TITLE: Matters Of The Heart I
SPOILERS: a little 'Fire'
SUMMARY: Mulder has an accident at work, and finds himself
having a strange reaction to Scully's sympathy. Written in
first person. (Well, it's a diary, I'd like to know what other
format it should be written in...)
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never will be, just borrowing, don't
sue. (What? Not creative enough? It's the *story* you're
supposed to be interested in.)
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere. Let me know where first though, 'kay?
FEEDBACK: God... would begging be of any use? I need feedback
on this one *desperately*.
NOTES: This is for Alisha. Thank you for helping me through
my recent rough patch, you may not think you did much, but
you were great. (Not to mention the fact that you gave me
enough confidence to post this.) Love ya!

Here it is...:::biting nails in nervous anticipation:::

Matters Of The Heart I

Journal of Fox Mulder
February 19th 1997

How do I explain this in words? How do I actually sit down with a pen and
paper and write about what happened today?

I don't know where to begin. Well, maybe I'd better take note from Julie
Andrews and start at the very beginning.

It's Scully.

NOTE - How come everything I write in here lately ends up being relevant to
Scully? Is she the only person in my life worth writing about? Oh shit, I
don't want to answer that...

Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by my own
schizophrenic rationalization:

It's Scully. Well rather it's me. It's what happened today at the office...
uh...with Scully. So I guess it's about her after all. Oh dammit, I'm

Why did I start keeping this fucking journal anyway? It's supposed to help
you sort things out and come to terms with what you're feeling. It just makes
me more screwed up. I sit here and analyze everything I write. I search for
hidden meanings, indications of insanity. As if trying to stop myself from
becoming even more fucked than I am after today isn't insane enough!

I think I'd better get on with it before I strap myself into a nice straight
jacket and march on down to the nearest sanitarium.

Okay, first of all I'd just like to state- I AM NOT A COMPLETE INSENSITIVE

I'm just a little dense when it comes to the fairer sex's psyche that's all.
I didn't mean to say what I did. It just...slipped out. One minute I was
desperately trying to come up with something to say and the next I'd said
that and I didn't even realize what I'd done until she slapped me. Scully
actually slapped me!

And I deserved it. Hell, I better than deserved it. She should have run my
testicles through the paper shredder.

Well... not that I wish she had... I'm kinda fond of my genitals...but I was
kinda fond of Scully, that didn't stop me from doing what I did.


I came into the office around 6:45a.m. I booted up my MAC, made myself some
coffee and finished off the report on the recurring apparition of the little
girl in Tennessee. It didn't take me more than an hour because I'd already
spent 3 hours writing the damn thing. Fuck knows how many pages of high
class, profoundly sensible, and unequivocal documentation.

For once, I might actually get away without a 'bend over grab your ankles'
session with Skinner. You have no idea how disturbing it is to be able to
see your bald boss's red face glaring at you from between your legs...

I sent it to the printer just before I realized when I'd plugged it in after
changing the wire in the socket (This fucking building really pisses me off,
even the damn wiring doesn't work. Wait a minute, maybe it was a bugging
devise... I'll check later.) I'd plugged the wrong extension cable into the
adapter, the one that blew all the circuiting. I jumped out of my seat to
detach it before I set the entire office ablaze. As I did so I caught my foot
in the cable that ran from the monitor to the socket and tripped, knocking my
coffee onto the computer. It sparked, but luckily, I pulled out the cable
from the printer when I tripped.

I jumped up to see if I could salvage my computer, and in the process,
touched the back of my machine. This, surprise, surprise, shot 'n' volts of
electricity passing through my body and sent me flying across the other end
of the room. As if that wasn't bad enough, I hit the table with the OHP and
it fell off, striking my head then landing on my chest.

Needless to say, I passed out.

All this must have been witnessed by Scully, because the next thing I knew
she had me lying on my back checking me for broken bones and burns.

