TITLE: The Eighth Side of the Triangle 
AUTHOR: Susan Jameson(DrBarnBarn@aol.com) 
WARNING: Slash; WIP 
CLASSIFICATION: SRA; M/O slash; S/O; MSR 
RATING: NC-17 for m/m and m/f sexual situations
SUMMARY: Love is as strong as death ... 
SPOILERS: The cancer arc through "Redux II" 
ARCHIVE: Sure. The series is archived at eXpositions,
www.imadethis.org 
NOTE: Missing scenes from "Memento Mori" are assumed here to be canon.
Bill Scully and Mulder met during the abduction arc. I'm going to put
a Navy glossary at the end, but if you want it now, e-mail me.
DISCLAIMER: Daniel, Jill, Jim and the rest of the Reillys are mine;
Mulder, Scully and other characters from "The X Files" are not. 
FEEDBACK: Oh, yes. 





~~~~~

To Michael, with love, forever and always. Because of you, Daniel
Reilly lives and loves Dana Scully. Because of Daniel, a part of you
lives in every word I write. Sleep peacefully, sweetie. I miss you
every day of my life.

~~~~~




The Eighth Side of the Triangle 
The United States Navy

~~~~~

for whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

e. e. cummings 

~~~~~

As Scully Saw It

~~~~~

Three days.

That was all.

Three days until Daniel would report for duty as senior medical
officer of the Nimitz-class nuclear-powered aircraft carrier USS
George Washington, one of the largest and most powerful warships
afloat; indeed, one of the largest objects ever constructed by human
hands. 

After that, it was only matter of weeks until the ship would sail,
along with the rest of the carrier group, to join the UN peacekeeping
force in Bosnia and neighboring waters.

Daniel was undertaking a huge responsibility: In a single year, the
George Washington's medical staff sees more than 10,000 sick call
patients, does about 2,000 flight and other physical exams, performs
about a hundred surgeries, processes thousands of x-rays, and handles
tens of thousands of lab procedures, prescriptions, and immunizations.


And it wasn't just the George Washington; as senior medical officer of
the carrier, Daniel would formally be attached to the flag staff --
the staff of the admiral, commander of the carrier battle group -- and
would supervise medical operations for the entire group.

Daniel would have help from other medical and dental officers, from
the air wing's flight surgeons, medical service officers and enlisted
corpsmen, but the ultimate responsibility for all this would be his.
In addition, he and his staff might be called upon to give aid to the
civilian population where hospitals were destroyed or otherwise
crippled by the ongoing conflict.

The assignment was officially a temporary one, but nothing is ever
certain in the Navy, especially not on a ship that is being maintained
at battle readiness for weeks at a time. There was no way of knowing
how long Daniel would be gone. 

That fact lay hard and cold over what should have been a joyous
occasion: Daniel's promotion to full commander. He was now a senior
officer, entitled to wear gold braid on his cover and to be treated
with the respect due an officer of command grade.

Still, I had the feeling Daniel would gladly have given the promotion
back if it would have given him a way to ease Mulder's pain over the
upcoming separation.

Not that the mood surrounding Daniel was entirely somber: His
promotion party, known as a wetting down, was a convivial affair, from
what I heard. His fellow officers were there, most of them; his
brother, Lt. Jim Reilly, was also there.

That, we hadn't expected. Jim should have been at sea, but his orders
to deploy aboard the USS City of Corpus Christi had abruptly been
changed. Now, he would be leaving aboard the USS Annapolis, a newer
and more powerful submarine, and one which, unlike Corpus Christi, is
armed with Tomahawk missiles. When he would sail, I didn't know, and
he couldn't tell me.

I knew, however, with the sixth sense of a Navy brat, that it would be
soon.

Most of those in attendance were on duty or soon would be, so the
drinking was at a minimum; nevertheless, according to Jim, there were
plenty of glasses raised to the newly minted commander's health. 

Mulder did not go. He knew his eyes would follow Daniel around the
room whether he meant them to or not, and he would not risk exposing
their relationship that way.

I also stayed away. I love Daniel, and I hurt for him because he could
not be with the man he loves on this important occasion, but I
couldn't bear to go even though I knew it might comfort him. It simply
seemed too much like rubbing Mulder's nose in the painful fact that I
could go without attracting attention while he could not.

Daniel said he understood, but there was something in the way he said
it that didn't really make me feel better. 

That was why, only three days before he was to report to George
Washington, Daniel had another wetting down; smaller, less boisterous,
completely unofficial, but accompanied by Mulder, Jim, my mother and
me. We had a quiet dinner at a small restaurant outside the Beltway,
drank a toast to Daniel's promotion and tried to pretend that this was
simply another party.

Mulder said little, but I knew he was in torment. He had never faced
