Nights in White Satin
by Theresa

Date finished: 11/12/99
Rating: R
Category: MSR, Songfic
Archiving: If you really want to. Let me know.
Disclaimer: All characters and previous references belong to Chris Carter, Fox, 1013, DD, GA, etc., etc.
Spoilers: Momento Mori, up through season 6?
Author's note: Well, this is my first submission after reading lots and lots of fic. The story is loosely based on "Nights in White Satin" by the Moody Blues. The song is at the end, for those who are not familiar with it.



It's not even a fire I feel for her. To say that would be too weak.

Everything about her just envelopes me. No one could ever match my own passions with such force; even when most of the time she counteracts them.

The light in this office is way too dark. Huh... I guess that's what you get in a basement office. Scully went home about an hour ago. She said she wanted to spend some time in her own space. I don't blame her. What do I have outside of here? A couch made soft from too many hours of reviewing my favorite video library? Not much different from here. I've got my desk, and files, and a whole lot of unexplained phenomenon. A lot of unexplained *social life.*

So why go home? Quality time in *my* own space? At least here I know it's not just me. She'll walk through that door eventually. But not again tonight.

I can see her curled up on that soft, cushy couch of hers, plopped down like a strawberry in a vat of Cool-Whip, listening to the undulating sounds of some classical station on the radio.

I'd like to think she'd be concentrating on herself, but I have a sneaky suspicion that she's plopped on the couch with a manila folder and her laptop. Passion for the job? In a slightly less direct way than I'd handle it, but she's just as dedicated, if not more, than I.

I glance at the blue-white light on my computer screen. I have some windows open and layered on my desktop, the foremost being the e-mail. Doesn't Scully have e-mail on her laptop? I wonder if she'd appreciate a quick "hi"? Huh...No... She's probably glad to be rid of me for the evening.


I mean, it's not like we've had a hard week, and she needs moral support from me. Would she really need my support if it had been?

You see, Mulder, this is why you never had a real social life. You're always second-guessing yourself.

So why not? Why not a quick "hi" just because?

I poised myself above the keyboard and tickled at the keys with my fingertips. What to say to Scully? "Oh hi, just thought you couldn't get enough of me at work, so now I'm going to invade your personal space, too."

Shut up, Mulder. Just say what comes naturally. You don't have to be a smart-ass all the time.

How about this: OK, I write what comes naturally, and if I don't like it, I can always delete it before I shut down.

Well, here goes nothing:

Hey, Scully, just wanted to say hi. I know it's late, and yeah, I'm still at the office. As if we didn't fraternize enough, I thought I'd write to you, too. Things seem to come out easier when written, sometimes, don't you think? I guess that's why I can talk to people online so easily. No social boundaries. I can feel like I'm being myself without judgement, and a certain amount of anonymity. Just ideas and words, no undertones, facades, facial expressions, reputations. Can you get what I'm saying, Scully? Not that I want to treat you as an anonymous person. I can be myself when you're here, too.

You take me for who I am, What I believe in, and accept it, or contrast against it, but never judge me on it.

Maybe you thought I was "spooky" in the beginning, but you had been, and still are so objective that I feel like I'll never lack for any kind of straight answer while you're around. Yeah, you tell it to me straight. And sometimes, you'll even surprise me by agreeing with me.

I'll have to admit, those are the times I value your opinion the most: when you agree with me, but I don't know how far I'd get with a yes-woman.

Never thought I'd ramble like this. Hope you don't mind. I'm sure you'd trash this as soon as I'd gone too far off on a tangent anyway, right? Would you e-mail me back?

Huh. Why e-mail when you can ring me up on the phone right here? Silly isn't it? This phone at my elbow is so immediate, so easy, yet I'm writing a letter. It's like taking a step backwards. Maybe I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy at heart? What do you think? Should I break out the wax sealer, and send for the Pony Express?

You know, even my sarcasm comes out easier when I write. Go figure. I wonder if that's why people used to write love letters all the time? Cut through the awkward chit-chat and just say what you want, without interruption. That would make sense, right?

Listen to me: analyzing the most simple of human communication as a psychologist. I think you've rubbed off on me, Scully. I'm finding *proof* for my theories! Asking a question and actually finding a somewhat logical answer.

There's only one thing I can't get a logical answer to. No, that's not true, there are *many*, and you know which I'm talking about.

