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Spring Ahead by Jori

A little bit of Springtime Fun! NC-17

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

April 2, 1999

"I thought you were going to your mother's for the weekend?" I say, startled to find Scully sitting in my dark apartment.

"I was just thinking," Scully says quietly, not stirring at all as I turn on the light.

She is sitting on the chair at my desk, still wearing her trench coat, her arms crossed in front of her. Scully left me at the office well over an hour ago, and I can only assume she has spent a good portion of that time sitting here in the shadows, waiting for me.

"About what?" I ask her, as I shed my jacket, loosen my tie and sit down on the couch.

"About you. About that," she says as she nods towards my computer monitor on the desk.

We say nothing to each other for minutes, her eyes not leaving mine.

"Scully . . ." I start to say, breaking the silence.

"Never mind. It isn't any of my business, is it? No matter how close we are, we still have separate lives, don't we?" she says, as she rises up out of the chair.

"It wasn't like that, Scully. I don't have a secret internet life that you don't know about. I met Karin after I sent her some feedback about a book she wrote. She replied, and the whole thing just . . ." I stop, not knowing how it turned into what it did. I thought I was helping but I probably cost the woman her life. I didn't think it was anything more than interesting conversation but it somehow turned deadly.

"Snowballed? But that isn't the point. She thought it was more. What made her feel that way, Mulder? How many other women feel that way? How many women do you converse with that I don't know about?" Scully asks. She is standing across from me, her expression serious.

"I don't have any idea how to judge what people on the internet expect of me. None of us can, really. We are only words flittering across a computer screen. You say that woman was attracted to me, used this case to get me there. But I don't see it," I say to her, as I pat the couch next to me, hoping she will sit down.

"It isn't just words, Mulder. There's a person behind each of those keystrokes, a person with hopes and dreams. A person who is perhaps searching for something they feel only you can provide," she says. She doesn't move in my direction, but she doesn't head for the door either.

"Maybe it is anonymity that I enjoy, Scully. I don't know how to describe it. It provides a certain degree of freedom that this life I lead, *we* lead can't provide. If you don't like something someone says on the internet, you are free to close it down, end that conversation with the flip of a switch. It is so much easier than . . ." I start. She is waiting for my next words. Scully stands there anxiously, her arms folded tighter across her chest than they were earlier.

"Easier than a relationship with me? Are there any other relationships I should know about, Mulder? How anonymous do you like it?" Scully asks.

I stand up and walk over to my desk. With a push of a button, my computer is whirring through its start-up mode, and asking for my password.

"Go ahead, sit down again," I tell her, pointing at the chair, "Sit down and type in the password. I want to show you something."

Scully looks away from me for a moment, before moving in my direction.

"Mulder, you don't have to do this," she says. She doesn't sit down in the chair she vacated just moments ago, but stands resolutely beside me.

"No. I want to show you something. No secrets, okay? Come on, Scully. It's not like I'm going to put you in the 'Vampires in Chains' chat room and give out your home phone number," I say to her with a smile, and she finally sits down.

Her fingers type in my password quickly, and the menu appears on the screen.

"Now what?" she asks me. I stand behind her, and put my hand over hers on top of the mouse, guiding her to the right place.

"This is all the mail I have received and sent in the last month. I usually purge most of it eventually, just in case, but some I keep. And here is Karin Berquist's mail folder," I say, as I pull both her hand and the mouse over to the right file and click it open.

"Dogs and Monsters?" she asks, noticing what I named the folder.

"You can read any piece of mail in there and you will see clearly what my intentions were. I want you to believe me," I say to her. She moves her hand independently of mine, and closes the folder.

"I know what your intentions were, Mulder. You are always seeking someone who believes in you. You are always looking for that one thing I apparently can't give you. Blind faith. You just don't know that is what you are looking for," she says softly, not looking at me. I can see her face reflected in the monitor, as she closes her eyes.

"I wouldn't want our relationship to be any different, Scully. Why can't you believe me when I say that?" I ask her. It is true. I love her for what she is. Even when she is so damn annoying I could scream.

