TITLE: "Skinny-dipping"
AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * kirsten_xf@yahoo.com
RATING: Mild R
CLASSIFICATION: MSR
KEYWORDS: S R H 
FEEDBACK: Please ... All feedback rewarded with a 
hug and a Mulder!
SPOILERS: Redux II
DISCLAIMER: Not mine - but that's no real 
surprise, is it? They belong to CC, 1013 
Productions and Fox.
SUMMARY: Moose and Squirrel go skinny-dipping.
ARCHIVING: Yeah sure. Just keep my name attached 
and tell me where it went so I can come and 
visit, okay? Than-X.
NOTE: Inspired by a TV commercial ... Oh well, 
sometimes we all need a hand.

XxXxX
	
I watch her as she leaves the cabin and 
walks down the path towards the small lake. I 
hear the dead brown leaves and twigs shatter 
under her bare feet, the rain beating mercilessly 
down onto her hair and towel-covered shoulders. 
She looks ablaze.

My mind yearns with the desire to follow 
her, to be beside her, but instead I stay where I 
am and will myself to be content with merely 
watching her. For now.

It must be chilly outside, but I don't feel 
it and I doubt whether she does. Mist curls its 
translucent claws around her ankles, unable to 
harm her, instead making her look like a dream 
vision, an other-worldly creature, shrouded in 
pure white and floating in the early morning fog 
which surrounds the world around us.

Slowly she lets the towel drop from her 
shoulders onto the dark forest ground, baring her 
back to me. Steam rolls off her perfect body and 
my breath stops dead in my throat. An involuntary 
thought whispers in my ear: is this mine? Really?
	
Ever since her cancer went into remission 
almost sixteen months ago, she started to really 
work out, make her body strong and healthy as 
though she needed to prove that, even when the 
illness hadn't vanished entirely yet, she'd 
beaten the demon inside her head. She'd conquered 
and won and now she was determined to get on with 
her life, stronger than ever before.
	
Her efforts have paid off. I cannot but 
admire her as I see her now, the rain slowly and 
steadily falling down on her, the droplets 
clinging onto every bit of her skin, then slowly 
running in small rivulets down to the ground 
where they disappear into the ancient soil. Her 
body is so strong and healthy, but still so 
feminine ... I let my gaze follow her spine, 
taking in her curves as I finally leave the 
cabin, allowing myself, at last, to come closer 
to her.
	
Slowly I let my eyes drop from her hairline, 
her bare neck now that she has her hair in a 
simple pony tail, and then across her strong 
shoulders. She has the most perfect set of 
shoulder blades I have ever seen -- and I tend to 
notice such things in women. Connected to these 
shoulders are slender arms, ending in the most 
amazing hands I know. Her hands, so small and 
light, have every bit of magic to heal me, soothe 
me, punish me, bring me back from the horrible 
clutches of Death itself, with nothing but a 
touch.
	
My eyes go back to her shoulders. I've 
almost reached her, but slow down my pace for I'm 
not done looking at her.
	
I trace her spine with my look, reaching her 
trim waist. Her waist is absolutely perfect, 
narrow but not too narrow and quickly giving way 
to the lush flare of her hips. The swell of her 
hips then flows into her legs which taper down 
and end in slim ankles and these amazingly small 
feet.
	
A twig breaks under my feet and she looks 
around. Her gaze is calm and welcoming and I 
smile at her. My towel is wrapped securely around 
me and I open it to envelop her in my embrace, 
covering us both with the luxurious warmth and 
softness of the terry cloth.
	
Good God, this is such an amazing feeling, I 
just can't get over it ... When, oh when did I 
ever perform this magically good deed that 
eventually brought this woman to me? I've been 
searching my mind for nearly seven years now and 
I just can't find it, but it must be there, 
mustn't it? A guy doesn't get to be so incredibly 
fortunate if he didn't deserve it, does he?
	
"You know, we still need to cool down," I 
whisper in her ear and look at the dark lake in 
front of us. The world is a palette of grey-ish 
colours, icy and wintery, and the water looks 
freezing and black, but I'm hot and it might make 
a nice dip. It's been an awfully long time since 
I went skinny-dipping for the last time. It 
wouldn't be such a bad idea to re-introduce the 
pastime into my life with this woman ...
	
"The water looks awfully cold," she says, 
but it doesn't sound like a refusal.
	
"Come on, Scully," I whisper, my voice laced 
with a leery lilt I haven't heard often. "Wanna 
go skinny-dipping with me?"
	
"Skinny-dipping? Are we still that young?" 
she smiles.
	
