Title: Going Postal

Author: J.D. Rush

Series: Big Things; follows 'Big Things Come in Small Packages'

Rating: mild PG for language

Pairing: Frohike/Scully

Summary: Frohike gets a letter, and his life will never be the same.

Disclaimer: FOX, 1013, CC. . .I think we know the song by now.

GOING POSTAL

Thursday, October 4, 2001

The letter arrived in our mailbox a few weeks later. Addressed to me. Just four words. Four little words that changed my life forever.

"Frohike. I've reconsidered. Dana."

On sky blue paper, in flowing feminine penmanship. I read it again, not believing my eyes. 

"Frohike. I've reconsidered. Dana."

I put it down on my workstation, paced around the room manically for a few minutes, on the verge of hyperventilating, then returned to it. But it hadn't changed. It still said the same thing.

"Frohike. I've reconsidered. Dana."

Picking up the phone, I dialed her number by memory. Then replaced the receiver. What was I going to say to her? What could I POSSIBLY say to her? I picked up the phone again, dialed her number again, and this time, before I could hang up, she answered. I asked if she would be home for the next hour, that there was something I had to discuss with her. She was quiet on the other end, though I could hear her shallow, hyper breathing. Finally she spoke one word:

"Yes."

That was all I needed to hear. I hung up, spent a few precious moments getting some things organized, then I was out the door.

To meet my destiny.

**************

"Scully, are you sure about this?" I asked the lovely lady sitting on the couch beside me.

The smile. That blinding smile. "Well, I might change my mind unless you start calling me 'Dana'," she said with a laugh. "Can't say I ever imagined my husband calling me 'Scully'."

Husband. I was going to be Scul. . .ahhh. . .Dana's husband. I didn't know whether to call Ripley's or Mulder, because this sure as shit smacked of an X-File. (Well, if we could FIND Mulder, that is--he seemed to have wandered off again.) "Wouldn't you rather just try living together first? You know, to see if we're compatible?"

She just gazed at me with those crystal blue eyes of hers. "When you came here before, the offer was marriage, Frohike.   Is that offer still on the table?"

"Of course. I just thought that you'd be more comfortable, well, if you had a way out, that's all."

The smile again. "Actually, I'd feel less comfortable raising William together if we're living in sin." I had to laugh. . .the last thing we'd be doing in this house is 'sinning'. It simply wasn't part of the deal. "And besides, we'd still have a way out if we can't get along," she added. "It's called 'divorce', and it could make me a very wealthy woman."

"You obviously have never seen my bank book," I chuckled.  

Taking my hand in hers--so small, so soft--she spoke tenderly, "Frohike, there are hundreds of reasons why people marry. Some marry for power, some for money, some because they've been promised to each other as children. Marrying a good friend who makes me laugh and treats me well, who would treat my child well, is hardly the worse reason."

Her words warmed my heart, but they couldn't silence my fears. "Still, you can’t honestly say I'm the man of your dreams, right?"

She paused for a moment before she spoke. "Well, I think just about everyone has an idea in their head of what their perfect mate is supposed to be like. But love isn't all cupids and hearts and running through the fields while choir music plays in the background. That's the illusion of love, one we’re taught about in fairy tales and movies and love songs. We hear the message so often that we eventually believe that a passionate love affair is then entire meaning of life."

"And don't you want that?" I was fretful, knowing I was taking that prospect away from her.

The small hand tightened around mine, and her eyes sparkled radiantly. "There are many kinds of love, Frohike, and sometimes the love between two friends is the strongest of them all." 

Seeing she wasn't going to waver in her decision, I reached into my coat pocket and removed some folded pieces of paper, which I handed to her. She looked at me cautiously, then unfolded the sheets. One glance at them and her startled gaze returned to me. "Frohike, what's this?"

"Our contract. Or at least the outline for one. I didn't have enough time to work up a. . ."

"Why do we need a contract?" she interrupted, quirking one elegant eyebrow.

 
"Well, it spells out our obligations to each other, and. . .and the limits of this arrangement. What we expect from one another, and, well, behavior that won’t be tolerated." <Specifically the no-nookie clause> I thought wryly.

She nodded, clearly digesting what I had just said, before carefully folding the pages and calmly ripping them in two. "We don't need a contract, Frohike. We already know what we each expect from this situation."

