Subj: Poconos (7/7) by Jess
Date: 8/10/99 8:20:04 PM Central Daylight Time
From: jessica@amazon.com (Jessica Mabe)
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TITLE: Poconos (7/7)
AUTHOR: Jess
EMAIL ADDRESS: jessica@amazon.com
RATING: NC-17
Summary in Part One.
Desperate plea for attention at end of story.
The entire town was gathered inside, filling the pews and lining the
walls in a solemn procession of crossed arms and bowed heads. The
general buzz of grumbling rumbled beneath the hum of the air
conditioner.
At the pulpit, clearly enraged, stood Doctor Rells.
"You have to listen to me," he was shouting. "This nonsense has got to
stop! We have no right to take the lives of others, even if it isn't
intentional." Spotting Mulder and Scully standing against the back wall,
he gestured to them with a nod. "And sometimes even if it is. These
people are not our enemies. If the people of this community were being
murdered by a stranger's hand, we would welcome their investigation. No,
we have become our own enemies and I for one refuse to continue. This is
not God's work."
The preacher stepped forward and smiled weakly at the congregation.
"Brother Rells, you are mistaken. There is nothing to fear in this
congregation."
"How can you stand in the sight of God and blatantly lie, Reverend? We
have been doing this to one another in some form for as long as any of
us can remember. And it has to stop."
Mulder leaned over and whispered to Scully.
"I wonder how long it'll be before the good doctor suddenly develops a
heart condition."
Scully sighed and shook her head. "Don't even think it, Mulder. Not
here."
From the audience, a woman stood. Mulder recognized her as the woman
from the path to the lake.
"I agree with Brother Rells. We have a responsibility to one another.
How long does this have to go on before we begin to kill each other?"
There was a frantic murmuring from the congregation and the Reverend
lifted his hands to shush them.
"Sister Hastings," the preacher smiled. "You know I would never condone
violence."
"But you have," she replied. "By telling us to defend this church, you
have asked us to hate, and that's the beginning of violence."
Another man stood beside her.
"Anne," he said, "I've known you since we were kids. But this isn't
about hate. This is about people coming together in a tragedy."
"The hell it is, John."
For a moment the two just stared at one another, eye to eye. The whole
church seemed to buzz with tension.
"What exactly are we all being accused of here?" the Reverend asked
loudly. "Are you saying that these people, these friends and neighbors
you have known your entire lives, that these people are cold blooded
killers? Capable of taking a life just to give themselves something to
do?"
Anne Hastings looked from the man in front of her to the faces of the
people seated around the suddenly quiet church. Her face twisted into an
expression so filled with remorse and anguish that it made Mulder's
heart ache just to watch.
"Yes," she said softly. "Yes. That's what I'm saying. And so is Brother
Rells. And so are many other people, too afraid of retribution to step
forward."
From the pew behind her, another woman rose.
"I'm not afraid. I agree with Sister Hastings."
"So do I." It was the waitress from the Country Bumpkin.
"You're crazy!" an old man yelled from across the room.
Mulder stared in fascination as one by one, the citizens of Clement
began to take sides. The energy in the room had taken on a thickness, a
wild, animal feeling approaching riotous. He looked for a moment to
Scully, her face impassive, a pale, calm spot in the center of the
growing storm.
From above them, a distant rumble, like thunder on a clear day.
There was no need to discuss it. Over the pounding voices, the growing
rumbling of an angry god or magnetic force or weather anomaly was like a
sudden road sign. Scully took his hand and willingly followed him out of
the church.
"Don't look back," she said as they crossed the parking lot, both aware
of the ominous thunderheads gathering over the center of town.
"Why?" Mulder cracked, obeying her instinctively. "Think I'll turn into
a pillar of salt?"
"There but for the grace of God," Scully said as she fastened her
seatbelt and they pulled screeching onto the road. From behind them, the
first sounds of the church's collapse could be heard: the crash of a
fallen beam, the wail of twisting metal.
He glanced over when he heard her start to dial her cel phone.
"Who're you calling?"
"Local paramedics," Scully answered. "Bet this'll finally give them
something to do."
Bill was nowhere to be found when they pulled into the motel. In eerie
silence, they packed the last few items back into their bags. Scully
lifted her bikini and eyed it sadly.
