Title: DON'T BE AFRAID OF
THE DARK (a crossover romance)
Author: Janet F.
Caires-Lesgold
e-mail:
jfc@freeshell.org
Feedback: Please, to the
above address!
Archive: By permission
only, please
Rating: NC-17, Sc/O
Category: XSRA - "outsider"
POV
Spoilers: "The
Blessing Way", "Never Again" (XF), "Pilot", "The
Devil You Know" (IM)
Timeframe: Sometime after
the fourth year of the REAL X-Files
Summary: An investigation
reintroduces Scully to an old friend
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those
unfamiliar with the Sci-Fi Channel series "The Invisible Man", I will
attempt to put capsule character descriptions at the end of the story. I hope I have included enough background
material in the story itself that the average XF fan is not lost...
DISCLAIMER: Some of these
characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and the whole X-Files
gang, not to me. The rest of the
characters belong to Matt Greenberg and Stu Segall Productions, not to me,
either. This story is just for the
entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.
COPYRIGHT: (C) January 15,
2001, Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, jfc@freeshell.org
Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without
the express permission of the author.
Thank you very much.
______________________
The nice thing about being a thief is that you work alone. The nice thing about working alone is a
complete lack of meetings with your co-workers. The nice thing about meetings... well, face it: there *is* no nice thing about meetings.
Back in the old days, I gathered my own information, possibly
sharing it with a partner on the fly, but I was never summoned to a big room
with a door that locked me *in* with a bunch of equally-bored people. But times have changed, and I'm working on
the *inside* now. So there we
were: the Official droning about
possible threats to the security of the Agency, and Eberts flicking the button
on the remote of the slide projector.
My Keeper, Claire, was, as always, back in the lab doing experiments on
her critters. My partner, Hobbes, was
sound asleep and snoring, his head tipped back so I could see straight up his
nostrils across the finely-polished conference table.
I was trying hard to stay awake, contemplating making my head
disappear so I could make a childish face to myself or just give a huge yawn,
but courtesy to my new boss kept me visible and blinking so I looked
attentive. Suddenly, however, a slide
came into view that drew all of my focus.
"These F.B.I. agents have been snooping around our parent
agency for a few days," said the old man, officiously. "I want you to be on the lookout for
them, get them off of our trail."
Hobbes, who had bolted awake at the mention of F.B.I., was at once
full of questions. "What are they
doing here? What do they want? I didn't do anything!"
The Official's fleshy eyelids descended into the bags over his
cheeks with all of the concern of a recently-fed iguana. He continued, "Had you been listening,
you would have heard that these special agents are apparently following up on
reports of a poltergeist in the building," spinning to face me with a
challenge in his gaze. "You're not
wasting your quicksilver antidote on mere games around the office, are you,
Fawkes?"
"Absolutely not, sir," I swore, running through any
recent in-house covert activities in my head.
Perhaps I'd been overheard fooling around with the photocopier upstairs
a week before, making enough noise to cover the footsteps of any passersby.
He returned to droning mode.
"If you happen to see these agents in the building at *any* time, I
want you to answer their questions as politely as you can, without giving away
any information on our project--is that clear?" We nodded dutifully, taking notes on the pads provided. "Their names are Special Agent Fox
Mulder and Special Agent..."
"Dana Scully," I interrupted.
"What?" Hobbes, the Official, and Eberts asked in
unison.
"Dana Scully," I repeated, trying to be helpful.
"Do you know this woman?" asked the head of the Agency.
"Yeah, Fawkes... Is
she some kinda friend of yours?" echoed Hobbes.
I licked my teeth nervously before answering. "I guess you could say that. I used to date her sister."
~~~~~~~
As expected, the F.B.I. made an *official* call on us a few days
later. Hobbes and I were to report to
the main office for questioning, but he was peppering me with so many on our
way upstairs that I felt I was just practicing.
"So you know her sister, huh?" he quizzed, a sly look
flitting about his eyebrows.
"Uh-huh," I answered, gnawing on some new granola/energy
bar thing that Claire had developed--it tasted like chocolate-chip cardboard,
but it contained an antidote booster that might reduce my reliance on the
injections.
"When you say "know", how do you mean that?"
"What do you mean?"
I knew exactly what he meant, but I didn't feel like playing along.
"I mean "know", like in the Biblical sense..."