"But I figured you'd feel better if the rules were spelled out." <Especially the sex one,> my brain insisted on reminding me.

Sighing patiently, she replied, "Frohike, you're an honest man, a good man. If you promise me something, I trust you not to go back on that promise. If you said that sex would not play a part in this pact, I don't need a silly piece of paper holding you to it. If you want a pre-nup agreement, we can call in a couple of lawyers, but is it really necessary? We'll share the expenses, share the housekeeping, share taking care of William. . .and in return, neither of us will want for companionship. It doesn't sound like such a bad deal to me."

So intelligent. So practical. So logical. And so freaking beautiful. "Sounds like the best deal I've ever heard," I told her honestly.

"Then it's agreed." She leaned over and kissed me softly, her sweet lips pressed against mine, lasting a few seconds too long--not lasting long enough. "Sealed with a kiss," she giggled.

Sealed with a kiss.

Scully:

There it was again. That electrical tingle as my lips touched his. So delicious, racing down my spine, raising goosebumps along my arms. I found myself pressing further into him, drowning in him, wanting him desperately.

I'll admit, I did it partly to see if the first time had just been a fluke. All these weeks, the thoughts have chased themselves in my brain: the impromptu marriage proposal, the look of utter despair when I turned him away. . .and that magical kiss. The one I couldn't forget. And here he was in my arms again, and I knew without a doubt that last kiss had not been an aberration. His kiss excited me, stimulated me in a way I hadn't known in a long time. It felt good. It felt right. And I wanted more, so much more.

Unfortunately, that wasn't part of the deal. We were here to discuss the possibility of entering a companionable marriage. One of friendship, one that he had proposed to help me with William, and one, perhaps, he hoped would alleviate our mutual loneliness. He had promised me that he would demand no sexual favors from me. 

But could I promise him the same?

Believe me, no one could have been more surprised by this reaction to Frohike's touch as I was. When I had first met him all those years ago, well, let's say he made an impression on me--and it wasn't a very good one. Over the past few years, though, things have changed between us, and what had started as a one-sided flirtation on his part has become a cherished friendship. Not just for the information he and the other Gunmen had supplied for me and Mulder, but also for the many hours of entertainment they had provided as well. (whether they were aware of it or not.)

When I was pregnant and alone and scared, I knew I could turn to them for a shoulder to lean on and a sympathetic ear to bend. They are all such kind, caring men, and none more so than Frohike. He'd drop whatever he was doing to be by my side--I guess I got addicted to that kind of attention. As wonderful a man as Mulder is, I never came first for him. In my heart, I knew I'd always be first with Frohike.

Still, his proclamation of love and offer of marriage was startling to say the least. But once he left, and I had time to sort out my feelings, it didn't seem as odd to me. I cared for him--and he certainly cared for me. He was intelligent and funny, and his stories could keep me enthralled for hours. . .the last thing I'd ever have to worry about with him was stimulating conversation. I really LIKED Frohike. . .and sometimes, that's harder to do than to fall in love with someone

And as for William, I had to face facts--I was not only in a high-risk profession, but I was also a cancer survivor. If I were a pessimist, I'd say I was living on borrowed time.   It was a great comfort to me to know that I'd be leaving William in good hands with Frohike. I knew, with every fiber in my body, that Mel would protect William with his life, and that he would provide a good role model for my son. Frohike's beliefs may be a bit left of center (all right, that was an understatement, but were they really any worse than Mulder's?) but he was still very honorable, and generous, and he had a good heart. He fought for what he thought was right and that was something I wanted William to learn-- how to be strong, how to be his own man. I knew Frohike could teach him that, and so much more--such as picking locks and planting illegal bugs and hacking into secret government files…okay, maybe there were SOME things I didn't want my son to pick up from Frohike.

Still, the deciding factor was the kiss. I haven't exactly been a nun when it came to sex, but I haven't been a slut, either. I've experienced enough to make comparisons and to rate certain things--and that kiss was off the charts. I had never been kissed like that before--not that it was the hottest or the wildest or even the most passionate. . .just the most honest. There was no hiding the depth of his love for me when our lips met. It wasn't simply sexual desire I detected from him, but a sense of being precious to him. I felt safe with him, something I haven't felt in many years. And my decision was made.

Now, if I could only keep up my own end of the 'hands-off' policy.

THE END