"I really would have liked to enjoy some of the countryside before we
left," she said to no one in particular, as Mulder had disappeared into
the bathroom. Outside the heat had broken a bit and the soft swell of
the white curtain promised breezes like a child's kiss. She sat on the
edge of the bed and stared at the gently swaying wall of green leaves
and branches.
It was in that moment that she realized she believed. Not in the power
of this place to kill or sooth, but in the power to make a wish come
clear into the bright light of day as if it were illuminated by the sun.
She wanted something, wanted it so badly that for years she had cowered
in fear before it, afraid it would overwhelm her if she dragged it out
and examined it.
The sun was setting outside; pink and orange tinted light settled across
the floor at her feet like a carpet. Well, she thought, it'll be dark
soon. And then I can examine it to my heart's content.
The door to the bathroom opened and Mulder stepped out, carrying his
little travel case of toothpaste and ear swabs. He looked befuddled and
exhausted. Rising, she took his hand.
"Mulder, what say we spend one more night here?"
His eyes widened. "And risk death by hot tub, Scully?"
"Actually," she said, turning back to the dancing tapestry of light
shimmering on the pale wooden floor. "I was thinking of risking death by
drowning, instead."
She felt his mind working, stumbling around her words.
"Swim?" he said.
Facing him, she said softly "skinny dip."
Mulder's face was an unbelieving combination of fear and delight. Behind
him, she could almost make out the shadowy figure of her fears, but then
Mulder stepped up to her and all that lingered in his place was the
watery color of the sunset.
"No bikini? I'm almost disappointed."
"Don't push your luck, Mulder," she said firmly, not wanting him to
think she had in some way lost her control.
For a moment they were still, aware of the heat between them in the cool
air of the approaching night.
"Race you," she whispered, and scampered out the door toward the
illumination of everything she'd ever wanted.
Mulder watched as Scully pulled her tank top recklessly over her head.
She had her back to him, and in the dying evening she shimmered like a
star, white-gold and slowly burning. Without thinking, he mimicked her
actions, stripping his own shirt off and pulling at his shoes.
He had waited a lifetime for this moment, he was sure, and now here it
was like a brilliantly clear summer day in the midst of the
firefly-glazed darkness. She unfastened her shorts and let them puddle
around her ankles, before stepping forward in nothing but her underwear
to face him.
Aware only distantly of his own hands jerking down his pants and
underwear, he stared at her slow wiggle as she removed the last of her
clothing. She was magnificent, fiery and pale at the same time, pulsing
with life.
"Scully," he admonished. "You aren't a natural redhead."
She laughed then, arms wrapped around her stomach for some protection
from his gaze.
"My God, Mulder, did you think all those changes in my hair color were
natural too?"
He shrugged. Her ever-changing hair seemed to be as real as her soft
skin and deep blue eyes.
"C'mon," she whispered. "The water's probably warmer than the air."
Together they dashed down the dock to sink into the weightless lake. He
watched her disappear beneath the black surface like someone sinking
beneath the sky. When she rose again, gasping and drenched, she was
laughing.
"It is warmer," she said and slid forward, seal-slick, twisting and
gliding past him. "Dunk yourself and stop shivering, you wimp."
He complied and found the shock somehow comforting. Under the surface,
he felt her hands grabbing at his waist, sliding over him.
Bursting up, he took in great gulps of the cool night air, filled with
the glimmering stars whirling over his head.
"My God, Scully," he shouted, feeling truly alive. "Look at the sky!"
She paddled next to him, her movements creating little eddies and
ripples around his skin.
"This is what we miss, living in the city," she said.
"This is what we miss by not living," he answered, turning to see her
bright eyes smiling at him just above the water line. He moved toward
her, expecting her to stay put, but she rolled up onto her back, breasts
bobbing white and molten. With a push of her small feet on his belly,
she was off, moving through the water like the sailor's daughter she
was, swift and strong. She was so beautiful in that moment, he was sure
he was being seduced by a sprite, by a silkie, by anything as unreal as
her moon-cream skin.
He couldn't help but follow.
"Mulder," she called, just out of reach in the obsidian water, "we
should have done this years ago."
