A CUP OF KINDNESS
By Jacquie LaVa
MSR, AU, New Year's Eve Story
Rating:  R-ish, for language and sexual situations
No Spoilers to speak of


"A Cup of Kindness"


GEORGETOWN
December 31
Early Morning


You know, I greatly dislike sleeping on this side of the bed.  I
should be used to it by now, and of course I am - but I hate it.  Not
because I sleep to the left or anything like that, but mostly because
the damn phone's on this side.  The same phone Scully refuses to let
me unplug at night.  The same phone that has the single most shrill,
most obnoxious ring in the world; I swear my woman went shopping for
it on purpose, just to torture me on the nights I sleep over.  

I'm a very considerate bed-mate.  When Scully stays at my place, I
always unplug the phone.  Since it's on my side as well, I figure I'm
doing both of us a favor. And also since I sleep with her more often
than she sleeps with me, you'd think she'd return the
consideration... but no.  Not at all.  To be fair, the phone doesn't
ring that often when I sleep over.  But when it does ring, it RINGS. 
And to make matters worse, it's usually someone I'd rather not - 
EVER - talk to on Scully's phone in the middle of the night when 
the person on the other end has got to know the man who picked up 
her frigging phone is in her bed.

Like the male members of her family...

"Hunnnnuh."  Yes, that professional-sounding grunt actually comes
out of my mouth.  Well, the damn phone's ringing its usual loud and
shrill blast in my ear; somebody has to answer it!  I suppose that
someone is me.

"Dana?  Is that you?"  It's a deep male voice.  I struggle to rid my
brain of sleep-cobwebs, enough to realize I'm suddenly in serious
shit from possibly several angles.  Either that voice belongs to
Skinner - who still has no idea his agents are bopping like bunnies
underneath his very X-Files - or it's one of the Scully brothers,
both of whom I've had the 'pleasure' of meeting.  

As I said, shit no matter what.

I clear my throat, then rouse up as much professionalism as I can
while I'm lying stark naked in my partner's bed with our legs all
tangled up together.   "Um, no.  Would you like to speak to Dana?" 
Smooth, asshole.  I hold the phone away from my ear a little,
expecting one hell of a pissed-off and indignant squawk in my ear
from the voice on the other end.

Instead I get a bit of silence; then the deep voice is touched with
confusion.  "No, I think I'd like to speak with you.  Whoever the
hell you are.  Then I think I'd like to talk with my sister, if you
don't mind."

Oh, fuck.  It's got to be Bill Scully.  I only met Charlie once, and
he didn't have any of those grouchy little inflections in his voice;
in fact, Charlie's been living in Alabama so long that he's got a
definite drawl going.  

Nope, no drawl here, damn it all.

I take a deep breath, and answer truthfully.  After all, the man is
in San Diego, how much damage can he do to me, three thousand miles
away?  "Okay.  I assume this is Bill, right?  This is Mulder
speaking.  And before you reach through the phone lines and attempt
to rip my heart out through my esophagus, I'd just like to say -"

He interrupts quite rudely.  "Yeah, it's Bill.  And yeah, Mr.
Mulder... I'd like nothing better than to reach my hand through the
line and fasten it around your throat.  But that, unfortunately,
isn't the reason I called.  And I can't believe I'm doing this, but
I'm going to apologize for calling so late."  The words seem to be
gagging him, and I'm actually glad I'm lying down in bed because if I
weren't, the concept of Bill Scully actually apologizing to me would
really knock me off my feet.

I let my tone reflect my shock.  "You're sorry you disturbed me, um,
us?  Can I ask why?  I mean, why you're apologizing, not why you
called.  You've got the right to call your sister any time you want,
you know."

I hear an impatient sigh on the other end.  "Yes, I know.  She's my
sister, after all.  I was calling to let her know I'm sorry I had
that big blowout with her last week.  I, er, gave a lot of thought to
it and I realize I was... wrong."  Man, that last bit of sentence is
really choking its way out of him.  And I had no idea Scully had a
fight with her big bro.  I'm not surprised they did, because they can
never seem to spend more than three minutes on the phone or face to
face, without a knock-down drag out.  And I try very hard to not
blame myself for the condition of their relationship.  Bill Scully
was an arrogant jerk long before I came into Scully's picture.

But that doesn't stop me from wishing I could break through that
damn barrier and find some measure of minuscule acceptance with the
big guy.  In all actuality, I have respect for him.  He loves his
family; that is so very obvious.

I admit to being curious as hell.  "Can I ask you what you fought
about?"  Like it's any great mystery...

Bill emits a very Scullylike snort.  "Well, several things.  You,
for one.  Her goddamn career, for another.  I was a prick to her; I'm
big enough to admit it.  And she told me to fuck off.  Then my wife
found out about the fight, and she called me a moron with terminal
tunnel vision.  My mother told me I was a jerk.  The verdict's still
out with Charlie; I haven't heard from him yet.  Jesus, when the
family jumps on the grapevine it's a wonder my supervisor aship
doesn't hear about it."  Pure male affront is vibrating in my ear and
it's all I can do not to laugh aloud, or fall down in flat-out
amazement that Bill Jr. is actually talking to me like I'm a human
being.