With a groan, I opened my eyes. Her face was blurry. All I could see was her
hair around her head like a nimbus. At first I thought I'd finally gone and
killed myself, because there was this fuzzy angel standing over me. Then I
thought about who I was and acceded that heaven is the last place I'll go
when my time here is up.

I could hear a voice. I didn't know it was a voice, just like I didn't
comprehend that it was coming from Scully. It was like watching 'Baywatch' -
I knew someone or some*thing* somewhere had to be responsible for it, but it
wasn't clear who, or what, or *why*?

Then it clicked.

I knew she was talking to me, I just couldn't understand the words. It was
really weird, like I was in some kind of limbo.

I began to black out again, then I caught the sound of fear in her voice. It
made me snap out of it and I managed to murmur her name.

The look of relief that came across her features made me smile despite the
pain in my head and ribs.

"How are you feeling Mulder?" I could finally interpret the meaning of her
speech. " Does it hurt?"

Only if I breathed, but that action is kinda imperative for living, right?

I knew what I wanted to say, but my brain wasn't getting the message through
to my voice. I think I managed to mutter something like "I need to sit up,"
because I felt her arms go round me and she helped me into a sitting position.

My head began to clear, then the *real* pain set in.

Everything hurt, and I could feel a warm liquid tickling down my face. I
realized the OHP must have gashed my head open.

"Mulder? Mulder, how many fingers am I holding up?" She asked me.

It took me a moment to register what she'd said. Then I stared at her hand
as it swam before me. I blindly reached for her, gripping her wrist in an
attempt to steady her arm before I understood that it was my head which was

She slowly came into focus and I counted her fingers.

"Three" I finally said, closing my eyes. "I'm okay. I just need a minute to
clear my head. I'll be all right."

I felt her hand, cool and soft on my face. She does that you know - just
touches me for no apparent reason, and well...I suppose I'm guilty of that
too. I know I take every opportunity I can to touch Dana Scully - when we're
walking down a hall, when I'm talking to her, comforting her. I've
instigated little caresses before, and she's returned them, just not the way
I'd always like her to. Not to the extent I'd like her to.

Like once, a few years back, during the Tooms case, she was wearing the
pendant I liked, the amber one that was on the long silver chain. I was
talking to her, and I couldn't take my eyes off that pendant just bobbing
there between her breasts, so I reached out, and picked it up, my hand
brushing against her as I did so. She didn't even flinch when I touched her
breasts, not exactly the reaction I had been hoping for.

Instead she took my nonchalant reaction to touching her like I was saying I
was more interested in the necklace than her. She didn't break the flow of
conversation, just followed my hand with her eyes, then put a hand on my ass
as we were walking upstairs. Getting me back...or trying to tell me she
didn't like my ass...or trying to tell me she *did* like my ass...I don't
know, and I guess it doesn't matter really.

Anyway, on with the story.

"The cut's not too bad," She said, "I think you'll live. You want to go and
get checked out at the hospital though? Just to be on the safe side?"

Oh sure... 'And how did this little accident happen Agent Mulder? Or can we
call you Fox? It's about time we got on first name terms with all our
regulars. What is it now.....six gunshot wounds, three car crashes, fourteen
concussions, two burns, three stabbings, two cases of hypothermia, one
unknown virus of presumed extraterrestrial origin, near drowning, rapid
aging disease... and now another knock on the head and near electrocution.
The usual room? We didn't bother moving out all your things, we had a feeling
you'd be back...' Yes, I really needed that.

"I'm okay." I whispered queasily.

"Then let me take a look at you properly." She insisted.

"I'm fine, Scully. Really."

"Trust me Mulder. I'm a doctor." I was so very glad that my sight had
returned to normal just in time to catch that rare toothy grin.

"Yeah, but your patients are all dead ones." I mumbled.

"What was that?" She asked, eyebrows raised. Another Scully quirk I love.