"I can't imagine why that would be of any interest to you,"
I tossed off, flinging the remains of my granola bar in the nearest
trashcan. If the remedy were going to
taste *that* bad, I wouldn't mind letting the quicksilver madness take me,
especially if Hobbes were in the room with me and he were continuing to pursue
this particular conversational thread.
"Well, personally, I'd start wondering if you'd ever
suggested a double-date, *if* you know what I mean..."
I pushed the button for the elevator and spun to glare at
him. "I'm assuming you mean a date
with both of them at once, without another man invited along?"
His smarmy grin made his ears turn pink. "Exactly!" he crowed, then quieted, apparently waiting
for my answer.
Elevator doors opened before us, and I boarded and turned to the
front of the car, facing him without answering.
Before he stepped inside, he stared me down and asked,
"Well?"
"I fail to appreciate how my sex life is any of your
business."
He moved into the car beside me and lowered his voice
mollifyingly. "Okay, Fawkes... you
may be right. I just thought that if
you could turn up the charm with little sister, here--she *is* the "little
sister", right?" he interrupted himself to ask. I nodded my reply, and he proceeded. "I figured that if all else failed, you
could use your prior knowledge of the lady to get her to lay off of us."
Now I *know* that the project that implanted the quicksilver gland
in my brain, making it possible for me to turn invisible on demand, is a
closely-guarded government secret in a sub-agency that doesn't exist in the
Department of Fish and Game. I mean, my
brother who helped test the thing was killed trying to protect the gland, and
by extension *me*--I am fully aware what his priorities were, and can't really
take too much offense at his choice.
Had I had a closer relationship with my brother Kevin, the genius, as I
was growing up, I might have ended up as a scientist on the project, instead of
the hard-up thief who got volunteered first-hand knowledge of how the thing
worked, as well as how it went wrong, in exchange for my release from
prison. So while I understood just how
important secrecy was to the Official and to the Agency as a whole, I didn't
like my partner/caretaker making assumptions about what I was willing to do to
cover our tracks.
What I might be willing to do for my own purposes could be
entirely different from that, I discovered upon further reflection. The photograph that the Official had shown
us wasn't in the sharpest focus, but the tiny redhead could only have been Melissa's
sister Dana. On more than one occasion,
I had sat in the family parlor in North Carolina, where old man Scully had been
stationed that year, waiting for Melissa to get ready while I felt those very
eyes gazing at me over the top of a high-school textbook from the dining room,
but when I looked up, all I could see was that flame of hair hiding behind a
volume on trigonometry.
I hadn't quite fallen by the wayside yet, nor had Melissa, but I
sensed her yearnings to be a bad girl, a wild child, and I was more than happy
to experiment in adult misbehavior with her.
Dana, on the other hand, was the perfect daughter, the teacher's pet,
the blessed virgin, and when I had dropped a thoroughly-groped and slightly-stoned
Melissa off at home, visions of unsullied Dana Scully followed me to my dorm
and made it difficult for me to sleep without spilling a little seed in her
honor. The irony was not lost on me
even then.
"So I wonder what they'll ask us," said Hobbes,
interrupting my reverie abruptly.
"You know anything about that hulking dude shadowing her in the
picture?"
"Not a thing," I replied, stepping out of the elevator,
which had arrived at our floor while I was woolgathering. "I haven't spoken to her since she
graduated from high school. I doubt
she'll even remember me..."
"C'mon, Fawkes", he teased, his grin laced less with
sexual innuendo and more with an effort to be sincere, "who could forget
*you*?"
A little while later, I was tucked into one of the small
conference rooms answering questions posed by the aforementioned hulking
dude. Dana was not with him, so I
deduced that they were splitting up the interviews to save time. I carefully echoed the company cover story
in reply to his queries, though I was impressed by how thorough his examination
was. Given his appearance, I had
assumed that he was a typical bureau hose in an expensive suit, but I was
struck by both his intelligence and his peculiar fascination with things
otherworldly. My acting skills must
have improved some since my reprobate days, as I managed to stay cool even when
the questions might have made me give away state secrets if I'd answered them
to the letter.
Agent Mulder gave me a warm smile and handshake when his
investigation of my opinions on his case was complete. We moved into the hall, where Hobbes was
saying goodbye in a similarly cordial fashion to Agent Scully.
"Scully, you ready?" he asked, signaling her that he was
on his way out the door, none too soon for my comfort.
She turned to look up at him, but her gaze immediately fell on
me. Her eyes and mouth flew open in
delighted shock, as she squealed, "Darien? Oh my *God*!" At
once she was before me, her arms flung around me in a somewhat
more-than-friendly manner.
