From: "Cecily Sasserbaum" TITLE: Chess AUTHOR: Cecily Sasserbaum (cecilysass@yahoo.com) DISTRIBUTION: Archive anywhere, Goss, Eph, Spooky site. Anywhere else, sure, just let me know, please. SPOILERS: Really none at all. Some indirect references to The Unnatural. RATING: PG-13 - some frank sex talk, nothing else. CLASSIFICATION: UST, MSR SUMMARY: Friday night. Mulder and Scully play chess. DISCLAIMER: They're so fine (doo-da-lang, doo-da-lang) / But they're not mine (doo-da-lang, doo-da-lang). FEEDBACK: Oooh, oooh, yes, please: cecilysass@yahoo.com NOTE: This is just for fun. Nope, nothing too substantial here. *** Mulder lay on the floor of her apartment, waiting for her to return with the chess board. "Funny, I would never have pegged the Scully family for being a chess-playing kind of clan," he said. He was drinking a beer, which was unusual for him. But then, it was unusual of her to have beer in the refrigerator at all, Scully reflected. It had been an impulse buy after a long day of work, but she had only drank one all week. Lucky Mulder was a Rolling Rock kind of guy. "And why is that, exactly?" She looked up from the cabinet, where she was fidgeting through photo albums and board games. "I don't know, you strike me as more of a Risk family. Or maybe Clue," he said. "Or, better still, maybe just kick-soccer-balls-around-the-backyard kind of family." Ah, she found it. Hadn't been used for a while -- dust was coating the velvet case. A sad state of affairs. There was once a time when she played chess almost daily. "It sounds like you're implying the Scullys aren't very intellectual, Mulder, but I'll try not to be offended." She loved this chess board, she thought as she pulled it gingerly out of its case. An antique. Her great-grandfather's, originally. She lay it on the floor, crossing her legs and looking expectantly at Mulder. "Chess only has two players. I would have guessed the Scully family needed a multi-person board game," he said. "So many kids." "We took turns," she explained. "The two youngest, and then the winner played the next youngest, and so forth. The champion played Dad." "You ever win?" "Rarely," admitted Scully. "But I did get better." "Sam and I only needed two person games. Chess, or ..." "Stratego," finished Scully. He looked darkly at her across the chess board, and she gave him a reassuring little smile. There is a point, she marveled, when sadness is so familiar, it's like a slight limp you hardly need to acknowledge any more. "Right, exactly." Mulder said. He paused. "But more often chess," he continued. "I'm probably better than you. This might not be fair." "I was on the chess team in high school," Scully announced. "Really?" Mulder cocked his head in disbelief. "We competed," she continued. "I even won tournaments." Mulder couldn't contain a smile. He took a sip of beer. "Wow, you must have been the coolest girl in school, Scully." "I was the only girl on the damn chess team, that's for sure. It made me a very popular teammate." "I guess this doesn't really surprise me," Mulder said. "You were also in National Honor Society, weren't you, g-woman? Maybe the debate team?" "I was very into Chess Club," Scully said, feeling a little defensive. "You were a dweeb, weren't you, Scully?" Mulder said, playfully, dumping out the pouch with all of the chess pieces. "I bet you talked to boys about your science fair project all the time." "I was pretty awkward," she admitted. "I guess everybody is at that age." "I have this mental image of little Dana Scully intensely practicing chess after school, maybe with a couple of physics textbooks tucked under her arm: 'No time to talk now, boys, must practice chess,'" he said. "There was one boy on the chess team who I was absolutely crazy about," Scully said, unsure of whether this were good information to give Mulder. "And I talked to him a lot about ... chess." Mulder sat up straight. "Oh yeah? Some heated late-night chess board makeout sessions, maybe?" Scully smiled, picking up the black king and examined him closely. "Eventually, sure," she said, "after I pined away and made an idiot out of myself for some time." "You ... pined for the chess star," Mulder said. "To think, I was wasting my time thinking about cheerleaders." "Well, I was young," shrugged Scully. "That was sophomore year. And he was older than me: a senior, very bright, went to Harvard the next year. " "Good-looking?" "Oh, sure," Scully smiled, sheepishly. "I was so thrilled when he began to take an interest in me. He was really an arrogant asshole, when I think back on it. I think he thought I was his chess apprentice, and he was always preaching the game to me." "Ah, young love," Mulder said. "Yes, I suppose so," Scully said. "I certainly thought I loved him. But you know, it's hard to categorize as a good relationship. In some ways it was more satisfying love before he took notice of me. When it was just me pining." "I've had similar love relationships. Where the pining was the best part." "Oh, it wasn't so terrible, I guess," said Scully. "I had a good time. We would spend hours playing our own version of chess." Mulder raised his eyebrows. "Drinking chess?" "Nothing as exciting as that," she responded. "It was just a variation. A twist on the game." Mulder propped his chin on his folded arms, so that his face was at the very edge of the chess board. "Show me," he said. She looked across the board to see if he was serious. His eyes were bright, like she'd just put a stack of abnormal crime scene photos in front of him. "All right," she said. She pushed the pieces off of the board, leaving only two pieces behind. "You only start with two pieces. The black and white kings," she said. "It's a kind of reverse chess. The point is to add pieces back, not to take them away." Mulder picked up the white king, and put it on the black square in front of him. "So every time you would normally lose a piece, you instead gain one," he said. "Exactly." "And you win when