Will wonders at two AM never cease?

Speaking of which... I'm now hearing clinking noises in the
background, and suddenly I'm dying to know where the hell Scully's
brother is calling from.  A bar?  He doesn't sound soused or
anything.  Not that I'd know what a soused Bill would sound like, the
man just has so much self-control.  But hell, everyone has to blow it
off once in awhile.  This might just be Bill's night.

"Bill?  Where are you calling from?"  No beating around the bush for
me, nossirree.

There's a lengthy pause, then I hear, "I'm at this place called
O'Kelsey's.  Kind of noisy in here, I think they're having a party."

O'Kelsey's?  Huh.  I never knew they were a chain.  We have one
right down the street from Scully's apart - 

My eyes suddenly go very wide.  My hand nearly drops the phone.  My
jaw threatens to fall on my pillow, right next to Scully's sleepy
little head.  

"Um, Bill?  Are you... here... in DC?"

"Yeah, I am.  That's the other reason I called.  I decided to
apologize to Dana in person.  Figured it was the least I could do. 
So, is she there?"  A muffled gurgling in the receiver tells me Bill
Jr. is probably chugging a beer.  

Jesus.  Who knew the guy would get willingly drunk? Who'd know he
also waxes mellow when he's drunk? Mellow enough to fly here, enough
to call his baby sister at an ungodly hour of the morning, talk with
some measure of civility to the one man he seems to hate above all
others... enough to actually confide in that enemy.

Talk about a surreal moment.  Maybe I should pinch some tender area
on my body to assure I'm really awake.  Before I can, however, an
impatient "Hmmmph!" in my ear tells me I've left Scully's brother in
a holding pattern a few seconds too long.
 
I hastily murmur an affirmative into the phone, reach out a hand and
shake Scully conscious; she grumbles and snuffles and generally gives
me the usual 'don't-bug-me-I'm-asleep' routine.  I shake her harder. 
"Scully!  Come on, wake up!  Bill's on the phone. He wants to talk to
you."

She opens one bleary eye; I can barely see the glint of it in the
dark room.  "Bill?  My brother?"  Her voice is thick with sleep.

I nod, though I know she can't see me doing it, and I push the phone
in her general vicinity.  "Yeah, Bill! He's down at O'Kelsey's,
getting smashed.  He wants to talk."

Scully yawns as she grasps the phone, "Bill, drinking? God, Tara'll
kill him when he gets - wait a minute. Did you say O'Kelsey's?  OUR
O'Kelsey's?"

I nod again, feeling my face break out into a huge grin, very
thankful she can't see that either.  "Yeah to that as well, baby. 
Your Big Bro's in town.  I think he wants to come over.  Do we have
any coffee?  I think he's gonna need a pot or two."

As Scully sits up in bed, snaps on her bedside lamp and presents me
with the most comically shocked face I've ever seen, I finally come
all the way awake.  And I finally give in to the urge to laugh my ass
off.  I fall back against the pillows and roll with it.  Beside me,
Scully brings the phone up to her ear, very carefully - but not
before spitting out one very non-Scullyish expletive.

"Ah, FUCK!"

***************************

"Well?"  

Scully was only on the phone two minutes max; I'd slipped out of bed
and hit the bathroom, feeling she'd need some privacy.  I was dying
to listen in on the conversation, one-sided as it would have been -
but I was trying to be polite.  So I'd dithered for at least five
minutes in the bathroom before coming out and hovering near the
doorway, fully expecting to have to toss on some clothes in a hurry
in preparation for Bill's visit.  Maybe grab my gun, and one of her
steak knives as well, just to defend myself against Irate-Brother
Syndrome.

Only to find out it wasn't necessary.

"Well what, Mulder?  He wanted to come over; I told him to fuck off.
End of conversation." As my jaw threatens to fall off my face for the
second time that night, Scully calmly rises from the rumpled bed and
pads to the bathroom, sending one sweet smile my way before slamming
the door.  The finality of that slam rouses me and my jaw and I
quickly snap it back into place before striding to the bathroom door
and pounding on it.

"Scully!  You can't just leave him there in a bar!  Jesus... the man
came all this way to apologize!  You got any idea how much a flight
costs, this close to a holiday without a twenty-one-day notice?"

The door opens and Scully sticks her head out, mouth full of
toothpaste.  She turns away and spits into the sink, then fastens two
very indifferent-looking blue eyes on me.  "That's not my problem,
Mulder.  I didn't ask for him to come.  I didn't demand an apology. 
I don't want it.  Not this time; not ever again.  I've had it with my
brother and his stubborn idiocy.  And I don't really want to talk
about it any longer."  She snags a towel and wipes her mouth, then
moves close and brushes a kiss over my lips, before slipping past me
and shrugging into the robe draped across the foot of the bed.  
Leaving it unbelted she walks into the kitchen, calling over her
shoulder, "You want some eggs?"