"Your actions would indicate otherwise, Mulder. I can't say I blame you. Who wouldn't want someone who put them up on a pedestal, who provides them with a rapt audience for their every word? Not only that, but an anonymous person putting them on a pedestal . . . someone they will probably never have to meet. Someone that they can't really let down," she says.

"Are you saying you don't have me up on a pedestal?" I ask her, and see in the reflection a tiny smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Maybe Scully is right. Maybe I do want someone to be enamored of me, instead of just people thinking I'm nuts. But I want that person to be her. I want her to believe in me, if only just once. But in asking for that, I would be asking for Scully to give up everything she is. I would rather be a mere mortal in her eyes and have her the way she is than to be aggrandized by someone else.

She leans her head back against me, and lets out a deep sigh. I place my hands on her shoulders, wanting so much to hold her.

"Are you ever going to take those down, Mulder?" she asks, pointing up to the blue Christmas lights strung across my curtains and down the window.

"When you aren't here, they remind me of you," I say, as visions of our first night together play through my mind. A slow heat travels through my body as the image of her bespeckled with blue lights flashes with merriment through my head. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night, indeed. And here it is Easter already. Time sure does fly when you are wrapped up in Scully.

"I really need to get going. I'm supposed to go to my mom's early and . . ." she starts to say. Scully stops the moment my tongue makes contact with the base of her neck. She tastes of salt, perhaps of tears. I can't imagine what she would be crying about. Perhaps sweat.

"Stay with me for just a little while," I whisper in her ear, and she doesn't appear to be moving out of that chair, "I'm going to get out of this suit and I'll be right back."

I change into jeans and a T-shirt quickly, and look around my bedroom. It is becoming a mess again, with pieces of a dismantled mirrored canopy resting everywhere. Scully hated it, so down it came. At least now I don't wake up in the middle of the night startled by the lunatic staring back at me.

In the living room, I find Scully slowly scrolling through something on the computer. Her attention is captured completely and she is so wrapped up in her reading she doesn't hear me approach.

"What are you reading?" I ask her, as I stand behind her again.

"Nothing. I see you saved all the e-mail I ever sent you," Scully says, as she scrolls down a long list of mail.

"Well, just in case . . " I start to say, but the 'in case' is too horrible to put into words. In case I lose her. In case they take her somewhere I can't find her. It isn't something I can say out loud, for fear of it coming true.

She also notices I have hundreds of letters marked 'Scully~Unsent' that have been accumulating over the years, but she says nothing. If she opened my desk drawer right now, she'd find more in my leather bound journal. They weren't meant for her to ever read, and she doesn't seem to push the issue.

"Just as long as you don't have them printed out and tied with little pink bows somewhere, I guess it is okay," she says.

"Are you spending the night?" I ask, full of hope. I know holidays with her family are important to her, but I am also becoming attached to our holiday time, too. Just as I have become hopelessly attached to her.

"I really should be going. I wouldn't want to take up any of your internet time," Scully says, as she clicks the proper button to get the modem connected.

"You aren't taking up any thing, Scully. I told you, I don't have a secret internet life. The only secret life I have is with you," I say.

My home page comes up, and Scully clicks on the mail button. She waits patiently as twenty-four pieces of mail are downloaded off the server onto my machine. I wince as she scans over the subject line of some of them. Okay. Maybe I do have somewhat of a secret internet life, but it isn't like I'm using it to purposefully meet women.

"What is it you want, Mulder?" she asks, as her hand leaves the mouse and she leans back against me.

"I don't always know," I tell her honestly.

"I really need to get going. I have to get up early tomorrow. I'll see you on Monday, okay?" she asks, as she stands up and heads towards the door. I follow her and we kiss just once before she goes.

"Monday," I say as I turn and look at my computer. Monday is so damn far away.

I sit down at my desk and delete a large portion of my new mail without even glancing at it. Then I open up a new message, one I do intend to send to Scully.

