Classification: V, UST, hints at MSR, a bit of SA. Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance, UST Rating: G (woh! That's pretty good for me. Anyway, a couple words, nothing you wouldn't hear on the show...which is, of course, 14 or 18+ depending on where you go---in Canada, at least. ) I Want You By Catwoman Disclaimer: I have absolutely nothing witty to say. I'm really pissed off at Chris right now, so I don't even know if I want to give him credit for these characters. (Anyone else angry at him for 'Patient X'?) I mean, it's obvious that he doesn't love them, he does such awful things to them...no matter what you say, I think he's meaner to them than fanfic writers are. Well, except maybe SynnerX, she's pretty mean to them...oo, and Karen Rasch...and can't forget Madeleine Partous...ah, forget it. I have no point to make, obviously. Anyway, 1013 and Fox are responsible for Chris who's responsible for the characters within this story. The lyrics quoted at the beginning and the end of this story belong to Savage Garden ('I Want You'). I'm *perfectly* willing to give them credit for their song (which I am finding increasingly annoying at the moment, but which just fit the story *so* well...). Distribute: Please post to XF Fanfic and ATXC. DO NOT POST TO GOSSAMER. It is already there. Thanx. PLEASE NOTE THAT IF YOU ARE READING THIS ONA NEWSGROUPOR MAILING LIST, UNLESS YOU SEND FEEDBACK TO THE FOLLOWING ADDRESS I WILL NOT RESPOND: TheCatwoman@toosexyforyou.comTHANX Spoilers: None, really. A bit for 'Christmas Carol'/ 'Emily', maybe, a couple for 'Chinga'...that's about it. Oh, and of course I'm assuming everyone knows about the cancer. Note: This came to me as I was on my way to a public bathroom (don't even ask), and I had just been reading a Laurie King novel, so if it seems a little long-winded (which, of course, Scully is anyway), blame the mystery novel writer, not me. (In other words, be prepared for sentences of Alice Munro proportions---I do apologize; I have a penchant for that sort of general abstractness.) WARNING: If you're not a 'shipper, you should probably go away now. Especially if you don't believe there's major UST and attraction and stuff between M&S...in which case, well, you're crazy. Even Chris doesn't deny that! Thanx: Thank you to SynnerX for writing me back when I wrote to you (and for being a fellow Cary Grant fan ), and to Galia for your wonderful feedback (that's right...somebody read my stuff!). I would also like to thank Vince Gilligan, because he is a beautiful man. (Anybody else still thrilled about 'Bad Blood'? ) Dedication: I would like to dedicate this to my new Net friend, Shannon O'Connor, for being a friend and for writing inspirational stuff and all that (K, I'm sure you'd be inspirational too...you just gotta post your stuff, honey! That means: David, get your ass in gear and fix the damn word processor!). David, sweetheart, you'll get a dedication next time. Meanwhile, thanx Shannon, and I hope we keep corresponding. And I promise that someday I'll finish plowing through all your vignettes... Summary: Mulder pulls the whammy and Scully still doesn't have a scientific explanation... And now, finally, on with the story! ***** Anytime I need to see your face I just close my eyes And I am taken to a place where your crystal mind And magenta feelings take up shelter in the base of my spine Sweet like a chic-a-cherry cola I don't need to try to explain I just hold on tight And if it happens again I might move so slightly To the arms and the lips and the face of the human cannonball That I need to, I want to Come stand a little bit closer Breathe in and get a bit higher You'll never know what hit you When I get to you ***** We had played our little game long enough, Mulder and I, that I had come to know all the best and most devastating moves and had built my finesse with their movements to perfection, and yet he still continues to contribute new and brilliant ones, ever-so-slowly and frighteningly tipping the scales in his direction, which is exciting for me because I enjoy the passion with which he takes on the task of wearing me down, as with any other...but which is also intensely frightening for me because I still do not know what he intends to do with me if and when he wins me over. The last time my heart had beaten as it does now had been when he had jokingly proposed to me over the phone---and joking he certainly had been, but the very reference to such a thing: the thought of a life of calmness and domesticity where for once we would perhaps be able to solidify and live simply or simply live, being as it may, was enough to send my heart into a frenzy of activity that rivaled its riots of those nights when my thoughts about Mulder were not quite so domestic. My secret infatuation, perhaps even obsession, with my partner is such that a simple joke may send me into a horridly young and devastatingly *female* state. I am amazed and ashamed. But for all the years of wisecracking and tender words of friendship that always was forced to override anything else, nothing could have prepared me for the move he made tonight. My king is in check and my thief threatens to break free. Never would I have thought that he would be so clever and underhanded as to confront me with my own truth. If it were simply one of his vague allusions towards truth, as I am so used to, perhaps I could have brushed it off as I usually do or shot back an equally tormenting jibe as I had so rarely done but had been doing more of since my liberation from the demon that had held my tongue even faster than my body. I suppose with me it is indeed all linked---with my body's freedom came that of my soul, and with that came the freedom of my heart, both of which were jeopardized by the discovery and loss of my daughter but strengthened by the resolve of pain, and after all this, I think, came the opening of my mind, which, as my boss once said, has probably become too open. But being that rather than skirting the issue Mulder was full out dirty-dancing with it, I had no idea how to react. If I parried, I would be lying; if I thrust, I might kill something, in all likelihood him, and quite possibly myself in that process. Why is it that now, of all times, Mulder chooses to finally confront the attraction that both of us have surely, and silently, known has existed for almost five years, one might ask? Well, I would answer matter-of-factly, it is because my partner is a brilliant man. He has chosen the time of my freedom, or what my logic calls vulnerability, compounded with my newly acquired secret humor that will not deny him his fun, even if it physically jeopardizes mine but makes me laugh with gleeful apprehension within, to spring this on me, because it is also the time of his own weakness and strength, and he wants to know if I can take what I get. Oh, I can take it all right. *All* that I can get. But do I tell him this? When he asks me in that horridly placid tone, his hands on his hips and his eyes sparkling with sweet mischief, "Do you ever...want me, Scully?" do I reply in truth or allow us to linger for another millennia of misplaced seconds and minutes ticking by on a watch with no chain? Ready, set, go. The eyebrow goes up, the hands on hips. By the way one side of his mouth turns up I can tell that he's sure he knows my answer as he watches me work up to it. Take this, smartass. "Sometimes." ***** Conversation has a time and place in the interaction Of a lover and a mate but the time of talking Using symbols, using words can be likened To a deep sea diver who is swimming with a rain coat ***** Ooh, I want you I don't know if I need you But ooh, I'd die to find out... ***** THE END...not as sappy as some of mine, you think? 'I find it remotely plausible that someone would find you hot.' *** You like? Let me know *** Flames will be used to decorate the Catacomb ***