I sink onto the edge of the bed in shock.  Eggs.  At two o'clock in
the morning she wants to cook me eggs.  Her brother is in a bar down
the street, getting bombed, upset and undoubtedly pissed at the way
his little sister blew him off.  I can't help but wonder how long
it's been since anyone told Bill Scully to fuck off.  If ever, that
is.  I rub my fingers hard over my eyes, trying to clear their
blurriness.  In the kitchen I can hear pans clanking and the sound of
the fridge being opened and shut.  None too gently either, which
reinforces the fact she's angry.  Well, angry and cooking, which in
my book don't go together very well.  

Sometimes the best way to deal with an angry Scully is to just
confront her.  Not bothering to dress, I walk through the living room
and pause in the kitchen doorway, watching her crack eggs into a
bowl, yank open a drawer, pull out a whisk.  Her jaw is tight, her
robe slipping off a bare shoulder.  She snaps on a stove burner; then
glances up at me.  "How many eggs do you want?  Scrambled okay?"

Jesus, Scully.  "No, I don't want any eggs, thank you.  I want to
know what you said to your brother.  I want to know why you didn't
tell me you'd had a fight with him last week.  I want to know if this
fight is the reason you chose to stay in DC for the holidays when you
usually go with your mother, and visit one or the other of your two
darling brothers."

Scully takes her time beating the eggs and pouring the mixture into
the waiting skillet.  She sets the bowl in the sink and faces me. 
Blue eyes blaze into mine and I actually find myself taking a small
step back, as she retorts, "My 'darling brother' is a moron. 
Listening to his undoubtedly insincere apology in my ear doesn't make
him less of one; Tara probably put him up to it.  I didn't tell you
about the fight because you've heard it all before, Mulder.  As I
have.  And I'm tired of hearing it.  I refused to dwell on it and
thus ruin our Christmas."  

She pulls out a spatula and stirs the simmering eggs, her back to
me, her shoulders set.  Conversation over, as far as Dana Scully is
concerned.  

But not for me.  Not this time.  Not right now.   I see the look in
her eyes; her face is calm but she's livid.  Maybe I've heard it all
before, but this one is different.  This one is very damaging.  In
the past, Scully has always been able to bounce back from a
confrontation with her brother.

I've been around Bill a few times, been on the receiving end of his
temper, his bad opinion of me and of his sister's chosen career and
lifestyle.  I'm sure he didn't mince words when he fought with her,
just as I'm sure that for once, his little sister let him have it
right back.  The Neanderthal in me is obnoxious enough to strut at
her obvious defense of me - and the civilized man in me bemoans yet
another nail in the coffin that locks up any chance of reaching some
sort of understanding with the one man I wish could approve of me, if
only a tiny bit.  

Plus, Dana Scully would never in a million years appreciate this...
but she's a lot like her brother, especially in the stubbornness
department.  I sigh wearily and pad back into the bedroom, collecting
my jeans and sweatshirt from the floor, digging through a drawer for
one of several sets of socks and shorts I keep there.  I dress
hurriedly; then move to the bathroom and zip a toothbrush over my
teeth.  And I steel myself for the renewed anger I know she'll flay
me with, when she sees me dressed, and heading out -

"Where are you going?"  The question is automatic but I know she can
figure out the answer... and judging by the glint in her eye, I know
she doesn't like it.  She stands in the kitchen doorway with the hot
skillet in one hand and an eggy wooden spatula in the other, both
potential weapons.  Her robe still gaps open and I know she's upset,
pissed, and in need of much more than a serving of scrambled eggs.

I pause in the middle of the living room, my jacket flung over one
shoulder and a desperate need to sweep her into my arms and kiss her
until she melts.  However I value my skin, so I resist the urge to
offer any kind of loving concern when I know she's mad enough to
injure me.  I keep my distance and I answer her truthfully as I ease
toward the door.

"I'm going down to O'Kelsey's.  I'm going to check on your brother. 
I don't know how long I'll be, but I can't just leave him there,
Scully.  I can't."

Scully's eyes narrow ominously as she stares me down.  "After some
of the things he's said about you - about us - what do you care,
Mulder?  It's time he learned, in my opinion the hard way."  She
spins back into the kitchen and over to the sink, tosses the entire
skillet of eggs into it, flips around to the stove, twists off the
burner knob and faces me again, arms crossed in front of her.  

Defensive-Scully, how lovely... damn it.  I can't leave her like this.

I sigh and move to her, do what I swore I wouldn't, on the off-
chance she'd skin me alive.  I wrap her in my arms and kiss the top
of her head, murmur into her hair.  "Tell me what he said, baby."

