Title: Elevation
Author: J.D. Rush
Email Address: yanksfan462@...
Category: Gen/Het
Rating: PG
Summary: Missing scene from "Three of a Kind". Just how DID Frohike get
Scully back up to their hotel room?
Pairing: Frohike/Scully
Disclaimers: The characters, and some sampled dialog, belong to CC, 10 13
Productions, and FOX . . . the demented ramblings are mine. Title stolen, ahhh,
BORROWED from U2.


Elevation
By: J.D. Rush

"That's it!" I announced disgustedly, as I plucked the cigarette from the
young lady's ruby red lips. "All you dandies, back off! This is Special Agent
Dana Scully of the F.B.I. If you so much as TOUCH her you could be committing
a federal offense!" And with that, I grabbed said special agent by the hand
and hauled her away from all her amorous suitors.

As we made our way through the casino, I tried to convince myself I had just
acted so rashly because I was watching out for her, trying to protect her from
those lounge hounds, but who was I kidding? Anger vied with jealousy within
me, knowing that Scully would never look at me with the same hungry gazes she
had awarded the guys in the bar.

Jesus, I had never seen Scully act like that before. It was as if she were a
totally different person. I mean, she was smoking, for Pete's sake! What
the hell was that? And her un-Scully-like behavior was getting even stranger.
She kept dragging her heels as we scurried through the floor of the casino,
stopping to look at all the pretty lights, and chatting up all the pretty boys
in her path, giggling like a teen-aged airhead. All I could do was keep
tugging her along as I tried to remember where the stupid elevators were.

Damn, I wish I knew what was up with her. I'd be inclined to say she was
drunk as a skunk, except I could smell no alcohol on her breath. Maybe she was
coming down with a cold or something, or maybe she was just seriously
jet-lagged, like Langly said she was. Or perhaps, she had been drugged--but by
who?
And with what? And why?

The only thing I knew for certain was that my instincts said something was
very wrong with the fair Dana, and the sooner I could get her back to the room,
the better. Finally, off to the right, I saw the bank of elevators, and towed
the still giggly/flirty Scully to them. The first car that arrived was
empty, and I promptly pushed her inside.

I had no sooner hit the button for floor the tenth floor when she reached out
and grabbed me by the lapels of my leather jacket. "Thank God we're finally
alone," she growled, and then . . . she was kissing me. Dana Katherine
Scully--special agent of the F.B.I. and the object of my desires for more years
than
I cared to count--was kissing me. And doing a damn fine job of it, too.

I stood frozen for a moment, not knowing what to do or what to think. Surely
this was all tied in with her strange behavior, right? Knowing that, I tried
to resist--I really did--but . . . jeez, this was every fantasy I have ever
had. Scully was in my arms, she was kissing me, and I knew I could now die a
happy man.

But it was wrong to take advantage of her in this weakened state, and my
conscience finally made an appearance. With great reluctance, I managed to pull
out of her clutches. My reticence did little to deter her, though, as she
slipped her arms around my neck instead. With her fingers caressing down my
neck,
and twining in and around my ponytail, she cooed, "Let's go back to your
room, cutie."

Well, that's what I fully intended on doing, if I could just find a way to
avoid her Roman hands and Russian fingers. I kept backing away, but she just
kept advancing, until she had maneuvered me into a corner. I found myself
staring into crystal-blue eyes, clouded with lust. For me. If it hadn't been
for
the wall holding me up, my wobbly knees would have surely given out on me.
With the last of my rational thought, I stammered, "Scully . . . you're . . .
you're not yourself."

As her hands skimmed down my hips to cup my butt cheeks, she chuckled, "Well,
of COURSE I am, silly. Who else would I be?" Then the time for talk was
over as she pulled me close against her intoxicatingly curvy body, and I again
tasted her lips--lips softer than the softest rose petals, hotter than molten
lava, and sweeter than spun sugar. I could feel myself melting inside, getting
drunk on her perfume, wanting nothing more than this moment to last until the
end of time. I felt myself getting hard, and cursed my body's betrayal, even
as she moaned her approval and darted her tiny tongue between my lips.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on me. This was so wrong.
Something wasn't right with Scully, and to accept these lips under these
circumstances . . . no, I couldn't do it. With every ounce of strength I had
left, I pushed her away from me.