<S.,

<Thank you for being what I need instead of being what I want.

<Thank you for never following me blindly, but instead walking by my side.

<With you, no pedestals are needed. Only your love, trust and understanding.

<Have a joyous Easter weekend and call me when you get home.

<Love,

<M.

I hit the send button, and hope she calls me.

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

April 3, 1999

My eyes are greeted by the mid-morning sun streaming through the open curtains. I look at my watch to discover it is nine o'clock already. No call from Scully. I guess I didn't really expect one considering she had plans for the weekend.

I open my door to retrieve my newspaper and discover a small basket on the hallway floor. It is filled with dark paper grass, not the plastic kind I remember from childhood. We never celebrated Easter or Passover with any religious intent, but rather we enjoyed all the secular aspects that every kid remembers.

I pick up the basket and the newspaper and set them both down on the coffee table. The basket isn't overly done up for Easter, and as I dig through the layer of grass, I find that it lacks any candy altogether. Not even a jellybean or one of those sugar coated marshmallow things that make me gag. Nothing but an iridescent, large plastic egg that twists apart.

Upon opening it, a small scrap of paper flits to the ground, and I retrieve it before it gets lost under the couch. The handwriting I recognize immediately as Scully's. Who else would leave strange things on my floor for me to read. Never mind. But this is definitely Scully.

M.

Your turn to follow me blindly, for just one day.

Go to where it all began.

S.

That's it. Where it all began? The Garden of Eden is out, due to travel restrictions, and I doubt she means the first place we made love since I'm sitting on it. She could only mean the office. Nothing like engaging in a good old fashioned scavenger Easter egg hunt with the woman you love.

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

FBI Headquarters

Sitting on my desk is another small basket with the same grass, but containing a different sized egg. I pick the egg out of the basket and am surprised to discover this one rattles. I twist it open and a key falls out with the piece of paper. Upon inspection, it could be the key to any locker in town, whether it be a bus station, airport or shopping mall. It is generic with no location name imprinted on it. I unfold the tiny note that accompanied it.

M.

How good are you, G-man?

S.

Well, there's only one way to solve the mystery of the locker key. Time to hop on over to visit the boys.

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

The Office of The Lone Gunman

"You said an informant left this for you?" Byers questions as Frohike tries to cross-reference the key to some strange data base contained on his computer.

"Yeah. I found it outside my door this morning," I lie, not wanting them to know the real game going on. They don't suspect anything as of yet, and I'd like to keep it that way.

"I don't know, dude. It could be several places. This is a fairly common manufacturer in this area," Frohike says, as he moves away from the computer screen and holds the key out on his palm. "So, where's the delightful Agent Scully this morning? Not up to any wild goose chases?"

"No, not this weekend, Frohike. She had other plans," I say as nonchalantly as possible while taking the key from his hand. Without knowing the exact location of this locker, I'll never be able to find what ever it is at the end of this trail.

"Hey, what are you doing with a key to a locker from the National Zoo?" Langly asks as he walks around me to sit on the couch.

"What?" three of us ask in unison.

"The zoo. Isn't that where it is from?" he says, as he opens a foil package of pop-tarts and devours one cold.

All the eyes in the room are on him now, curious either as to how he knew where the key was from or as to how he can eat an untoasted pop-tart and still be considered an adult.

"We weren't able to discern where it was from," Frohike says to him, turning back to his computer screen and typing in some esoteric code.

"Am I right?" Langly asks, as Byers joins Frohike at the computer.

"Yes. The manufacturer matches to the lockers sold to the zoo five years ago," Byers states as Frohike scrolls down the screen.

We all turn our heads back to Langly as he eats the last morsel of his breakfast.

"What can I say? I like the monkey house," is all he tells us. It is probably more information than we really needed.

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

National Zoo

The locker is easy to find, thanks to Langly. I wonder how far ahead of me Scully might be, considering the zoo didn't open until 10 o'clock this morning. At least she has a zoo pass that she uses when her brother's kids are here. I have to pay full admission just to follow the elephant prints to the lockers.

