top of page

Games: Hide and Seek


SUMMARY: An unexpected post-holiday celebration.


Black Friday

*In more ways than one* Scully thought bleakly. *My mother wants me to go Christmas shopping when I've barely digested Thanksgiving dinner, I've just lost all hard evidence documenting the origins of life on this planet, and I can't seem to get a date*

Not that a date occupied all that much of her attention, but when she wanted one --

*You're the one who stopped asking a few months ago. Because every one bores you. Because it's just no damn fun any more*

If she thought about it, there were a few things to celebrate. Mulder was recovering -- well, at least the hole in his head was healing. Bill had forgotten to browbeat her about her personal life, or lack thereof, during dinner, and she hadn't thought about Brett in 48 hours.


*Okay. 24*


*At least 18*


*All right! Yes! True! I haven't stopped thinking about her, not really, it just waxes and wanes. With the phases of the moon, with the tides, with my god-damned hormones!!*

That had to be it, actually. Brett was damn good in bed -- there was nothing wrong with wanting that kind of thing now and then. It wasn't really Brett she missed -- it was just, well, the sex.

*There were others who were good -- but none of them seems to have left marks wherever they touched. Invisible aches that burn when she goes*

"What do you think about this for Billy?" Maggie asked, holding up a multi-colored tie.

"Fine," Scully growled, thinking it would look lovely knotted around his neck and hung from the mantle.

Maggie gave her a quizzical look. "Are you all right? You've been awfully quiet since you arrived."

*Bitchy, you mean* Scully smiled with effort. "I'm sorry, Mom. Just things on my mind. And the tie really is fine."

Maggie looked as if she wanted to say more, then thought better of it and turned back to the counter with a sad expression. Scully saw the look and felt guilty. She knew her mother wanted them to be close, in the way that other mothers were close to their daughters -- sharing hopes and secrets and dreams. They had never had that -- Scully had always been too private as a child, then too defensive as a young woman struggling to make her parents understand her career choices, and too isolated in recent years -- by the horrors she had seen, and the monsters she had fought, and the terrors she could not acknowledge.

*And don't forget your lovers* Scully chided silently. *You've never gotten around to explaining that either*

She had justified her silence with the excuse that none of them were ever serious -- brief encounters to dispel the loneliness, a moment's warmth in the dark, a fleeting instant of communion. She had tried to be tender, knowing all the while that she was using them. Sex without love, passion without attachment.

*Well, at least you were honest, right? You never told anyone you wanted more than a casual affair -- never promised more* She fingered a length of silk, running the fabric aimlessly through her hands. *Why was that? A few would have offered more, if you had let them. But you never did*

Scully shook her head impatiently. She did not want to travel that road again. She couldn't change who she was -- any more than she could change who she desired. When she was worn down by the horrors of life, weary with the losses, she sought comfort and release -- and hoped that she did not take so very much more than she gave. That would have to be good enough.

She lifted the sheer scarf, turning to Maggie. "For Tara?" she inquired.

Her mother nodded, and they moved on together through the store, aware of the silence, helpless to break it.


Scully packed her few belongings, restless and ready to return home. She loved her family, but it was a trial to be around them for very long. They intruded on her privacy, asking questions she could not answer, demanding intimacies she could not share. She closed her valise and glanced across the room at her laptop.

No messages. Not the one she had been hoping for. Not for a while.

*It's just as well. It's too complicated*

She walked to the small desk in her old room, sat down. Stared at the blank screen.

*You're not even sure who she is. She could be anybody*

She pushed the power button, watched the start up images flicker.

*She could be anywhere*

Typed in her password. Remembered the last time. The touch, so sure and right. The too brief hours of sleep in her arms, so natural. Peace for a few heartbeats.

*If it meant anything to her, she wouldn't have left*

Opened her mail program, pulled up the last message from Brett -- the last invitation.

*The last summons*

Quickly hit reply, then typed the request, hurriedly, before she changed her mind.

<My place. Saturday night -- after 9pm>

She hit send, wondering if the return address was even valid. Brett might never get it, and if she did, she might not come.


Traffic on the beltway had been brutal as usual, and she was exhausted by the time she arrived home. She tugged the valise from the trunk and trudged wearily to the front stairs. Something flickered in the shadows, and she was instantly alert, adrenalin surging. It wouldn't be the first time danger had come for her here.

She switched the suitcase to her left hand, slipped her right to the Sig at her belt.

"It's me," came the low, easy drawl.

Scully could make out her sleek, angular form in the dim light now. "You're early," she said mildly, feigning indifference.

Brett smiled that slow easy smile, letting Scully know she hadn't fooled her with the attempt. "I aim to please."

Scully laughed, abandoning the effort to keep the excitement from her voice. "Oh, is that how it is?"

Brett shrugged. "Tonight, at least. You called."

Scully didn't need clarification, she knew the rules. "Come inside. I need a shower before anything."

"I could use one, too. I've been traveling."

*Where have you been? What have you done?*

Scully pretended to give it some thought. "That might be possible."


