Title: Fate
Author: Gillian Taylor
E-Mail Address: USSTrustNo1@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Category: S
Spoilers: Up to and including Season 6
Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST
Summary: Do you believe in fate?

Disclaimer: Ahem. Let's all sing along! Chris Carter, oh can't you see? I know they don't belong to me. They belong to Ten Thirteen. Mulder and Scully and all the rest, they are the best. I'm borrowing
them with utmost respect; they'll be home before you guess. And now I will call this lame song to a rest.

Author's notes: Once again, the product of a strange inspiration lies below this note. The first line was the only thing that I remembered from a dream and after that, I immediately sat down and started writing. Special thanks go to my beta-reader, Crysta, and to my friends and crew on the USS TrustNo1. The Lone Gunpersons rule!

"Fate"
by Gillian Taylor

Was it fate that brought us together? I'd like to think so, but then again, who am I to speak of such things? You see, I'm one of those types of people that prefers to think that we make our own destiny, our own fate, rather than some all-powerful being or idea that has its own plans for our lives. I find it easier to go from day to day thinking that I am my own master. Don't get me wrong, I do believe in a higher power. It's just that I don't think that He controls destiny.

You want to know the truth? Ha, the truth, now there's something that sounds a little strange coming out of my mouth. Miss Give-Me-Scientific-Evidence-Or-Else, the Reigning Champion of Skepticism, is invading Mulder's turf.

Somebody shoot me now.

Well, I suppose that I, too, am looking for the truth--well, not in exactly the same way that he is. I don't see little *grey* men at every turn, nor do I think that some form of telekinesis must have been the cause of Mr. Doe's death every time I can't explain something. But I digress.

We were talking about fate. Like I said before, I'm not a big believer in fate, but something brought me down to that basement office and caused me to go in and change my life. I remember my first thoughts of him. God I was so young then. All I could think of was, 'I like those glasses.'

There was no 'Wow' or 'Oooh boy, is he hot' or even an 'I want his number' going through my head. I was still dwelling on all the rumors that I had heard of him. Granted, the entire 'Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials' conversation didn't exactly make me warm up to him, but I was willing to give the partnership a shot. I couldn't let first impressions change my opinion f 'Mulder.'

I never looked back on that day and I never wished that I had turned around and refused the assignment. If I had, I never would have learned about the type of man that was my partner and would be the man that I would fall in love with.

When was it that I had fallen for him? Good question. I think that the first time that I acknowledged it, at least to myself, was on that Weatherman case. I was talking with Sheila about how best friends can easily become lovers when that nasty little voice that lives inside my head interjected its own comment about black kettles.

I knew then that I loved him. There were no fireworks, no leaping for joy, no running into his arms and kissing him (Though it might have been interesting to see his expression) after that admission. All I did was smile at Sheila as she went out to her weatherman and I went to my Mulder. That's when I started getting into the possessive pronouns. *My* Mulder.

Sometimes I find myself wondering why I fell for a man as complex as My Mulder, a man as haunted as he. I'm sure that if I told him this he would feel the same. Oh! I didn't tell you. I never told him about it. At least, not yet. I'm waiting for the right time. I just hope that the right time will come soon.

Now who the hell am I kidding? I still am scared of this entire 'thing.' 'Thing', gee whiz, there we go again. It's a 'thing.' Even when I think about it, it's got quotes around it. This 'thing' is beginning to get on my nerves.

Sometimes I wonder about my Mulder. I know that he feels the same way as I do, sheesh, it almost makes all this easier...yeah, right. Sometimes he throws the most suggestive innuendoes that I have ever heard, and all I'm expected to do is fall to my usual role and roll my eyes at him or ignore him. No, Miss Special Agent Dana Scully never throws innuendoes back at him.

I wonder what his reaction would be if I did. He'd probably have a coronary right then and there.

Ha, ha. I'm not that cruel. Really, I'm not. Wait a sec, where were we? Oh yes, fear. I'm afraid of what 'it' might be, to tell you the truth. It's scary thinking that we could tell each other those three little words and bing, bang, boom everything changes. The Bureau, of course, would have to figure into the picture; Skinner; my mother (though she would be leaping for joy if I told her that Mulder and I were 'an item'); even Mrs. Bloomings from down the hall. Yesterday she came over and dropped off a batch of her cookies for me and my 'boyfriend.'

Now that's another thing. It seems as if everyone realizes that we love each other, and we still deny--well, don't *acknowledge*--that it exists. If it's so obvious to everyone and since our Smoking friend has used it to get to either one of us before--why should we still be scared? It doesn't make any sense. Not that life does, but that's another story.

