TITLE: Genesis: Ghosts

AUTHOR: Radclyffe

EMAIL ADDRESS: rdclyfhall@hotmail.com

ARCHIVE: anywhere, just let me know

RATING: NC-17; This story depicts graphic sexual encounters between

same-sex consenting adults.

CATEGORY: Romance

SPOILERS: All Things

KEYWORDS: Scully/Other(female); Scully/Slash SUMMARY: Scully struggles with

a painful reminder of her past.



DISCLAIMERS:The characters and events introduced on the X-Files are the

sole property of Chris Carter etc, and are used here without permission for

entertainment, not for profit.



Comments welcome.



******



Tuesday, Washington D.C.



Mulder fumbled the phone to his ear. "Mulder--" he mumbled groggily.



"It's Marsh, Mulder. Is she there?" Her voice was even and calm, betraying

none of her anxiety. She glanced again at the digital clock on the dresser.



5:25 AM



Mulder rolled off the bed and padded to the doorway, glancing across the

living room to the sofa where she had fallen asleep. The handmade wool

blanket with which he had covered her was neatly folded on the arm of the

couch. He looked the other way across his bedroom to the bathroom. The door

was pulled nearly closed, and no light shown beyond it. He returned to the

bed, sitting heavily on the side. Wearily he brushed one hand through his

hair as he picked up the receiver. He continued to rub his face, trying to

wake up, wondering if he should make some excuse. But it was not his place

to offer explanations.



"No," was all he finally said.



Marsh knew from the prolonged silence that he had been searching the

apartment. Her voice was flat, no trace of recrimination. "You know what

time she left?"



Mulder sighed. "No idea. She was here around midnight, and I left her

asleep on the sofa." He didn't see any reason to tell her that sometime in

the night, Scully had lain down beside him in the dark. He had been awake,

but had said nothing. When she reached for his hand, he had slipped his

fingers between hers. He hadn't heard her leave.



It was Marsh's turn for silence. She respected Dana's friendship with

Mulder, even though she admitted, if only to herself, that occasionally she

was jealous of it. There were things that he shared with her lover that she

could not. The two of them faced danger, and far too often - death,

together. That produced a kind of bond that approached the intimacy of

lovers, and a kind of interdependence that often out-lasted love. She also

respected her lover's privacy. She trusted Dana to tell her what she could,

when she was ready.



Nevertheless, she was worried, and couldn't help but ask, "Is she all

right, Mulder? It's not like her not to leave a message."



Mulder knew what that question cost her. He thought for a second, weighing

his loyalty to Scully, not wanting to betray her confidences, but

sympathizing with Marsh's concern. "I think she's okay," he said at length.



"I think she was just lonely."



It hurt Marsh to think that Dana had needed someone, and she was not there.



She took a deep breath, and said, "Thanks, Mulder. And thanks for being

there for her."



Mulder carefully hung up the receiver, and whispered "That's okay. I love

her, too."



*****



6:15 AM



When Scully came into the apartment, she headed straight to the bedroom. By

the time she reached the doorway, she had shed both shoes, had pulled off

her rumpled sweater, and was about to push her skirt down and kick it into

a corner when she stopped, one hand balanced on the doorway, and stared in

surprise at the figure stretched out on top of the bed. "What are you doing

here? I didn't expect you until tomorrow."



Marsh smiled faintly, a slight flickering at the corner of her mouth. She

had shed her travel clothes and showered quickly after her call to Mulder.

She was wearing the blue silk robe that Scully had gotten her. She tried to

keep her tone light, but she could see the shadows under Dana's eyes from

across the room, and she had to struggle not to question her.



"I had all I could take of the meeting by last night. If I had to listen to

one more person talk about the economic aspects of trauma care I was going

to scream. I caught the red eye home."



Unable to wait any longer, Marsh crossed the room and slipped her arms

around Scully's waist. "Plus, I missed you and I didn't want to stay away

another night." To her surprise, in a rare show of vulnerability, Dana

pressed herself tightly against her, her arms encircling her in a near

desperate embrace.



"Hey," Marsh whispered, resting her cheek against the soft reddish gold

hair. "What's going on?"



Scully closed her eyes tightly, contenting herself just to listen to the

slow steady beat of Marsh's heart. It always took Marsh coming home for her

to realize how very deeply she missed her when she was gone. She usually

buried herself in work, and tried not to think about how impossible it was

to sleep without her, how difficult to start the day without hearing her

voice. This time, it had been even worse. For three days she had been

catapulted into the past, forced to confront choices she had made, some of

which she regretted deeply, and the consequences that had followed. Some

things she hadn't been proud of, and some feelings she thought she had laid

to rest, had returned to haunt her. She leaned back, tilting her head to

study her lover. Marsh's gray eyes were tender, the expression on her face

accepting, and the strength of her embrace comforting. She felt safe, and

loved. She took Marsh's hand and said, "Come lie down with me."