Her partner, with an expression that could have been equal parts
jealousy and envy, tried to distract her.
"Um, Scully... Do you
*know* this man?" he asked, his voice heavy with warning and a tinge of
sarcasm.
Dana giggled girlishly as she held me at arms' length. "It's so good to see you, Darien!"
she cooed, finally spinning to include the other agent in the reunion. "Mulder, I'd like you to meet Darien
Fawkes. He used to go out with Melissa."
His shoulders eased a little from their
kill-the-man-who-tarnished-my-sister's-honor stance, but he didn't shake my
hand again, not that I expected that he would.
"We've met," he fairly growled, but in her elation, she didn't
appear to notice.
I tried to make nice and break the tension. "I had heard your name mentioned in
connection with this investigation, Dana, but I didn't know if you'd remember
me..."
Once again she sparkled those big blue eyes in my direction. "Oh, don't be silly, Darien! Who could forget *you*?" she intoned,
echoing Hobbes' admonition word-for-word. I caught his eye as he winked at me in acknowledgement.
"Scully," Agent Mulder chided, a little less severely
this time, "we really ought to be going back to the Hoover."
"Just a minute," she hushed, then turned to me. "You live here in D.C.?"
"Yeah--over near Dupont Circle."
"Well, how about that?
I'm in Georgetown! We have *got*
to get together for dinner, and *soon*!
How's tomorrow?"
I quickly ran through my patently empty social calendar in my
head, deciding that I could spare a Saturday night to get reacquainted with a
favorite memory. "I could do
tomorrow. Meet you on the Circle at
about seven?"
"It's a date!"
She grinned, then bounded up the intervening foot or so and planted a
kiss on my cheek. "I'm so glad I
ran into you! See you tomorrow!"
Hobbes and I stood there and watched them leave, Dana turning
around and waving happily every dozen steps.
"So," whispered Hobbes, angling his head at the back of the
departing Agent Mulder, "d'ya think he's slippin' it to her?"
With one glance back at the couple, as I noted his hand planted
firmly in the small of her back despite her over-the-shoulder look at me, I
replied, "Not tonight, he isn't..."
~~~~~~~
I spent all day Saturday cleaning my apartment--I wasn't absolutely
positive we'd end up there, but I didn't want to take any chances...
The thought of making love to a woman now that I'd been
"changed" frightened me a little.
Okay: a *lot*. Just touching
that pretty scientist got my adrenaline pumping enough to vanish my arm and
leg. I have to admit--I'd been scared
sufficiently by that to make me skittish about trying anything further, even by
myself. So much for dirty magazines,
romantic videos, anything that might turn me on. When I started getting hard whenever I surfed past the pretty
blonde anchor on the evening news, I started subscribing to the Post.
But I couldn't disappoint Dana--not if she wanted to stay
over. As I took a shower that
afternoon, I let my fingers touch myself experimentally. Imagining that my hand was her hand, I
stroked my stomach, feeling the beginnings of an erection under the warm
water. When I finally reached down to
pump myself, a familiar chill snaked out from the back of my neck, and I
watched with resignation as the mercury-like quicksilver secreted over my arms
and chest. My vision became shimmery,
and soon the water was running down invisible legs. I kept up my rhythm, though, just to see what happened, and when
I came, my quicksilver coating shattered into dust dissolving in the bottom of
the tub. Finishing up my shower, I
contemplated whether Claire would want to include my empirical research in her
files on me.
Considering my options, I evaluated my chances of having sex with
Dana without her seeing me disappear. People
don't use blindfolds on first dates, so that idea was out of the question. Perhaps with the blinds drawn and all of the
lights out, her eyes wouldn't get used to the dark quickly enough to see
anything suspicious. That might affect
the order of things I might like to do with her... I'd have to think of a good cover story, but I was getting better
at that these days. In addition, the
quicksilver lowered my body temperature by a few degrees, so perhaps if I set
the air conditioner in my bedroom to deep freeze, she wouldn't notice me turn
cold.
Then again, when I touched her, my quicksilver would spread to
*her*. I wondered what she would think
if she could suddenly see the world as a silver negative. Maybe I'd be lucky, and she'd keep her eyes
closed. In that case, I thought, I had
certainly better be *good*...
And what about protection?