I shook my head, and asked her to help me up. She did, hauling me to my
feet. I nearly keeled over as the dizziness hit me.

"Woah shit!" I stumbled grabbing onto her for support. She gave it to me,
steadying me with her small frame and helping me sit down on the chair.

Scully asked me if I was sure I was all right. "You could have a concussion."

I nodded, unable to speak as the nausea hit me. I sat for a while until I
knew if I didn't head for the mens' room soon I'd embarrass myself by puking
all over my ridiculously expensive suit. But I could barely walk, and I could
feel the bile rising in my throat. I grabbed her hand and she knew what was
going to happen because she quickly reached for the small metal wastepaper
bin. I spun in the chair and took the trash-can from her, turning away as I
collapsed on my knees, retching violently into it.

I continued to vomit until I had nothing left to bring up and I was doubling
over in painful dry heaves, just vaguely aware of Scully's hands rubbing my
back and trying to soothe me. It was only when she moved away to get me some
water that I realized she'd been comforting me. I always manage to miss
things like that...

I took the water she handed me and first rinsed the foul taste from my mouth,
spitting into the trash can a few times before taking a slow sip. I felt
better, but exhausted and I absentmindedly let her hug me. I collapsed into
her embrace, strangely I didn't feel the need to prove to her that I was okay.
Which was doubly strange considering I didn't even need comforting. But
I just wanted to be close to her, so I didn't move.

It was like, when you're a kid, and you wake up in the middle of the night
sick. You go downstairs and watch TV until you finally puke and you're all
right, but you feel compelled to go and tell your mom.

She'd get you a drink and some aspirin, bring you a blanket and some pillows
from upstairs and sit with you until you fell asleep. I've been able to cope
on my own with getting sick for at least 20 years, and today was no exception.
I was just .... hell, I don't know what I was doing.

My head was still pounding.

"Sshh," She cooed " You're shaking Mulder. It's okay. Calm down." She
stroked my hair, ignoring the blood from the small gash.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled into her shoulder.

"What for?" She asked, still rocking me slightly. I tell you, I've never
felt so good after chucking my guts up.

"The unpleasant display. You didn't have to see that."

"Hey, what are friends for. Besides, it wasn't like you haven't watched me
heave all over the place. At least *you* made the bucket." She reached into
her pocket, retrieved a stick of gum and unwrapped it before putting it to my
lips. "Your breath smells like Charlie's running shoes." She explained.

"Hmmm. Remind me to keep well away from your brother's feet if
I ever meet him, will you?." I smiled, and opened my mouth to accept the

I was still letting her hug me. Then I realized I was enjoying the gentle
strokes of her palms over my face, neck and back a little too much.
*Way* too much. I could hardly feel the pain in my head and chest anymore,
my senses were fully focused on her gentle touches. She smelled so good too,
that distinctive sweet-fresh aroma she has. I could feel myself slipping
away into another X-rated daydream again.

Before I knew what I was doing I was returning her caresses, and she didn't
stop. She didn't even flinch or react. I kissed the gentle slope where her
neck meets her shoulder, feeling her flinch then, but I don't think it was
from surprise. I looked at her. She sat before me, eyes wide and I began to
stoop low to kiss her. To touch my lips to hers in a long, passionate

(Okay, so I wasn't thinking about the fact that I had just thrown up. I
never actually claimed to be of sound mind, did I?)

Just as I was close enough to do it, I pulled away, mumbling my apologies.

I slowly stood, happy to find that I'd begun to overcome the dizziness, but
unhappy to find that her ministrations and my own thoughts - too vulgar to
put unto paper - had brought on a rather noticeable arousal.

I had never wanted to be a woman so much in my life. Anyway:

"Are you okay?" She asked, rising to her feet.