Sometimes I wonder about that, and I'm certain that sometimes he's just about to reach out to me...and then he pulls back. In his eyes I can see the same fear that I live with every day. Why can't we just be normal people, living out normal lives, with normal jobs...and then meet? Of course there would be sparks the first time that we met, and he'd tentatively ask me if I'd like to 'do this again sometime.' One date leads to another and then one night he'd propose, and we'd live happily ever after. If only it were that easy. If only we lived in that fantasy world.

Then again, he wouldn't be the same Mulder and I wouldn't be the same Scully. He'd be Fox (since, after all, his sister never was abducted, and he likes his name) and I'd be Dana. Not Scully, not even Special Agent Scully. Just Dana. The way that I've wanted to be around him from square one, well at least from the square that I crossed in the Weatherman case.

I'm not always Miss Ice-Queen. I know that it seems like I am, and there are times that I cannot shed that facade easily--but it does happen. That's my After-Hours Scully right there. I can be warm and loving and compassionate. I don't always spout scientific formulae and debate passionately about the most recent discovery in the treatment of acne. I do cry when I watch romantic movies and I love long baths. I like reading Harlequin romances and I enjoy shopping with my Mother. I love cooking and enjoy company on a lonely night. There is a woman hiding beneath this Special Agent exterior. And that's the woman that I want Mulder to see 24-7.

Once again, we come back to that horrid little word: fear. That's why I haven't really shown him who I am. I'm sure that he suspects, and he does know me better than just about anyone, but there's only so much that he is privy to. Perhaps I should just drop in at work one day without my usual cool exterior and show him just how he managed to melt my ice exterior. I wonder what he'd do then.

It might be interesting to find out though. Or better yet, I wouldn't mind it if he showed up right now and could see just how I really am. The real woman. "Now that would be interesting..."

My fingers were poised just above the correct keys to finish my thought when a familiar voice breathed behind me, "What would be interesting, Scully?"

My first instinct was to slam my laptop shut and pretend that there was nothing there. I had been writing journal entries in my computer for over three years now, deciding that I didn't want to bring my old worn diary with me on cases. However, I needed to get back to the present where my lovable partner had just read the last sentence on my computer screen, "Nothing." 'Ooh, brilliant one there, Dana. How about another one?'

"Really?" he said again, leaning against the table so he could see my face.

"Really," I confirmed, praying that he wouldn't notice the blush that was beginning to build to my own mortification.

He made a 'harumph' noise, "What're you doing tonight?"

I couldn't help but feel a little confused. A part of me wondered if he was about to ask me on a date while the other wondered what case he found now. "So help me, Mulder, if you want to drag me to Indiana to investigate the case of the 'Super Corn Monster,' you're on your own."

A soft chuckle was his only response, "Not quite. I was actually wondering if you wanted to get some pizza and watch a movie."

"A date, Mulder?" Good one there, Dana. Open mouth insert foot.

"Do you want it to be one?"

Oh God. I swear I was going to have a coronary right there. I don't think that my face was any better. I'm probably whiter than a sheet.

He was actually leaning closer to me. "After all, it's fate."

My eyes were probably popping out of my skull as I nodded numbly. Fate indeed.

He reached over me and slowly closed the laptop, his breath an almost caress on my neck, "We don't have to be afraid anymore."

That decided me. I stood slowly, turning to face him as I said boldly, "We don't."

He traced a finger down my cheek and I shivered in response. Damn the man, he knows exactly what he does to me. However as I stole a downwards glance, I noted exactly what *I* did to him. Looks like we're even then.

Mulder flashed a grin and grabbed my hand, "Let's go get that movie."

I nodded numbly again. Following him outside my apartment, I locked my door with stiff movements. 'Get a grip of yourself Dana. He's probably just doing the innuendoes again.' I told myself firmly. Ignoring, of course, that this was the first time that he decided to trace my cheek with his finger, I suppressed another shiver.

"Hey Scully, think it'll rain sleeping bags tonight?" Mulder called from his Taurus.

He keeps reading my mind about the innuendoes. I swear he has to have a Scully-dar somewhere in that brain of his that's devoted to my moods and thoughts. I decided to be daring, "Maybe."

His expression was definitely worth it. He could barely even open the door of his car. I smiled slightly as I made my way towards him.

Maybe it will rain sleeping bags tonight. After all, it is fate.

THE END
~~~~~~~
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