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


"What is it, then?" he said, quietly.

"It's ..." I began, and then stopped. I had no idea how to say this.

"Is this something else about Josh?" Mulder asked, looking very
concerned.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's not Josh. It's ... Mulder, while
I was in jail, someone put a folder in my cell."

I stopped again. I didn't want to do this. I really didn't.

"Something in that folder upset you?" Mulder asked, very gently.

I nodded.

"Can you tell me what it was?"

I swallowed hard. "Photographs," I said. "Of you and ... someone
else."

Mulder went very still. "Alex Krycek?" he asked nervously.

"No, not Krycek," I said. I should have been surprised by that, I
suppose, but on some level I think I always knew that something had
happened between those two. It was the only real explanation for
Mulder's intense hatred of Krycek.

"Who was it, Scully?" Mulder said. He was worried; more than that, he
was a bit frightened, I suppose.

No matter how little I wanted to, I had to tell him. I couldn't leave
him hanging like that.

"It was a woman named Kristen Kilar," I said, my throat feeling as dry
and gritty as sandpaper. "It seems someone ... set you up, Mulder."

There was a long silence.

"That wasn't what you think, Scully," Mulder said, quietly. "You have
to believe that."

"I do," I said quickly, putting one hand on his upper arm. "Really, I
do. I saw the notes in the case file, Mulder. I know why you went to
her."

"I thought she'd kill me," Mulder said, in a dull, flat tone. "And at
that time, that was exactly what I wanted."

"I know," I said, and I laid my head against his chest again. "And I'm
so, so sorry that you had to go through that. I'm even more sorry that
someone apparently manipulated you into that situation."

"I can't see how," he said, but he was thinking hard. His drive to
investigate, to understand, will surface at the oddest times.

"I'm less interested in how than in why," I said.

"Why is easy," he said, thoughtfully. "Blackmail. I suppose they sent
you those pictures because they wanted to make you angry at me, to
make you talk."

"That was my conclusion," I said, as matter-of-factly as I could,
although in reality, it was killing me to have to think about this, to
talk about it, especially when I was lying in Mulder's bed with my
arms around him.

He noticed, too.

"It hurt you pretty badly," he said, softly. "I'm sorry, Scully."

I shook my head, almost in annoyance. "It's not your fault," I said.
"I never blamed you for anything."

"There's a very important unspoken 'but' there, Scully," Mulder said.

I nodded. "I just ... well, when I saw the photographs, I thought ...
I mean, I had thought ..." I stopped. I couldn't bring myself to admit
it.

But this was Mulder, and I didn't really have to tell him. No matter
how much anger and distance there's been, he still understands me.

He held me a little more closely, his lips warm and gentle against my
temple.

"Nothing happened, Scully," he said, and he kissed my forehead
lightly. "And nothing ever will. If I ever really made love with a
woman, it would be you."

It would be you.

For the first time, I realized how badly I'd wanted to hear him say
that. Yet now that he had, I could hear the finality of his choice.

If. If he did.

But he never would.

I'd known that for so long; now, it was time to accept it.

I pressed myself closer to him, taking his head between my hands and
pulling him toward me for a kiss. "I love you, Mulder," I whispered as
I pulled back.

"You'd better," he said, with a shaky laugh. "You see what happens to
me when you're not around?"

"I see," I whispered, and I kissed him again. "And I'll always be
around when you need me. Nothing could make me leave."

"Don't say that," Mulder whispered back. "You're tempting fate,
Scully."

"Since when are you superstitious?" I asked, pulling back so I could
see his face.

"Since it comes to anything that might take you from me," he said, and
he held me close. That quieted me, as always. "It's all over and done
with, Scully," he said, his lips nuzzling into my hair. "Forget it. My
career is safe -- and so is yours, which is far more important to
humanity."

"If you're right about what we've been investigating for almost four
years, your career could be worth everything to humanity," I said,
holding him tightly. "I know it's worth everything in the world to
me."

"You're a minority of one," he said, and he kissed the top of my head
quickly. "But thanks anyway."

I didn't answer him. I was exhausted by the effort of this long, but
entirely necessary conversation. "I need to go back to sleep," I
mumbled, laying my head on his chest again.

"Sleep, then," he said. "I'll stay here with you until you wake up."