"I..." My voice was high and tight, like someone had my balls in a death grip.
I cleared my throat " I'm fine,"

But I wasn't fine. I was far from being fine. I had been sitting there
getting unbelievably turned on by the very innocent motions of comfort from
my partner, my best-friend. I was hoping to God that she didn't notice the
mother of a hard-on I had. I couldn't cope with an interrogation.

My silent invocations were futile however, because her next comment and the
path of her gaze told me she'd noticed, and was about to rip me up big-time.

"I can see you're feeling better."

"Leave me alone Scully." I turned and began to walk away.

"Mulder, wait!" She called after me.

"I said leave me alone! " I shouted back, "I don't want to talk about it."

"I think it might be a sensible thing to do, Mulder don't you?"

"I nearly kissed you Scully."

"I nearly kissed you. *We* nearly kissed *each* *other*."

"No, Scully." I suddenly felt very sick again. Only this time it was from
utter disgust at myself. "I didn't know what I was doing. I'm really sorry,
okay? I don't want you to think I was going to try anything back there.
That's... not the relationship I want us to have together."

"Don't tell that to me. Tell that to your--"

I turned to glare at her with my best 'Don't go there' expression. She was
forgetting we were having this argument in our office, the place with so
many bugs and listening devices you'd think it was Conspiracy Central, not a
run-down little office in the basement of the J Edgar Hoover Building.

"Well, Mulder. Something obviously brought *that* on." She said, unable to
hide the amusement from her voice.

"Well it was quite obviously you then wasn't it." I spat the words at her.
"Look, it's no big deal Scully. Believe me. I didn't mean for that to happen,
I wasn't thinking, and luckily I stopped it before anything...transpired."

"Not before *something* transpired, Mulder."

"Jesus Christ Scully. Will you drop it! I am a normal, heterosexual guy who
just happened to be turned on by the way his partner, his very *beautiful*
partner happened to be touching him."

"Are you saying--"

"That I'm attracted to you?" I finished for her " No, Scully. You're a
doctor, so you are familiar with bodily functions. If I'm not mistaken, my
present condition does not mean that I particularly want to screw you. The
way you were touching me turned me on, I'll admit that much."

She walked towards me.

Oh God, Scully, why the hell did you do that? Why did you come so close to
me? Close enough to smell you, touch you...

"Are you attracted to me Mulder?"

Yes! My mind screamed. Oh God yes! All I want to do is throw you down on this
desk and bury myself so deeply in you I'd have to be surgically removed. It
took all my will power not to lift her up, tear off her clothes and screw her

I couldn't answer her. I could just look at her. I knew my expression gave
it all away, and desperately tried to veil my embarrassment with anger.

"What the hell does it matter Scully?!"

"Are you?"

"I wasn't the only one letting things get a bit hot n' heavy. Perhaps you
should be asking yourself the same thing about what you're feeling for me."

She didn't say anything, and I turned away again. "It doesn't matter, Scully.

I glanced back at her, my eyes drawn to her lovely ivory skin, her eyes, her
shining red hair tied back loosely, and her lips. Those full lips that I had
been only moments from kissing a few minutes ago.

I thought it was impossible but I felt even more blood rush to my groin. I
was almost so painfully hard that I staggered backwards. I just gulped.


"Dammit, Scully. Drop it. For the last time. Just drop it!" I banged my fist
on the table, "Just because I was aroused by you, by the way you were holding
me, the way you were touching me does not mean anything more than I'm being
overridden by hormones today. I'm a guy, Scully. A guy who hasn't gotten
laid in quite a while, if you must know, okay? I haven't had sex in ages,
and that's all that is bothering me. It doesn't mean anything. It's been so
long since I even came close to..." I knew what I was saying made no sense.
I knew if I wanted to, I could go out and find someone.

I'm not dense. I know I attract attention from the opposite sex. I may
have a big nose, but I'm not ugly. Not that ugly anyway.