I mean, this stuff flowed right over my clothes, so it would cover a
condom quite easily, so I hoped that her body heat might keep it warm enough so
that the rubber wouldn't crack. For
that matter, would the coating stay outside of her, or go in with me, so to
speak? Would I risk scratching her
inside with the tiny sharp edges of the crumbs when they broke off me? That mental image made me shudder for real,
and almost consider calling her to cancel.
Unfortunately, I had failed to get her phone number, so I was
committed. All I could do was finish
getting dressed and walk over to find a plainly visible bench on the Circle.
~~~~~~~
"So, you mean you've lived here in D.C. for eight months, and
I was right here and never knew..." she marveled. Instead of the severe dark suit she had worn
on her visit to the Department of Fish and Game, she was in a cool lime green
shift more suitable to the warm summer evening. The walls of the second-story sushi bar were painted black, and
in contrast, she practically glowed as if she were lit by a blacklight. If I hadn't suspected that she considered
this a genuine "date" before I saw her, I was firmly convinced of the
fact now.
"Yeah," I finally answered her question. "My work transferred me here from
California, and even though I still travel a lot, I call this my home base
now."
She sighed and sipped at her water glass. "I know what you mean about traveling a
lot. It gets to be a real pain in the
ass sometimes..." The years had
apparently been good to Dana, but she seemed to have more of an edge now: no longer the virginal high-schooler, but a
lovely woman of the world who didn't have any hesitations about swearing, not
even in front of a date. It only served
to make her more beautiful.
The server brought little bowls of sesame-topped salad, into which
we dug with the chopsticks we found at our place settings. "So, you enjoy your work at the
Bureau?" I asked, honestly curious.
A resigned smile crossed her face, leaving untold volumes in her
eyes. "We have the best solve rate
of any team in our division, but it's hard."
"There's a lot of crime out there, isn't there?" I
offered, hoping she wouldn't pursue my activities in the intervening years too
hard.
"There's a lot out there, period," she replied, placing
a large chunk of iceberg lettuce into her mouth. Her eyes, still troubled, rested lightly on me. "I don't think I want to think about it
all tonight. Is that okay with
you?"
"Sure. I'm
sorry... I didn't mean to upset
you..." We fell silent as we
chased the last carrot shreds around our small salad bowls.
She pushed her bowl to the edge of the table and began measuring
soy sauce out into her dipping dish.
"Look, Darien--I may not want to talk shop tonight, but please,
don't be afraid to ask me anything.
It's been a long time, and I want to catch up..."
It might have been crass of me, but there was one thing I had to
know before our date went any further.
"Just tell me this: what's with you and this Joe Armani partner of
yours?"
Her head tipped back as she regarded the black ceiling
thoughtfully. "Well," she
drew out, "it's complicated."
I was quick to step into the gap.
"I hope I'm not stepping on any toes by taking you out
tonight..."
Giving a reassuring chuckle, she patted the back of my hand. "Oh, it's nothing like that! He's just a friend, *really*. You have nothing to worry about!" Despite her protestations, some small ghost
hovered in her gaze that made me wonder just how big "nothing" could
really be.
Just then, the server brought us wooden trays filled with
glistening slabs of multi-hued fish on mounds of vinegared rice. We fell to adding portions of wasabe to our
dipping dishes, stirring them with our chopsticks, then catching each other's
eye as we selected our first pieces, dipped them as neatly as possible, and bit
them in half. Dana's eyes widened, and
she smiled as she chewed her sushi.
When her mouth was clear enough to speak again, she chuckled as
she exclaimed, "*Good* wasabe!"
All I could do was nod in agreement, as I was busy blinking back a small
tear from the spicy horseradish condiment.
Soon we had become accustomed to the heat level of our food, and
were able to converse as we feasted on blood-red tuna, shimmering silvery
mackerel, tender yellow egg, and bright orange salmon roe that burst between
our teeth like bubbles of salt water.
The topics remained light and food-oriented for awhile, until we felt
comfortable pursuing more personal subject matter.
"So, tell me," she asked, chasing a petal of pickled
ginger with a sip of her Coke, "how's your brother doing these days?"
Leaning back from my dinner, I regarded her quietly. "I forgot that you knew Kevin..."
Her face showed little concern as she cocked her head
inquisitively. "We had a few
friends in common, maybe took a couple of the same classes: nothing serious..."
I licked my lips nervously as I prepared to give her the bad
news. "He was killed during a
robbery last year. I'm sorry..."
Mouth agape, her eyebrows flew up registering shock and
surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry,
Darien!" she gushed, hurrying to offer comfort. "I had no idea!"
