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What We Fear The Most Is The Thing We Most Want

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What We Fear The Most Is The Thing We Most Want

What We Fear The Most Is The Thing We Most Want

by Marsha Hyatt

     From: "marsha64" <>
     Date: Thursday, November 21, 2002 4:51 AM
     Title: What We Fear The Most Is The Thing We Most Want
     Author: Marsha Hyatt
     Archive: If you want it, it's yours. Just let me know where
     it went.

Rating: PG-13 and references to sex but nothing your Mother would get offended by, unless we are talking about my Mom. LOL

Disclaimer: My question is do you still need to do a disclaimer if the show is off the air? Okay, yeah probably so here it goes. I am a poor and humble writer, Chris Cater and company are rich and powerful Hollywood types, if they want to come after me for this story come on, I could use a little excitement. As to ownership, I don't own them I just invited them out to play for awhile and the girls said yes.

Authors Notes: As always thanks go to Cara and her magic wand that makes what I write readable. To the incredible women on this board I thank you for the laughs, advice and fun that I have found here over the last year. Thanks for giving me a home for my scribbling and for never pointing a finger and laughing. To AK, Deb, Lisa and Cara who have been constant presences when I sit down at this blank screen to write, you all give me something to strive for. This is story of romance in the truest form, the first love sense. So please forgive me if it a bit sappy at times that's just the mood I'm in. One last thanks, Aubrey thank you for restoring my faith in love. Thanks and I hope y'all enjoy!

What We Fear The Most Is The Thing We Most Want

2:45 am December 11, 1994

It's happening again.

Nights spent staring at the ceiling trying to ignore the snoring of the body beside me. I quietly roll out of bed and pad to the living room of my funky third floor walk-up on Broome Street. This is my now familiar custom; he sleeps oblivious to what is going on, oblivious because that is how I want it. Why should he worry when I can't name what is roiling my soul.

This schism has been coming for a while. It's always been there, just under the surface but small enough that I could ignore it, push it back down, hide it in some way. Now, though, it's fighting to break free, and the fight is threatening to tear out my soul or rather severely change it. Crossing to the window, I watch the snow softly fall blanketing the city, so different from the winters of my childhood. Decembers were spent in shorts and t-shirts and now I dress in so many layers I look like the Michelin woman. I miss the heat. It had a way of seeping into your body making you feel boneless. One day I need to return to that heat and let it cleanse me. Even while missing the warmth and safety of home, I know that I wouldn't give up living in this city. Living here opened my eyes and in some way myself, to so many things. It let me see that the things I only dreamed about were possible, that life could be lived and lived openly and happily.

When the FBI stationed me here I was thrilled; New York was the big show. I made cases and gained a reputation for being just slightly off center but not enough that the work didn't get done. I was happy climbing the ladder both professionally and personally. When I started seeing him I told myself that it was a mistake professionally; he's my boss. However, hormones overrode rational thought, at least for a time. I wanted it to be different than the other relationships. I had spontaneous combustion at first, then a slow fizzle till I didn't want to touch them sexually. It was as if I was trying to convince myself every time and every time the process of convincing just got harder. I couldn't ignore his charm, his appearance. He was blessed in that way. In true form, though, it was not enough for me. We had rows about just that thing, the fact that I never wanted to touch him but I couldn't bring myself to tell him why.

Making a pot of coffee I thought back to the first time, the first time I had noticed another woman. I softly laughed when I realized it was Sister Martha. How's that for a clich, third grade just after Vatican II and she was the first sister to shed the habit and wear real clothes. Sitting in my little desk, I was stunned by the woman before the class. It was 1973 and I had a Cher look-alike teaching my class. I think we were all in love with her. It happened time and time again over my life but I was a good girl with a bright future and I knew that would derail everything I had worked for. Junior high, high school, college and now my adult life was being spent covertly watching and unconsciously yearning for the love and companionship of another woman.

My biggest problem is that I know just who I want, and if last week was any indication I might just get her.

