Secrets and Silence
SUMMARY: Maggie/Other(female); Scully/Slash. About love and renewal, at any point in life.
She stood naked after her shower, studying herself critically in the mirror.
Well, all things considered, not too bad. Oh, the effects of gravity were certainly evident if you looked -- a slight loosening in her belly and thighs, a subtle sag to her breasts. But she still didn't need a bra, and other than a barely noticeable increase in her waist size, her wardrobe still fit after all these years. She thanked her love of long solitary walks for her strongly muscled legs, and her newfound passion for cardioboxing at the local health spa for her well-defined chest and upper arms. She had Dana to thank for that membership. Her daughter thought she needed to get out more after her husband's death, and combining that with something physical seemed the perfect solution. Maggie sighed. As usual, Dana had been right. But would she be glad, when she discovered just how much that gift had changed Maggie's life.
She ran her hands slowly up her belly, to cup and lift her breasts. Her nipples were puckered and hard from the sudden coolness after the misty warmth of the bathroom. Almost absently she pinched them between her fingers. She smiled faintly as the tingling sensation streaked lower to settle between her legs. She shook her head, wondering at herself.
*Margaret Scully, you are out of your mind. You're in your fifties, a widow, with three grown children and grandchildren. This is no time to be having thoughts like these, or god knows, to be falling in love*
There, she had said it. Those most impossible words, made even more impossible by a situation she could never have imagined just a few short weeks ago. She should put a stop to it, she knew. There were so many reasons it was crazy, she couldn't even begin to count them.
*You could start with the fact that you'll probably go to hell*
All of her teachings, and all of her beliefs, told her this was true. There were things in life she had never questioned, and nothing in her experience had ever forced her to. Until now. She thought about death, which not so long ago had seemed not that far away. Now, it was a distant point, with so much life to be lived in between. She did believe in god, and nothing would ever change that. But she wondered if perhaps mortal interpretation of god's will hadn't somehow distorted the message. Because nothing so pure, nor so innocent, as what she felt could possibly be a sin.
She pulled on her briefs, and tan cotton chinos, discarding the blouse she had meant to wear for a white tee-shirt. She glanced in the mirror one more time, hoping she didn't look quite as old as she felt.
*And then there's the age difference. If you had to get into this, couldn't you have at least lost your mind over someone your own age?*
Youth. What an elusive concept - defined more often by experience, than by years. She had thought about it so much lately, with that young body lying next to hers. So flawless, without worry lines, or scars from past battles, or any hesitation in those brilliant blue eyes. So certain and sure. Oh, she knew that outward appearances did not mean that there hadn't been heartache, or heartbreak, or sometimes things even worse. But there was still that flame of optimism that for her had somehow become extinguished with the passage of time. And yet recently, she had begun to dream again. At a point in her life when she had not expected to make new plans, life was suddenly filled with possibility.
The phone rang, interrupting her musings. She'd had been doing a lot of _that_ lately, too.
"Mom, it's Dana."
"How are you, honey?" Maggie asked, still distracted.
"Um, I'm fine. Listen - "
There was a moment of silence, and Maggie glanced at her watch. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
"No, not all." Dana continued in a rush, "I was wondering if we can get together this morning. There's someone I want you to meet."
It was Maggie's turn to be silent. It was too soon, she hadn't had time to prepare. She laughed mentally. *What in god's name could you possibly prepare?* "I actually have plans for this morning."
Dana's disappointment was evident, and Maggie suddenly realized that this was totally out of character for her solitary, insular daughter. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time Dana had wanted her to meet someone. "I'm having brunch downtown. Perhaps we could meet somewhere afterwards."
"Great! Why don't we just meet you there?"
Why indeed? *Oh, for about a million reasons*
Maggie flashed back to the alarm going off. She awakened immediately -- years of training, getting up early, starting breakfast, shouting _Reveille_ to awaken her children. More often than not, she had awakened alone, her husband out to sea or off on maneuvers, or somewhere that the military had decided was more important than home. But that morning she had not been alone.