She patted my hand again, and I placed my other hand on top of
hers gently. "It's okay,
Dana. Sure, I miss him, but he had sort
of saved my life."
"Really?"
"Well, I guess you could say I'd taken a wrong turn
somewhere, and he, um, made some things happen that brought me back to the
straight and narrow."
A small grin lit up her eyes briefly. "Are we talking about religious conversion?"
This comment left me scrambling for an appropriate response. "I don't think you'd call it
that... Let's just say he reached into
my brain and put something there that had never been there before, something
that made me see things differently, something that made me realize how unique
and valuable a person I could be..."
I prayed that she couldn't see the glint of irony in my eyes as I
listened to how much I had almost revealed about my real situation. Suddenly a little eager to change the
subject, I decided to satisfy my curiosity by asking, "I almost forgot:
how's Melissa?"
"Gone," she answered, but I missed the look in her eyes as
I chased the last fish eggs around my platter.
"She took off for good?" I asked, recalling the times my
old girlfriend had spent a few nights missing here and there, though never with
me. Clearing my palate with one last
bite of ginger, I glanced up at her again.
Her face was clouded with a hard-edged grief. "She's dead, Darien. Killed by a bullet meant for me..."
"Oh, my God," I started to blather. "I knew F.B.I. work was dangerous, but
I didn't know... Or was it personal
rather than work-related? Or I should
probably shut up right about now..."
Not a moment too soon, I stopped myself, her pain a nearly-tangible
thing pouring across the table.
"I'm sorry, Dana. I didn't
mean..."
The overcast sky of her face started to lighten as after a
thunderstorm. "I know. You weren't expecting it. People never know what to say. It's been awhile, so I guess I'm used to the
idea..." Her voice drifted off as
she visibly pushed her sadness away.
Our check came, filling the uncomfortable silence with activity
for a moment. When business was
finished, Dana and I stood stiffly beside our table. Desperate to restore our happier connections, I quietly began
again. "I don't want to leave you
on this note, okay?" Huge, solemn
blue eyes gazed up at me as she nodded shyly.
"Come to my place for some iced tea or something?" I touched her elbow softly as the word
"something" hung in the air, making promises I hoped I'd be able to
keep.
At last an only partly-dimmed smile broke forth on her face, and
she linked her hand over my arm as I began leading her out, answering,
"I'd like that a lot."
~~~~~~~
As the sun crawled under the horizon, an ocean breeze cooled the
air in the city, and my sport coat found itself tossed over Dana's bare
shoulders. Our conversation on the way
back to my apartment wasn't particularly serious, but the gravity of the
revelation of our losses kept us a little more somber than a couple on an
ordinary date might have been.
Dana seemed to take my spartan bachelor surroundings in stride,
making herself comfortable on my sofa as I found a CD of soft music to
play. When I sat beside her, I noticed
that she'd already kicked off her sandals and had tucked her feet underneath
her, putting her eyes on a level with mine as we settled in. I could only assume that this was a learned
behavior to keep her on equal footing with her partner.
Certain that I'd lost any instincts I ever had at making the first
move, I set down my tea glass and looked over my lovely companion with a little
fear and awe. "I'm glad you're
here tonight, Dana," I began.
"I am, too," she replied, sweetly. "I had always wondered about
you..."
Smiling at the memory of my gawky younger self, I nodded. "I wondered about you, too."
"Me?" she flustered, charmingly. "But you were crazy about
Melissa..."
"Yeah," I admitted, "but I had a good idea of what
she was thinking. It was *you* that
kept me thinking after I'd gone home."
Her startled expression made her all the more lovely. "Really?" She actually swallowed and licked her lips
at the same time as she thought of how to respond. "Well, I must confess that I had a little crush on you even
then..."
Flattered though I was, and a little impressed that she'd had the
guts to tell me, I could not really say that this news surprised me much. I felt myself grinning like an idiot, and I
didn't feel like stopping at all.
"Wow... After all this
time, here we are finding one another again.
That's something else, isn't it?"
"Yeah," she answered, her grin even bigger than
mine. "Me, that geeky kid
pretending to study while my big sister went out with that dangerously handsome
boy who rode a motorcycle..."
I had to adjust her perceptions a little. "Wait, wait. I was *not* that handsome at the age of nineteen!"
"Oh, yes, you were!" she insisted.
"...And *you* were not that geeky. In fact, I knew that you'd grow up to be prettier than Melissa
even then, and I was right."