9 AM December 5, 1994

COFFEE...I needed coffee. After thirty-six and three quarter hours in a surveillance van with five other agents the last place I wanted to be was here. The ballroom was stunning and opulent in an Old World way, however the people filling it were not Old World in the slightest. These were the best and brightest of the FBI and for the next three days they would learn all there was to know about the latest techniques in everything from forensic science to the latest in drug detection. As I people watched I knew I was handpicked for this and I was honored. However, at this moment I would be more honored by my bed and a blanket pulled over my head. My nose picked up the scent of coffee and I honed in on a huge silver urn and cups. To my sleep-deprived mind it was salvation. I made my way to the table, blessing the unknown Colombian who first picked, dried, ground and brewed that wonderful elixir that I would love to mainline. All that was on my mind was getting to the table. I noticed no one. I was on a quest, and I achieved my goal as I picked up one of the heavy coffee cups and saucer and held it under the urn's spigot. The liquid was dark and hot as it poured into my cup and I knew I was moments away from salvation. I turned to my left and reached for the milk carafe and touched something that wasn't a handle. It was a hand. I looked up into a smiling face and smiled back as she lifted the carafe and poured some milk into my cup.

"Here, I think you need this more than I do." She laughed.

I couldn't blame the sleep depravation for what happened next, I blamed it on me and the fact that from time to time I'm a doofus. I just looked back at her and couldn't speak. I just kind of nodded my head and made some sound that was a cross between a laugh and a giggle. She smiled a quirky little smile and turned away. I was left standing there kicking myself for turning into doofus girl in front of this woman. She was who I had been dreaming about and denying to myself about for years, a woman of beauty, grace and obvious intelligence. In one short span of time I was pixilated. I watched her walk to her companion, a tall rangy sort of guy who leaned in just a hair's breadth too close for my taste. Keeping my eyes on her the entire time, I headed to my seat. I was further intrigued as she laughed and the sound of it carried across the ambient noise of the ballroom straight to my ears.

For the entire time in the morning session I listened with one half of my brain and the other was engaged in surveillance of this woman. I took scattered notes punctuating them with references to red hair, pale skin, and mellow voice. Later when I looked at the notes I laughed thinking that it seemed as if I was writing a profile instead of taking notes on new procedures in identifying counterfeit money.

People started to stand around me gathering their things as I slowly came out of my self-induced fog. The seminar was taking a break and as I stood I realized that I had lost sight of her. She was shorter than I am so I thought it would be easy to spot her. As I walked to the foyer of the ballroom suite I scanned the area finding nothing. Knowing I would see her later I went into the bathroom and luckily walked right into a stall. When I emerged I was encountered her walking out of the next stall. Almost in sync we walked to the sinks. Washing my hands gave me the time I needed to come up with a witty way of introducing myself. I dried my hands and turned to say hello and she was gone. I whirled and caught her on her way to the door without thinking I just blurted out

"Hi my name is Monica Reyes, we met this morning at the coffee table."

I had never sounded more like a 15 year-old in my entire life; I even think my voice cracked. She turned, and smiling that enigmatic smile she walked back to me.

"I'm Dana Scully. I was wondering if you had a name." She giggled. Our hands fit into each other as if they were struck from matching molds

I stared at her hand in mine as warmth radiated into my palm. As I looked up her gaze caught and pinned me. The feeling that was radiating through my hand and up my arm was new to me. It felt like the mildest shock from a live wire but in some way it was soothing. Momentarily I wasn't able to do anything including breathe. She stood there, hand clasped in mine, smiling.

"Where are you stationed?"

"Umm...oh here in New York," I finally managed to squeak out. "You?" I asked as we both realized that we had held each other's hand that beat too long.

"D.C., my partner and I are at headquarters," she ruefully chuckled low. "Well actually we are under the Hoover Building, in the Basement. My partner is Fox Mulder and we investigate the X Files. Heard of that?"

The look on her face was one of skepticism, almost as if I admitted to knowing of the X Files it would be a betrayal, so I lied.

