From: kristin luckey <kristinshortcake@yahoo.com>

TITLE: The Midnight Hour
AUTHOR: Kristinberry Shortcake  
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kluckey@shrike.depaul.edu
FEEDBACK: Hells yeah! 
DISTRIBUTION: Oh, yeah.  You know what I like.
SPOILER WARNING: "Millennium"  
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: V
KEYWORDS: MSR
DISCLAIMER: They ain't mine, but they is some cool
muthas.
SUMMARY: The clock strikes twelve.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: My first posted fic.  Please don't
hurt me...or my ego.


All the commotion from the past hour had died down. 
The only sounds 
were an occasional comment, none too cheery, from the
passing hospital 
staff stuck working the graveyard shift on New Year's,
the steady hum 
of the respirators and soft beeping sounds of
monitors, and, of course, 
a New Years tradition, the animated voice of Dick
Clark resounding from 
the small television mounted above them on the wall.

Mulder shifted uncomfortably in the tan plastic couch,
the only beacon 
of anything resembling color in the sterile,
white-walled room.  He 
glanced to the television monitor and then to Scully,
seated next to 
him.  Only inches away...

He turned toward her, grimacing as he tried most
unsuccessfully to 
adjust his arm, surprisingly enough the only injury
sustained 
throughout the course of their eventful evening, which
was, at the 
moment (and he assumed for the next few days) bound
tightly at his side 
in a sling.  Better than a cast... and not too much of
a setback 
considering the ordeal they'd been through.

He was about to speak when a nurse passed by, wielding
a cart stacked 
with bed sheets, grumbling something to herself. 
Yeah...no 
kidding...what a night. The heavyset woman's
utterances, reeking of 
sarcasm, startled him from his reverie.  He moved in
toward Scully who 
was still staring up at the monitor attentively,
though he knew she 
must be staring partially out of pure exhaustion.  Her
lips were parted 
slightly, her breathing soft and slow.  She appeared
to be deep in 
thought, in another world altogether.  He wondered
what she thought 
about.  

And then the countdown began... "10..9...8..." Way to
go Dick. Still 
around after all these years.  "Grab someone next to
you!"

She was still fixated on the television, leaning
forward now in her 
seat.  But then maybe she wasn't really focused on the
big ball 
dropping at all...

"Because there's no time like the present!"

And just as he made his decision, in that split second
between the past 
and the unavoidable future, she turned her head.  As
if she knew his 
intentions all along, as if she had just been
waiting...

"4...3...2..."

He leaned in toward her... "1" ...their lips meeting
firmly.  It was 
not awkward...it was not the throes of passion...

It just felt right. It was right.  It was the most
natural thing in the 
world. And it was a long time coming.

And then their lips parted.  But they did not.  She
smiled, a smile 
reserved for only the  rarest of occasions.  A smile
that lit up the 
room...a little room appreciated more by them in that
moment alone than 
anything the streets of New York had to offer.  Dick
Clark was still 
talking somewhere in the background, but Mulder
couldn't really make 
out what he was talking about...starting off the New
Year with a 
bang...doing everything you told yourself you would
accomplish this 
time last year, and every year... Everything was quite
hazy at that 
moment, quite indefinite, except one small thing.  One
small thing that 
had the power to transform the room...

He looked at her face.  Had he ever seen her smile
like that? Had 
anyone? It was like she had a secret that no one knew,
that she was 
keeping to herself, luxuriating in the pure pleasure
and the pure 
torture that keeping it hidden brought...There was
something so utterly 
intimate about her smile.  And then he spoke.

"The world didn't come to an end." 

And quite matter-of-factly, or as matter-of-factly one
can appear 
wearing such a visage, she replied, "No, it didn't."

They stood simultaneously, side by side, his good arm
slipped over her 
shoulder, and walked out together...past the party
goers in Times 
Square, past the woman filing papers at the front
desk, past the young 
EMT at the main door, oblivious, at least for a
moment, to all but each 
other. 
      
* * *

They walked outside together.  There was relatively
little noise for 
such an eventful evening.  The click of her heels
echoed off the 
pavement.  The steady mist had now coated every car in
the lot.  The 
air was crisp, cool, but the night was abnormally warm
for January in 
DC. 

Scully stopped at the drivers side of his car.  Mulder
reached around 
to his back pocket with his good arm and produced his
keys for her 
approval.  He tossed them across the hood. 

"Still got it."

"Yeah, I'll assume that's the pain medication talking
since the one-
armed man can't drive himself home," she quipped, a
slightly less 
illuminated smile than earlier making its second
appearance of the 
night.

"Ouch, shot down.  Scully, you're not mad because you
have to babysit 
me tonight are you?"

"No...I don't mind."

"Because you don't have to."