Scully pushes away, just a little; enough to make me drop my arms. 
"No.  If you want to know what Bill said this time, you'll have to
ask him yourself.  I'm going back to bed, Mulder.  I'll clean up the
egg mess later."  With that, she sidles around me and makes a beeline
for the bedroom.  I end up heaving several frustrated breaths, before
walking out the door and locking it behind me.

Outside the winter air is crisp and very cold, the night clear after
several days of moderate snowfall.  The walk to O'Kelsey's is short
and all the way I'm trying to think of what the hell to say to Bill. 
Shit, I never know what to say to him; of the few times I've been
unfortunate enough to be in the same room as him I have mostly stood
silent and let him blast me.  Deep down I've always known he had
every right.  

I've screwed up his sister's life.  I've put his family in danger
simply by being in the same air space as Scully.  Because someone
wanted to get at me through my partner, I was the cause of Melissa's
murder.  I was the direct cause of Scully developing the most
insidious and deadly bodily invader of all.  She could have died. 
She almost did.  And because of her association with me, I've managed
to rob her of having any chance to be a biological mother.

Jesus, is it any wonder Bill Scully hates the mere mention of my name?

It doesn't matter how many times Scully and her mother have tried to
talk me out of this passel of guilt... I know better.  And still, I
can't stay away.  Still, I can't make myself force Dana Scully out of
my life.  I need her too much.  I love her too desperately.  I know
this is what has maddened Bill the most.  Love is hard to fight
against.  I know he feels he's fighting against invisible weaponry
with no defense at all except for a concerned brother's righteous
fury.  Believe me, that's enough... almost.  If I didn't need Scully
so much, it might have just been enough to knock me out of her life
permanently.

I turn the corner and cross the street, the brightly-lit sign over
O'Kelsey's straight ahead.  I square my shoulders and prepare to open
the door, seek out the enemy and see what the hell I can do to heal
this newest family breach.  I may get beaten bloody for my troubles,
but I can't leave it alone. I won't.

A blast of smoky, beer-infested air slaps me in the face as soon as
I walk in.  I stomp the snow from my boots and look around the dim
interior, easily spotting Bill in a corner booth.  There's a longneck
bottle in his hand and four more empties ringing the elbow he braces
on the table.  His hand cups his chin and even in the hazy interior I
can see the defeat in his eyes.

That's something I never thought I'd live to see... defeat in this
big Navy man's eyes.

Shit...

I walk over to him, noting the hunch of his shoulders, trying to
gauge his level of sobriety.  When I speak I keep my tone low and
calm.  "Bill?  Can I join you?"

At the sound of my voice his head snaps around, and the bleary eyes
that echo defeat don't look the least surprised to see me.  But they
flare with anger, the same as always when settling on one Spooky
Mulder, certified sorry son-of-a-bitch.   His eyebrows scrunch
together ominously.  "Take off, Mr. Mulder.  I'm not in the mood to
deal with you right now."  

I must have one hell of a death-wish, because I stand my ground. 
"Gee, that's too bad, Mr. Scully.  Because I'm not going anywhere.  I
left your pissed-off sister back at her place, after trying -
unsuccessfully - to convince her to let you come over.  I barely
escaped with my life; she had a hot skillet in her hand and a large
chip on her shoulder.  I don't know about you, but I can think of
better ways of spending New Year's Eve... so I don't think I'm gonna
take off.  I think I'm gonna sit down, and have a beer."

"Ah, fuck."  The raspy expletive and the face he presents to me is
so much a carbon copy of what I just experienced with Scully, that I
have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep a chortle in check.  If I
laugh at Bill Scully, he'll surely pound me.  I keep silent and
resume standing ground, waiting for him to indicate I can join him. 
I won't sit until he does. 

With another grumble that sounds like frustration, Bill points with
the bottle in his hand toward the empty seat across from him, and I
sit down.  Three seconds after I settle myself, a smiling waitress
puts an open longneck bottle on the table and her cheerful, "Good to
see you, Mr. Mulder," brings an automatic grin to my face.  I reach
for the beer and drain half of it, waiting for Bill to speak.

For several dragged-out seconds we stare at each other.  I've been
around Bill Scully enough times to understand the set of his big
frame and the tension in his equally-large hands indicates more than
fury.  He's hurting, plain and simple.  It's the same posture I saw
in the hospital when Scully lay in that cold, sterile bed fighting to
survive cancer.  It's the look I faced in the corridor when I got a
taste of big-brother hostility and anguish.  And suddenly I'm as
tired of it as Scully claims to be.  She's alive.  Healthy.  The past
has got to be just that - past.  She needs her siblings as much as
she needs me.  More, in fact.  There has to be a way to clear this
mess.  But first I need to understand how bad this fight was.  I need
to get through to Bill.

God help me.

For a few more seconds I get the Scully glare; then finally he
decides to speak.  "So... I guess you know this place."  The words
are banal to the max, but that's better than no words at all.

