"The Seventh Side of the Triangle" (12/13)
by Susan Jameson(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)
See part 1 for disclaimers, etc.


"My plan," he said, his mouth muffled against my throat, "is to take
you back to the house, lock the bedroom door and nail your ass right
to the mattress so you'll never doubt what I really want again as long
as you live."

"Really," I said, between breaths -- very deep breaths, too. His mouth
was getting damn close to my ear. "You promise you'll be gentle with
me?"

"Uh-uh," he said, as he sucked my earlobe into his mouth and nibbled
it for a few seconds. "In fact," he said, in that deep, husky voice
that never fails to turn me on, "I would go so far as to say I will
definitely not be gentle with you."

Oh, Jesus. How the hell does he always know exactly what I want? I
swear I don't know. I just know I can't get enough of him.

I started to pull him down on the sand, but he was way ahead of me. He
put his arms around me and laid me down so that I was on top of him,
lying between his legs, and he was kissing and touching me in a way
that made me think I might be pretty damn tired and sore in the
morning -- and pretty goddamn happy, too.

The only trouble was, I knew there was a good chance the others would
be coming along soon, and the moon was still shining brightly. Scully
could deal with it if she saw us like this, but I was reasonably
certain that Jim and Jill would have a lot harder time with it.

"Daniel, stop," I said, none too convincingly. "We can't do this
here."

"Too much sand?" Daniel murmured, pushing my shirt off my shoulders
and nuzzling at my throat.

"Too damn public," I said, putting my hands on his shoulders and
reluctantly rolling off him. "Unless you're feeling way more
exhibitionistic than usual, we need to get the hell back to the house
before I start ripping your clothes off."

I got to my feet, dusted the sand off my jeans and reached down to
help him up.

"You know something?" Daniel said as he took my hand and pulled
himself to a standing position. "That's the first intelligent thing
you've said all night."

"Fuck you, Reilly," I said, softly, taking him in my arms.

"I'd rather do it the other way around, but whatever," he said, with
an evil grin, and then he kissed me gently. "Come on, lover," he said.
"Let's go."

************

Thursday
6 a.m.

************

As Daniel Saw It

************

"Daniel?"

I felt a soft hand on my cheek and opened my eyes. It was Dana, of
course, kneeling beside the bed, looking beautiful as always with
those red curls all anyhow, her eyes unmade-up and blue as the sea.
Normally, when I'm off duty, I sleep like a log. That she can wake me
this way still surprises me.

That I want her to surprises me even more.

"Mmm," I said, sitting up. "What time is it?"

"It's 6 a.m.," she said, smiling her apology. "But you said you wanted
to get up early today."

"What exactly was I on when I said that?" I said, rubbing my eyes. I
hear her soft laugh.

"As best I can recall," she says, amused, "we were eating dinner and
you were telling Sleeping Beauty here," indicating Fox, "that the two
of you should get up and go for a walk before breakfast, and you asked
me to wake you."

"Obviously, I'd had too much to drink," I said, and she laughed again.
I smiled back, then looked over at Fox, who was sleeping peacefully
for the first time since we returned from Russia. It seemed a shame to
wake him ...

I looked back at Dana. She wasn't looking at me; she was looking at
Fox, with that same mixture of love and sorrow that always comes over
her when, in an unguarded moment, she lets herself see him as he is.

For a moment I just watched her, remembering how he and I had made
love last night, how greedily I drank in the sight and sound and scent
of my lover's passion, more drunk on him than I could ever be on the
wine ...

And here was Dana, who loves him, who would give her life for him, who
has given up more for him than I think he'll ever know and has done it
in spite of the heartache it's caused her, done it over and over with
incredible courage and poise.

Her lips were trembling just slightly as she watched him sleep, but I
knew her courage hadn't deserted her; it was still there, calm and
strong.

God, life can be perverse sometimes.

"He'll always love you, Dana," I said, and it startled her. It
startled me, too. I wasn't sure exactly where that had come from.

She smiled at me, though: a sad little smile, painful to see, yet
beautiful, as everything about her is.

"I know he will," she said, but there were tears in her eyes. "I love
him, too, and I think, I hope, that, in time, we can go back to where
we were with each other before ... all this happened. But it's so
hard, Daniel, and I'm so afraid. I don't want things to change between
us."