I slip the key in and the door snaps open, revealing another Easter egg. This one is sans basket, though, which is good because I would feel kind of juvenile carrying an Easter basket out of the park.

I pop open the egg to find a matchbook and another note. The matchbook is from a lounge in the National Airport terminal.

"What the hell?" I mutter out loud and receive an admonishing look from a mother standing nearby with several toddlers. "Sorry."

M.

You are good, G-Man.

Or should I thank Frohike?

Remember anonymity?

Someone will be waiting for you.

S.

"No. You need to thank Langly, the monkey boy," I say quietly. I pocket the matchbook and the note and hand the shiny egg to a blond-haired girl starting wide-eyed at me.

"Thank you," she says timidly as she runs back to her mother with her prize.

I wonder what she means by anonymity and someone being there to meet me. I hope that isn't what she thinks I'm looking for anymore, because it isn't. I want her, not some name across a computer screen.

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

National Airport

Parking is a bitch on holiday weekends. I end up parking in a long term lot that will probably cost me a whole pay check to get my car back and I take a shuttle to the main terminal. I hope this hunt is almost over, and this isn't just going to be a five minute stay at the airport like it was at the zoo.

I locate the lounge named on the matchbook, and find my way through last minute holiday travelers having a drink on their lay-over to where ever.

In the far corner, staring at the planes taking off from between venetian blind slats, I see Scully. She is dressed different than I've ever seen her before. No perfectly tailored business suit today. No, she is all decked out for spring, in a flowing pastel dress with a bodice that is cut to perfectly enhance her . . . accouterments. Her hair is softer than usual, and she is stunning.

I stop and watch her from halfway across the room. Something still stirs in me every time I think that this woman is no longer just my partner, but my lover. Even the word lover starts a volley of images to cross through my mind. The word brings to mind images oft no one else anymore, they are all of her. There is no other woman. Never can be again.

My heart misses a beat as I watch an older man approach her, and offer to buy her a drink. He is well dressed and probably can afford to take her where ever she would want to go, but I watch as she graciously turns him down, offering up only her smile and some excuse.

After he walks away, I approach her, not exactly knowing what game she is playing. Whatever it is, I plan to enjoy it to the fullest.

"Excuse me, do you have the time?" I ask her, as if she is a stranger, not the person I'm in love with.

"Yes, um, it is half past one," she says politely, and turns her glance away from me. Scully has never been that great of an actress. Even when we were 'husband and wife' I was sometimes afraid she was going to slip up. But she is pulling this off well.

So we are going to be strangers. This is what she thinks I want, simply because of an internet contact.

"Can I buy you a drink? What ever you'd like?" I ask her, as I move in closer.

"No. I'm sorry. I'm waiting for my boyfriend," she says, not looking at me. I watch as a slight grin tugs at the corner of her mouth for a brief second.

"Lucky man," I say, without moving away from her.

"Yes, he is. Luckier than he'll ever know," she says, her eyes finally meeting mine.

I sit down next to her, at this table in the back. People are milling about us, not aware of the game we are playing.

"So, tell me about this boyfriend of yours. What's he like and how did he catch a woman like you?" I ask her, and I fidget with the placard advertisement sitting on the table top.

She leans towards me slightly, and her face lights up with a smile at the mention of this 'boyfriend.'

"He's a good man. It's just sometimes he isn't as open as he should be. He forgets to tell me things, and sometimes he keeps too many things bottled up inside," she says softly.

"Maybe it is because of his profession. What does he do, um, what did you say your name was?" I ask her.

"I didn't. And he's in law enforcement."

"My name is Fox Mulder," I tell her, extending my hand to her. She accepts it and hold it a second or two longer than a stranger would.

"I'm Dana Scully. Nice to meet you . . . Fox," she says without wincing. That is okay. I do enough wincing for both of us. It will never sound right coming out of her mouth.

