Title: The First Of Many
Author: Medie
E-Mail: medison@thezone.net
Category: DSR
Keywords: Challenge, ScullyFic
Spoilers: Maybe casual spoilers for Season 9 NIHT I&II
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. If I did, the characters would behave like the
characters and Scully'd admit where her true love really lies yadda yadda
yadda. ;-)
Summary: Remembering the first of many.
Feedback: Oooh yes please!! Flames, *snicker* sureeee...step on the tiger's
tail. See if it doesn't bite. *G*
Author's Note: I haven't posted any DSR lately and I felt I was highly
overdue. *G* So here's a shortie to tide people over til I finish the few
other longer ones I've got going.
The First Of Many
by Medie
--------------------
Looking back, she really couldn’t say what had been the actual moment that
had caused it. The ‘stressor’ as it were. She who seemed able to recall
almost any detail if she thought hard enough, couldn’t tell when that blue
flame had morphed from one of anger to one of passionate desire.
When she thought back, something she did frequently, all she could recall
was those eyes searing into her soul and claiming it as his.
It sounded ridiculous, like something out of a badly written romance novel,
but it was true.
Marked and conquered.
There was an element to that, so deliciously unmodern, which thrilled her;
sent shivers racing along her spine that all the so-called sensitive men in
the world just never could generate.
Sometimes, a woman just needed that strength.
-----
It had been in the midst of another fight about Mulder, the X-Files,
William, all the secrets and all the deceptions. In the midst of that, she’d
tried to storm past him, refusing to listen any more to truths that were
cutting too close; refusing to see the hurt and confusion in his eyes;
refusing to acknowledge the part she’d played in putting it there...
But his hand closed around her upper arm, preventing her progress. It was a
movement so fast she wasn’t aware he’d done it until her forward motion
halted suddenly; leaving her just shy of the door. She hadn’t realized what
was happening until he spun her to face him.
She’d started to protest but the look in his eyes made it die on her lips
before even being born.
He backed her against the nearest wall, still holding her arm firmly - an
ever present reminder she wasn’t going anywhere just yet - then, with the
gentlest of touches, slid his free hand up the column of her neck. It was a
simple gesture, barely there; his hand skimming over the skin and moving
beneath her hair. The whispery sensation sending electric pulses through
her, heightening every sense.
Logically, she’d known she should have kept protesting, kept arguing, kept
doing *anything* that would have haulted what was coming...
But she didn’t want to.
----
It had been the most erotic thing she’d felt in a while and she couldn’t say
why she’d thought it so erotic. A feather soft kiss to her forehead, then
each eyelid, the tip of her nose, her cheeks then...then finally, her mouth.
Oh, God, her mouth...
One kiss. It had only been one kiss.
One kiss that she’d felt in every fibre of her being; the touch of his lips
on hers sending waves of warmth and desire radiating through her slight
form; making her head spin; dissolving any resistance like mist in the wind.
One kiss that had, with sudden swiftness, clarified so many things.
Explained Mulder’s persistent distrust of Doggett, his need to keep him away
from her, and his changed behavior toward her. He’d seen what she hadn’t:
John’s feelings for her and her own growing feelings for him.
In the end, she knew, he’d accepted it. Understood that on some level it had
played into his departure. His gradual lessening of contact. Oh, he’d made
efforts to keep her but he’d known something she hadn’t. Denied something
she hadn’t even been aware of. They’d been over before they’d even started.
And, as John’s mouth oh-so-worshipfully plundered hers, she bid Mulder a
silent good-bye.
-----
The kiss seemed to last forever yet ended all too soon.
When John lifted his head, just barely, she’d stretched up in an attempt to
return his lips to hers. The action had made him smile, a slow, pleased
smile that warmed her nearly as much as the kiss had.
“Who said you could stop?” She’d asked, her voice husky and lower than
usual. A thrill of satisfaction had raced through her at the sight of her
voice’s reaction in him. His breathing seemed to shallow and his eyes
darkened to impossibly pure blue that drew her gaze like a magnet.
“My lungs.” As irrepressible as ever, he’d grinned at his own joke and she’d
felt the need to pinch his sides firmly.
When he squirmed, a delighted look entered her eyes. John Doggett was
ticklish. She’d filed that fact away for further use and tilted her head
back, hands sliding up to grasp his strong forearms. “Well, are they
satisfied?”
“Yes, ma’am,” God she loved that drawl. “But my lips’re mighty unhappy.”
“So are mine.” Her smile widened as she leaned against him, stretching up
again. “Better fix that.”
And so he had, meeting her lips in a kiss even more intense than its
predecessor, and she’d known then, that the kisses they’d shared were but
the first of many. That those kisses were the evidence of something far more
magical that hid beneath the surface of a calm exterior. Something she would
cherish deeply and guard close to her heart. A love so intense, so abiding
and so powerful that it seemed nothing would shake it.
She knew now that nothing could.
-----
Looking back, she saw so many things she’d missed before. Realized things
that had escaped her then. Hindsight truly was 20-20 but love wasn’t blind.
It was an eye opener.
Turning to face her husband, Dana Scully-Doggett smiled and kissed him. “I
love you.”
And she did: she always had, even when she didn’t know it she always had.