"Things change whether you want them to or not," I said, and I took
her hand. "You're a Navy brat. You should know by now that you can't
hold back the tide."

"I know that," she said, and the smile faded, just a little. "I just
don't want it to wash everything away. I want to keep what we have ...
forever. I'm just selfish, I guess."

Selfish. I doubt Dana even knows the meaning of that word, it's so
alien to everything she is and does.

No -- when it comes to Fox, I'm the one who's selfish and greedy. I do
love him and want him for himself alone, but last night as we lay in
each other's arms I knew that with every kiss, every touch, I was

taking back what was mine, repossessing him from Alex Krycek and
Kristen Kilar and everyone else who's ever used him and left him hurt.

But I can never reclaim him from Dana. He was hers first, and he will
always be hers, as she will always be his. I wouldn't change that if I
could. I love them both, and I love what they are to each other; it
hurt to see how much distance there still was between them. It was
painfully clear every time they spoke to each other, every time they
didn't touch each other. All their attempts just kept falling short,
leaving them just a bit more wary, a bit more afraid to open up again.

I sighed, without meaning to, and she looked at me quickly, then away,
her face flushed with shame. She knew I'd caught the look in her eyes.

"I should go get dressed," she said, getting up. "I've got so much to
do today."

"No, don't," I said, reaching for her other hand. "Stay here a while."

"Stay?" she said, sounding completely confused.

"Stay," I repeated, as I threw the covers back. "Lie down for a
minute. It's cold in here."

"Daniel, are you sure?" she said, genuinely surprised.

"Sure that it's cold in here or sure I want you to lie down?" I said.
"Either way, the answer's yes."

"Well ...," she said, hesitantly, "I guess I am still a little sleepy.
If you're sure you don't mind."

"If I minded, I wouldn't have suggested it," I said, holding my arms
out to her. "Come on, let me hold you for a minute. I haven't been
able to do that for a long time."

She smiled at that. "It has been a long time," she said, very softly.
"And I've missed it."

"So have I," I said, still holding out my arms to her.

Finally, she gave in. She slid into the bed and nestled into my arms
with a little sigh that could break your heart. Well, it could break
mine, anyway. Somehow, while I was dealing with all these convoluted
events and complicated relationships, I forgot about the one and only
uncomplicated relationship in my life.

And I need that ... I need it more than I'll ever be able to tell her.

"You feel good," I said, and I kissed her forehead. She did, too: all
warm and soft and small and female. That may not be my first
preference, but I can still appreciate it, if only from an aesthetic
point of view. With Dana, it's a little more than that, though.

I don't think I'll ever tell her that; but then, I'm not sure she
needs to be told.

"You feel good, too," she whispered. She didn't say anything else for
a long time, and I thought she might have fallen asleep until she
spoke again.

"Daniel, what's going on with him?" she said, in a tiny, hesitant
voice, so unlike her usual speech.

"Maybe you should ask him that yourself," I said, but she shook her
head, her hair making a slight rustling sound against my chest.

"I can't ask him," she said, pressing her body just a little closer to
mine. "Every time I've tried, he turns and walks away."

"Did he do that while you were in Boca Raton?" I asked in some
surprise.

"No," she said. "We've been so busy there wasn't time to talk, I
suppose, although something in me keeps telling me he'd find the time
if he really wanted to talk."

"That may be true," I said, sliding my free hand into her hair. She
likes that, and so do I. "Although I think the problem is more one of
overload than avoidance."

"What does that mean?" she asked, turning her head to look up at me.

"Well," I said, and then paused. "It's ... he and I have had some
trouble lately, too, Dana."

"I know," she said, softly, and she kissed my cheek. "I mean, I
noticed the tension. He didn't tell me about it. But is it all right
now?"

"Yeah, it's all right," I said, and I held her closer. "It just took a
lot of conversation to get to that point, and I think he's about
talked out right now."

"So I just wait," she said, sadly. "At least I've got plenty of
practice."

"There's nothing to wait for, Dana," I said. "Maybe he hasn't said
anything to you, but I haven't heard or seen anything that would make
me think he's withdrawing from you on purpose."

"Even if it's accidental, Daniel, it's still a problem," she said.
"It's affecting our work. This last case was the worst yet; I warned
him about Alex Krycek, and he wouldn't listen to me. What happens next
time?"