Shaking my head I turned to gather my things. "No, sorry never heard of that division. What's the investigation focus on?"

The look in her eyes said it all as I turned back to her. She was happy that I didn't seem to care about the work. It seemed that she was a bit embarrassed by what she did, as if it was too wild a pursuit to be considered legit. I had been looked at funny my whole life for that same reason, because of my intuitions, and even though the work that she and her partner did intrigued me, she intrigued me more. We walked out of the restroom chatting about nothing, just feeling each other out. As I returned to my seat and she to hers and her partner, I caught the smile that was tossed my way. With the session underway again I fell into deep thought, dissecting the encounter in the restroom and the current that passed between us. I may have been reading way too much into the encounter but I didn't think I was. The speaker droned on about new firepower and the takedown capabilities of the new weapons. He could have been talking about the federal debt and its impact on third world countries for all I cared. I had talked to her, and better than that I had made her smile. I realized I was acting like a schoolgirl who had just been asked out by the football team quarterback but that's how I felt, all fluttery and giddy. I knew though I had to keep that inside so as not to scare her. Again people were standing, gathering things and heading for the exits, before I knew it she was by my chair smiling down at me.

"Monica, we were just going out for some lunch before the next seminar. Would you like to come?" she asked in a rush, my eyes slid past her to the man standing behind and just to the right of her shoulder. If seemed she was asking so fast so as not to give him a chance to speak, "this is my partner Fox Mulder."

Standing I came to close his height and that seemed to take him back a bit. Extending my hand I grasped his in a firm handshake. I figured if he wanted to play alpha male he just might need a little competition. We locked eyes and when neither broke the gaze the fun began.

"We were just planning to grab some lunch, would you like to join us? I heard that the Bull and Bear is good here in the hotel."

"It is. It used to be an all men's club until women joined a few years ago. Now it's a wonderful place for a quiet lunch or intimate dinner." I realized I was sounding like a travelogue as I fell into step but there was something about the dynamic that made me want to impress her with my knowledge and irritate him at the same time.

The room lived up to my hype it was dark paneled, quiet and lush. I have always loved rooms like this filled with brass and heavy carpets. The menus were studied and orders were given. Then came the fun watching Mulder try to top everything I said. We were at a smaller round table with Dana in the middle at one point her head was whipping back and forth like she was watching Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi play match point at Wimbledon. There was a lot to like about Mulder; he was smart and funny, and he cared passionately about his work. The way he treated Dana though brought me up short, I could see that there were times he left her out of things all together and that wasn't right. I have had fights with my partner but he's never left me behind. Brad is another story he treats me like the little woman when I give my opinion he finds a way to discount it almost like patting my head. I know how enraged that makes me and it must tear Scully apart. The lunch finally settled down to banter and the occasional dig thrown, but by the end of the meal I had a genuine like for Mulder and was still trying to figure out what I was feeling for Scully.

Walking back to the seminar Mulder excused himself and Scully and I walked on alone.

"He's a nice guy," I said like I had to apologize for my behavior in some way. "Do you like being partnered with him?"

"I have my moments. There are times though where I feel like I'm there for research and research only. Since I don't hold Mulder's beliefs he seems to feel that I am a skeptic for life. I have seen some things that make me question my beliefs at times."

Reaching the ballroom I felt my window of opportunity slipping away. "Would you like to have dinner this evening?" I blurted this out in a rush not wanting to wait and have my courage die on me.

"Um...I'll check with Mulder..."

"No, no I just meant you, not that I didn't enjoy lunch, I just thought it would be nice to have a quiet dinner with a friend. I don't get to do that much."

"Oh," She looked at her watch and I was braced to hear bad news. "That'd be great. Will you be here the rest of the day?"

"I have to check in at the office but I was planning on staying through the next seminar."

"Okay, I'll find you before you go and give you the directions to the hotel. See you then."

Watching her walk away I somehow felt struck with a sense of giddiness the earlier feeling of a teenage schoolgirl rushed back. I grinned like a doofus for the second time in less than twelve hours and both times it was because of Agent Dana Scully.

