Divergence by Jennifer Scott Mirax327@aol.com http://members.aol.com/mirax327/home.html Rating: NC-17 Keywords: M/S, Angst, post-ep (all things) Spoilers: all things Classification: VA (*maybe* VRA, but that's a looooooong stretch.) Distribution: Gossamer, Ephemeral, Spookies, Smutsters: definitely. Anywhere else: of course, but I'd appreciate knowing where. Feedback: Pretty please. With a Mulder on top (or bottom, if you so prefer.) Summary: When little surprises you, and you anticipate much, it's what you don't expect that hurts the most. Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and The X-Files belong to Chris Carter, 10-13 productions, and Fox. I make no money from this, and no infringement is intended. But M & S tell me they have much more fun with me than CC. Note: This is by no means songfic, but I have realized that I had Moby's "Porcelain" in my head the entire time I was writing it, and it matches the tone of the piece rather well, IMO. That should give you some clue where this is leading up to, but if you have it handy, you might put it on as you read this. X~X~X~X~X Divergence by Jennifer Scott X~X~X~X~X He wasn't particularly surprised when they collided in a flurry of caresses. He anticipated it when she gasped a dozen endearments and promises into his ear as he coaxed her over the edge again. But he never expected her to have crept away before morning ever arrived. X~X~X~X~X Evening X~X~X~X~X They sat in his apartment, enveloped in a silence that had little to do with companionship, and everything to do with a sudden loss of words. When Scully leaned her head against the back of the sofa, she closed her eyes and firmly decided she would never open them again. Weary, she was the Duchess Anaesthesia: the lost, sleepy daughter of the Romanovs. If only she could persuade her own mind the bubbling of that damned aquarium was something stately and regal. Mulder placed his hand against his face, and she opened her eyes, resenting that her resolution had lasted all of four seconds. She swore she'd only forgive him for his disruption if he reverently placed a Faberge egg into her palm in obeisance. That directive proved even more short-lived than its predecessor. When he took her hand and pulled her to her feet, moving toward the bedroom, she meekly followed. Not touching, they lay down between heaven and earth, just below a mirror that reflected their image, but with a false simplicity. They slept. X~X~X~X~X Night X~X~X~X~X He opened his eyes, and she stared on at him, unblinking and unrepentant. The three, maybe four feet between them was a simultaneously negligible and insurmountable distance. "What if it all does come down to one choice, Mulder?" The voyeuristic mirror stared on with its customary silent attention. "Does that scare you?" A question to a question. Scully marvelled at his ability to answer her question and yet divulge neither insight nor information. "If the sum of a life comes down to one choice, and you choose poorly, then your whole life has been wasted. Why shouldn't that scare me?" "Fear is an emotion, and there is no should or ought that governs feelings." He twisted between the sheets, his clothes rasping against the linens. "That being said, I still don't think you should be worried about this." Scully made a mouth and shot him a sour look. He ignored her and continued. "If your whole life comes down to a single choice, then no matter how many wrong choices you make on the path to your ultimate decision, you'll wind up at the same place. Hence, if each of those thousands, millions of choices leads to the proper outcome, why wouldn't the choice that needs to be made-- along with its correct solution-- assert itself." "That's ridiculous, Mulder. Every minutae of daily life would lead you in a different direction. It's inconceivable that anyone would allow happenstance to dictate the substance of their lives." Mulder laced his fingers together behind his head. Lying quietly on his back, he gazed at Scully's reflection in the glass above their heads. "How is it more ridiculous to believe a choice sufficiently important won't allow itself to be diverted than to believe that there is only one choice to be made in life?" Morosely, Scully looked to where Mulder lay across the bed from her and silently conceded the point. "Then, what's the use of doing anything, if it'll all end the same anyway?" Mulder let his eyes drift shut. "Please recognize that you have just very nearly asked me the meaning of life. As far as I know, no one else has, as of yet, elucidated a universally satisfying answer to that particular question." Scully resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "So?" "So? So you're not allowed to disagree with my opinion. I can't prove it, but you can't disprove it. Do you still want me to answer?" Scully surprised Mulder when she didn't answer immediately. He had expected a snapped rebuke, but what he received was a moment's delay and a quietly spoken, "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want the answer." Mulder opened his eyes and rolled to face her. "It may sound hedonistic, but the point of doing things is for the pleasure of it all-- wherever you can find it. For some people, it's in morality, chivalry, charity. Or nobility, decency, and honor. Or gratification, physicality, and contact. Or intellect, justification, and propriety. It's different for everyone." When she didn't respond immediately, Mulder sized her up, gauging her reaction. Finally, she whispered, "Where do we find our pleasure?" "Do you mean 'we' or 'me'?" Evenly, he met her stare and returned it. "We." Plural. Plurals tended to be dangerous. Mulder looked back at Scully, but didn't answer her. Finally, frustrated, she turned to observe the reflection of their bodies reclining parallel to each other. "What about this, then: odds are, I'll never make it to the choice I need to make, and even if I do, I'll choose the wrong path. Why bother, then? Why not just go with the wrong choice