"On the other hand, are we that old 
already?" I retort and she sighs a bit.
	
"Tease ..."
	
I chuckle and bend down to press a soft kiss 
in her neck. "You're so beautiful it sometimes 
scares the hell out of me ... ," I say softly and 
it isn't even that far removed from the truth.
	
She giggles softly and then it blooms into 
clear laughter. It's catching and I can't help 
laughing with her.
	
"You know, that's what I love you so much 
for," she smiles, "these unexpected weird twists 
of thought you have." It's by no means one of the 
most subtle and tactful replies she's ever made, 
but to me it's the perfect compliment.
	
"Come on, Scully," I say, but truth be told, 
the water really does looks icy and I'm not that 
warm any longer and maybe this whole skinny-
dipping idea wasn't such a brilliant idea after 
all. Not if we don't want to end up with 
scorching cases of pneumonia.
	
Of course, she has a solution: "Why don't we 
run down to the lake, have a quick dip and then 
make a dash for the bath in the cabin?" She turns 
her head so I can look at her. Her eyes are on 
fire. "The water's hot inside ..."
	
Baby, you make _me_ hot inside, I idly wonder, 
but it's not necessary to say this aloud. She 
knows. God, she knows ... 
	
I let the towel fall from our shoulders and 
we walk towards the lake, hand in hand like 
first-time lovers.
	
When we reach the edge of the water she 
hesitates, then carefully tries the temperature 
with her toes and quickly jerks her feet back.
	
"I was right, this water _is_ freezing!" she 
says and I can't help snickering. She hears it. 
"Oh, all right, manly man. Go ahead and try it if 
you think you're so much braver!"
	
Trapped. Cornered. My ego hates me. But I 
really really don't want to go into that water 
anymore. So, what am I to do now? How can I prove 
myself to her and not look like the world's 
greatest coward?

Then I realise I don't have to. What do I 
have to prove myself to her for? She knows me 
better than to judge me on this, I can refuse 
this and we'll still be where we are now. After 
all, I never promised I'd go in and, frankly, I 
don't really feel like catching a cold. And 
that's exactly what we'll come down with if we 
stay out here for much longer, wet and sweaty and 
with the temperatures low enough to freeze the 
edges of the lake.
	
"You're right," I confess in mock-
embarrassment and bow my head, "I'm not a manly 
man. I'm a coward."
	
I can see in her face how hard it is for her 
not to laugh out loud and she's unable to keep a 
stern face for very long before a wide smile 
splits her face.
	
"Come," she says, taking my hand, "let's go 
skinny-dipping in the tub!"
	
I let out a breath in relief. That sounds so 
much better ...
	
We turn around and follow the path back to 
the cabin, picking up the towels from the places 
where we dropped them earlier on. Visions of 
steaming foamy water and soft bed covers swim 
before my eyes and I smile.
	
I must've done something awfully good. Just 
what was it?

XxXxX

"Tell me, when you were in college, did you 
go skinny-dipping?"
	
"Mmm?" I wasn't paying attention and I 
didn't quite get her question.
	
"When you were in college, did you go 
skinny-dipping? Or was that something you didn't 
do in Oxford?" she repeats her question.
	
She's sitting in the vee of my legs, leaning 
against me as I sit with my back against the head 
board. She's busy putting a slice of Camembert 
onto a square of toast. She handles the knife 
with deadly precision and for a second it 
unnerves me. She may be a doctor, but that still 
doesn't mean she should be this cruel on the 
state of my nerves.
	
"Hello? Earth to Mulder? Did you hear my 
question?" she says and I'm back.
	
"Oh, erm, no, we didn't do a lot of that in 
England," I answer. "Actually, I haven't been 
skinny-dipping since highschool."
	
"How sad," she murmurs and turns in my arms 
and offers me the toast. I open my mouth and bite 
off one half of the toast and cheese. She then 
eats the other half. This is such intimate 
sharing to me all of a sudden that I'm seriously 
moved by it. How can that be?
	
I must be showing this emotion for she 
smiles that wonderful open loving smile she shows 
to nobody but me and I find it hard to swallow 
the bite. She touches her hand to my brow and 
rubs her thumb over my hairline, studying my face 
with her gentle eyes. I have so often felt her 
hand on my forehead, but that had always been for 
purely medical reasons. Right now this touch is 
out of nothing but love and affection. Still, I 
can't help joking a bit.
	
"Checking my temperature, doctor Scully?" I 
quip mildly and she smiles. She places the back 
of her hand on my forehead and pretends to think.
	