"Dana, I don't know," I said. "As I said, you really ought to ask him
that."

"How can I, when he never has time for me?" she whispered, sliding her
head just a little lower. I know why she does that; she says she likes
to listen to my heartbeat. She told me that when she was staying with
me after her hand surgery, and it touched me deeply. It touches me
even more deeply now.

"He's got time now," I said. "I'm going to wake him up, and then I
think I'll go see if Jill wants to go for that walk with me."

"Daniel, no," she said, pushing herself off me. "You don't have to do
that."

She didn't really seem alarmed, just reluctant. Whether it was at the
prospect of my leaving her alone with Fox or at my taking a walk with
Jill, I didn't know. And to be honest, it didn't matter: I knew, in
spite of her protests, that she really did want to be alone with him.

And that was okay with me. It's been a long time since I worried about
that.

I rolled over to the other side of the bed and touched Fox's shoulder
to wake him. He opened his eyes slowly.

"Morning, sleepyhead," I said, smiling at him. He's so beautiful when
he wakes up.

"Good morning to you, too," he said, in a voice thick with sleep, and
then he smiled. "I see we have company."

"Yeah, I'm trying to persuade Dana to stay for a minute," I said. "I'm
going to go for a walk, and I thought maybe she could keep you out of
trouble."

"Can't be done," he said, raising himself on one elbow and leaning
toward me for a kiss.

I leaned over and kissed him and smoothed the hair back from his
forehead. "Why don't you see if you can persuade her?" I said.

"How do you propose I do that?" Fox said, looking at Dana with that
half-tender, half-wary expression he gets when they're not getting
along.

"You're asking me?" I said, and they both laughed.

"Hey, you're the one who was married, not me," Fox said, flopping back
down on his pillow.

"So that makes me the expert on women, I suppose," I said, and I
ruffled his hair. Sometimes I think I shouldn't do that, but he seems
to like it, and God knows I do. "I have only one suggestion, lover," I
said, more quietly.

It amazes me sometimes how quickly he can become absolutely focused. I
suppose it was the endearment that got his attention; I'd never called
him that before unless it was just the two of us.

"And what might that be?" he said, just as quietly.

"Talk to her," I said.

************

As Scully Saw It

************

This is going to sound very strange, but I didn't want Daniel to
leave. It _had_ been a long time since I'd been in his arms; the last
time, in fact, was a couple of weeks before he was shot.

To be honest, I was a bit on edge about Daniel, much as I love him,
just because Jill was there. All the little signs of Daniel's
affection that I had come to take for granted -- the hugs, the kisses,
the hand-holding -- were on hold for now. I couldn't bring myself to
be that familiar with Daniel in her presence, knowing that all that --
and more -- had once been part of their relationship and now was not.

In fact, it's entirely possible that, if she hadn't been there, I
would have spent at least some of my nights in Daniel's bed. We'd done
that before in times of stress; it was, of course, entirely platonic,
but I liked being close to him, and Mulder had made it perfectly clear
that he didn't mind.

Being in bed with Mulder was, of course, a horse of a different color.

For several minutes after Daniel left, I just lay there, wrapped up in
the sheets still warm from Daniel's body, and wondered what it was
that Daniel thought it was so important that I hear.

Mulder didn't move, either, or say anything, and that made me even
more apprehensive.

It was Mulder who finally broke the silence.

"You're nervous about being here with me," he said, his voice level,
but I knew he was hurt. I don't know how I knew, but I knew.

"Not about you," I said, rolling over on my side to face him."I'm
nervous about whatever it is that Daniel wants you to tell me."

"I am, too," Mulder said, brushing one strand of hair off my forehead.
"I don't want to upset you."

All right, that was ... terrifying. It was so terrifying that I
actually considered telling him to keep it to himself for the next
century or so.

That was too cowardly, and anyway, Mulder deserved better from me.

"Well, you have to tell me now or I'll be even more upset," I said,
reasonably enough, I thought.

Mulder fell silent. He was thinking hard; I could almost see the
wheels turning in his head.

"It started after the Paper Hearts case," he said, slowly, as though
he still wasn't sure he should say this. "He called me into his office
the day Daniel got out of the hospital."

"That must have been unpleasant," I said.

Mulder just shrugged. "I didn't enjoy getting chewed out, but it
wasn't too bad. You know, Skinner's built like a brick shithouse, and
when he's angry and his muscles are tense, it's just that much more
evident."