I nod cautiously. "Scully and I come in here often.  It's only a few
blocks from her apartment."  I stop talking as I realize how dumb my
response must sound to Bill.  As if his little sister makes a habit
of hanging out in funky bars with her loser of a partner/boyfriend. 
I jam the bottle back into my mouth and empty it.

Bill's voice is raspy with what sounds a lot like exhaustion. 
"Look, Mulder... you're wasting your time, okay?  This is a family
matter.  It's between me and my sister.  I appreciate you coming down
here, I really do.  I'm very pissed off at you right now, but I have
to admire your guts.  I can imagine what it had to cost you, to find
it within yourself to come down here in the middle of the night.  By
any chance did she tell you what she said to me?"

I find myself peeling the label off the empty bottle just to keep my
fingers busy, as I reply, "Um, sort of.  She says she told you to
fuck off; then she hung up on you.  She also started cooking a bunch
of eggs that ended up in the sink, and she went back to bed leaving
eggshells and other assorted messes all over her usually-spotless
counters.  Somehow I figure coming down here to talk to you would be
the lesser of several evils."

A faint smile actually crosses Bill's lips as he digests my little
monologue.  "Yeah, you want to stay out of the way when any of us
Scullys get pissy and start slopping stuff in the kitchen.  And yeah,
she told me to fuck off.  Guess I deserved it this time.  Hell, maybe
I always deserved it.  I don't know anymore."  He signals the
waitress for another round, scrubs his big hands over his eyes, runs
his fingers through that short military haircut of his.  The ends of
his brown hair, sticking up all over his head, shave about twenty
years off him, making him look absurdly vulnerable.  Now, that's a
hard image to swallow but here I am looking at it and thinking that
Bill Scully has always acted so much older than he truly is.  A
premature need to be the head of a fatherless family will do that to
a guy, I suppose.

I sit back in the booth with a fresh beer in my hand and listen as
Bill continues, "She called me, you know.  About a week ago, as I
mentioned over the phone.  Don't know if you thought I called her but
it was the other way around, which actually afforded me even less
reason to give her a rash of shit."

"Is that what you did, gave her shit?"  I make my voice as level as
possible and try to keep an open mind, which isn't as easy as I'd
hoped it would be.  I close my hands over my beer bottle to avoid
curling them into fists.  

Luckily for both of us Bill seems unaware of my inner conflict. 
"Yeah, much as I hate to admit it.  She called to wish us a Merry
Christmas and to tell us she wouldn't be coming for the holidays. 
We'd invited her, since our mother had gone to Charlie's to spend
Christmas there and we didn't want Dana to be alone.  Well, she
informed me that she wasn't going to be alone, that she'd be with you
for Christmas.  I thought she was waiting for me to extend the
invitation to you... and I told her that if she intended to spend the
holidays with you, then she was on her own.  Except my tone was a lot
meaner, I realize it now.  I blew up all over her and for the first
time I can remember, my baby sister gave it right back to me."

"Define 'blew up', would you please?"  Like I really need to hear
this.  I must be a real sucker for punishment.

Bill raises both eyebrows at me, but obliges.  "If you really have a
need to know, basically I told her you were an asshole and worthless
and if she chose you over her family she was just as much of an
asshole, in which case you deserved one another.  Then I made the
truly stupid mistake of demanding she choose between me and you...
and to top it off I told her if she didn't drop you - and the Bureau -
that as far as I was concerned she was no longer my sister."   

For the third time in less than an hour, my jaw becomes affected by
gravity, this time falling on the beer-soaked table in front of me. 
"Jesus, Bill... you've got more of a death wish than I ever thought I
had!  How the hell could you say that to her and not think she
wouldn't castrate you?"  At the moment I'm too amazed to feel
justifiable outrage at his miserable attitude.  I'm half tempted to
drag the big guy into the men's room and demand to see proof of
testicle ownership.  The only reason I don't is the knowledge that
Bill said this to Scully over the phone and therefore his balls are
probably still attached to his groin - and the surety that any
foolhardy actions on my part could result in certain death... mine.

Bill shrugs as he gulps at his fifth or sixth beer.  "I know, I
know!  Shit, you don't have to tell me.  After she screamed at me and
hung up in my ear, I replayed the words I'd said to her and
understood all by myself just how awful they'd sounded.  I tried to
call her back but she wouldn't answer, and after I gave up dialing,
Tara jumped my ass.  She must have been eavesdropping or something,
because she chewed me up and spat me out; then she called my mother
and told her what I'd done.  I got another ass chewing, as only
Margaret Scully can chew.  I spent several days getting back into
their good graces, and making the decision to fly out here right
after Christmas and try ironing things out with Dana.  I figured if I
could make her see how much I regretted everything I said to her, she
might be willing to come back with me and spend New Years' with us." 
Bill stops abruptly, sucks in a breath and adds in a rush, "And this
time I was going to extend the invitation to you."