this kind of separation before, and the long separations of Navy life
are a hardship, even to those of us who are born to it and know no
other life. Yet for most of us, there is support and friendship from
the other Navy families, there are letters and photographs, fond good-
byes when the ship sails and joyous greetings when she returns to her
homeport. In today's Navy, there are even shipboard telephones and e-
mail.

But not for Mulder. For him, there would be a furtive goodbye followed
by six months of silence during which he dared not risk a single word
of love or longing, be it by mail, telephone or e-mail. At most, it
seemed, there would be a postcard scrawled with some meaningless talk
of basketball or beautiful women.

That might have been all, that is, had my mother not come up with a
solution: Daniel would write to Mulder, and Mulder to Daniel, but when
Daniel had anything of a personal nature to say, he would address the
letters and e-mails to me and Mulder would write back using my name.
That way, she said, they could say whatever they needed to say without
arousing suspicion.

"There's just one problem with that, Mrs. Scully," Daniel said when
she suggested it. "I might really want to write to Dana sometimes."

Mom waved her hand dismissively. "So you have a code," she said. "Put
something in the subject line or on the back of the envelope that
indicates it's really for Fox."

After much discussion, no one could find any serious fault with that
plan, and so it was adopted. The phrase "Navy life" in the subject
line or on the back of the envelope would indicate a letter from
Daniel to Mulder or vice versa; anything else, and the letter was for
me.

My mom left the restaurant blushing furiously from the effects of two
huge, smacking kisses from Mulder and Daniel; let's face it, they're
both gorgeous and I've never known a woman of any age who was immune
to them, even women who --like my mother -- were fully aware that
they're gay. That even includes one or two women I know who are gay
themselves.

Well, you know -- no one's 100 percent one way or the other, right?

Except Mulder.

Damn it to hell.

Jim, after giving me a kiss that only bordered on chaste, drove back
to Groton, where he was working night and day to prepare for
deployment. Although Jim had earned his dolphins years ago and was a
fully qualified submarine officer, with years of experience in Los
Angeles-class subs, he was still new to this one. He had a lot to
learn before he'd be ready to put to sea.

I don't know whether I was relieved or disappointed when he left. The
heat that was building between us was all but overwhelming to me; I
wanted it badly, but in a purely selfish way, as something to bask in
and enjoy from a distance. It wasn't that I didn't care for him; I
did. I liked him very much, but my feelings for him went no deeper
than that. I wasn't going to abuse his affection for me by making him
into nothing more than a friendly sex partner.

And even if we became lovers, I knew I would never really love him. I
gave my heart away long ago, and I have no desire to take it back
again.

So after Mulder and Daniel kissed me and left to spend the weekend at
Mulder's house on the Vineyard, I went home alone.

And when I was safely in my bed, alone in my apartment, I laid my head
on my pillow and I wept for all the men I loved.

So began the time that would put us all to the test, the time when the
best and the worst in all of us came out, when we so nearly lost each
other to distance, infidelity or death. I cannot yet bring myself to
speak too openly about that time, but much of it is preserved
elsewhere: in letters, in e-mails, in official Navy communications. 

The first of these letters was purely a formality, one expected of any
Navy officer reporting aboard a ship for the first time, outlining the
new officer's qualifications and expressing his or her appreciation
for the assignment. That the officer may not actually appreciate the
assignment is beside the point; the purpose of etiquette is, after
all, to enable people to behave better than they really feel like
behaving.

Daniel asked me to read over his letter, which I was glad to do, as a
favor to him and as a way to satisfy my own curiosity, because there
was still so much I didn't know about his professional life. He's
almost infuriatingly modest about his accomplishments. 

But then, Daniel Reilly keeps a great many secrets locked away in his
heart. 

Daniel's letter was, of course, perfectly done according to form.
Daniel would never allow himself to do anything less.


~~~~~

Department of Orthopaedics
National Naval Medical Center
8901 Wisconsin Ave.
Bethesda, MD 20889-5600


CAPT CARL MEISENHEIMER, USN, Commanding 
USS GEORGE WASHINGTON (CVN 73)
FPO AP 09550-2873

Dear sir:

It was with great pleasure that I received orders to report to your
command to serve as senior medical officer of the USS GEORGE
WASHINGTON.

Although I have served since 1992 as staff orthopaedic surgeon at the
National Naval Hospital in Bethesda, much of my medical and naval
career has been as an air wing flight surgeon. I earned my flight
surgeon's wings in 1985 during a tour of duty aboard USS
CONSTELLATION.