She fixed me with the cutest pout on her fire-engine red lips. "What's the
matter, sweetie? Don't you want me?"

I heaved a deep regretful sigh, "More than you'll ever know."

That was all the encouragement she needed. She curled her sexy body around
me and in a husky, smoky voice, purred, "Then take me, baby . . . I'm all
yours."

I almost took her up on her offer, not caring if my soul would burn in hell
forever, but the spell was magically broken when the elevator came to a sudden
stop--a quick look at the read-out indicated it was our floor. Fate kicks
Frohike in the nuts again. I quickly detached myself from her enticing limbs
and
pulled her urgently down the hall towards the room, hoping that once there,
we would find some answers.

After we determined what was affecting Scully's behavior, I watched as Mata
Hari shot our friend full of antidote to counteract the side effects of the
drug she had been injected with; Dana gave an exaggerated grimace and a sulky,
"Just a little prick," before she collapsed on the bed, dead away. Susanne
insisted that Scully would be okay once she had 'slept it off'. All the same, I
stayed behind as she, Byers, and Langly went off together to try to figure out
a way out of the mess we had once more seemingly found ourselves in. I just
didn't think Scully should be left alone, that someone should be there to watch
over her and make sure she was all right. (It's a tough job, but . . . well,
YOU know.)

Sitting by her side, I watched her sleep, pondering how it was possible for
someone to be so beautiful while unconscious. I was sad to see the spunky,
spontaneous Scully disappear, but I had done my good deed for the day and had
kept her out of danger. That had to count for SOMETHING (even if I hadn't
exactly fought for my OWN honor in that elevator).

++++++++

TWO HOURS LATER:

"Owww, my head." Scully opened her big blue eyes, which grew to the size of
saucers as she watched me approaching her, a wet face cloth in hand.

"Ahh, Sleeping Beauty awakens," I declared, as I sat down on the chair I had
moved next to the bed, and placed the fresh cloth on her forehead.

She quickly looked around, confusion marring that pretty face. "Frohike,
where am I?"

"My room," I told her. "Well, the one I'm sharing with the guys."

She was silent for a moment, letting the words sink in; finally she asked,
"What am I doing in your room?"

I smiled, and answered, honestly, "You asked me to bring you here."

One shapely eyebrow shot up as she replied, hesitantly, "I . . . I don't
remember that."

"Yeah, I know." I picked up the cloth and flipped it over to the cool side
before replacing it. "You feeling better?"

"I feel like my head is going to explode," she groaned.

I nodded in sympathy. "Susanne said you might."

Again with the eyebrow. "Who's Susanne?"

I just shook my head ruefully. "It's a long story. I'll tell you later."

"Ummm . . . Frohike?" she asked, warily. "Where are the guys?" I think she
noticed for the first time that she was alone with me, and was probably
wondering if that was such a good idea.

"They had an errand to run, but I didn't want to leave you alone," I
confessed. "I was worried about you. But now that I know you're okay, I better
go
join them. You can stay here for as long as you need to." And I got up to go.

"Wait, Frohike?" she called out.

I turned back at the front door. "Yeah?"

She struggled to push herself up on one elbow, her damp hair falling into her
eyes. She looked sleepy and mussy and breathtakingly beautiful. "I . . . I
can't remember anything of the last couple of hours," she admitted, "but
something's telling me I should thank you."

I smiled at her tenderly. "You're welcome, Scully," then added,
enigmatically, "And . . . thank YOU." I stayed only long enough to see her
mouth drop
open in stunned surprise, then left to find the guys.

Oh, yeah. . .I just KNOW she's gonna kick my ass this time.

The End

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