But I'm not thinking about that, believe it or not. I'm thinking about the last time I saw some of your own writing. Your personal thoughts.

I know, you wanted me to forget about that, and you were going to throw away that journal once you decided to leave the hospital and fight your cancer.

But I just remember how honest and free you were with your words. It was a side of you that didn't write for the sake of writing a field report. There were words that came from your heart, no matter how afraid you were, they were there, and they involved me.

I'm looking over at your desk, now. (the one you use more often now, than before) I wish you were still here. I miss your companionship.

Yeah, I know, I'll see you tomorrow. I guess I can wait until then.

I'd love to just barge in on you in your cozy little apartment. Listen to that classical music I imagine you'd listen to. Just fall into your comforts, and make them my own.

We've been through so much, the two of us. It surprises me that we could ever get a chance to relax. Maybe I still can't. But I know that when you're around, the edge is taken off. And when you're not, I'm as good as lost. I can only imagine if I were to enter your private domain, how much more sedate I would become. Just to know you would welcome me in, wouldn't want anything from me, nor I from you. Just us.

Just us.

I think I'd really like an "us."

. . .

. . .

I sat back and scrolled up the lines of text I had poured out into Scully's e-mail.

I contemplated. This was too much for a "just wanted to say hi" letter. I reread the page twice more. Everything was satisfyingly true, and "me." Just some wandering thoughts I had written that had become a sort of confession to this woman I worked with.

No, it wasn't to her, not to "Special Agent Dana Scully." My email was to *Scully.*

She shouldn't read this now. Not in her own space. I'll shut down the e-mail.

I hit the quit keys, and then automatically hit return on the pop-up window, not reading it carefully. I left the system on, and got up to go to the men's room.

When I got back, I stood at Scully's desk, and held the back of her chair, staring down at the clean blotter and some stickies she had left on her desk calendar.

Maybe I could check out the chat rooms. I was on a roll with typing, and maybe I'd get some entertainment out of it.

I restarted my internet program. A little exclamation mark was in the corner of the window next to the mail envelope. Who could that be? I tried to open the e-mail and the computer decided to crash. When I hit the force-restart keys, I could see part of my Outbox window come into view with one sent message.

Uh, oh.

I felt my heart collapse within my chest. I restarted the computer with a cold-boost. I knew who the e-mail was from now.

Far be it for me to assume Scully was spending her quality time with her laptop, but I *had* pictured her that way before, hadn't I? Now she really was there. "Just a friendly hi from your partner so he can spill his guts out to you..."

The machine made countless clicking noises. Damned computers took too long to restart!

When the last of the extensions settled themselves, and I could open my internet program, I sat for a second, staring at the little envelope icon. What's the worst that could happen? This was Scully. She knows me backwards and forwards.

All right, enough procrastination. I had to check the mail now.

I pressed the exclaimed envelope, and saw a new message from the source I had anticipated. It was called "Re: Hi."

I double-clicked Scully's name, and read the enclosed message. The knot in my stomach loosened immediately, and my wrinkled brow became smooth again. I hit the reply button, typed in a few words, and then shut down the computer for the night. I grabbed my blazer and locked up.

In the elevator, I thought about the little note that popped up on my screen. Simple and to the point: "I've got Tchaikovsky on. Come on over."


I really didn't know what to expect from her. I didn't want to send the e-mail. I'll have to explain that to her when I get there.

Oh, that's real sensitive, Mulder. Go ahead, pour out your feelings to Scully, and then go and tell her "I take it back! It was all a mistake." How do you think she'd feel? You told more of the truth in that message than you've honestly told her in the six years of your partnership.

Breaking off the internal dialogue in my head, I thought on the matter. I was so sure she could read me easily: my thoughts, my actions. How could her analytical mind miss my true feelings for her? I'd like to think that I could hide things from Scully, but she eventually found me out.

No, no. This is it. Without saying the *exact* words in the e-mail, I had conveyed what she meant to me. Even if I was roundabout in saying it, it was there, and she could draw her own conclusions.

I pulled the car out of the indoor parking garage, and headed towards Scully's place. I was struggling to keep to the speed limit, as my head raced one thousand miles per hour. What the hell *was* I going to say to her when I got there?

All the warm, fuzzy confidence I had felt riding up the elevator seemed to melt away as the distance between me and Scully's apartment grew shorter. I stopped for a light and stared out at the passing traffic before me.