I also know that I could walk into a bar, watch for whose head turns (there
are usually a few, I'm not boasting, just stating facts.) and walk up to her.
I could introduce myself, ask her if I could buy her a drink and if she
seemed the type for a one night stand... I'd invite her back to mine, tell
her exactly what I didn't want and I'd be guaranteed a night between the

But I've never really been the type for a one night stand. I've had my fair
share, some would say more than my fair share but I've never gone out looking
for one. They found me. That's all I care to say about the subject.

I've only been with three women since I met Scully. One of them was a kind
of one nighter - she died the next day. I don't know what that says about me.
None of the others lasted more than a couple of weeks. But three lays in
four years is not enough for me. It's not enough for anybody!

I continued spewing bullshit about how I was having trouble harnessing my

I might as well as said 'Scully, will you be my wife and the mother of my
children?' because she just gave me the look. Her patented I-know-everything
look. That look nearly sent me over the edge, and all I could do to stop
myself from kissing her was shout:

"It's nothing personal, Scully. I'm attracted to my cousin, it doesn't mean
I'm gonna lay her on top of the thanksgiving turkey this year! Loads of
women have done to me what you just did. You're nothing special. It's not a
big achievement. I mean, it's not like I'm the first guy in the world to
get a hard-on. Hell, what about the pigs in Home, Pennsylvania? And If you
think I want to have a sexual relationship with everything that gives me an
erection then you have seriously warped ideas about buses."

Yeah, Scully was a little confused about that last comment too. I meant the
*vibrations* of a bus, not the actual bus itself...

Anyhow... I'd lost it. I had totally lost it. I'd slipped into bigoted
asshole mode, and there was no way of bringing me back to earth.

"Besides!" I hollered. "Why would I want to sleep with someone who was sent
to spy on Me?! Would you write it up in your little reports huh, Scully?
Would you give me performance ratings? Would you compare me to the other
lovers you've had? Oh, I forgot. Prim little Dana Scully, *catholic*, isn't
like that. She doesn't fuck you, she just fucks you over! You do know we all
call you a prude? Doc. Ice I think is the most particularly suited don't

I didn't mean to say it, really I didn't. If I hadn't felt that stinging slap
across my face I would have done it myself. I was mortified, and just wished
the ground would open up and swallow me whole because I couldn't bare to look
at the tears in her eyes.

I had an apology right on the tip of my tongue, but I never got to use it.
She just whispered "You bastard." And left me standing there.

Standing?... Oh great one, Mulder. *Really* loved that one. Hey, you ever
think about joining the comedy circuit you great schnozzed geek?

How could I do that do her? I'm such a fucking asshole.

What I feel for Scully goes beyond attraction. If it was lust I felt for her
I would have had her up against the filing cabinet a long time ago. Quench
the need and get over it.

But I have the feeling that the need I have for Dana Scully could never be

I love her, for Christ's sake. I LOVE HER. I should have told her that,
instead of trying to lie my way out of it.

I've asked myself when it started. I honestly can't say.
When did I start to feel this way about my partner ?

I've been in love...well, I've been attracted to her from the first moment I
laid eyes on her petite little frame. When she first walked into my office,
exuding high hopes and stubbornness, I nearly fell off my seat. But I hid it
with sarcasm - like I did today.

She wasn't even my type, whatever that is.

I guess I could say Phoebe was my 'type'. Kristen fit that description too -
Tall, slender, dark and bad for me.

Scully is... well She's Scully. She's good for me. I've never had such a
positive influence from a woman in my life. She's loving, good natured, has
a good sense of humor - occasionally. She wants to help me, wants the best
for me. She cares about me - which is more than I can say for any of the

At least she did care for me until I resorted to anger and bitchiness to hide
my embarrassment.

Why did I have to be so cruel?

How long have I been wanting to tell her how I feel about her? How the
relationship we have at the moment is not enough for me anymore. And I had
to go and blow my opportunity.

I want to call her. I want to see her. I want to tell her I'm sorry, that I
was just embarrassed and in pain and that I want her, need her, love her.