The seminar passed swiftly. Despite the agent giving the briefing, I heard very little of the talk on fingerprint analysis. Rather, I was thinking about what to wear and where to go. As I pondered this I smiled to myself that this was totally out of character for me. I never gave any thought as to the restaurant or what to wear seeing that Brad usually made those decisions without me. I wanted, for some unknown reason, to impress Dana and more than that I wanted more time with her. She found me quickly as the seminar ended and gave me the directions and number of her room at the Milford Plaza Midtown. I made my way through mid afternoon traffic to Federal Plaza and up to the twenty third floor still with my goofy smile intact. Even a run-in with Brad didn't serve to wipe off the grin that seemed to live on my lips now. Dana's card was in my pocket and every now and then I slipped my hand in and ran a finger over the lettering. The debriefing and set up for the rest of the surveillance time went quickly and soon I was on my way.

"So what plans do you have tonight?" The voice was smooth and soft with a hint of a British accent honed from his years in boarding school when his Father was in England. He was standing close to me; I could feel his breath on my ear and his hand on the small of my back. Shrugging him off I stepped to the side as I waited for my elevator.

"I thought you wanted to keep this out of the office," I whispered.

"I do, but I want to see you tonight."


"Is that it? Can't...sorry? Where are you going? What are you doing?" His voice rising in pitch and volume with each question.

I turned to face him and held up my left hand with my right I pointed to my ring finger. "Brad. Until there is a ring on this finger you are not allowed to ask those questions. As it stands right now if you keep this behavior up you NEVER will have the right to ask those questions." As if on cue the elevator doors slid open and I stepped onto the lift smiling as the doors slid shut.

The walk from the Bureau to my place wasn't a long one so I enjoyed the sounds and life of the city around me. One thing about living in New York is the almost constant sound. You can be on the street at three in the morning and there is sound. It was one of the biggest adjustments I had to make when I moved here. As the sounds of city life sang to me I walked through the streets of the city that I called home.

Walking into my apartment I realized that it was, for once, under control. At Brown I was known for my, shall I say "lack" of housekeeping skills. However I knew where everything was down to the last piece of paper that had the important information for someone's paper. I padded into the bathroom for the worlds fastest shower and then set the Gold Medal time for getting dressed and ready. As I looked into the mirror I realized I do this better if I pay no attention to it. I grabbed a pair of charcoal gray pants and a cashmere cream mock turtleneck my boots gave me an inch or two more height but I wouldn't have changed em for the world. As I took a deep breath, in an attempt to calm down, I grabbed my latest purchase and headed out the door. One of the reasons I loved my building was the elevator, a cross between a freight lift and one of the turn-of-the-century birdcage elevators. It made me happy to hear the click of the doors as I got on. Walking down the stoop I tightened the belt on the black leather half trench coat and gave a silent prayer to the God of vintage shops that thrived in the Village. The wind was biting and as I wrapped the scarf snugly around my throat, a cab slid to a stop in front of me. I smiled as I climbed in.

Settling back into my seat I gave the address to the driver and fell into reverie as I watched the lights of the city pass by. This is my favorite time of year. Whether it is with my parents in the heat and sand or here in the wind and snow, I love the winter. I have always thought that New York's finest days were the Christmas season. Oh sure, the spectaculars of Rockefeller center and Fifth Ave were wonderful, but for my money the true meaning of the season was in the neighborhoods. People decorated in their own special ways here. It wasn't unusual to see balconies, windows and fire escapes decked in lights. As you went further up town the decorations became more elaborate but no less heartfelt. It seemed Christmas was one of those times where everyone was happy. I looked up and saw the Milford in the distance and a stab of panic shot trough me. I tossed a couple of bills at the driver and emerged from the cab into a wind that had the power to knock someone over. Fighting against it I made my way to the doors of the lobby and as I stepped in I came face to face with Mulder.

"Hi" I managed weakly, "Going out?"