from the outset?" "Why set yourself up for definite failure?" He responded. "I don't think the odds are so godawful that you need to give up before you ever get there." "Unless you're right about the correct choice asserting herself," Scully shot back. "As far as your theory goes, provided that I choose the most enjoyable path, it's all been worthwhile, and I'll get where I need to be anyway." "This is true," Mulder acknowledged. Silence reigned for a span of minutes, as each lay down with their thoughts, ignoring their partner. Finally, Scully half-crawled/half- rolled to where Mulder lay. Suddenly, the distance between them was nowhere near as far as it had seemed scant moments before. She swung her left leg over his hip and straddled his groin. "Here's to spiting the right choice." Scully pressed herself to Mulder-- her lips to his, her body to his, her sex to his. A surge of hormones and lust both erased and clarified Scully's memory; later, she wouldn't be able to remember how they had removed their clothing, but she clearly recalled the instant they both lay on their sides and faced the other with no barriers between them. Mulder posessively placed a hand on her breast and squeezed as he raised one of her legs to cover his, spreading her thighs. He entered her, and she moaned with the sensation. When he dropped a hand to rub her clitoris counter to his thrusts, Scully thought she might have an aneurism, so swiftly did the pleasure swell behind her eyes. Some minutes later, Mulder felt her inner muscles tighten once, twice, reflexively seeking Scully's release. He rolled her onto her back and buried his face into her chest, nipping, licking, and sucking at the bony ridge of her collarbone. Painfully close to the edge, all Scully could do was to tightly twine one hand into the sheets at her side and clutch frantically at Mulder's back with the other. "You know, there's a flaw in your theory," he helpfully pointed out without breaking his rhythm. The most eloquent response Scully could summon up was a distinctly distracted, "uuuuhnnnhhhhhhh" but it appeared to satisfy Mulder, who continued. "Your logic assumes that the pleasurable choice is the wrong one. Who's to say that the way of highest pleasure isn't where you're intended to go?" With that, one of Mulder's thumbs tweaked at Scully's right nipple while the other firmly pressed the bud of nerves between her legs. She writhed and twisted beneath him, the bastard child of an animalistic groan and a primal shriek wrenched from her throat. Through the foggy haze of ecstasy, she felt Mulder thrust one, two, three, four more times, before he, too, surrendered to the impending climax. After his release, Mulder managed to roll to one side, withdrawing from Scully and drawing her upper body to rest on his chest. Both closed their eyes. He slept. Left alone with the dangerous companion of her thoughts, Scully studied the deep, even breathing of Mulder where he lay beneath her. She considered, and disengaged from his embrace. Standing, she drew the comforter to cover his midsection and began gathering her clothes. Retreating to the safe haven of his bathroom, she dressed and straightened her hair. Minutes later, she was gone. He slept on. X~X~X~X~X Morning X~X~X~X~X Waking her, Scully's cell phone trilled, demanding her immediate attention. Halfheartedly, she flipped it open and answered. "Scully." "The strangest thing happened to me this morning, Scully. I woke up alone." Mulder. Of course. Who else dared call this early, disrupting her sleep? "I was under the impression you woke alone almost every morning, Mulder." "Hmm. You seem to be right there. But," he paused, and Scully damned the rebuke she detected in his voice. "I didn't think I'd be alone *this* morning." She refused to answer that, and Mulder prodded her through an utterly unsympathetic phone connection. "Didn't you pay attention to what I said?" This time, Scully did roll her eyes. "Yes, I did, Mulder. It's a large part of why I'm here, not there. Maybe you were right, and I shouldn't set myself up for certain failure. Maybe last night was that choice I was supposed to make, and I'm getting the chance to reverse what I did and choose wisely." "That's not what part of what I said last night that I was referring to. I meant--" "I know what you meant, Mulder," she interrupted. "Now hear what I mean. Last night, when we woke up, I made a choice. By being here this morning, instead of there, I corrected that mistake." No amount of control could hide the edge that crept into Mulder's voice. "I think you're wrong, Scully. The mistake wasn't when we woke up, but when I fell asleep." He sighed, and the edge was replaced by patience. "But I'm awake now, and I'm correcting that mistake." Scully took a moment to congratulate herself for not sputtering, then calmly and icily pointing out, "It doesn't work that way, Mulder." He started to contest her chiding, but she firmly overrode his interruption. "I'm sorry, but it just doesn't work that way." He fell silent for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts to launch a full-frontal assault on her assertion. Before he could speak again, however, she continued. "I'm going to hang up now, Mulder. If you feel it's absolutely necessary, we can discuss this later so you can understand it, but this is the way things have to be. Okay?" "No, Scully, it's not okay!" he spat out. "It's--" "Mulder, I don't want to hang up on you, but I will if I have to." Scully ran a tired hand over even more tired eyes. "I'm going now, Mulder. Do you hear me? Goodbye, Mulder. Goodbye." Not by any means satisfied, but realizing his precarious situation, Mulder conceded. "Okay, fine, later. But I still think--" "Goodbye, Mulder." "Goodbye, Scully." X~X~X~X~X End X~X~X~X~X ~Jennifer Scott Mirax327@aol.com Come visit me! http://members.aol.com/Mirax327/home.html "Wouldn't it be better if we abducted and anal probed their religious or political leaders, instead of any idiot in a pickup truck?"