"Stay with me forever," I said, but I was already drifting off. I
didn't hear his answer.

I didn't need to hear. I already knew.

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

As Jill Saw It

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

Go walking with me, he said.

We won't go very far, he said.

And we'll stop the minute you get tired.

Daniel is such a liar sometimes.

When he asked me, I envisioned a slow stroll down the beach. I had
completely forgotten that he had a fitness exam that day, and that
he'd be even more determined than before to prove to himself how fit
and healthy he really was.

The slow stroll turned into the Martha's Vineyard Death March. By the
time we finished, my legs were burning, my throat was dry from gulping
cold air and I was freezing to death because the perspiration was
making my clothes damp.

It was not one of our better moments, and I'll admit it: I was
thoroughly annoyed when we finally got back to the house. I was so
tired I just collapsed on the front steps, when all I wanted to do was
head straight for the shower and then go back to bed. I suggested to
Daniel that he do the same, so he'd be rested up for his physical.

He made a rather odd face when I said that.

"I don't think I can do that," he said, apologetically, as he sat down
beside me. "I mean ... Fox and Dana are in there, and I don't think
they want to be interrupted."

"Excuse me?" I said. I couldn't have heard him right, could I?

"They're just ... taking a nap, I guess," Daniel said. "They've done
it before."

"And that doesn't bother you?" I asked, amazed.

"No," he said, so firmly that I had to believe him. "It doesn't bother
me. I know that sounds strange, but it doesn't. Fox honestly isn't
interested in her that way."

"She's interested in him, though," I said without thinking, then put
my hands to my face as I realized what I'd done. "I'm sorry, Daniel,"
I said. "I shouldn't have said that."

He smiled and shook his head. "I already knew, believe me."

"I was right the first time," I said, leaning back on my elbows. "I
don't understand the way you three do things. I can believe that he's
not interested, but I can't quite believe he wouldn't do it just to
make her happy."

"I don't think that's what either of them wants," Daniel said, wiping
his forehead with the sleeve of his Navy sweatshirt.

"I wouldn't, either," I said, unthinkingly. I didn't realize what I'd
said until I noticed that Daniel had stopped talking.

"It wasn't like that, Jill," he said, very quietly, looking down at
the gravel walk. "It really wasn't."

"Daniel, I'm sorry," I said. "I wasn't talking about you and me ..."

"Maybe you were," he said, interrupting me, which is unusual for him.
He normally has such perfect manners.

I thought for a minute. "Okay, so maybe I was, Dr. Freud," I said, and
that made him smile. "Maybe I've been wondering for the last three
years whether you ever really wanted me."

"I did," Daniel said, firmly. "I very definitely did. I used to lie
there afterward, looking at you while you slept. I'd think of how
beautiful you were, how soft and sweet and pretty, and I'd wonder what
the hell was wrong with me that I didn't let this happen more often."

"I wondered that, too," I said, softly. "When I found out, though, I
started wondering why you ever let it happen."

"Because I loved you," Daniel said, looking at me with those beautiful
eyes. "Because you were beautiful and it felt good to touch you;
because you were the only person on earth who made me feel loved and
accepted. Isn't that reason enough?"

"It is for me," I said, and without even thinking, I leaned over and
kissed him. It wasn't until I sat back and saw the look in his eyes
that I remembered: I hadn't kissed him in almost four years.

For a minute we just sat there, staring at each other, wondering what
to do next, I suppose.

Daniel decided for us, as he usually does. He bent forward and he
kissed me again, his hand resting gently on the back of my head. It
was a sweet kiss, a loving, tender kiss, the kind he always used to
give me.

"God, I've missed you, Jill," Daniel said, a bit hoarsely, resting his
forehead against mine. "I never wanted you to go out of my life. I
wish I had the right to ask you not to."

"I never wanted that either," I said, and for once I didn't care that
I was crying. "I'm not sure I want it now. There's a part of me that
wants to call my nursing supervisor right now and tell her I'm going
to stay here and get my old job back at Johns Hopkins, but I can't. I
can't stay here where you are, Danny, because there are some things I
just can't do yet, and one of them is to watch you walk into a bedroom
with someone else."

He flinched at that. "Jill, I'm ..." he began, but I interrupted him.