"Is that a fact?" I said, amused in spite of myself. "I never really
noticed."

"Yeah, like hell you didn't," Mulder said, smiling at me. "You know as
well as I do that Skinner looks good enough to eat, with or without a
spoon. Take that statement any way you like."

"I wasn't thinking anything except that I believe you're wasting your
time," I said, but I was still smiling. "Skinner's straight and you're
committed."

"Very happily, too, thank you," Mulder said. "But shit, Scully, I'm
not made of stone. I've been known to check Skinner out from time to
time, but that's as far as it goes."

"Uh-huh," I said, thoroughly unconvinced.

"Well, okay, maybe I occasionally indulge in a minor fantasy or two,
but it's just idle thought," Mulder said, a bit sheepishly. "It
doesn't have anything to do with what I feel for Daniel. Even if I
were attracted to someone else, I'd never put our relationship at risk
that way. Never. Besides, Skinner would probably beat the shit out of
me if he knew what I was thinking when he turns his back on me."

I laughed aloud in spite of myself. "You never cease to amaze me,
Mulder," I said.

"I hope not," he said, smiling back at me. "Anyway, as I was saying:
We were there to talk about the Paper Hearts case and my OPR hearing,
but during the conversation he told me he'd had a phone call from
Georgiana Reilly."

My heart skipped about two beats, the next pulse striking with such a
resounding thud that I almost imagined Mulder could hear it. I'm
pretty sure he could feel it.

"What did she want to tell him?" I whispered.

"Just exactly what you think she wanted to tell him," Mulder said,
looking me straight in the eye. "She was calling to out me."

"And did she?" I said, my throat dry.

"Not exactly," Mulder said. "I mean, she told him, all right. But she
didn't out me because, it seems, AD Skinner already knew."

"Oh, my God," I said, putting my hands on my head. This was worse than
I'd imagined. "How?"

"How did he know?" Mulder said. "I asked him that, too."

"So what did he say, Mulder?" I asked, impatiently. He loves to spin
out a yarn, whether he's trying to get me involved in another X File
or just explaining his latest theories on intergalactic conspiracy.

Yet now that I looked at him more closely, I began to wonder whether
there wasn't something more behind this dilatory recitation than just
Mulder's love of drama.

"Mulder, what aren't you telling me?" I demanded. This was beginning
to frighten me just a bit.

"Scully," he began, then stopped. "Look," he said, with a sigh, "I'll
tell you, but you've got to promise me you're not going to blame
yourself, all right?"

"Blame myself?" I said. "Mulder, for God's sake, tell me. Was it
something I said?"

"No, nothing like that," he said, shaking his head firmly. "It was
someone else. Look," he said, turning to face me again. "Skinner told
me not to worry, that he already knew and it didn't matter."

"He doesn't care?" I said. "I mean, I know it's not technically
against Bureau policy ..."

"He doesn't seem to care," Mulder said. "He said something about not
caring if I wanted to fuck the entire offensive line of the Washington
Redskins. I was so close to telling him I'd like to try that ..."

"Thank God you didn't," I said. "And then?"

"I thanked him and I asked him how he'd found out," Mulder said, and I
thought I saw pity in his eyes. He was pitying me? But why?

"Mulder, what aren't you telling me?" I said.

"He said," Mulder said, slowly, "that he got a phone call last year
from a federal prisoner who claimed to have information about me that
Skinner might want. He said he went to see this prisoner, who was
incarcerated at Cumberland FCI in Maryland."

Oh, my God. Now it was my turn to look away. "I suppose," I said,
slowly, "there's no need for me to ask who that prisoner was."

"It was Josh Larrimore," he said. He put one hand on my shoulder.
"It's not your fault, Scully; nothing bad came of it anyway, so let's
just forget about it, all right?"

"I can't," I said. I felt like crying. I still couldn't bring myself
to look at him. "Mulder, there's no telling who else Josh may have
told. For all we know, he may have told the Navy, too. He's vindictive
enough."

"Yes, he is," Mulder said. "And he did. He sent several letters to the
Bureau of Personnel, Scully."

I used to wonder what people meant about breaking into a cold sweat.

I didn't have to wonder any longer. It was happening.

"Were any of them about Daniel?" I asked, and I heard my voice quiver.