He was not sure what she meant by that. That they should have gone
swimming together naked?
"Done what?" he asked, feeling awkward and massive next to her dolphin
movements.
"Celebrated everything in the world," she said and he realized she was
giddy with the pleasure of it. She stopped swimming and floated next to
him on her back, her nipples tight in the cool air above the warm water.
He floated next to her, staring at the dazzling shivering stars with her
hand in his. They kicked gently, travelling around the lake with no
particular destination.
She squeezed his hand and then suddenly she was gone, beneath him.
Before he could react, she rose beside him, her small hands supporting
his lower back.
"I'm holding you up," she whispered. "Isn't that the most amazing
thing?"
"Not to me," he answered tenderly. "I've been light as a feather ever
since the first time you touched me, Scully."
Letting his legs sink, he found they were in relatively shallow water.
If he stood on tiptoe, he could rest there. She paddled in front of him,
busily moving to keep her head up.
"Let me support you," he murmured and pulled her wriggling body into his
arms and up till her eyes were level with his.
"You always do," she said and grinned, then looked again up to the
stars. "It's like being in space," she said as he kissed her neck.
The skin tasted like lake water and lemon, like Scully. He couldn't help
himself, he was gone. The feel of her naked body against him, the taste
of her skin… he was rubbing against her, lavishing her neck with his
tongue.
Then she wrapped her legs around his waist and he felt the core of her,
hot against him. It was strange, even with their height difference, how
well it worked to hold her. Then it occurred to him, as she ground
against him, that it was only in their legs that they differed. Their
bodies were essentially the same size. He moaned into her neck and she
lowered her head to let him kiss her.
For one long moment, he was aware of nothing more than the heat of
Scully's mouth, her tongue, her lips. Then he slid his hand over her
soft breasts, down the path of her hip and felt where their bodies
touched. Sliding one finger into her, he noted that she was as liquid as
the lake. He moved up and felt her moan into his mouth, felt her hips
move. Slipping his fingers along her, he felt her shudder and then gasp.
Without warning, she reached between them, grabbed his hand and shoved
two fingers inside. She was pulsing around him, writhing. All he could
think was that he had made her come, but he had barely touched her. How
long had she been waiting? How much had she wanted him? He had wanted
her for so long, longed for this, that it was emotionally overwhelming
to finally have it. When she drew away for air, he crushed her to him,
holding her behind her head, gasping with desire.
"Mulder," she whispered into his ear, "it's ok. Now is the time."
"I know," he answered, feeling like his lungs were deflating by the
second. "I just… I just love you too much."
She laughed. "Too much for what?"
That brought him around, hearing her breathy voice, giggling. Too much
for what indeed?
"Not too much for this, I hope," she whispered and drawing herself up,
she lowered slowly onto him, sliding around him like a sheath.
It was totally unexpected. He hadn't thought, coming down here, that
they would make love. Frankly, he had gone without for so long that it
hadn't even occurred to him that the possibility existed. He was
immediately groaning, clutching at her, unable to process the sensation
of being in her.
She kissed him passionately, her arms around his shoulders, her body as
smooth as the water. She was humming with lust.
"Scully," he sighed. "Scully, don't you want…?" But he couldn't finish.
She was rising and falling like a wave, pulling him along.
"I want you," was all she said.
And then they were silent, letting the gasping thickness of their motion
catch and hold them. He could feel his orgasm starting in his stomach
like a hunger. Lapping at him, tugging him, she let him thrust into her.
Scully let him thrust into her. The thought was too much for him and he
collided with it, turned it over in his screaming brain and fell into it
like the softness of a bed. She was making love to him, in the warm
water of the night. Hearing her voice in his head, "like space". How
fitting. He came in a series of heavy movements, pushing up into her as
deeply as the relative lack of gravity would allow.
She rested in his arms, as light as oxygen.
"Scully," he whispered warmly, feeling her tighten around him at the
sound of his voice. "Do you realize this is the second time in only a
few days I have seen you naked and very wet?"
end part 7 of 7
Email away! I recite them aloud like the poetry they are....
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Date: Tue, 10 Aug 1999 16:03:02 -0700
From: Jessica Mabe
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