She rolled over quietly, and gazed once again in astonishment at the face turned toward her on the pillows. Long golden lashes resting almost angelically against pale cheeks. Thick wavy brown hair with highlights of red, cut close around the ears and falling over the smooth strong forehead. Dark pink lips, full and almost pouting, even in sleep. Maggie's breath caught for a second, and she teetered between fear and desire. As it had so many times before, desire won out. If this was madness, then let it be so. Because it was also a wonder beyond description. Maggie leaned forward, and kissed the soft spot just below her ear.
"Hey," Maggie whispered. "Rise and shine."
She was rewarded with a mumble, and a warm arm snaking around her waist. The tousled head insinuated itself beneath her chin, and soft lips pressed a kiss to her neck. "A few more minutes. I want to hold you."
Maggie pulled her closer, sweeping her hands down the smooth strong back, lightly brushing over the rounded muscular buttocks.
"Mmm," came a groan, as a thigh pushed its way between Maggie's legs. "That's not the way to get me out of bed."
Maggie brought her hand between them, her fingers lightly tracing the faint curve of abdomen, moving upward to enclose the full breast. "Who said I want you to get out of bed?"
Her lover raised her head, her blue eyes twinkling. "Did you set the alarm early?"
Maggie nodded, her throat already constricting with longing. She rolled onto her back, opening her legs slightly, allowing her partner to settle fully upon her. She parted her lips, admitting the gently seeking tongue, gazing through barely open eyes at the intent look on her lover's face. She thought for the ten thousandth time, _How can she want me like this?_ But she was still there, morning after morning, loving her as if close to a two decade difference in their years were merely moments. Maggie sent a brief 'thank you' to whomever might be listening, and surrendered to the pulse that beat insistently inside her head, inside her chest, between her legs. Primitive, and powerful, and more intimate than anything she had ever experienced. She slid her open hand between their bodies, pressing downward until she cupped her lover's heat in her palm, slipping her fingers through the wetness, curling upward, inward, joining them as other knowing fingers simultaneously found her own answering need. Slowly, as they traded kisses, soft and hungry, they stroked in time, teasing, torturous strokes, thumbs gliding rhythmically over distended hypersensitive tissues. Tiny droplets of sweat, that could have been tears, fell from her lover's face onto her cheeks, their bodies glistening with a sheen of desire, slipping smoothly over one another until every curve and angle fused. At the moment when nothing separated them, not years or fears or past disappointments, they climbed together, trembling, to a single peak and shared a glimpse of eternity.
"Mom? Are you there?"
Maggie jumped, staring at the phone in her hand. She cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm here. Just woolgathering." She almost laughed out loud. *Get a hold of yourself!*
There wasn't much point in delaying the inevitable. There was nothing in the world that would change what she felt. "How's 11:30, at the Plaza?"
After the slightest hesitation, Dana replied, "Perfect."
They were both early, and nervous. Maggie had donned a linen jacket over her white tee-shirt and wasn't dressed much differently than her daughter, who wore a similar linen suit with a fitted scooped-neck top. They both ordered coffee, and stared at one another for a moment.
"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," Dana opened tentatively. She had thought about it on the ride over, surprised at first, and then chiding herself for her own surprise. She knew perfectly well that her mother was still a relatively young woman, and that there was no reason she should spend the rest of her life in mourning. She also knew, if she allowed herself to think about it, that her mother must have been lonely even when her father was alive. She didn't begrudge her mother happiness.
"Nor I you," Maggie responded. "I guess we haven't been talking as much as we should." She smiled faintly at the understatement.
Dana fidgeted with her napkin, another very uncharacteristic sign. "Sometimes it's hard to know where to start."
Maggie nodded. "I know."
Dana looked up, searching her mother's face. "There something I need to tell you, before --"
"I think maybe I should go first --" Maggie interrupted.
They both looked up as if someone had called their name, their eyes following a similar path. Two women approached from opposite sides of the room, clearly converging on their table. They were as different as night and day. One fair, glowing with golds and browns and shimmering reds; the other dark, an intensity of deep violets and grays. Beautiful, both of them.
Maggie and Dana stared at one another -- strangers as always, and family still.
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.