That shut her up, however briefly, as I enjoyed watching her blush
demurely. "Quit it," she
protested adorably. "You're
pulling my leg!"
Shifting to move slightly closer to her, I teased, "No, I'm
not. I *will* if you want me
to." I demonstrated by reaching
out to grasp her closest knee.
She gave me an appreciative giggle.
"Or do you want me to do something else?" Letting my grin subside slowly, I fixed her
with what I hoped was a meaningful, intent stare.
Taking a long sip of her tea, then setting her glass aside, she
never let her eyes leave mine as she fell silent for a moment. "Yes, Darien. Please," she answered, quietly yet assuredly.
An amused grin spoiled my composed "ladykiller"
glance. "C'mere," I invited,
beckoning her with my index finger.
Dana leaned towards me slowly but not hesitantly, her eyes focused
completely on my lips and a small smile playing on her features. At last I held her shoulders and gave her a
warm, soft kiss, then backed away to watch her expression. However, she started to follow me back and
kissed me again before I could gauge her reaction. In a moment she was matching me kiss for kiss, and I had no doubt
that her enthusiasm was equal to mine.
My tongue slid into her mouth when it was invited by the quiet
parting of her lips, enjoying the lingering flavors of tea and ginger on her
breath. Perhaps it had been a long time
for Dana, too, as she responded to me hungrily. I could feel her fingers grab at my shirt front, and I did not
object as she began unfastening my buttons and slipping my sleeves down my arms. Somehow I kept my pulse rate in check and
remained visible as she took my shirt off, but it was a challenge as she ran
her delicate hands over the muscles of my arms.
Our kiss wound down, and as she broke away, I finally opened my
eyes to find her exploring my right arm visually as well. Flesh unused to any woman's touch but
Claire's clinical ministrations warmed as she pried beneath my tee-shirt
sleeve. I could tell the moment that
she spotted my snake tattoo (the one that Claire devised to gauge my need for
quicksilver antidote) by the expression on her face. Surprisingly, instead of a look of dread, or even of fascination
at an enticing threat, as I'd expected, she broke into a lovely smile.
"What is it, Dana?
You're shocked that your sister's old boyfriend who rode a motorcycle
has a tattoo?" I asked, more because I'd rehearsed the line in my head
than that she was actually shocked.
"No," she replied, darkly mysterious, "I need to
show you something." Bending in to
give me one more intriguing kiss, she unwound her legs from beneath her and
stood facing away from me. One hand
rose to the nape of her neck and tugged her zipper pull down slowly in a gentle
striptease. I barely had time to savor
the sight of her skin peeking out from the unzipped dress before she shrugged
it off to fall around her ankles.
Breathtakingly, she revealed to me her back, naked but for matching bra
and panties and sheer pantyhose, but unmistakably decorated. There on her otherwise ivory skin lay a
coiled snake not that dissimilar from my own.
"What's this?" I asked mindlessly, my hands immediately
drawn to stroke the inked surface.
"It's an ouroboros, the snake who eats his tail," she
answered easily. "Didn't they tell
you that when you got yours?"
"Well, it wasn't under ideal conditions..."
"Oh," she snickered.
"You were drunk, too?"
I decided to lie to cover my tracks. "Yeah. It seemed
like something I needed at the time."
Dana turned around where she stood, her body sliding under my
hands until my fingertips rested on her stomach. "That was how it was with me, too," she added, leaving
the rest of the story to my imagination.
Her eyes looked down at me, asking for something that she seemed
unwilling to use her voice to convey.
My two hands could practically fit around her waist, where they
moved without conscious effort from me and rested on her hips, my thumbs shyly
tickling at her navel. I returned her
gaze, wondering if she wanted more of an invitation and not feeling nearly as
brave as my body wanted me to be.
Finally she spoke.
"I'm not the good girl I used to be, Darien. I've seen a lot of things that wouldn't
scare me anymore, and I've done some things I'm not proud of, so don't go
slowly on my account. I want you,
too..." As if to nudge me into
action, she tugged on my hands until I stood up.
For a moment, I forgot where my bedroom was, why I'd want to go
there, and for a heartbeat, my name.
"You want me..." I breathed, trying hard not to gulp. Her warm smile, full of caring and desire,
broke through my brain static, and made me remember what we were here to
do. I reached to cup her face in my
hands, letting my fingers curl under her hair as I kissed her deeply, diving
into her mouth to work up my courage again.