A couple walked past, illuminated by my headlights, the woman with her hand tucked in her companion's arm. It looked so 1800's to me. The little symbol of old-fashioned courtship and romance passing before me seemed so unattainable. There wasn't anymore of that kind of behavior in the 1990's was there? Everything was about "did you sleep with her yet?"

Sure, I had felt the animal passions toward Scully more than a couple of times, but I had longed to really prove my love to her. I guess I did it in my own way, going that extra mile for her when she had been lost *all* those times. Showing, acting out my feelings was so much easier than outright telling them.

Especially to her.

I wasn't even sure if she ever got my *unintentional/intentional* signals. I was was too busy being the delusional knight in shining armor to realize that I hadn't gotten the girl yet. I took her for granted.

Yeah, Scully needed to hear this. I wanted to be that couple, arm in arm, perfectly comfortable with themselves, reveling in each other's love.

I didn't care anymore how this would affect us at work. All I knew was that it was high time I got my butt in gear, and thought about someone else for a change.

The light turned green, and I continued on to Scully's.

I approached Scully's street, and circled around for a space. When I had parked the car, I took a breath. I'm really going to make the first move, aren't I? Well, no use procrastinating any further. Get your butt up out of the car and go to her, you dumb idiot!

I floated over to her front door, having no plan at all, not knowing whether Scully had taken my e-mail the right way, or even if she felt the same way. Oh, God, what if she didn't, and she was only inviting me over to be polite?

I faltered in my step, and almost fell up the front entranceway. Stupid! Well, one thing's for sure, you got the ball rolling-- not the way you wanted to-- but you got it rolling. At least now you'll know the truth about *something.*

I knocked on her door. I waited. I heard some shuffling on the other side of the door, and then the clicks of the locks.

When the door opened, a warm golden light poured out into the dimly lit hallway. Soft beats from the stereo fluttered past my ears, and the reserved smile on my partner's face was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in this world. True, she wasn't ecstatically happy to see me. She even had a curious look in her eye, like she wasn't sure how to act either.

She invited me in. I threw my blazer over the arm of her couch, and took a seat at the end, careful not to sit on her laptop, which was now closed. She offered me a "soda or something" and I accepted the former, hoping it would buy me some time to figure out what to do now. My insides decided to contract, my heart pumped harder, and I felt light-headed for a minute.

When Scully returned, I was pinching the skin between my eyebrows in an effort to focus my mind on one point. Her concern was immediate. She set the glass on the table and was at my side, kneeling, with her hand on my forehead.

"Are you all right, Mulder?"

"Oh...oh, yeah. Don't worry about me. I just got a head rush, that's all."

"Comes from sitting at that computer too long."

Yeah, the computer. The device I had used as a means to filter my amorous words into her laptop. She got a funny look on her face when she realized what she implanted into my thoughts.

I felt heat rising up through my neck, and saw Scully's mirroring of the feeling with a pink flush to her cheeks.

"I, uh... I didn't really want to send that to you," --damn--, "I mean, I did, but I don't know if I was ready for you to read that."

She glanced back at the glass of soda, and whispered, "Well, I guess we're even, then."


"Your e-mail had mentioned the journal I kept in the hospital when I had..." I nodded in assent. "Well, you read my words, now I read yours."

"And?" I wasn't making this easy for either of us.

"And... I'm... not sure we can have an 'us.'"

I must have kept a pretty straight face, because she wasn't afraid to look at me. Little did she know, my heart was crumbling inside. "Why not?" I asked softly.

Her gaze broke from mine. I could see the wheels turning, but they wouldn't spit out the answer she wanted. She opened her mouth several time to speak, but to no avail. Her eyes began to mist slightly.

"I don't know."

"Why did you invite me here, Scully?"

"Why did you write that e-mail, Mulder?"

"Ah, ah, ah... you first. You can't answer a question with a question." I had trapped her. Although I know it was very unfair of me to push her into an answer, I could see she accepted her turn to speak. She got up to retrieve the forgotten beverage, and offered it to me. I took it from her with one hand, and gently grasped her wrist with the other before she could pull it away.

She stared at me as I led her to sit beside me on the couch. She was struggling to think of the right words, I could tell. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable.

I decided to begin for her. "Do you really think there can't be an..."

" 'us?'" she finished. She let out a breath that caressed our clasped hands. She shrugged.