"I know you're sorry," I said, and I laid one hand on his forearm,
stopping him. "I'm sorry, too -- for a lot of things. But this is no
one's fault; it's just a fact. Dana and Fox started out as friends and
they've never been anything more, no matter how complicated their
friendship gets. That's not how it was with us."

"I know that," Daniel said, slowly. "I know it makes a difference. I
hate it, though. I wish we could be friends."

"We are friends," I said, letting my hand slide down his arm and
taking his hand. "We've been friends since we were kids. But we're not
_just_ friends, Danny, and we never will be. I can't do what Dana does
-- I can't sit on the couch and wait for you to emerge from the
bedroom, I can't see you with someone else and not be hurt by it. It's
not because he's a man, either; it's just that he's where I wanted to
be, where I used to be, with you. I can't get around that; not yet."

Daniel nodded, swallowing the way he does when his feelings run deep.
"Fox has it easy in some respects," he said. "He's never doubted what
he was, and he's never been with a woman or wanted to be with one.
It's all so clear for him. He's never hurt anyone the way I hurt you."

"Was it so hard for you?" I said, stroking the back of his hand with
my thumb.

"Very," he said. "It took me a long time to understand that falling in
love with you, wanting to be with you, didn't make me straight; it
just made me a gay man who'd fallen in love with one particular
woman."

"Me?" I said.

"You," he said, holding my hand more tightly. "You're just that
special, Jill."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," I said, but without thinking, I laid
my head on his arm.

"It got me twelve of the happiest years of my life," Daniel said,
leaning his head toward me, pressing his cheek against my hair.

"Aren't you happy now?" I said.

"Yes," he said, with such assurance that I knew he meant it. "I'm
happy -- in most respects. But I still miss you, and I still hate what
I did to you."

"You have to stop that," I said, softly so my voice wouldn't break.
"You have to put that behind you. I understand why it happened. That
doesn't make it hurt less, but it makes me much less angry, at you and
at myself. It's time for both of us to move on."

"And for you," Daniel said, turning to look at me again, "that means
back to San Diego."

I nodded. "It means back to San Diego," I said. "I don't have much of
a life there, Danny, but what I do have is my own, and I'm beginning
to see that as a positive thing. It's going to be a long time before I
can think about doing anything else. I have to be able to live without
you in my life, and to be happy that way, before I can have you back
in my life and be happy about that, too."

I thought he might pull away from me then, but he didn't. He just sat
there, holding my hand, his head bent protectively over mine,
holding me close with his other arm.

"I do love you, Jill," he said, quietly. "I always have. I always
will."

He took his arm away then, but he kept hold of my hand; he raised it
to his lips and kissed my palm.

"I don't begin to understand how it works," he said, slowly, still
holding my hand, "but I know, as sure as I'm sitting here, that on
some level, you and I are still part of each other and always will be.
I never want that to change."

"Do you really believe that, Danny?" I asked. "Do you think it's like
C.S. Lewis said, that when two people make love they create a bond
that's eternal, beyond time and space?"

"I think it is," he said, pulling me closer. "I mean, I don't know
about the rest of the world, but I'm pretty sure it's true of you and
me."

I tucked my head under his chin and nestled against him like I used
to, listening to his heart beating. I felt hot tears rising and
soaking into his shirt, but I didn't try to stop them; they were tears
of happiness, not sorrow, and I didn't want them to stop.

Then I felt Daniel's fingers under my chin, gently tipping my face up
to his. Daniel said he could never hide anything from me, but really,
it was the other way around: I could never hide anything from him. He
didn't just see my heart or know my heart, he _was_ my heart, from the
very beginning right up until the end.

For one fleeting instant, I was afraid: afraid of loving him again,
afraid of wanting him, afraid that I couldn't look at him without
recoiling from the memory of him kissing another man. I wanted to
remember him the way he looked when we were at peace with each other. 

I turned my face upward toward his again. 

And it happened again -- that strange sense of deja vu, that feeling
that time had turned in on itself, and it was Daniel looking back at
me, the Daniel I'd known and loved for more than half my life, with
eyes the color of midnight and a smile so gentle it could break your
heart.

I couldn't give him everything he wanted from me, but that didn't mean
there was nothing I could give him.

So I kissed him, very gently, stretching up to reach his mouth just as
I'd always done it when we were together.

It was goodbye, yes; but it was also a promise that I would come back,
someday. Maybe not someday soon, but someday ...