"Yeah, Scully doesn't want to go out this evening, so I'm gonna look up an old buddy at the bureau here. You may know him, Brad Follmer?"

There are times I thank God for my poker face, this was one of them. "Umm...Follmer, yeah I know him, nice guy."

"Yeah, he's a bit of a corporate drone. I'm sure he'll be an AD within ten years," Mulder said with a chuckle. "But he's a friend. Oh well, do you know someone here at the hotel? Besides us I mean."

"Well I'm just here for a date, a first date really." I could feel my cheeks coloring but couldn't do anything about that, besides Mulder didn't seem to notice. "I better get upstairs I'm running a little behind schedule."

Turning I heard Mulder mumble his good-byes as my mind reeled. She didn't tell him we were going out and I just called it a date. What did I want from this? Was I doing something on an unconscious level but really was conscious about it? The elevator doors opened and I stepped onto the lift looking to my right and left the mirrors created an endless chorus line of me as if the mirror was reading what was going on in my heart at this very moment. It was almost too much for me. For a moment I closed my eyes, leaning back into the wall, and didn't stand up till I heard the lift bell chime for her floor.

The carpet was plush and swallowed the sound of my footsteps as I walked down the hall. Scanning the brass numbers on the doors I found myself standing at the room quickly starting to hyperventilate. Knowing that a sweating heaving woman at her door would not make the impression I wanted, I forced myself to breathe deeply until I felt the blood return to my head. Feeling that I could hold an intelligent conversation without babbling, I raised my fist and knocked silently, practicing what I would say when she opened the door. I stared at my boots practicing my witty hello when the door opened and Dana stood in the doorway. My eyes traveled up the length of her body and as I got to her face my mouth was suddenly bone dry. If I were to try to talk at this moment all that would come forth would be sand. She was stunning. I worked my jaw trying, willing a sound to come out of my throat as I tried to say what was screaming in my head.

"Monica, are you okay?"

That did it, her voice willed me back to the ability to speak. I blinked and softly chuckled, "Oh, what, you didn't enjoy my impression of a New York City mime?" She laughed and suddenly there was a feeling of ahhhhhhhhhh, it's all going to be fine. "How are you?" I asked, as I was ushered into the regulation FBI road room, nice but not too nice. Dana was talking and I was trying to pay attention but all I could focus on was her. There was a feeling in my chest that hadn't been there for a long time. All day I had been fighting to put words to it and it just came to me as I watched her. The feeling was desire. I, for whatever reason there was, desired this woman; I had been with Brad for so long now I thought this feeling had died. I watched how she moved, her hands, her wrists. I chided myself that this was starting to edge to the creepy, but I couldn't stop watching. When she opened her lipstick and slid the tube over her lips I was almost undone. I stood up from her bed and got the trench coat that hung in the closet. As I held the coat for her she slipped in and turned to me with a questioning look in her eye.

"So what do you have planned for me this evening?" She asked, an eyebrow shooting up.

As that one gesture turned my mind into jelly all I could think was, "If you only knew."

Walking to the elevator I was slightly to the side and back of Dana, a position I saw Mulder take earlier in the day. I now know why. This was the best place to watch her walk, the sway of her hips keeping some silent rhythm that only she heard. The doors slid open as we approached as if some Hollywood director was directing the evening. We entered and immediately took opposite sides of the car trying all at once to stare and not stare.

"So what is planned for this evening, Agent Reyes? You never answered that question back in the room."

All at once I decided to scrap my plans and just see where the night and the city took us; somehow I knew this was something Dana never did. She was the scientist; her world was ruled by what was fact and what could be seen. I sensed a need for her to let go of that, at least for one night. More than that, I knew that if she had that need, so did I.

"Well I'm not quite sure," I said, delighting in the quirk of the eyebrow this admission produced. "There's a lot we can do but one thing that must be seen is Rockefeller Center and the skating rink. People who have nothing good to say about New York have never been here at Christmas. The tree all decorated and lit, the decorations along Fifth Avenue, windows of stores, the neighborhoods it's magical." I caught her eye and returned her breaking grin. "What's so funny?" I asked as the car came to a stop and we walked into the lobby.