I hold a bachelor of science degree with a major in biology from Duke
University. Following my graduation in 1980, I was commissioned an
ensign through Navy ROTC and was appointed a Medical Officer
Candidate. For the next five years I alternated attendance at Harvard
Medical School with service aboard USS ENTERPRISE and USS ARLEIGH
BURKE. 

I graduated from Harvard in 1985 with a medical degree and a master's
degree in public health and began my residency in aerospace medicine
at the Naval Aerospace Medical Institute, Pensacola, which was
suspended when I served a tour aboard USS CONSTELLATION. I continued
my residency the following year at Naval Medical Center, San Diego.

In late 1986, at the request of BUMED, I returned to Bethesda and
completed a second residency in orthopaedic surgery. I am now board
certified in orthopaedic surgery and board eligible in aerospace
medicine.

In AUG 1990, I returned to active flight surgeon status aboard USS
JOHN F KENNEDY in support of OPERATION DESERT SHIELD/DESERT STORM,
serving there until MAR 1991 when I was sent TAD to Fleet Hospital 5
in Saudi Arabia. I returned to Bethesda in JUN 1991. Since that time,
I have served TAD tours at MCAS Miramar and NAS Oceana, and my flight
surgeon status is current.

My professional associations include: Fellow, American Academy of
Orthopaedic Surgeons, American College of Surgeons; member, Society of
Military Orthopaedic Surgeons, American Medical Association,
Orthopaedic Trauma Association and Association of Military Surgeons,
United States. I am licensed to practice medicine in Maryland and
Massachusetts.

I look forward to returning to flight medicine aboard USS GEORGE
WASHINGTON and to reporting to you in person at your convenience.

Yours truly,

(signed)
Daniel A. Reilly 
CDR DANIEL A. REILLY, MC, USN

~~~~~

TO: reillyda@bethesda.med.navy.mil
FROM: jmreilly@scrippsmercy.org


Dear Daniel,

I'm sorry I wasn't more communicative when you called last night. I
guess I was just surprised to hear from you -- do you realize that
we've been divorced for four years, and it's the first time in all
that time that we've talked on the phone? -- but I was even more
surprised at how I reacted to hearing that you were going back to sea.
It's funny, isn't it? Here I am, living in San Diego, thousands of
miles from you, and yet when I hear that you're going to sea, I get
all upset.

I could pretend that it's just habit, but it's not. I still worry
about you. I always have, but maybe more now than I ever did. I always
worried that something would happen to the ship, especially during the
Gulf War, but I never worried about your shipmates. Now I do. Tell me
I shouldn't, please?

I want you to know that it meant a lot to me that you called. I like
knowing that I'm still on your list of people who need to know what's
going on in your life. I don't think I deserve to have so high a
position, but I am grateful. Maybe some day you and I will be able to
sit down together and talk about where I do fit into your life ... and
maybe some other things. 

I'd say 'talk about them calmly,' but I doubt that will ever happen.
I'd settle for talking about them sadly and affectionately -- do you
think we could?

Give Fox and Dana my regards, and tell them that if they're out this
way on a case, they should call me and come by for a visit. I miss
them both. And no, I'm not just saying that. I really do.

But mostly, I miss you. I know you've got tons of people asking you to
write to them, but if you get the chance, please write to me sometimes
... you still mean so much to me.

Promise me you'll be careful.

Love, 

Jill