"Nice to meet you, too," I say to her, as she pulls her hand out of mine. "So, what do you do for a living, Dana?"

"I'm a medical doctor. How about you, Fox?" she says, her eyes moving across the crowd as if she is actually waiting for someone.

"I'm a charter boat captain, off the Florida Keys. Big game fish, mostly," I fabricate, picking a career so unlike me I hope it makes her smile. Since she is all too familiar with my experiences at sea, she gives me a knowing grin.

"Well, that explains the tan then, doesn't it, Captain Mulder?" she asks, as her index finger traces slowly up my left arm.

"Yes, it does, Doctor Scully," I answer, watching her finger move up and back down my arm, feeling the electric spark that comes only from her touch.

"You should really be more careful in the sun. It is damaging, you know," Scully the doctor says.

"Yes, it is," I say.

"I bet your boat is named 'Foxy Lady' or something like that," Scully says with a smile.

"How did you ever guess?" I say, placing my hand over hers. "I don't think that boyfriend of yours is showing up."

"It wouldn't be the first time he ditched me," she says, with annoyance in her voice.

"And you put up with it, this man who ditches you?" I ask her, wanting to really know the answers to why she puts up with me at all.

"Yes," she says, looking down at the table.

"Do you love him?" I ask.

"Yes."

"And does he love you?"

"I've always assumed so. Sometimes he just does things . . ." she starts to say.

"Things like what?" I ask.

"Sometimes he expects me to believe in what he does, just because he believes in it. That isn't my nature," she tells me.

"I'm sure he would never expect that of you. I'm sure he loves you for exactly what you are, even if it appears that he wants you to be something else," I say, moving in even closer to her.

"He's written letters to me for years, yet last night I discovered that he has never sent any of them. Do you think he is afraid of me?" she asks me, and I look away from her.

"Perhaps he is terrified of loving you too much. Maybe he was afraid you would have rejected him, so he waited for you to make the first move. Is that a possibility?" I ask her, wanting so much to explain my actions but lacking the words.

"Perhaps, but then there's the other women," she says with an embarrassed look.

"Other women?" I say, stunned. Does she really think there are others?

"Women who believe in him. He likes that. I think he gets an ego trip off of it," she says, her eyes closing into narrow slits as she looks at me.

"Do you know of these women personally?" I ask, as I lean away from her. This could get interesting.

"Some of them. One was his former lover. She seems to always be rearing her ugly head back into the picture right when I don't believe him. She always believes him. Always," Scully says. Well, I thought we had finished with this whole Diana thing already. That hurt must run deep.

"I'm sure if he wanted to be with these other women, these women who build up his ego, as you say, then he wouldn't be sitting here with you in this airport lounge," I tell her.

"But he's not. Remember, he ditched me? He has probably run off chasing some voodoo headhunter multi-national terrorist who spotted a UFO last night in the hills of east Tennessee," she says.

"He doesn't sound all that great," I say, snidely.

"Oh, he has areas of expertise in which he excels beyond all others," she says, her eyes meeting mine and flashing with life.

"So do I," I say to her, moving in even closer.

"Tell me more about yourself. Do you have a girlfriend?" she asks with a sparkle in her eye.

"Yeah. But she and I haven't really talked in awhile. I'm sure she thinks I want something I really don't," I tell her, looking away.

"What does she do? Is she the first mate on your boat?" Scully asks coyly.

"Oh, no. She's co-captain," I respond, "Actually, sometimes she is more of the captain than I am. She's brilliant. She always keeps me from heading off into uncharted waters and getting lost completely."

"She sounds wonderful," she says.

"She puts up with a lot, and there are things I should have told her in the past about how I felt about her. Now it doesn't look like I'll be seeing her today," I say to Scully. We are sitting much closer than two strangers would be, and I absolutely crave her. There's no other word for it. Her tongue traces across her top lip, and I want to kiss her so badly that it hurts.

"Maybe you will see her today," Scully says, as she puts an electronic hotel key on the table and pushes it towards me.