"No...Mulder, you are going home and going to bed and
I'm making sure 
you do exactly that.  Besides, doctor's orders. Your
track record isn't 
exactly golden, you know."

"What do you mean by that?" He climbed into the
passenger seat, 
reaching around to close the door. Maneuvering with
that thing was 
going to be a pain in the ass...too bad Scully was
there to make sure 
he kept it on...

"So, not that I want to get into this now, but you do
realize that 
we've got a report due on the desk of the Assistant
Director first 
thing Wednesday morning?"

"Check."

"And I have no idea what the report is going to
contain."

"Check."  He turned toward her methodically, sensing
her return to 
professional mode.  "But you're not going to worry
about that until 
Tuesday."

"Oh really?" She looked at him incredulously as she
turned the key in 
the ignition.

"No, you're not. And neither am I." He turned back
toward the window, 
distracted. "Because today is holiday. It's official.
I'm declaring 
it."

The traffic was not heavy. She credited that to the
fact that everyone 
was out somewhere. Probably drunk, having the times of
their lives, 
making decisions that they would regret in the
morning...

She slowed the car, finding a spot on the curb just
outside his 
building.  The rest of their ride had been relatively
silent. She 
popped the trunk, locked the door and stepped out.  He
walked around 
and got his trench coat out of the back, leaving the
stack of paper 
work for her.

"Thanks Mulder," She mumbled, turning toward him, and
bent down to lift 
the remaining items from the trunk.   

They made it to the front door, Scully walking off
balance under the 
burden of the stack of paper, his bag of clothing, and
her own 
overcoat.  They walked toward the elevator, noise from
upstairs 
filtering down to greet them as the front door fell
shut behind them.  
Someone was having a good time upstairs.  The stereo
was cranked up, 
the plaster above them vibrating to the bass beat. 
 
"Hey, why wasn't I invited?" His expression mocked
incredible hurt.

She just stared ahead. "I wonder..."

The elevator arrow lit, the doors parting.  They
stepped inside, saying 
nothing.  The car jerked as it came to a stop on his
floor and they 
stepped out, moving toward his room.

She set  the box down outside his door, fishing the
key ring from her 
pocket.  "All right, very funny, Mulder. Why isn't
your key with the 
car key?"

He looked at her, hesitantly, a mischievous look
settling over his 
features. "Would you believe me if I said it was in my
pants pocket?" 

  Her eyebrow raised in that customary fashion.
"Mulder....? I am not 
fishing around in your pocket for your key. Try
something like that 
with me and your other arm will be in a sling."

He handed his jacket to her and retrieved the key,
slipping around her 
to unlock the door. They walked in. She set his jacket
down on the 
couch and went back into the hallway to pick up the
rest of his things.

Mulder had gone into the bedroom and was, she
presumed, changing into 
some fresh clothing.  Scully walked over to the couch,
hung his jacket, 
which was quite noticeably caked with dirt along the
hem, on the rack 
in the corner.  She walked to the window, checked on
his fish.

"Scully...?"

She screwed the top back on the fish flakes bottle.
"Yeah?"

His voice sounded muffled coming from the bedroom. Or
was he in the 
bathroom? "Ummm...could you help me with something?"

"Christ...." She mumbled under her breath, almost
afraid to ask what 
was coming.

She walked across the room and stopped at his bedroom
doorway. The door 
was cracked, but she could not see him. "What Mulder?"

He was silent for a minute and then, "I can't get my
shirt off."

She cracked open the door.  He was standing there,
shirt unbuttoned to 
the neck, half over his head, wrapped around his
sling.  She couldn't 
help but laugh. 

"Oh, good, I'm glad to see that I've brought some
entertainment to your 
evening."

She couldn't tell if he was smiling. She walked over
to him, pulling 
the shirt back down over his head.  His hair stood on
end, spiked from 
where the shirt had been. "Sorry Mulder...uhuh."  She
smiled, 
attempting to purse her lips and stifle her amusement.

"Sorry." She looked up at him. He was smiling as well.
She had slipped 
off her heels and had to stand on her toes to reach
his collar.  She 
undid the remaining two buttons and made him turn
around so she could 
untangle his arm from the shirt without hurting him. 
He let her take 
charge, slipping the shirt over the sling. He turned
again to face her. 
She was suddenly silent, standing inches from him,
acutely aware of the 
heat which persisted in the building despite the fact
that it was 
January 1.

"There," she said quickly, her face turning from his
abruptly.

Their gaze broken, he walked toward the bathroom,
flicked the light 
switch, and disappeared behind the door.  

She stood still for a second and then started looking
purposefully 
about the room, a linen closet near the doorway
garnering her 
attention.

After a few minutes she spoke again.

"Mulder, do you have any sheets or anything...a
blanket?"

