Title: Photgraphs & New Memories Author: Bridget E-mail: msathenaxf@cox.net Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. But thank goodness the real owners brought them back out to play. Spoilers: Mentions events of The Unnatural and all things Summary: Response to the Passionate Kiss Challenge at Haven Photographs & New Memories ****************************************** Mulder just stared at Scully's coffee table. A box of nostalgia had exploded all over it. There were faded, somewhat yellowed photographs spread into various stacks and one giant haphazard pile of them in the middle. He had seen this level of disarray in her living room only a few times before, and it was his fault every time. Not tonight. Scully caught his look and smiled. "Mom brought these over. She found them in the attic and thought I might want them. Sorry for the mess." He looked at her. "Scully, the 1970s are all over the table. Disaster might be a better word." She rolled her eyes and walked to her desk. They were going over case notes tonight to prepare for a meeting with Skinner on Monday. "I'll heat up dinner. While I'm in there, please put your stuff into some semblance of order." She paused, then added, "And I'll fix it when I get back." "Ha, ha." Mulder watched as she disappeared into the kitchen. As soon as she was out of sight, he went back to the photographs. They were out in the open--fair game for an investigator. Of course, that didn't stop him from glancing to the kitchen doorway every few seconds. Scully with braces. Melissa and Maggie gardening. Her father in dress whites, with a battleship as a background. There was a family photo in which three redheads, and one brunette he assumed was Charles Scully, surrounded their parents. Mulder could not help but smile as he flipped through the stacks. He enjoyed seeing this side of his partner. It reminded him that she had happy memories to get her through the bad spots in their current life. And if he were honest, he felt vindicated with this proof that she had *chosen* this life. Scully was not dragged into conspiracy and danger by family or a lifetime of lies. She came from a normal background, a strong family environment, and grew up believing in God and the American way. And she had left that behind to stay with the X-Files. And him. Picking up another pile, his thoughts drifted, as they often did these days, to his relationship with Scully. That they were more than partners was obvious. Definitely friends. But every time anything more seemed to be on the horizon, one or both of them shut it down. Their entire history was scattered with intimate moments which could have pushed them down that road. And always, when it was over, it was if it had never happened. She had been more open, more comfortable, since her encounter with her former professor. And former lover, he forced himself to add. He wasn't really clear on the details-- because she hadn't been very clear--but something had obviously happened to alter her view of things. In the few weeks since then, Scully seemed to have shed a burden he never knew she carried. Sounds from the kitchen brought him back to his surroundings and he froze with the pictures in his hand. However, it didn't sound as though she were finished and he focused his attention on the photos he was holding. He had all night to think about his relationship with her but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Bill wrestling with his younger brother. Scully in a softball uniform. Melissa and William Scully hugging at her high school graduation. Charles Scully dragging a fishing----. Scully in a softball uniform? Mulder quickly brought that picture to the forefront. Yes, that was her. She looked to be about fourteen and had a grin plastered on her face, braces and all. There was a bat slung across her shoulders and a softball at her feet. Next to the ball, there was a trophy. He could just make out the '3' in gold printing. Mulder flipped the picture over. In faded, masculine printing, he read, 'Starbuck - Homerun Derby - 1978'. He could only stare. His impromptu batting lesson had been almost a year ago. A baseball story and a few drinks led to a late-night phone call, dragging her out to meet him. He wanted to teach her the joy of the game because it was one of the few things that had given him real pleasure in his life. But it looked like she knew what it was about after all. Mulder was pleased to find that baseball was just as fun as in his youth. The night was cold; they were both tired. But he enjoyed every second of it. Even now, he could recall the way she felt in his arms. She shivered when he whispered in her ear. Fingers were mingled together on the bat, and there was hips before hands. Yes, she definitely knew what she was doing. A slight smile began to play on his lips. Scully let him hold her, direct her, maneuver her so that she was in synch with his own body. They had been so familiar with each other, so close, that night, he thought it was entirely possible he would be able to make love to her within the week. Of course, things never work out that easily for them, and it wasn't long before he was in a mental institution and Scully was on her way to Africa. But she hadn't known that then--she *had* known how to bat. And she had willingly let him teach her anyway. Belatedly, he recognized that Scully had been willing to move things in a new direction that night. A small noise caught his attention and he looked up to find Scully staring at him. He took in a sharp breath. She leaned against the corner of the doorway, her arms behind her as padding against the wall. Somewhere, the psychologist recognized the open posture, the invitation. Elsewhere, the man noticed how the position arched her breasts and exposed the soft skin of her neck. She was relaxed, at ease, and-- Mulder met her eyes--she knew exactly what he was looking at. Scully's eyes were a dark blue and her voice low. "What have you got there, Mulder?" His heart beat fast in his chest. This was new, terrifying. This was arousing and unfamiliar. And Mulder knew this was it. Right now was a true now-or-never moment. This was their last chance and the ball was in his court. In two long strides he was standing just in front of her. He made sure to invade her personal space but he did not touch her. She tilted her head up, watching his face. "You know how to bat, Scully." Mulder spoke low, his tone lightly indignant, and his voice vibrating with tension. The corners of Scully's mouth turned up slightly. Her voice was husky. "I don't just bat, Mulder. I hit homeruns." Oh God. Before he realized what he was doing, he had grabbed her roughly around the neck, pulling her to him. There was no hesitation and he wasn't asking permission. His tongue slid past her lips and met no resistance. Wet, hot, desperate, this was no New Year's kiss. Her teeth nipped his lower lip; his lips crushed her own in bruising response. Their tongues dueled together for control, neither wanting it, neither giving it up. He groaned into her mouth and she took it in, pressing her hips against his in response. In turn, she whimpered at the contact and he pushed her against the wall. Mulder's whole body was molded to her own. Scully could feel his heart racing, his skin burning. Her hands bunched in his shirt, holding him to her. This was tongue on tongue, lips on lips and everything in between. Their mouths broke apart, and they gasped in deep gulps of air. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen. He leaned heavily against her, letting the wall support them both. When their eyes met, there was no regret, no apology for either of them. No question of where this was going, or whether it was right. Hungrily, Mulder leaned in to possess her mouth once more. Scully met him in the middle. -fin I have just never believed that a woman who could shoot a wriggling snake at age eight would need batting lessons. Thanks for reading!