I pick it up, and discover that it has no identifying marks on it. I hope this isn't another 'mystery' for me to solve. This most certainly would raise too many questions to take it to the boys.

"I would love to see her today," I say.

"The Sofitel by Dupont Circle. Room 206. Meet her there in an hour," Scully says. She stands up and makes her way out of the lounge without looking back.

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

The Sofitel Hotel

"Do you do this often, have sex with men you've just met?" I ask her, as I slowly unbutton her dress. I've never seen her in anything with so many tiny buttons going down the front. I am kneeling before her, as I undo the last few buttons near the hem.

"Just one," she answers and I smile up at her, "And that was years ago . . ."

"Excuse me?" I ask, nearly choking.

"What? You didn't expect to pick up a virgin at the airport lounge, did you?" Scully asks, as her hands rest on my shoulders.

I finish the last button, stand up and push the dress off of her shoulders. It pools around her feet, and I look down to admire her. My gasp brings a smile to her face. All that she has on now is a lacy white garter belt holding up stockings and her strappy heels.

"Why, Doctor Scully. I'm shocked," I say, looking down at her. So there's a scar here and there that wasn't a part of her when we first made love, but I certainly don't care. She is beautiful.

"Better than your girlfriend?" she asks me teasingly.

I pull her close to me, feeling her breasts press against me as I hold her tight. Her skin is soft and cool, and I could hold her like this forever. We sway to unheard music, body against body. Just the thought of this person in my arms causes a stirring below my belt and I can't wait to get out of these damn jeans.

"Scully, I don't want anybody else but you. Not even for a day. Not even as a game. You are it," I whisper to her, the clench we are in gets tighter. We couldn't get much closer. Not as long as I have this much clothes on.

"Thank you," she says, before I lean down to her and melt away in her kiss.

I sink to my knees again, placing kisses all the way down her abdomen, lower past the curls that hide her sex. A quick breath escapes her as my tongue delves in between her folds, and I flick gently at her clit. Her hands are on my shoulders again, as Scully tries hard to support herself and allow me the access we both desire.

I move my face away from her, and she lets out a short sigh as the contact is broken. I look up at her face, which is flushed from even that tiny bit of stimulation. I sit back on my heels and remove one shoe followed by the other, flinging them up and over my shoulder as I go. Slowly, I flip open each of the garter clips, and roll the stockings down her legs. I tease her with my hands in between her thighs, taking a painfully long time to get that hosiery off. Finally, they join the dress behind her, followed by the garter belt itself. I want her naked before me, so I can enjoy her. All of her.

Scully pulls my face back to her, demanding attention from my mouth. Like I would deny her this. I could live like this, with her balanced precariously on my tongue just on this side of ecstasy. Somehow we move towards a surface she can sit on, with me following her obediently on my knees. Her legs go up and around my shoulders, and I delve back into her warm, wet creases. Her fingers are entwined in my hair, pulling my face closer to her.

"Yes," is all she mutters the whole time, over and over. I slip a finger into her vagina, followed by another, trying to find the place she loves to be touched while I go down on her. I can always tell by her sigh, and her posture when I'm there. I cannot believe I know this person who has filled my life for so long in this way. I hardly dared to dream of having her thighs wrapped around my head just a short while ago, yet here we are. wrapped up like spring time lovers.

My other hand goes down to undo the fly on my jeans, giving me the release I desperately need. I could come just from this, so great is the power she holds over me, and I try every trick in the book to save myself the embarrassment of coming in my hand.

I feel her body begin to tense up, and I pick up a quicker cadence of motion on her clit, wanting to draw a long, powerful orgasm out of her body, wanting her to cry out my name and forget that anyone else on earth exists beyond the two of us.

I hear her head hit gently against the wall behind her, and her legs go taut around me. I feel her come, as her muscles ripple around my fingers and pulse with life. I don't pull my mouth away from her until she pushes me away, calling out my name, begging for release.