Someday.

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

December 9, 1996

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

As Mulder Saw It

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

"A weather anomaly near the Mexican border," Scully said, with her
typical I-can't-believe-this-crap lift of the eyebrow. "All right,
Mulder, I'm sure you're going to tell me there's an X File in there
somewhere."

I nodded. I'd rather eat a bug than let Scully know it, but I love
this moment in our investigations. People think Scully's skepticism
annoys me, but it doesn't usually; when she challenges me at the
outset of a case, it's a good feeling, a solid feeling, as though
we've hooked ourselves together again, that we're joined in the only
way we really can be, and I do love it.

She'd probably _make_ me eat a bug if she knew that.

Anyway, I was opening my mouth to explain when Scully's favorite
oldies station took one step too far in the pop-music direction. It
was REO Speedwagon, which I particularly hate. It's so fucking sappy.

But there they were, singing about how they can't fight this feeling
any longer and it's grown to be more than friendship and all that
crap. Without even asking her, I reached for the knob to change the
station.

Then I felt a cool hand on mine.

"Don't," she said. "I want to hear this one."

"You want to hear this one?" I said, disbelievingly. "Scully, you hate
this kind of schmaltz."

"I just want to hear it this once," she said, sounding a little
nettled. "I'm not going lite rock on you, I promise."

Shrugging, I put my hand back on the wheel and went back to thinking
about how I was going to sell Scully on the need to investigate yellow
rain.

And then I realized Scully was singing along with the music; under her
breath, so I couldn't really hear, but her lips were definitely
moving. Her eyes, however, were fixed on something far in the
distance, almost as though she wasn't really here with me right now.

That was strange: Strange enough, in fact, to make me stop to listen
what she was singing to. I'd never really listened to this song
before; I hate that kind of music. Normally, so does she.

But this one had gotten her attention.

And as I listened, I knew why.

The chorus. The chorus, that says it's time to bring the ship into the
shore ...

Scully had found her song.

Now I had to find a way to survive it.

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

Two weeks later.

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

As Scully Saw It

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

El Chupacabra. El Chupabullcrap, I say.

The only thing worse than chasing down Mexican goat suckers is the
realization that our next case may well be even more weird, and that
my fellow agents are probably concocting new derogatory nicknames for
me and Mulder even before we get the paperwork filed.

I must love him. I'd have killed him by now if I didn't.

I was so absorbed in the frustratingly bureaucratic multi-part expense
forms that I didn't even hear Daniel come in. If Mulder hadn't stood
up, looking very surprised, I probably would have sat there forever,
oblivious.

"This is a surprise," Mulder said, and he sounded as though he meant
it. "What brings you here this time of day?"

"I had a couple of things I wanted to tell you," Daniel said, dropping
his cover on Mulder's desk. It took me a second to realize what I was
seeing: There was gold braid on the bill of his cover.

I whirled around in my chair and looked at Daniel's shoulderboards.
Sure enough, there were three full stripes there.

"Oh, Daniel, why didn't you tell us?" I said, rising and giving him a
hug. "You didn't even tell me you were up for commander."

"You got promoted?" Mulder said, looking a little wounded.

"I did," Daniel said, but he didn't look as happy as a man should when
he's just gotten a major promotion.

"What's wrong, Daniel?" I said, puzzled. "Don't tell me you're not
happy about the promotion. It's a big one for an officer your age --
you'll almost certainly make admiral at this rate."

"Maybe," he said, quietly. "But this promotion is kind of a good news,
bad news thing."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "What's the bad news?"

Daniel didn't answer for a moment; when he did, he spoke to Mulder.

"I have orders," he said, and I felt my heart sink.

"Orders ..." I said. "TAD orders, I hope?"

Daniel nodded; he still wasn't looking at me, though.

Mulder just looked puzzled. "What does that mean?" Mulder asked.
"What's TAD?"

"It's temporary additional duty, and it means I have to leave
Bethesda," Daniel said. "Not forever, but I'm going to be spending the
next three to six months as senior medical officer of USS George
Washington. She's a carrier, part of the U.N. peacekeeping force."

"Peacekeeping force as in ..." Mulder began, then broke off as the
realization flooded over him.

Daniel nodded.

"Bosnia," he said.



THE END ... BUT NOT FOREVER.



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