~~~~~

As Mulder Saw It

~~~~~

The night before he left ... God, what a night that was.

I don't think sex had a damn thing to do with it. Not that I didn't
screw the socks off him every chance I got, that night and the whole
damn weekend; I did, or he did, or we did something, just as often as
two men approaching 40 could reasonably expect to.

That last night, I was damn near fucked out, but I'm not sure it would
have gone any differently if I hadn't been. I felt like an adolescent
girl, but the truth is, all I wanted to do was hold him and kiss him,
touch him everywhere and try desperately to imprint the feel of him on
my fingers so thoroughly that I'd be able to call that feeling up at
will during the next six months. 

Three years ago, I'd have been disgusted if someone had told me I'd
ever behave that way. Women behave that way, I'd have said. Straight
guys do, but only because they have to. I'm neither.

So I just didn't know shit about being in love. I'm a dumb fuck, what
do you want me to say? 

All I know is that we spent most of that night lying awake, sometimes
talking, sometimes making love but mostly just touching and holding
each other. I really didn't know what else to do. I just kept hearing
those two words in my head: Six months, six months, six months.

Daniel knew what I was going through. He'd been through this before,
with Jill. I hadn't. I was, if you want to put it that way, a Navy
virgin. I didn't have any frame of reference for what it was going to
be like to be separated from him for six months ... six months ... six
months ...

But Daniel knew, and he didn't give me a hard time about it. He took
care of me as best he could. He always does.

"Fox," he whispered, running his hands through my hair, "I know it
seems like forever until I'll be back, but if I've learned one thing
in 17 years of Navy life, it's that every deployment seems like
forever until it's over and then it's almost as though you never
left."

"I'll have to take your word for that," I said. "Right now, I can't
make myself believe you're really going, and yet by this time
tomorrow, you'll be gone."

"Well, I'll be aboard," he said, with a half smile. "Gone is a
relative matter. I guess we'll be sailing in a couple of weeks."

That was another new thing, finding out that Daniel didn't even know
when the ship was sailing. I didn't realize, until Scully told me,
that Daniel wouldn't even have told us where the George Washington was
headed if it weren't for the fact that our security clearance is
better than his. 

"Ships' movements are classified," she said, in a sort of rote fashion
that told me just how firmly that fact had been drummed into her
little Navy-brat head.

No, Daniel didn't know when the ship was sailing. He just knew that it
wasn't going to be long.

As far as I was concerned, it didn't matter. Scully could go down to
the dock and tell him goodbye on sailing day, but this was it for me,
whether he sailed in two weeks or two months. 

Scully tells me the ship's doctor is, next to the captain, probably
the most noticed officer on the ship. Certainly, he's one of the most
important. Unlike the captain, he's considered approachable, someone
you can talk to; anywhere he goes, someone's going to call out, "Hey,
doc!" and engage him in conversation.

So even while the ship was in port, there was no hope of Daniel's
being able to get away for more than a few hours without someone
noticing and asking where he'd gone. Someone would always have to know
where he was, and he'd have to stay close to the ship so that he could
return quickly if he were needed.

No, there wouldn't be another night. Whatever goodbyes Daniel and I
were going to say, we had to say them tonight. Tomorrow, Scully was
coming to drive him to the mainland airport for his flight to Newport
News. I would drive back to D.C by myself.

Just part of the old cover story, you know?

So all that night I lay awake in his arms, absolutely insatiable,
never able to get all I wanted of him no matter what I did to him or
with him, and if I spent a little too much time nibbling on his
nipples, resting my head on his chest or on his stomach, or nuzzling
into the hollow of his shoulder instead of actively trying to do
anything to please him ... well, I had my reasons.

And thank God, Daniel was as willing as always to let me get away with
it. 

Don't get me wrong. Daniel likes sex as much as the next guy --which
is to say, one hell of a lot -- and I promise you, I've never found
anything I like better than having sex with him. He's strong and
beautiful and creative, and he can be patient and slow or quick and
passionate, he can make me smile pleasantly or moan uncontrollably,
and he doesn't just make me come, he makes me laugh ... most of all,
he loves me, and he brings everything he has and everything he is to
our love-making.

But Daniel also knows when I need his body to comfort me, and he's
always been just as ready to share himself with me that way as any
other. I come to bed as needy as a child, and he puts his arms around
me and holds me, he whispers in my ear and comforts me, and he never
speaks of it afterward, and in the morning I get up still feeling like
a man.

It is his greatest gift to me.

Just before dawn, I slept, and I dreamed of Daniel. I saw him standing
on the rocks at Aquinnah in the dark, the waves crashing all around
with the terrible violence of a winter storm. All of us were standing
around him, just looking up at him -- me, Scully, Jill, Jim, even
Daniel's mother.

The storm was terrifying, like the worst late November gale you've
ever seen, and I was afraid, and I reached for Daniel, groping
desperately through the dark, trying to hold onto him so the storm
wouldn't blow me away. 

The storm got worse, and we were all reaching toward him, and there
were too many of us, too many hands for him to hold, but somehow he
did, somehow he lent his strength to us all and although the sea went
on as wild and frightening as ever, wherever Daniel was, there was
light and calm and safety, and none of us was afraid.