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

Scully is above me, and I fight to concentrate on her. It is so hard to do when she has my cock in her mouth and her perfect ass in my face. My tongue delves into her folds again, and she tastes of sex, a wonderful, warm taste. Better than any candy that stupid rabbit could deliver tomorrow morning.

She lets my cock slip from her lips and moves her behind away from my mouth. In one quick move, she draws me into her body, and sinks down on me. Scully is facing away from me, and she establishes a perfect rhythm, going slower or faster depend on exactly how I moan and beg. She can do that, make me moan out absolutely inhuman sounds and come back and beg for more.

"Oh. Yes. That. Is. Good." I mutter, as my hands move to her hips to help her keep up the pace.

I watch as her hand moves to her clit, and she begins to get herself off. This isn't something that she would do with a stranger. That game is over.

Scully gasps out, stops moving and pushes down on me until I hit bottom. Or top. Or whatever it would be considered this way around.

I can feel another orgasm move slowly through her body, as I watch her fall forwards, pulling me in a way I just don't go easily. Her fingers clutch at the sheets, untucking them from the end of the bed.

"Scully, I need to see you. I want to see your eyes. Could you turn around?" I ask, and she turns towards me and sinks back down on me. Our eyes are locked on each other while our fingers entwine above my head, fighting through a tangle of bedsheets that are coming undone from all sides now.

"Do you like this better, Captain Mulder?" she says in a lusty voice, a smile breaking across her face. There is nothing like her smile. So rare and so exquisite

"Ai ai, me bonny wench," I tell her and receive a light smack on the side of my ass cheek for my effort

She is above me, facing me, teasing my face with her breasts. Scully raises herself, and then, quickly sinks back down on me, so warm and wet around my cock. She never breaks the frantic pace she has established and it is only a matter of moments before I'm coming inside of her and screaming out her name.

"Scullyscullyscullyscully," becomes my own personal mantra.

"That's Doctor Scully to you," she says, as her mouth closes in on mine. Each of our individual tastes mingle there upon our lips, two have become as one.

She rolls off of me, and I hold her tightly against me on this hotel room bed.

"So, why did you go through all of that this morning just to get me here?" I ask her, as I kiss the top of her hair. Her finger swirls across my chest, and I couldn't imagine being more comfortable.

"I wanted to be fun. To be different," Scully says.

"Scully, I don't want someone different. I spent years wanting you, waiting for you. You got this idea because of that case in California?" I ask.

"I thought you were looking for something else, if only just for awhile. Not necessarily someone else, but for me to be different. For me to be . . . anonymous," she says.

"It was fun, Scully. I loved the little scavenger hunt. I loved finding *you* at the end of the trail. Was there a particular reason for that?" I ask.

She props herself up and she looks at me. Her shy grin indicates that I might not like what is coming.

"Well, in order to get out of going to my mom's house today, I had to promise to bring you along tomorrow," she says.

"Is that it?" I ask.

"To Mass," Scully finishes, looking away from me.

"Mass? Your church?" I say, slightly stunned. I pull her back so she is facing me again.

"So I went back to your apartment and got the appropriate clothes for you for tomorrow. I tried to do it last night, but you showed up. It is all here, so we can stay together, go see the cherry blossoms, maybe grab a bite at the Trocadero Cafe, and I don't have to worry about you missing daylight savings. . ." she starts to say.

"Church?" I ask again.

"It won't kill you," Scully says.

"And when did you plan to confess your sins, Doctor Scully? I mean, picking up strange men at the airport? Taking them back to some fancy hotel and fucking them until they scream your name? I think that is worthy of some sort of confession," I say,

"You're not getting out of it. I made a deal with my mom," Scully says with a smile.

"I guess to be with you, I can handle religion for an hour. As long as I'm invited to your mother's house for dinner afterwards," I say, pulling her closer to me.

"Of course you are invited. Maybe we will have an egg hunt for the kids," she says.

"Sure, but let me do the hiding. I doubt those kids have enough money for airport parking."

***********

The End of Spring Ahead

Continue to next story: BROKEN SOUND

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