Well, there goes the jaw, yet again.  This is a night for
revelations, that's for certain.  I can see the honesty in Bill
Scully's blue eyes, as I stare at him.  I can feel it in his entire
demeanor.  Here is a proud man who's finally willing to admit he
really did fuck up big time, knowing he stands an excellent chance of
losing the respect and future regard of his beloved sister.  It goes
beyond any truth or comprehension brought on by inebriation.  Bill
Scully has finally 'gotten it', where his sister is concerned, and
he's scared.

If I were in his shoes, I'd be fucking petrified.

I clear my throat, feeling my clenched fingers relax on the bottle I
grip.  I can see Bill is in pain.  It's cost him a lot to admit this
to me; after all I have been his self-assigned nemesis for several
years.  Since I've usually never defended myself I invited even more
disdain to be heaped on my head, and a much bigger grudge.  I can see
just how easy it is to harbor that level of anger.  I did it myself,
am in fact still doing it every time I think of any number of the
enemies that still plague Scully and me.  I was no less of an enemy,
at least in Bill Scully's mind.  For that matter I probably still am.
Once Bill sobers up and realizes he's been frank and open with me
he'll most likely kick himself and then steal my gun and shoot me.

Can't say that I'd blame him.  

"Do you still think your sister made a mistake in her choice of
career?  Do you still think she follows me because I have some kind
of hold over her?"  I have to ask.  Why, only God knows.  Like I
said, I'm a sucker for punishment.

To my surprise, Bill gives it some consideration, not answering
right away.  He gulps more from his bottle, manages to avoid my eyes
completely as he formulates a reply.  "I think Dana's talents are
wasted at the FBI.  I have always thought it and I doubt I'll change
my mind now.  Her job is excessively dangerous and I'm betting I
don't even know the worst of it.  As for her following you... well,
up until this evening I was determined to believe there wasn't
anything between you two, past being partners and friends.  I'd been
keeping myself sane by maintaining partial denial.  It was hard
enough accepting she even wanted you as a friend."  Bill's eyes
finally meet mine.  "I know there's love between you - intimacy, too.
 I'm sure as hell not stupid.  Before tonight I knew it.  Didn't want
to admit it, but I knew.  You're not good enough for her, Mulder. 
I've yet to meet a man who is."

I nod.  I understand this.  I comprehend the feeling, even though I
know I've lost the honor of having a sister who grows to adulthood
and finds a man and falls in love.  I'll never have that particular
feeling of brotherly possessiveness.  Yet, I understand all too well
how Bill Scully feels.

I also know how I feel.  How much I love, need, desire.  How much
I'll fight for Scully, right alongside her.  She's somebody's
daughter and someone's sister.  She's also my woman, and it's too
late for me to push her away.

Far too late.

Now, I think it's time to lay it to rest.  It's time to let it all
go, and when I meet the stare of my woman's brother, I can only hope
he's thinking the same thing.  He needs her love, as much as I do,
albeit in a different way of course.  She's the only sister he has
left, and I know he adores her.  If I can help them find their way
back to each other, maybe it's the best gift I could ever give, the
kindest and most unselfish act I could perform.  Besides, as I said
before... having this man's respect, even if only a little, would
mean a lot to me.  

"You're right, Bill.  I'm never going to be good enough for her. 
Which means I'll be trying a hundred times harder to be worthy."  I
hold his eyes with my own, hoping he can see the truth of my words. 
Hoping he can accept them.  "There was a time I tried my hardest to
make her leave, thinking if she could get away from me then maybe she
could have a normal life.  I think I knew deep down that if she
really did quit me, I wouldn't want to go on myself.  But once I knew
for certain she loved me, there was no way I'd ever give her up."  

A resigned-sounding sigh.  "Well, I'm doing my best to accept that
Dana's career choices were all her idea - that her love for you is
also her idea.  But shit, Mulder... I've been hating you for a hell
of a long time.  Don't expect me to get all warm and fuzzy just on
the strength of one night of drinking."

I fight the grin breaking over my face.  "Hey, that goes without
saying.  And don't expect me to fall all over myself apologizing for
the work we do."  

We sit and eye each other for a minute; then I decide it's now or
never, and I make the first overture.  "I think you should come back
to the apartment.  This bar stays open twenty-four hours a day, but I
doubt you want to spend the rest of what's left of your night,
sitting here swilling beer.  Scully's stubborn but she isn't
unreasonable.  She also knows what it's like to say things in anger
and then regret what she said.  If she sees we've reached some kind
of... agreement... I think she'll come around.  I know I would, were
I in her shoes - and I'm pretty stubborn, as well."  I stand up and
reach for my jacket, slip into it.