~~~~~

As Scully Saw It

~~~~~

I didn't see Mulder when I arrived at the house in Chilmark. 

I could see Daniel, though. He looked wonderful as always, but so
different ... He was wearing the more formal dark blue, double-
breasted officer's uniform instead of his usual khaki twill and lab
coat, with gold braid on his sleeves instead of oak leaves on his
collar, and flight-surgeon's wings instead of his usual surface
medical officer's pin. The insignia and uniform were entirely
appropriate, of course: He was dressed for travel, not for hospital
work, and he was returning to active flight-surgeon status.

Today.

He was standing on the porch just outside the back door, his cover
tucked under his left arm, looking back ... nothing else, just looking
back.

Saying nothing.

I called his name softly, and he turned toward me. I don't think I'd
ever seen him look so sad. But he smiled, put on his cover, picked up
his overnight bag and walked down the steps to the car where I was
standing.

"Right on time, as always," he said, kissing me on the cheek.

"You're not the first sailor I've seen off to sea, Daniel," I said,
handing him the keys. "I know better than to be late." 

"I suppose you do," he said, as he unlocked the trunk and put the bag
inside, but his eyes were elsewhere ... on the house. The back door,
to be precise. 

Normally, I'm the first one to say sure, yes, let's ignore the
elephant in the middle of the living room, but this one was just too
huge even for me. 

"How is he?" I said, quietly, but Daniel looked up almost as quickly
as though I'd snapped out an order.

Then he gave a little shrug and a little less than half a smile.
"Upset and trying not to show it," he said, closing the trunk. "About
what you'd expect."

"I know," I said, "I used to hate it when my father was at sea. I
still hate it when my brothers are out. I worry about them every day
until they're home. This isn't easy under the best of circumstances."

"No," he said, and this time he managed a little more of a smile. "And
these definitely aren't the best of circumstances." He looked back
toward the house just for a moment, and then turned back toward me.

"Dana," he said, very quietly, "if he gets too unhappy, if it seems he
really can't deal with it, let me know. I'll find a way to get in
touch with him. He's had so much to bear in his life, and as you said,
Navy life isn't easy even for those of us who grew up with it."

"I will, Daniel," I said, with what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
"I'll take care of him for you. Please don't worry."

He laughed a little at that. "I would never," he said, and he put his
arms around me, "ever in my life be so presumptuous as to suggest
that's what was going on here. Most of the time, I think I'm the one
who's taking care of him for you."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, as I put my arms around his neck and
laid my head on his shoulder. "You two belong together more than any
two people I've ever known. I'm just glad that I get to be with you
sometimes."

"So am I," he said, and he kissed me, a sweet, gentle kiss but with
just enough warmth ... well, it was a Daniel kiss. That's the only way
to describe it. And I knew I was going to miss those kisses terribly
over the next six months.

God, my life would be so much easier if either he or Mulder weren't
quite so masculine or so damned attractive. Even if just one of them
didn't affect me this way ... but no, it's got to be both of them.
What's even worse is thinking about them together ...

I had to stop myself right there. Daniel didn't need that from me;
what he needed was comfort, because if anything, he was hurting worse
than Mulder was.

It wasn't hard to see that, either. Daniel's become more openly
affectionate over the past couple of years, but this -- holding and
kissing me outdoors, while he was in uniform -- was more than unusual,
it was all but unheard of.

Still, it was all right with me. Holding Daniel is one of my favorite
things to do. I've gotten more affectionate in the past two years, too
-- but only with him, or Mulder.

For that matter, I'm not even sure I can imagine hugging Daniel in a
Senate committee chamber.

"Dana," he said, as I nestled against him again, "I need to ask you
one more favor."

"Anything, Daniel, you know that," I said.

"I know you don't like to go places with me when Fox can't go," he
said, "and I understand your reasons. But just this once, I'm going to
ask you to do that, to come down to the dock when the ship sails."

I looked up at him in surprise. "Why, Daniel?" I said. 

He smiled, but he almost looked embarrassed. "It's just that if you're
not there, there won't be anyone," he said, quietly. "And as many
times as I've been to sea, that's never happened. I just ... in all
honesty, Dana, I just don't want to be alone that day. Will you come?"

If I hesitated at all, it was only because of Mulder, because I
couldn't help wondering how he would feel when I announced that I
needed a day off and why ... but there was never any doubt that I
would do as Daniel asked, not when he put it that way. He seldom asked
anything of me, and this was more than just a favor he was asking;
this was a need, and one that only I could fill.

"Of course I will," I said, and the gratitude in his eyes nearly made
me cry. "Just call me when you know, and I'll be there."

He didn't say anything, but he kissed me again and held me close.

We got in the car. I drove all the way while Daniel slept. He didn't
wake up until we got to the airport in Providence.

There were no goodbye kisses there. My Daniel was an officer again,
and displays of affection while in uniform in so public a place are
strictly forbidden to officers. But he held my hand briefly before he
walked to his gate.

"I'll call you," he said, and then he was gone.



END "The Eighth Side of the Triangle"(1/?) 
by Susan Jameson (DrBarnBarn@aol.com)