"Every one of them was about Daniel," he said. "But Skinner's not
without friends in the Navy; for that matter, neither are you.
Evidently, he was able to persuade certain highly placed officers --
several of whom know the Scully name quite well -- that Josh was
acting out of jealousy because you went back to Daniel after Daniel's
testimony helped put Josh in the penitentiary."

"So what happened to the letters?" I asked, trying unsuccessfully to
moisten my lips. My mouth was dry as a desert.

"No one seems to know," Mulder said. "Put it behind you, Scully. It's
over. He can't hurt you or anyone else now. You need closure for that
relationship; you deserve it."

"Mulder, closure is rather an abstract concept," I said, still a
little shakily. "Maybe an impossible one. For some relationships,
there is no closure, and it's a waste of time to try to find it."

I felt Mulder's arm shift under me as he laid me gently on my back and
rolled onto his side, facing me.

"If you don't find it, you may not be able to move on," he said,
softly brushing my hair off my face. "And you need to move on, Scully.
It's time."

"I can't," I whispered. "I don't know how."

It was hard to talk; for some reason, Mulder's touch was having a much
more profound effect on me than usual.

"Why not?" he asked, still running his fingers through my hair.
"Scully, I'm not going to feel betrayed if you fall in love."

"Won't you?" I said.

"No, I won't," he said. "I wish you could believe that. I see you and
Jim getting closer every time you see each other, but you're still
holding back and I think it's because of me."

"Jim and I are friends," I said. "Nothing more than that."

"I think it is more than that," he said, gently. "And that's not a bad
thing, Scully. What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid," I said, although that wasn't quite true. I was
afraid: afraid that, after all he and I had been through, I was about
to forget all those hard-learned lessons of the past four years and
let myself hope for something I could never have.

"I think you are afraid," Mulder said. "And I think it has a lot more
to do with Jim Reilly than with Josh Larrimore."

Damn him, he was still touching me. I felt shaky and fluttery and hot
all at the same time, and confused.

Very confused.

"I'm not afraid of Jim," I said, and I put my hand over his. I
couldn't think with him touching me that way. "But I'm very afraid of
losing you."

"That's not going to happen," Mulder said, softly. "How many times do
I have to tell you that?"

I laughed, shakily. "I don't know," I said. "A hundred? A thousand? I
can't help it; I have no ... template ... for this relationship."

"Do we need one?" he asked. "Can't we just be what we are?"

I couldn't answer that one. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I
shook my head. "I don't know," I whispered. "I always thought so."

"Scully," Mulder said, "I love you. I'll always love you. But what I
feel for you is different from what I feel for Daniel, and different
from what you're beginning to feel for Jim. It's no less real, and no
less likely to last, just because it's not sexual."

"It's not sexual for you, Mulder," I said, and I reached up to touch
his face. "As you've pointed out before, I am straight. I can't feel
what I feel for you without wanting you; that's just the way I am."

"I know that," he said, and there was nothing but compassion in his
eyes. "It's always going to be painful, for both of us, unless maybe
the day comes that you can't take it anymore. I hope that doesn't
happen, but if it does, it does. You deserve a real relationship with
a man who can love you in every way there is."

"You love me in all the ways that matter," I whispered, and I kissed
him. His kiss was soft and sweet, as it always is.

I don't think the day will ever come that I won't want that anymore.
I'm sure of it.

We lay there for a long time in silence, and I, at least, was feeling
more peaceful and relaxed than I had in a long time. Sometimes, there
is no real substitute for physical closeness. I need to remember that.
Even if it isn't sexual, it's nice to be the only woman in his life
...

But I wasn't, was I? I thought, shuddering as the memory forced its
way into my conscious thought. There was one more ghost to be laid to
rest, and it was a big one. I couldn't let it stay there, chilling the
air between us and slowly killing our trust in each other.

"Mulder," I said, reluctantly, "there is one more thing we need to
talk about."

"God, Scully, have a little pity," he said, groaning dramatically.
"This is one hell of a lot of talking for a guy. I'm beginning to see
why straight guys go so pale when women say they need to talk."

"Mulder, I'm serious," I said, and he immediately dropped the
histrionics. He could tell I meant it.




END "The Seventh Side of the Triangle" (12/13)
by Susan Jameson(DrBarnBarn@aol.com)