Bill stands too, but makes no move to pick up his coat.  His eyes
are foggy from alcohol, and a little sad.  "Mulder, I don't think
that's a good idea.  She doesn't want to see me, at least not yet.  I
don't know that I'm ready to face her, either.  Dana may be pint-
sized but she can be intimidating as hell.  I made her angry and hurt
her, all in one fell swoop.  And in return she knocked the stuffing
right out of me.  Let's just forget it, okay?  You can tell her that
we've made our peace of sorts, between us - and that I wish both of
you a happy and safe New Year.  Maybe she can find it in her heart to
forgive - and hopefully forget - the rotten things I said."

"Bill... at least let me call her, right now.  At least talk to her
one last time, before you go.  See what happens."  I'm begging,
however subtly, and Bill knows it.  His eyes crinkle in a smile about
a half second before his mouth follows; a very small smile but a
smile just the same.  He puts out one large hand for me to shake, and
I gladly grasp it.  Our handshake is firm and honest; at his hesitant
nod I immediately let go of his hand and pull out my cell, punching
in her code.

It rings four times before she finally picks up.  "Is that you,
Mulder?  This had better be good..."  Scully sounds tired, irate and
cloggy in my ear.  Either she fell asleep or she was crying.  Maybe a
little bit of both -

"Scully, listen, okay?  Just listen."  That's all I say before I
hand the phone to Bill, who takes it gingerly and holds it to his own
ear.  

The rasp of feeling in his voice speaks so much louder than the
words he actually says.  "Dana?  I'm here with Mulder.  I'm so sorry,
please believe me.  Sissy," his tone cracks, just a little, "I'm
sorry for a lot of things..."

I smile as I sit down and finish my now-warm second bottle of beer. 
I watch the emotion flit across Bill Scully's face as he talks to his
sister, and I can tell she's listening.  I can tell she's going to
forgive.

After all, she wouldn't be the woman I worship and adore, if she
were not a big enough person to let bygones be just that - gone.

********************

"It's getting light in here.  Close the blinds up tight, maybe we
can catch a few hours of sleep."

Scully's voice is a drowsy mumble against my shoulder as I press a
kiss on her head, then rise from the sofa and do as she asks. 
Usually we leave the blinds open and just pull the drapes, but the
sun will be coming up soon and both of us need some sleep.  It's
almost eight in the morning.

After their phone call, no amount of persuasion on my part would
make Bill come over to the apartment.  He was determined to let those
'sleeping dogs' lie a little while longer, even though his
conversation with Scully ended on a positive note.  He managed to
update his return ticket to an early-morning flight and I insisted on
accompanying him to the airport. For once I got no argument or
standard 'I'm fine', from a Scully.  Amazing...

We arrived at Dulles with about twenty minutes to spare and I had a
few minutes with Bill before he had to rush to his gate and do his
check in. There wasn't a lot to say; I think we'd gotten the bulk of
it talked out.  The choppy silence between us was somewhat
uncomfortable but that was actually acceptable.  Mostly I didn't want
him to have to go to the airport alone, and besides, he wasn't by any
stretch completely sober.  Plus I think he was glad of the company.

"So.  You and the family doing anything New Year's Eve?"  I stood
with my hands jammed in my pockets, facing the man I would have
fought if need be, to keep the love of Dana Scully.  And I was
thanking Heaven above that I didn't have to do so, for he could have
flattened me with one hand tied behind his back.

Bill nodded, shifting his overnight bag to his shoulder.  "Yeah. 
Probably pizza and a few movies.  We're not going out, though.  We
usually don't."  He heaved a sigh, adding, "I wish I could have
talked Dana into coming down for a few days."

"I know.  Give her some time, okay?  You need it, too.  You got a
few things settled but there are still some sore feelings, on both
sides.  It'll fix itself.  You've got strong family connections,
Bill.  I've always envied your fortune, where your family is
concerned.  You're a lucky man, I know you realize it.  I know you
value and treasure it."

"I am lucky.  I do know it.  For what our family has lost we have
gained as much, and more.  I know that.  It's just... sometimes I
forget.  Sometimes I have to be reminded. Mulder," Bill stuck out his
hand and I gladly took it, "Thanks for reminding me.  Thanks too, for
stepping in.  You didn't have to.  For as much shit as I've flung at
you over the years, you could have stayed out of it and let Dana and
me both flounder.  I'm glad you didn't."

I shook his hand hard, and when I spoke I had this damned frog
screwing up my vocal chords.  "Bill, I love her.  I can't even begin
to tell you how much.  I'd do anything for her.  Even face the wrath
of her family, if necessary.  Anything, that is, except leave her. 
That's one thing I'll never be able to do.  I promise you I'll keep
her safe, and I vow right here and now I'll do everything in my power
to make her happy.  I promise, Bill.  If I ever break that promise I
swear I'll let you kick my ass."

He snorted, "Well, hell, Mulder... there's a no-brainer! I'm holding
you to it.  Give Dana a kiss for me - and tell her I expect to see
her on Easter.  Somebody has to help me color all those goddamn eggs
Tara will no doubt boil up."