They lay face to face, arms encircling one another, hands softly stroking.



"I was doing an autopsy for Mulder on Saturday, when I accidentally came

across the chart of a man I once knew," Scully began. Seeing his name had

brought back a flood of emotion, memories of a time in her life when she

had been uncertain and confused. She was following the prescribed path,

trying to please her parents, fulfilling their desires and what she had

thought were her own dreams. But she had found herself halfway through

medical school feeling unfulfilled and desperate. And then Daniel had come

to answer her questions. He had been her teacher, her mentor, and briefly,

her lover. But unlike what she had found with Marsh, his love had not

brought peace. She didn't know how to describe what she felt when she saw

him again.

Regret, a lingering tenderness, a reflection of her long ago pain.



Marsh felt her uncertainty, and brushed her long surgeon's fingers through

the wisps of hair lying across Dana's face. She moved closer still until

their bodies touched along their entirety. Whatever Dana needed to say,

Marsh wanted her to know that she could hear it. "Tell me," she urged

gently.



"We were lovers for a time," Scully said flatly. "He was married, and

finally I left because I couldn't be with him knowing how much pain it was

going to cause everyone. That was 12 years ago, and I didn't see him again

until three days ago."



Scully studied the woman whose love had changed her life, tracing a

fingertip along the dark arching eyebrows, down over the sharp elegant

cheek bone, along the strong certain jaw. Marsh did not need to know these

things, and Scully would die before she hurt her. Finally, she rested her

fingers in the thick mane of black hair, faintly laced with gray at the

temples. Tenderly, she said, "Do you know how much I love you?"



Marsh pressed her lips to Dana's forehead. "I know. It's all right to talk

about him."



Scully shrugged slightly, shaking her head impatiently. "It was hard. He

seemed to think that nothing had changed, despite all the years that had

gone by. He looked at me and saw the infatuated, needy person I had been.

I looked at him and imagined what my life would have been like if I had

stayed."



She parted Marsh's robe and pulled it around the both of them, so that they

lay naked together under the soft cover. She slipped her leg between

Marsh's, and pressed her breasts against Marsh's chest. She kissed the soft

skin below Marsh's ear, then moved her lips slowly along the curve of

Marsh's jaw to her lips. She kissed her, slowly at first, savoring the

wonder of warmth and softness, the excitement of heat and strength.

Pausing, her throat tight, she whispered, "I can't imagine my life without

you."



Marsh brought both hands to Dana's face, brushing her fingertips over the

furrows in her brow, smoothing the lines around her eyes with her thumbs.

She held her head gently in her palms as she kissed her forehead, her

eyelids, and finally her mouth. She stroked the inner surface of Dana's

lips with her tongue, indolent languorous strokes that banked the fires

that were building within. One hand drifted down, tracing the curve of full

breast, lingering to brush softly over the swiftly hardening nipple.



"You'll never be without me," she murmured, "because I will never stop

loving you."



Suddenly, urgently, Scully wanted her. She wanted _this_ life, _this_

woman. Marsh was her present, and her future, and she wanted the past to be

buried. She brought her hands to Marsh's shoulders, pushing her onto her

back and rolling on top of her in one motion. She pressed her thigh between

Marsh's, insistently, pinning Marsh to the bed, fanning the flames of their

shared desire. This time her kisses were harder, more demanding, bruising

in their intensity. Marsh held her tightly, offering herself, welcoming

her, giving her shelter. Scully's hips rocked into Marsh's, her hands

roamed desperately over Marsh's lean taut body, claiming her. There would

be marks where her fingers clutched her.



"Oh god," Scully gasped, "I love you."



Marsh grasped Scully's hand, drawing it between her legs, urging her

inward.

"Take me," she gasped, "make me come for you." Even as she spoke, Marsh's

hips were thrusting upward, her fingers tight on Scully's buttocks, her

neck arched, her breath an erratic rasp. "Please, please, please--"



Scully straddled Marsh's thigh, clenching her legs tightly, moving hard,

pressing her clitoris urgently against the smooth skin. She heard nothing

but Marsh's broken sobs, felt nothing but the soft strength of Marsh's

body, wanted nothing but to be inside of her, to lose herself in the

warmth, and the wetness, and the glory of her. Closing her eyes, pressing

her face tightly to Marsh's neck, her fingers deep inside, her palm

brushing over the slick hot folds, she surrendered all her pain and all her

uncertainty on the indestructible alter of their passion.



When they came, it was with wonder, and gratitude, and joy. When they held

each other, silently, their tears mingling as their cheeks touched, it was

with peace, and certainty. When they slept, it was dreamless - and free.