"You don't *want* an 'us.'" Her eyes snapped up at the statement.

"No, I do, Mulder. That's what's so difficult."

I crinkled my brow at her answer.

She continued, "I've wanted us to be more for so long, that... I've conditioned myself to deny any feelings for you further than partnership and friendship because I was afraid of the way things might change between us."

"So why..."

"...did I invite you over?"


"Well," she swallowed, "When I read your e-mail, I saw how lonely you were. Then I looked at myself, and I realized I was alone, too. And not just tonight." She then took the soda from me and took a swig. I suppressed a smile, somehow ecstatic that she would feel comfortable enough to take my drink without asking.

"I haven't wanted anyone for so long. Not that I felt empty. You filled any part of me that didn't feel compassion, but as a friend." I winced visibly, and she held my hand tighter. "But, I thought that if I didn't invite you over tonight, when your feelings were so affirmative, I would never get the chance to let you become more than my best friend."

"And so, you got scared when I really got here and we were confronted with it."


"You didn't want to lose what we have."


"And I can tell you, Scully... what I said in that letter... I have wanted to say to you for years. I know we won't lose what we have. I've loved you for so long, that I don't think even the thought of you turning down an intimate relationship with me can scare me anymore. Yeah, I'd be disappointed, but I'd get over it...eventually. As long as I could see you every day, I'd be happy."

She stared at me blankly.


"You love...?" she whispered, eyes misting again.

I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled her close to me and pressed her against my chest. "Of course I love you, Scully," I answered her, muffling the words into the top of her head. She hadn't held me back, yet, but now I could feel her hands reach around my back, pulling gently. She turned her face, so that her forehead rested on my collarbone. I combed my fingers through her hair. She sighed.

"What if my cancer comes back?"

"I don't care."

She looked up. "I don't want to hurt you, Mulder."

"We went through your cancer once. I'm not going to hold it against us if it happens again. I'll be there for you, always."

Her head dropped, and she became intensely interested in rubbing the backs of my hands with her thumbs. Her gaze remained lowered when I moved my hands away, and proceeded to lift her chin. When she finally looked at me, I felt a rush flowing down, weakening my legs. I drew her closer, slowly, and finally, after all the lost time, all the wanting, and desire of six years, I closed the gap between us.

Our lips brushed together at first, then I leaned gently into her mouth. She was so soft, so submissive to my kiss, I had to hold back from going in deeper, afraid I would lose her trust in my actions. I lingered a moment longer, hesitant to let this closeness from Scully go.

I pulled back, so that I could look at her. I wanted to see her face, know what she looked like with an expression of pure desire, when I felt her reach up and pull me in close again. I gasped in surprise, which gave her the opportunity to test my open mouth.

She dragged her tongue around the edges of my lips, and then further, to explore my teeth. It was all I could do to restrain myself when she obviously wanted more. But I didn't want to push it. I wanted to be gentle. Scully wanted none of that. She took the final plunge, literally, and began to kiss me deeply.

That was it. I crushed her in my arms, her head cupped in my palm. I tasted every inch of her mouth, reveling in the warmth and moisture. Puffs of her breath caressed my cheek. Then I felt something else on my cheek. Wetness. This is when I really had to pull back, panting as I did. Scully was crying.

"Oh, my God, Scully," I said, "Are you alright? I shouldn't have taken liberties with you."

She sat looking at me in wonderment. Then she touched her face. Her eyes became wide.

"I didn't know I was crying." I wiped the tears from her. "Guess it was my form of release." She closed her eyes as I finished cleaning her flushed cheeks of moisture. "Mulder?"


She answered in a quiet, throaty voice, "Will you please do that again?"

I didn't hesitate for a second. This time, I sat her on my lap, so that I could be as close to her as possible. I enveloped her in my arms, and gave her the most passionate, drop-dead kiss I had in me. Our breaths were harsh. The music on the stereo had stopped, and we were making our own rhythms with lips, tongues and hands.

Slowly, I pulled myself from her. I wished we could kiss forever. Her deep, lightly sparkled eyes bore into me. God, I loved her so much! Which is why I said this next:

"I should go, Scully."


"I never go all the way on the first date, and you're no exception. And I can guarantee you, if I stay... we will go that far."

"If you think it's best," she said, uncertainly.

I hugged her again. "Yeah," I replied. She got up from me, and held my hand as she led me to the door.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

I nodded.