He called back from the adjacent room, his words
indecipherable due to 
the toothbrush now stuck in his mouth. She heard him
shut the medicine 
cabinet  and she sighed, heading toward the closet
herself.  She found 
a blanket on the second shelf and was looking for an
extra pillow.  She 
heard the tap running in the bathroom. The blanket
would do. It 
wouldn't get too cold. He only had one window...

Mulder quietly stepped up behind Scully and tapped her
on the shoulder.

"Mulder!"  She yelled and spun around.

He was standing there, face still wet from brushing
his teeth, his hair 
all mussed up, extending with his good arm a pair of
folded sweatpants.

"I realize they might be a little big, but they've got
to be more 
comfortable than Armani."

She took them from him, a smile creeping over her
features yet again.  
"Thanks Mulder"

They stood there for a minute, only inches apart.  She
looked up at 
him.  His voice barely came out, almost a whisper. 
"Thanks for saving 
my butt again today."  He reached out, cupping her
cheek, his serious 
expression morphing into one of sheer contentment. 
They stood like 
that for a moment.  She looked up at him once more.
Then they parted.  

She turned slowly back toward the doorway and headed
to the living 
room.

* * *

The light from the street lamp just outside his
apartment filtered 
through the  blinds, playing a pattern across the
leather sofa.  She 
lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about
everything that had 
just happened, thinking of nothing at all.  She turned
slightly, the 
couch cool underneath her.  She wrapped the blanket
more tightly around 
her shoulders.  The rain had stopped its steady flow
at least an hour 
ago.  She now lay there, listening to every
sound...the irregular drip, 
drop of the pipes from the apartment next door,
someone walking around 
a floor below.  The party had died down long ago.  The
guy's door had 
not even opened or slammed shut once in the past 45
minutes.  She sat 
up, looking out into the shapes the shadows formed
across his kitchen 
doorway. Even the fish appeared to be sleeping.  They
hung, suspended 
motionless in the murky waters of the unlit tank. His
computer was 
idle, the screen dark  before she lay down, providing
none of its  
typical, comforting glow.

She rose from the couch, still wrapped tightly with
the blanket she had 
taken from his closet earlier.  She walked slowly
toward his door, 
carefully, unconsciously trying to avoid making any
noise that might 
disturb Mulder if he were indeed asleep.  The wood
floor creaked just a 
footstep from his door, which he had left open. 
 
Scully stood at his doorway, observing him, draped
across the bed 
dressed only in his grey pajama pants, legs wrapped
loosely in his 
sheet.  His eyes were shut.  He made no motion.  She
whispered in his 
direction.

"Mulder?"

No response.  Then the sheet rustled.  He slowly
rolled over, turning 
toward the doorway, and propped himself half up on his
injured elbow.  
He looked her direction, but said nothing. He looked
her up and down, 
noting how his sweatpants hung from her frame,
dragging along the floor 
at her feet, her attempt to cuff them not lost on him.
Her hair was 
slightly out of place and her makeup had worn off
hours ago, a welcome 
change from her usual polished appearance.

She broke the silence, her voice alone conveying her
exhaustion. "I 
couldn't sleep."

He said nothing, but patted the mattress next to where
he lay, 
motioning for her to come in.  She did so with little
hesitation.  She 
walked toward the bed and gingerly slipped in beside
him, shoulders 
still wrapped in the blanket.  She lay there, silent
for several 
minutes, facing the ceiling as before.  He just looked
at her, still 
turned toward her on his side.  She looked at their
reflection in the 
mirror above his bed. He wondered what was running
through her mind.  
She closed her eyes and let out a small sigh.  She
turned toward him 
deliberately, looking straight into his eyes, into
him.

He reached over and cupped her cheek, his hand just
below her ear, 
supporting her neck, drawing her face toward his own,
pulling them 
close together.  Without hesitation, their lips met as
they had come 
together in the hospital only hours before.  It seemed
like days had 
passed since then.  But now their kiss deepened, 
turned into something 
similar to but so much more complicated than what had
transpired 
earlier.  They longed to escape into one another.  The
trick is to keep 
breathing... 

Then their lips parted, but their gaze did not.   

They lay like that, facing each other, neither too
seemingly startled 
about what had just happened.  Then, Mulder draped his
arm across her 
waist and their lips met again, this kiss shorter,
more caring if 
somewhat less passionate than before. But every kiss
would be as 
emotionally charged as the first.  Their lips parted
and she smiled at 
him with the barest and most honest emotion she had
ever displayed.  He 
looked on protectively.  She broke their gaze only to
burrow closer to 
him, wrapped in the warmth of him and her blanket, her
head tucked 
under his chin, resting against his chest.  And that
is how they slept, 
together now just as they had been before, the mirror
above the only 
witness to this new physical intimacy which would
complement the 
spiritual intimacy already shared: an intimacy
everyone had pronounced 
a long time coming.