"I don't think you have a fever, no," she 
says, "although ..."
	
I look at her and see how her look heats up 
considerably. More must be coming, but I force 
myself to be patient.
	
"... although you are ... hot ...", she 
whispers and indeed rays of heat shoot through 
me, coiling around in my veins. But I know that 
now of all times I need to keep my cool. I cannot 
afford to disappoint her now.
	
"I presume this ailment can be cured, 
doctor?" I whisper.
	
The approving look in her eyes is enough of 
a compliment and reward to me. She leans in and, 
with her lips almost touching mine, she whispers:
	
"I personally guarantee it ..."
	
I smile at her and put the plate with the 
remaining bits of toast and cheese away. Then, 
with all the objects that could in any way hinder 
our intentions out of the way, I lie down on the 
bed, gently pulling her on top of me.
	
"Then heal me, doctor."

XxXxX

I wake up alone, but before doubts and 
worries can rear up their ugly heads, my nostrils 
are caressed by the perfect early-morning scent: 
sex, Scully, and coffee.
	
Like a mindless creature I willingly follow 
my nose to seek out the source of this heavenly 
smell. Unerringly I find my way to the small 
kitchen where I find her making breakfast.
	
I must be reminding her of a sleepwalker as 
I wrap my arms around her waist, cursing the robe 
she's wearing, and bury my nose in her neck, 
taking a deep breath of the best perfume I know. 
If I could just bottle this heady mixture of 
Scully and sex, I'd spray it round my apartment 
to help me through those brief moments she's not 
there to provide me with it herself. Or bring it 
onto the market and make a fortune.
	
"Following one of your more basic instincts, 
lover?" she whispers, smiling widely, as I nuzzle 
her neck. I chuckle.
	
"Mm-mm," I answer, kissing her neck.
	
"Care for some coffee?"
	
I nod. "Mm-mm," I repeat, still keeping my 
face hidden in her neck. She giggles. Don't wake 
me up now, I think. I can't imagine what must be 
going through her mind right now. It certainly 
can't be the idea that the man who's currently 
keeping his nose firmly to a particularly good 
spot just under her left ear is the same man 
known to be the FBI's former wonderboy and 
smartest profiler in the Bureau's history. Right 
now I'm displaying as much sense and 
sophistication as your run of the mill horny 
chimpanzee ...
	
"Not very verbal this morning, are you?" she 
smiles, turning in my arms and looking at me. 
Tigress ...
	
"Mm-mm," I say, shaking my head no.
	
"Gotta change that then ...," she mutters 
and presses her body flush with mine. I feel the 
temperature rise with ten degrees at a time. I 
can think of nothing but to have her here in the 
kitchen and prove that, on occasion, I can be 
very verbal indeed, but just before our lips 
meet, the smell of coffee attacks my senses. And 
what seemed like a heavenly odour just minutes 
ago is now a veritable weapon of torture.
	
I groan involuntarily and she snickers, 
knowing very well what must be going around in my 
mind. Yes, that woman of mine can be pretty 
psychic for a sceptic ...
	
"Coffee?" she asks innocently and I sigh.
	
"You're enjoying this way too much, you 
know," I complain, but she just laughs.
	
"Maybe. But I had to divert your attention. 
You see, I still want to go skinny-dipping with 
you."
	
I frown a little. "But ... it's still 
freezing, Scully, don't you think that would be a 
little foolish?"
	
She smiles and shakes her head. "Don't we 
have ways to combat that little problem?"
	
I smile and accept the coffee. Yes, we do.

XxXxX

I slip out of the tiny cabin into the 
freezing outside world. I never believed it, but 
after spending fifteen minutes in such a superhot 
environment you really do feel relieved by the 
stinging cold of a wintery Wisconsin. Flakes of 
snow slowly fall onto the ground and onto my 
naked body, but I hardly feel them. I've become 
immune to the cold, at least for a little while.
	
I can feel her eyes on me, watching me as I 
watched her yesterday morning. I thought, and 
still do, that she was the most divine person 
ever to have walked this planet. Does she think 
along the same lines when she's watching me?
	
She too betrays her presence by her 
carelessness as leaves crack under her bare feet. 
I look around and smile.
	
"Hey, gorgeous," she whispers, wrapping her 
arms around my waist and sharing her heat with 
me. "Care to go skinny-dipping?"
	
I smile widely. This time I'm not going to 
allow us to lose this chance.


FINIS



(C) Kirsten Kerkhof 
The Netherlands, 18-2-2000