Once I ran out of breath, we couldn't reach the bedroom fast
enough. As I had planned, the only
light burning was a small lamp on the nightstand, and the air conditioning had
brought the temperature down to just above chilly. Before she reached my bed, Dana's nipples hardened visibly
beneath her bra. "Damn--it's cold
in here!" she huffed.
"I'm sorry. The super
keeps trying to fix it, but it's either like this or sweltering in here. I hope you don't mind..."
She shivered a little, but drifted closer to me. "I guess we'll warm it up soon
enough!" she laughed, sitting on my bed and scooting backwards to lean
against my headboard. "Come
on--sit down," she invited, patting the mattress beside her.
I sat down, taking a deep breath before going into my next
requirement. "I don't want to be a
pain, but it's been awhile since I've done this, and, uh, I'd be more
comfortable if we did it with the lights off.
Is that okay with you?"
"What's the matter?" she asked playfully. "Weird birthmark?"
Chuckling to hide my nervousness, I answered, "Not
quite. Let's just say it's a phobia of
mine. Is that okay?"
With a small shrug, she nodded.
"Hey, if the only way you can get it up is in a pitch-black room,
who am I to complain if I get to come along for the ride? I'd better give you a mental image to work
with first, though," she added, peeling away her stockings, slipping off
her underthings, and giving me a wanton glance.
I reached for the light switch with one hand and my belt buckle
with the other. The reassuring click of
the lamp sounded just in time for the first cold trickle to creep out of my
neck. Quickly I shed my clothes and
moved to sit beside Dana on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I might be a little rusty at
this. Don't panic, okay?"
"I'm sure you'll do just fine," she said,
reassuringly. "Now, where the hell
are you?"
"Right here," I replied, capturing her mouth once again
with my own. My other hand found her
breast, and I fondled it reverently as I tasted her tongue thoroughly. The quicksilver ran down my limbs and spread
to her body wherever we touched.
"Oooooh," she moaned, a shudder going up her spine and
into my arm. "I don't know what
you just did, but keep doing it!"
Pleased with my success so far at keeping her in the dark, so to
speak, I clutched her tighter and laid her flat on the spread. As I felt my arousal mount, I cursed to
myself for forgetting about protection before we'd gone this far. "Dana, honey, I probably should have
asked earlier, but are you on the pill or something?"
She broke briefly from nibbling on my neck to answer cryptically,
"Don't worry about it. It won't be
a problem."
"Do you want me to use a condom, anyway? I've got some in the nightstand, I
think..."
Even with my "heat vision", I could barely see her face
in the darkened room as she held me at arm's length to address the blur that
was me. "It's okay, Darien. I know what it's like to work for government
agencies, getting tested for everything under the sun at any opportunity. I trust you." She apparently didn't even notice any textural difference as she
kissed me sweetly. "C'mon. Let's make love."
Being the gentleman I am, I could hardly refuse such an earnest
request. The quicksilver completely coated
our outer surfaces, but somehow flowed away where we actually touched. Therefore, I proceeded to kiss her and
suckle at her nipples as if we were both absolutely ordinary and visible,
though the thought of someone walking in and hearing our sighs and moans
without being able to see us amused me for a moment.
I must admit to finding the odd combination of her hot skin and my
chilled exterior an extra turn-on, which I could only imagine she shared. When I reached between her legs to tickle
her clit, she shuddered violently and exclaimed loudly.
"Geez," she murmured, "I guess it *has* been
awhile. Keep it up--I can probably
stand a couple more of those tonight!"
With that, she wrapped her legs snugly around me, and I searched to find
her opening.
Having just come, she was nice and wet, and I teased her a little
with my fingers before entering her.
The sensation was easily five times more intense than I remembered sex
being, partly because of my long retirement from the game, partly due to the
temperature differential, and partly because this wasn't just *any* girl: it
was Dana Scully, the object of many a fantasy from my teenage years.
Even with our bodies pressed so closely together, I still found
room to push her magic buttons enough to put her over again. Her spasms around me took me to the brink
and dropped me off the edge, my voice echoing my pleasure down a deep canyon.
When I could think again, she was still bucking and thrusting
against me, so even after I pulled out, I obliged her by stimulating her
throbbing sex with my fingers and thumb.
The pressure building to the breaking point, she finally cried out in my
ear, "Oh, God! Fuck me, Mmmmul..." This slip of the tongue startled her, even
in the throes of her orgasm.