She started to laugh. "Nothing," she said as she tried to bring her grin down from radiant to normal. "It's just for a moment there I could see how you behave on Christmas morning. You were in your own little world describing this city," she said, taking a green scarf from her pocket, wrapping it around her neck and tangling it. "You really love it here."

Without thinking I stepped to her and touched her scarf. "I feel at home here, kinda strange considering where I grew up." As I talked I de-tangled her scarf. "My neighbors decorated a cactus in their yard at Christmas, and it is much more difficult to make a snowman out of sand than snow Christmas morning." The thing that halted my unconscious flow of words was the feel of her skin on the back of my fingers. My words trailed off as our eyes saw each other, truly, for the first time.

My mind screamed "Don't look away," and I tried not to, but the stare on both our parts became intense quickly. We both broke contact at the same time, stepping back and re-establishing a safe distance. In my mind it was Mardi Gras, New Years Eve and my graduation night from Brown all rolled into one, for one reason. I saw what was behind her eyes; it was the look I saw in the mirror not two hours ago. Desire.

If I had consulted with a writer and tried to script our evening I don't think I could have done a better job than what happened. We turn onto 48th street and walk to Rockefeller Center and watch the children skate for a while. As always I get wistful around kids, wishing I could find the person I want to build a life and have children with. I look at Dana as we stand at the rail and there seems to be the same melancholy in her eyes as well. We marveled at the Diego Rivera murals in the lobby and at the art deco architecture. I found that Dana could hold her own on most conversations, whatever the topic. Walking down Fifth Avenue we shared stories of childhood Christmases, hers around the world, mine in Mexico. The lights transformed New York into something magical that seemed to only show between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but if you looked for it you could find it every day. We both lapsed into silence as St Patrick's came into view and without asking we crossed the street and entered the doors in awe of the grandeur that enveloped us.

In unison we touched the holy water and made the sign of the cross as we walked to the pews. Dipping and crossing again, we kneel side by side and pray. I couldn't explain why we were here. It was as if something unseen wanted us here at this place together. We prayed or rather Dana did, and I watched. As she finished, her hand touched mine and we rose. More out of habit than faith I lit candles for those closest to me and watched again as she said a prayer over each that she lit. Back out in the wind and cold she looked in my eyes.

"It's what keeps me going, my faith. I've seen so much in just a short time and I'm afraid I will see more."

The thing I didn't say, while I hailed the cab, was I thought she was right.

Warm, loud and with a glow that came from years of smoke and old wood we are welcomed into Absinthe. Rene grabbed me in a bear hug as soon as we broke the threshold.

"Monica! It's been weeks. You must be on a big case."

"Now Rene, you know I'd have to shoot you if I told you that," I teased as I lumbered out of my coat. I turned to Dana and found her handing hers to the coat check girl.

"Where is Brad tonight? You always come here with Brad, is everything okay?"

One of the problems in having a hangout is that everyone knows everything about you, and Rene was the maven of the gossip in this restaurant. "He's out tonight with an old friend, Rene, hopefully enjoying himself." I muttered to myself, "I couldn't care less." As I said the words my eyes came to lock into Dana's again and there was a gleam there that I couldn't understand.

Dinner was wonderful shared with a new friend and wine. We talked about everything and nothing all at once: what brought us to the FBI, her science, my intuitions, her father, my parents, favorite colors, vacations, foods, everything. We were secluded at a back table insulated from the noise and other tables as the conversation turns to past and present loves. Dana grew quiet as she told about her last love affair. The wounds were deep and fresh. She was still mourning the loss of him or rather the loss of a chance at love. I watched her talk, confess, open to me and despite the warning bells in my head I felt myself let the doors open a little on my heart. Dana smiled at me, eyes shining with hanging tears, and it took all I had not to pull her to me and hold her till the pain seeped from her. I lay my hand over hers and did what I could, returned her sad smile.

