Why I need to tell this to my Journal is quite simple:
Perhaps in doing so I won't scream "AAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!"
and get the neighbors on my back for the twentieth time
in three years. It's bad enough there have been too many
gunshots and bloody messes in this apartment since I took
on my job at the Bureau.

 

What the hell was I thinking when I opened the door to
"Mr. Flexi--Muscle" earlier anyway?  I guess about the
same things the women who had been victimized courtesy of
the fertility clinic were thinking when they believed they
were interacting with their husbands, but I bet they hadn't
been drinking any wine. Wait a minute, that would be an
assumption or admission there was an attraction on my
part to Mulder. I mean, he's easy on the eyes, very
protective and a great debator, but not in the least
interested in me. Flirtatious? Yes. Needy? Yes. Hot for
me? Nah.  Best friends don't ruin a perfectly good
friendship, or partnership for that matter, just because
one got the other to open up about themselves and drawn
into "I wonder how a kiss would go over right now?"
scenario.

 

Wait. I mean, if I thought I was kissing Mulder...

It was the wine, and whatever Eddie does that gets women
to feel relaxed enough to reveal their feelings. Not just
appearing as someone they want. Of course I liked seeing
that side of the man I thought was Mulder, but he wasn't
Mulder! Well, everyone wants to see their friends in a
different light sometimes, if it's a nicer side of them.

And Mulder is NOT a "loser by choice". He's just been hurt
a lot. And busy.  Very busy. He's been busy investigating
the disappearance of his sister, paranormal phenomena,
unexplained mutations, Big Blue, people like Eddie van
Blundht.

 

I really don't think anything could come between me and my
Calvin Kleins under the influence of wine and Mulder...
Well, at least not REALLY. I mean, this Eddie van Blundht
seemed to know how women wanted to be talked to, listened
to and... treated. But Mulder? I swear, I was side-swiped,
caught off-guard, a bit too stressed-out and confused. I
mean, we're just close friends and conscientious partners.
We're concerned about each other. Why does this entry read
so much like a debate?

 

The guy locked Mulder in a tiny janitor's room, took on
his appearance (I still can't believe I can make this kind
of statement after all my training and life experience) and
was pretending to be Mulder in order to seduce me!  Did I
really want that?

 

Another "What was I thinking?" moment.

 

As Eddie finally sits in a cell awaiting trial, I can just
feel the tension I'm going to experience at the office for
some time to come. And the innuendos will come my way about
half a minute after I take my coat off. I just know it. The
rumor mill will be in high gear, I'll be going in to work an
hour earlier than usual for a few weeks, and as strong as I
am, I will have to work in the same office as Mulder and
pretend tonight did not happen. He saw my lips about half an
inch away from someone who had me thinking it was HIM,
dammit! It was just the way he presented himself. Really. 

Mulder seeing himself kissing me.  That must have been an
experience. We didn't talk about that. But then, we don't
really talk. Things seem to be understood.  Now there's a
big can of worms I don't want to open. Damn. The phone. Must
be Mulder, but I hope not right now. I feel so
uncomfortable.

 

"Uh, Scully."

 

"Are you okay, Scully? You hardly ever answer quite that
way."

 

"I'm fine, Mulder. I'm just tired. Is Van Blundht safely
locked away?" Of course he is. What am I doing?

 

"Yeah, the Big Bad Wolf is nowhere near your neck of the
woods. Ah, about what happened... What I walked in on... "

 

"Really, there's nothing to say. I'll keep my report very
professional and that will be the end of it." Why did I
say that so quickly?

 

"Are you okay, Scully?  Really?"

 

"Yeah. Mulder?"

 

"Still here, Scully. Perpetual insomnia, remember?" He's
probably getting a real kick out of this. I bet he's
smirking.

 

"Yeah, I seem to remember you saying that. We don't really
talk, do we?"

 

"About what?"

 

"Nothing. Well, not nothing. Could you come over and
listen to a few stories I have about my past... I mean, I
need to talk. I think we need to deal with this and come to
some understanding."

 

"Sure. But I'm warning you: Don't ply me with alcohol."

 

I smile. Same old Mulder. "Okay. See you soon, then." Now,
maybe I've opened up another can of worms, but I feel a lot
better. I don't have anything to be afraid of tomorrow or
the next day. This might be one of these rare times when we
really talk.

                                END