"Darien," she quickly corrected herself, though it was obvious
that she was mostly faking by this point.
"Oh, yes, Darien! Oh,
God..."
So Hobbes' suspicions, and to be perfectly honest, *my* suspicions
as well, were at least somewhat based on the truth. Whether she had ever actually had her partner in her bed, or just
wished she had, it was obvious who she wanted fucking her, and it wasn't me.
I kissed her, anyway, pretending that I hadn't noticed her faux
pas, and she kissed me back, maintaining the illusion for at least a little
while longer. My vision was normal
again, so the quicksilver had fallen away at some point without my even
noticing. Brushing surreptitiously at
the bedclothes, I found the crumbs not very much different from dead skin
cells, so breathed a sigh of relief that Dana wouldn't notice anything amiss.
Once I'd convinced myself that status quo had been regained, I
reached up and switched on the lamp again.
We blinked awkwardly in the sudden brightness, but I could tell that
Dana didn't want to look me in the eye right away.
"This was nice. I'm
glad you came over," I said blandly, waiting to see what she would say or
do.
"Yeah--it was great!"
Her enthusiasm almost didn't feel forced. "Look, I'd love to stay," she began, even as she
started to gather up her clothes, "but I promised my mother I'd go with
her to early mass in the morning, so I'd better take off."
"Good," I answered, instantly hearing the two possible
meanings of my reply. "I mean,
good for you, going to church with your mom.
Tell her I said hello."
"I will," she assented, rolling her pantyhose up one
leg, and then the other. She fastened
her bra as she moved into the living room, and I shinnied into my jeans and tee
shirt in order to follow her.
When I came into the room, she had already put her dress back on
and was sitting on the couch, bending over to fasten her sandal. "Dana," I addressed her, touching
her lightly on the shoulder--not wanting her to leave without connecting one
last time.
At last she looked straight into my eyes, then away guiltily. "I'm sorry, Darien. That had nothing to do with you." The expression on her face told me that her
orgasmic request was more wishful thinking than substitution.
"I know," I said carefully. "You told me it was complicated..."
That earned me a genuine smile.
"It *is* that, all right."
Standing on her stacked heels, she still only reached my shoulder. "Thank you for tonight. It did mean a lot to me, no matter what
stupid thing I may *say*..." she joked humorlessly.
"Thank *you*, Dana.
I'm happy that we could get together, even just for tonight... unless
you want to do this again sometime?"
"We'll see," she chuckled sadly in a tone that meant
"thank you, but no." She
stood on tiptoes and gave me a friendly goodbye kiss, but I wrapped my arms
around her in a warm hug.
"You take care of yourself."
"And you..."
By then, I had escorted her to the door. As I opened it for her, I added, "He may not realize it, but
Agent Mulder is one lucky man."
Once again, she blushed sweetly.
"Thank you, Darien. Melissa
would have liked to see what a great guy you turned out to be, but I'm glad I
got to see that for myself. Good
night."
"Good night," I repeated, and stood in the door watching
her go down my hall until she disappeared from view.
THE END
___________
CAST OF CHARACTERS FOR MY FRIENDS WHO HAVE NEVER WATCHED "THE
INVISIBLE MAN"
Darien Fawkes - a reformed small-time thief, who was sprung from
prison by his scientist brother, Kevin, in exchange for becoming a guinea pig
to test a gland, inserted into the base of his brain, that can make him
invisible. When his adrenaline level
rises, quicksilver (a mercury-like fluid) is secreted from his skin, causing
light to bend around his surface, making him disappear from human sight, though
he can be seen with heat-sensing goggles.
He can usually control his invisibility, but it sometimes is triggered
by his autonomic responses to outside stimuli.
If he goes invisible for long periods of time, the chemicals produced
can induce "quicksilver madness", characterized by increasing
paranoia and violent insanity, and subsequently could cause his death.
Robert "Bobby" Hobbes - a fellow agent in the secret
agency that employs Darien. He is
cynical and street-wise, but honest and ready to protect and defend his
partner, even at the expense of his own life, or national security.
The Official - a bureaucrat with no given name, he's a big man in
a suit who may have even more secrets we will never learn.
The Keeper (Claire) - a scientist who perfected and administers
the counteragent to Darien's quicksilver poisons, and works in the lab to
develop new ways to keep him alive and mentally balanced.
Eberts - a suited flunky of the Agency.
For additional info, see http://www.scifi.com/invisibleman/