The restaurant grew quiet around us as I tried to delay what I knew was coming. I wanted the night to freeze here with the two of us and what was growing between us. But I know it couldn't so I paid the check and we left. Walking out of the restaurant that was like a second home to me, I saw Rene smile as I helped Dana with her coat. He gave me a small wave as we pushed our way out the door.

There are few magical moments in one's life: the first time you see your child, your first glimpse of the roaring surf of the ocean, daybreak wrapped in the arms of the one you love, both of you covered in your grandmother's quilt, and then there was this. The streetlights seemed dim as we started out the door and I realized it was because it was snowing. Fat, soft flakes floated down and blessed the city with a blanket of purity. I stood mesmerized realizing it was quiet. It was as if the snow had muted the natural noise of New York. Dana turned to me with glittering eyes almost like a child's and whispered in wonder, "Snow...I've never seen snow in New York before."

Before I thought about it I stepped to her, framing her face with my leather-gloved hands and brushed my slightly parted lips over hers. This was what I had wanted all day without being able to say it. I lingered on her mouth, unable to leave its warmth when I felt Dana's hand slide over mine. I silently mourned the loss of her as her hand pressed into mine and she softly returned it. I knew when I looked back on this moment it would stay with me forever. Every touch, sound, sigh, texture would burn into my memory, but right now I was lost in her. The kiss went on all at once, chaste and decadent. Her tongue slid its way into my mouth and I felt it all the way to my core. Not having much control at this point, the moan that had been growing since she touched me bubbled out of me as she broke the kiss and brushed back my hair flicking at my earlobe. Through my addled sensibilities I heard her giggle into my ear and then a question.

"How long have you been holding that in?" she said as I felt a tongue trace my outer ear.

"Since I watched you lick that spoon this morning," I gasped as she kissed her way along my jaw. Her lips covered mine as an arm snaked around my waist bringing us together, and we dissolved into one another. I never knew a kiss could feel like an hour but it can. When her lips left mine there was a sigh from both of us.

Our foreheads touched as we both let what just transpired sink into our minds. Snow falls around us creating a world of shadows that we alone could inhabit.

"I've never done that before," Dana said in a small voice, opening her eyes and peering into mine. "But I know one thing.... I want to do it again."

The laugh that broke from her was joyous and it swept me up into the feeling. We stood holding each other in the falling snow, breaking the silence with joy. I brushed her hair off her face and softly brushed the snow from her head as I kissed her hair trying to imprint her scent on my mind.

"What I'm about to say has no ulterior motive to it but there is no way you are going to get a cab back to your hotel tonight. I live three blocks away and you are welcome to come home with me."

Again the eyebrow arched upwards as Dana heard my words. "Why Agent Reyes what kind of woman do you think I am?"

That eyebrow and the smile in her eyes are going to be the undoing of me. I groaned and blushed, dropping my forehead to the top of hers as she laughed at my reaction.

"Monica," she laughingly whispered, "I was teasing."

I peered into her eyes knowing that was where I would find her truth. In the falling snow I saw what she wanted: me. Taking Dana's gloved hand in mine I started the trek to my apartment, walking in silence. The streets were empty and still as if time was ours to play with. It was up to us to create what we wanted tonight.

3:32 am December 11, 1994

I can hear him snoring in my bed. I couldn't touch him. I haven't been able to do more than lightly kiss him since. I didn't resist his pleas to sleep here tonight, but it's over, it's been over a long time.

Wrapped in my Grandmother's quilt on my couch, I can still feel her lips on mine, her hands on my body and the flashes of what happened that night and every night of the conference. We had our time together and it opened both of us up in so many ways. We never talked about what happened when the world came crashing back to us; we just accepted the fact that this was ours.

She and Mulder left after the last session and I went back to the stakeout. It was almost like a New York version of Brigadoon. We were alive for three days and then asleep again. The problem is I can't sleep, and today I found neither could she. The phone rang as he was coming through the door and when I said hello my world fell away when I heard her voice say,


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