"O.K." she sounded like a little girl. I kissed her again, lingering on her lips, and then slipped out the door.

When I reached the stoop of her apartment building, I stopped. Did I *really* want to go? Sitting on the highest step, I pondered. What was I stupid? But she didn't argue with my logic. She was disappointed, though. I just left her hanging there. Maybe I really *am* too old-fashioned. I've known Scully for *six years*! What would *you* call a first date?

I heard a tenant coming up behind me, slamming the entrance hall doors, and then the front doors as they burst out of the building. I felt a knee slam into my back.

"Oh!" a female voice cried out. But not any voice, it was Scully. She must not have seen me in the dark, sitting on the steps with my black suit on. After she caught her balance she realized that I was her obstacle.

"Mulder!" she gasped. "I was watching out the window and I didn't see you leave the building..." She sat beside me on the step, "I wondered where you went. I didn't expect you to still be here."

I ran my fingers through my bangs self-consciously. "I wasn't sure I could leave. --Scully...," she waited for my response, "Can I..."

She didn't need me to finish my thought. Rising from the steps, she again took my hand and led me to her door, but this time to come in.

She took the blazer off me, threw it back onto the arm of the couch, and proceeded to turn off the stereo, the lights, and draw the shades. The next thing I felt in the near pitch-blackness was her breath tickling my chin.

"I want you to stay, Mulder. I know what you said before, and normally, I would have made the same rules. But, I'm not going to let you go this time. I shouldn't have let you go before."

I felt for her face. When I found it, I traced the outline of her lips with my thumb. This is what I wanted. I bent to kiss her, overwhelmed by the feeling, having one of my five senses incapacitated in the dark. Everything was touch, and smell, and taste, and... desire.

Between kisses I asked her, "Are you... sure you... want this?"

"Yes," she breathed out the words in a sigh.

We moved toward her bedroom, moonlight streaming through the blinds and fine curtains. Clothing was shed. In the spots of light her skin was like white satin beneath my exploring fingers. An energy came over me. I was unsure of nothing now. I was sparkling with glee, and every time I saw the glint in Scully's eyes, a new rush flowed through me.

Sheets twisted with our motions. Pillows were thrown aside. Waves of heat were counteracted with light sprays of sweat. And heaving breaths were cooled with the soft exhale of a calmed storm.

I retrieved a few pillows from the floor, and snuggled close to my love. I could say that now. I had finally shown Scully just how much I loved her. She spoke the words in return as we lie there, drifting off to sleep.

I dreamed right away, or at least it felt that way. Scully and I were together,happily holding hands, when she disappeared into a mist before my eyes. Then a vision of me sitting at her bedside, her nostrils and mouth full of tubing. A new mother walked by the doorway of her hospital room, cradling her newborn in her arms. When I look back at Scully, her skin shrivels, and her body sinks into her mattress. I cry out, but cannot hear my scream. Then I look at my own hands, and they are wrinkled as well. I fear that I have waited too long for Scully, and now I have lost so much time that the opportunity has slipped through my old fingers.

I wake up with a start. Blackness. I can't move my right arm. Scully's head is resting on it. I was still here with her.

The moonlight was harsh. It made her hair a dull color, and her skin pure white. But she was still beautiful. This was no dream. This had finally happened. I held her waist tighter, and heard a soft, questioning moan hum through her nose. When I didn't move another muscle, she relaxed against me, melding perfectly within the cup of my body. We fit.

Everything just felt right. Somehow, with this small woman lying against me, I felt whole.


Nights in white satin,
Never reaching the end,
Letters I've written,
Never meaning to send.

Beauty I'd always missed
With these eyes before,
Just what the truth is
I can't say anymore.

'Cause I love you,
Yes, I love you,
Oh, how, I love you.

Gazing at people,
Some hand in hand,
Just what I'm going through
They can understand.

Some try to tell me
Thoughts they cannot defend,
Just what you want to be
You will be in the end,

And I love you,
Yes, I love you,
Oh, how, I love you.
Oh, how, I love you.

Breathe deep the gathering gloom,
Watch lights fade from every room.
Bedsitter people look back and lament,
Another day's useless energy spent.
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one,
Lonely man cries for love and has none.
New mother picks up and suckles her son,
Senior citizens wish they were young.
Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white.
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion?

- The Moody Blues / Justin Hayward


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