They stood close, mist on the glass, skin flushed bright with warmth, not talking. What was there to say? What is it that you do? Where do you go? Why do you come back? What could words convey that would mean more than the moment -- gently stroking hands, slippery with soap, smoothing over curves, sliding fleetingly over secret places. Knowing hands, tender hands, touching with wonder and thanks.

They lay side by side, skin barely dry, damp hair mixing red and blond. They licked droplets of water from one anothers neck, laughing softly like children. Their limbs tangled, noses touching, eyes struggling to focus from inches away. Fingers tracing cheeks, unhurriedly, committing each delicate angle to memory. A tentative brush of tongue against lips, an answering kiss, bolder, asking more.

Breath quickening as breasts and bellies met, pressing harder, the first sign of urgency. A soft groan, a sharp gasp of pleasure. And always the surprise -- that it can be this good, better even than the memories.

"Slowly," Scully whispered, "we have time."

*I wish* Brett nodded, "Anything." She cupped Scully's breasts in her hands, pressed her face to them, closing her eyes tightly as if to shut out awareness of all else. Scully's hands came to her hair, petting her. When Brett's lips closed around her nipple, Scully arched slightly and sighed with the exquisite sensation.

"Much better," Scully murmured throatily.

Brett heard the words as if from far away. Blood rushed through her head. She hadn't meant to be here. It was dangerous -- for her, maybe for Dana. Any relationship was dangerous, but especially one that mattered. She had meant to disappear, but the pull had been so strong. To see her, to touch her -- one more time. She had said that every time would be the last. She lied.

"Brett?" Scully said softly, sensing her struggle.

Brett breathed deeply, surrendered. "I'm here." She curled lower, her arms encircling Scully's hips, her tongue softly toying with Scully's navel.

"Oh god -- not fair!" Scully groaned. "You have my attention -- " Her hips seemed to move on their own as Brett licked and sucked the skin around her navel, then dipped lower with brief tantalizing flickers.

"Umm," Brett mumbled, her hands beginning a slow exploration of the soft skin of Scully's inner thighs. Tight and taut and trembling under her fingers. Drawing upward, trailing through the slick warmth to the ring of muscle at the rear, pressing just hard enough to make it contract.

"Ohhh," Scully sighed. "Don't -- not yet. I get hot too fast."

Brett ignored her, turning them so she lay between Scully's legs, resting on her elbows so she could continue to tease Scully with feather-light touches. She lowered her forehead to the damp hair at the base of Scully's belly. "God, you smell so good," she murmured.

Scully's hand was in her hair again. "Any time now would be just fine," Scully gasped, raising her hips automatically.

Brett lowered her face, pressing into the heat, savoring every sensation. Now was not the time to hurry. And she didn't. She felt every smooth ridge and fold with her tongue, sucking gently until Scully begged her to stop -- no, there -- don't stop -- ohhh
As Scully opened in welcome, she entered, withdrawing only to fill her more fully, stretching the pleasure, prolonging the passion.

When the tip of Brett's little finger slid in behind, Scully jerked, then cried out. "Oh, god -- that's got it -- fuck me now -- make me come --"

Brett squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the throbbing between her legs, feeling Dana's rhythm, matching each thrust to the rise of Dana's hips and the contractions of her internal muscles. Little fine spasms engulfed Brett's fingers, and Dana's clit grew even harder between her lips. Brett tongued her harder and heard Dana gasp. *Oh you are so beautiful -- so very very beautiful -- * And then she was pulled into the explosion of sound and motion as Scully came hard into her mouth.

When Scully quieted, Brett moved onto her back and Scully immediately shifted against her, settling her head on Brett's shoulder. "Exquisite," Scully sighed, her voice languorous.

"Mmm, you were, " Brett agreed. Her body was in that particular state of residual arousal and supreme satisfaction that often followed her lover's orgasms. She might have drifted off if Dana hadn't casually dropped her hand between Brett's legs.

"How are you?" Scully asked softly.

"Fine," Brett replied, and Scully laughed.

"Uh huh, I can tell," Scully replied as she stroked through the moisture under her fingers. She felt Brett stiffen and smiled to herself.

Scully was drowsy with satiation, but she loved the feel of Brett's body quickening, and the sound of her breath growing erratic. Even half-awake it was easy to find the spots that pleased her, and she continued to work the smooth, slick, swollen places until Brett jerked and turned her face into Scully's hair, a moan torn from her throat.

"Nice," Scully murmured.

"Oh yeah," Brett gasped when she could breathe again.

"I think I'm falling asleep," Scully mumbled, curling closer. "Sorry."

"S'okay -- " Brett whispered, stroking her hair softly.

The clocks had stopped ticking, the world outside the windows grew still. The dawn was an eternity away.


"Until I have to go."


DISCLAIMERS: The characters of Scully, Mulder, Skinner and others/events introduced on the X-Files are the sole property of Chris Carter etc, and are used here without permission for entertainment, not for profit.



bottom of page