Bill shot a grin my way, and for once I got to see the way that grin
lit up those Scully blue eyes. He walked to the gate and I stepped
outside to hail a cab.  It was five in the morning and I was dead on
my feet and cold and stiff.  I also had a smile on my face that
stayed put all the way back to Georgetown.

Now, I close the blinds and pull the drapes.  I pad back to the sofa
and scoop Scully into my arms, carry her to bed.  We still need to
talk but we've got all day to do it.  Get everything sorted out,
after we catch some much-needed sleep.  Both of us are saturated with
a hefty dose of weary.

When I walked through the door an hour ago Scully flew into my arms;
she must have been hovering in the living room.  Still in her
unbelted robe, she'd fused herself to me and without a single word
spoken aloud, we'd both apologized for our hasty discord earlier in
the night.  

Yes, we still need to talk, but after we awaken.  We have a slow,
easy day ahead of us, thankfully.  And I'm thinking it might be nice
to start our own New Years' Eve traditions, later on tonight.  Maybe
a pizza, and a few flicks.  A fire in the fireplace, a bottle of
bubbly.

A cup of kindness... maybe that, most of all.

I sit her on the edge of the bed and remove her robe, toss it over
the bedpost.  Scully regards me with drowsy eyes as I slip off my
jeans and tug at my shirt.  She leans back on her elbows and her
interest perks up when I give into the need to act like a simpleton
and my hips wriggle suggestively as my hands go to the waistband of
my shorts.  

She chuckles, "A striptease, Mulder?  At this hour of the morning? 
You're so bad.  C'mere." Scully crooks a finger in a 'come hither'
motion but I'm not done acting silly, not quite yet...

I present my back to her and slide the boxers off, bending over,
teasing her, waiting for her soft palm to cup one of my bare cheeks. 
When I straighten, I feel it on my left, just that one small hand...
and I push my backside into her caress and sigh out loud.  Nobody can
make me feel like this with just one touch.  Nobody.  

I turn around to face her and that palm is now right up against my
groin.  The moan I emit is heartfelt and Scully's eyes are still
sleepy as they lock with mine... but they're also liquid with need. 
We're both exhausted.  We need some serious Zs.  We also need to bop
like bunnies, even if it's not directly underneath our AD's very X-
Files.  I climb onto the bed and advance over the mattress while
Scully keeps her hand front and center, stretching out beneath me,
palm slipping aside as I settle in the cradle of her soft flesh and
feel myself melt down over her.

She feels so good.  She feels like my own particular vision of
heaven.  We wind arms and legs about each other, nuzzle lips over
shoulders and cheeks, follow those lips with wet and eager tongues. 
Slowly.  Tenderly.  We've got all day to make love, then sleep a
little, awaken together and maybe love a little more.  There's
already a bottle of champagne in the fridge and enough DVDs scattered
about; the pizza is only a phone call away.  We don't even have to
leave this bed.

We probably won't.

Personally I can't think of a better way to spend the last day of
the year than right here, loving Scully.  I'm selfish enough to be
glad she refused her brother's invitation, because I would have had
to go with her, and I can say with complete certainty that trying to
overcome the inhibition of making love to Scully under her brother's
very roof would have done me in.  

Instead I have the pleasure of her hot skin pressing into mine, her
lips doing amazing things to every inch of my body.  I have the
thrill of knowing that in her desire for me, there's nothing she
won't do, nothing she refuses to give.  And I'm the lucky guy who
gets to give it all right back to her.  I'm the fortunate man who
will fall asleep with her damp beauty pressed up against my heart and
the sweet echo of her love words lingering in my ear.  And I'm the
one who'll see that gorgeous, sleepy smile beam up at me when we
awaken a few hours later, to start all over again.  

I'm the reason she told her brother to 'fuck off'.  I think that
might be what keeps this shit-eating grin on my face most of all,
proving beyond a doubt I'm that idiot she sometimes accuses me of
being.  Well, I may be an idiot... but I'm HER idiot.

Better believe it.

As the room gets lighter with daylight, we tussle in Scully's comfy
bed; taking turns being the aggressor, both demanding and receiving
our fair share of touch, kiss, caress.  If the time I just spent in
Bill Scully's company has taught me nothing else, it's reinforced the
utter value of the woman in my arms.  Because of the necessity of her
love, two men who'd wasted several years in enmity of each other have
somehow found a way to start over again, this time with perhaps a bit
less enmity and a little more mutual respect.  I think it'll be more
of a hardship for Bill than it will be for me; after all, Dana's been
his sister for a lot longer than she's been the center of my
existence.  He's had more reason to hate me.  All I ever had was a
need for some small measure of acceptance.  I think I've finally
found it.  I think it's something that can be built on... one step at
a time.

One cup of kindness at a time.  

As I fall asleep with a watery late-December sun slipping in through
the closed blinds and the delight of a bare Dana Scully nestled in
against my sated body, I decide if I sleep right through this year's
'Auld Lang Syne', it's just fine.  It's more than fine, in fact.

It's perfect.

End