Oh great, here come the tears again. Why do women always end up making me

Sometimes I wish I was gay, I really do... well, okay, I don't. Not because
I'm homophobic or anything, it's just that I get enough trouble from the guys
at work as it is. Not to mention the fact that my father would have disowned
me and my mother would have had a nervous breakdown.

But I'll tell you what I *do* wish - that relationships were just about the
primitive emotions - the most important being lust. No love or hate or
jealousy to complicate things.

It is true though, women always do end up reducing me to tears.

I'll never learn.

Like Phoebe wasn't enough for one lifetime.

She was, and probably still is, the bitch from hell. She took particular
pleasure in making sure I was royally screwed for all eternity.

When she turned up in my life again after all those years...I can't help but
think if that's what made me realize it was Scully I wanted.

Phoebe insisted I was in love with Scully, and vice versa.

I made it clear I was not, and never would be in love with my partner. I
had no hopes of ever getting her into my bed. I didn't even own a bed. It
wasn't going to happen, end of story. But Phoebe knew it was bullshit, just
as I did.

Of course... now I have a bed. But the only thing I do in it is... actually
my mother is the only person who's ever slept in it. Anyhow:

Phoebe gave me a real hang-up. She didn't offend me, as such, because she
was merely insinuating that I have a predilection for becoming too obsessed
with things. With people. And I had learned a long time ago not to take her
insults to heart. However, I knew she was right. It is true, I really do
become fixated. And I hate myself for it.

She knew I never really and truly loved her, and that hurt her because I
think I was the only person Phoebe has loved. That is why she hurt me-
because I couldn't love her, but I was infatuated with her. I was consumed
with her. I was under her spell, which was the next best thing for Phoebe.
If she couldn't have my heart she wanted my soul... and my body. Sex was the
only good thing I got out of our relationship. I was so totally unaware of
what I was letting her get away with. But now I'm aware of it, I deal with it
as best I can. Granted that's not very well, but I am aware of it.

That night, when Phoebe turned up in DC and we went to the party in Baltimore,
when she danced with me and we kissed in the hall...I finally thought I might
be able to forgive her, to look past her faults, that maybe I actually *was*
in love with her, and had been from the start. When I was practically
paralyzed with fear in the fire, when I had nearly gotten my stupid self killed
....and Scully was the only one who cared... I realized that I wanted her when
felt her touching me so softly, telling me I was going to be okay. Phoebe
disappeared from my fantasies.

Scully was the angel who visited me in my dreams in place of the devil that
was Phoebe.

Corny? Yeah, I know. But this is my journal, If you have a problem with it
take it up with one of my multiple personalities.

Scully isn't perfect, I know that. She has many, many flaws. Flaws which
sometimes outweigh her assets. But I love her. I love the way she trusts me
when she's at her most vulnerable. I love the way she makes it so easy for
me trust her, trust her with everything.

She knows how important she is to me. But I think she believes I love her
like a sister. That what I feel for her is some kind of Samantha-by-proxy.
I think she believes I trust her like I do because I feel like I have to take
the big-brother role in her life. And she's comfortable with that.

That's why I hurt her so much today when I said those things. She had just
come to terms with the fact that her conceptions of my feelings towards her
were wrong, so very wrong. She was going through mild stages of shock. She
didn't need me and my warped mind adding to it.

I hate myself for what I have done to her. I truly hate myself.

Right now, I'm planning on going out and getting unbelievably drunk.
With a bit of luck, I'll die of Alcohol Poisoning, or get hit by a train or
something equally as merciful so I won't have to go into the office and face
Scully tomorrow.

I am such a fuck up.


END... Until Matters Of The Heart II

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"Y'know, living in the city, you forget that night is actually
so... dark." - Mulder (Quagmire)

"I ate two slices of bad pizza, went to bed, and grew a
CONSCIENCE!" -Jerry Maguire