you have all the pieces back." "Right." "I like this concept," he said. "Let's play." "Do you need another beer, Mulder?" "You trying to get me drunk? Weaken my defenses?" "I was just trying to be a good hostess, that's all," she shrugged. "Sure, Miss Hostess," he grinned. "I'll have one." ** He was up three pieces; she was up five. But then she has played this before, thought Mulder. She knows the game. And he was down four bottles of beer, too. "I'll take my bishop, please," she said. "You see I'm on your rook?" "Lucky rook," Mulder grumbled, handing her the bishop. "When does the make-out session start, Scully?" "I told you, this isn't a sexual variation," she smiled. "But there must have been sexual variations back in tenth grade, right, Scully? Back with what's-his-name?" "His name was Chad," Scully said. "A ghastly name. I think Mom told me he's an investment banker now." "How far did you go, back in tenth grade?" Mulder said, casually, carefully moving his rook down the board. Scully's eyes widened. "Why do you want to know, Mulder?" "Curiosity," he said, meeting her eyes. "It's your move." "Well, I was a Catholic fifteen-year old," she said. She moved her queen to his rook, quite without warning. "I'll have my other rook, please," she said. "Not an answer," he remarked, handing her the rook. "That wasn't an answer." "I'm kicking your ass, Mulder," Scully said, staring at him with blank blue eyes. "Shouldn't you be paying attention to the game?" "Let's see, some strategy," Mulder pretended to scratch his head. "A Catholic fifteen-year old, sure, so we'll say no, she didn't sleep with him. But she was lovestruck, *pining* even, and he was good-looking, and she's a rather determined personality in general, so maybe we can estimate ... third base?" "I don't even know what third base *is*, exactly, Mulder," she said. But she was smiling. "It's your turn." "God, Scully, you must have been a dork if you don't even know the baseball code of make-out language," Mulder said, pretending to consider the board. "First base is kissing, of course, but with tongue." "Are you forfeiting your turn, Mulder?" "And second base is feeling beneath the shirt. That's the girl's shirt, I mean," he said, peering up at her. "I'm sure you went that far, didn't you, Scully?" "You should be embarrassed by how affected you are by only four beers," she said. "You take alcohol like an adolescent, Mulder. I could drink you under the table." "And third base is feeling around below the belt," he continued. "Preferably to orgasm." "I'm about to skip your turn." "So third base - yes or no?" "Okay, yes, third base," she exclaimed. "To the best of my recollection, Chad and I went to third base. Yes, even to orgasm, I think. Very good guess. Let's continue the game, shall we?" He couldn't believe she admitted it. It left him with nothing else to say, and only a vague impression in his mind of a teenaged Scully writhing, pink-cheeked, on a chess board. "Mulder...?" she said. "Your move?" *** From: "Cecily Sasserbaum" *** His next move was absurdly bad. Suicidal, even. "Mulder, I'll let you undo that move, if you want to look at it carefully for just five minutes," she said. "What is that supposed to mean?" "Just look at it carefully. Especially where my queen is, in relation to yours. Five minutes," she said. He did, and altered it slightly. Still not a good move, but a better one. "You don't have to take pity on me, Scully," he said, petulant. "It's sometimes hard to adjust to the idea of getting pieces back instead of having them taken away," she said, charitably. "Not as much is at stake." "That's true," he said, as if it were a revelation. Suddenly his face darkened. Became pensive. "This version of chess, it's a good variation for people who are tired of having things taken away," he said, a tinge of bitterness. "It's a good game for us." She looked up at him. He was peeling the wrapper off of his beer bottle. "Getting pieces back, instead of losing them." he said. "Wouldn't it be nice if..." He doesn't even have to finish, Scully reflected. We both have a list of wishes we could plug into his statement. "If I could have my sister back," she finished for him, again. "My career. My love life." How odd. She was unsure who she was speaking for, Mulder or herself. "And you could get them back, every time you did something right?" he said. "Maybe you arrest someone evil, and you get back a family member. Maybe you comfort a victim, and you get ... somebody to go to third base with." "Hell, somebody to slide into home with," Scully said. "I'm not fifteen any more." Mulder looked at his hands, morose. "We'll have to make do with the existing system, Mulder," she said, "which is a lot more like traditional chess. You lose pieces; you get trapped. But it's not so miserable while it lasts. It's even fun, most of the time." She moved her queen, setting up a strategy for trapping Mulder's bishop several moves down the line. Mulder watched her move, his eyes following her hand carefully. "Thank you," he said. "You've become very good at making me feel better." "Seven years, Mulder," she shrugged. "And you do your part for me, too." "Scully," he said. "Are we lovers?" She looked up at him, startled. "I'm sorry?" "I asked if we were lovers," he repeated, simultaneously moving his bishop. It seemed he was on to her trap. "I don't think so, Mulder, unless there's something I've been missing." "I believe I'd like my knight now, please," Mulder said, pointing to the move he had just made. She handed it to him. "Why do you ask?" she said, carefully. "Something confusing you?" "Well," Mulder said, flopping over on to his side, resting his chin in his hand, "why would you say we weren't lovers?" Scully moved her queen to a safer location. "We aren't physically intimate." He regarded her, thoughtfully. "That's true. We aren't." "Not even first base, Mulder." Mulder scowled. "Oh, not even first base, you wouldn't say?" "No tongue," she reminded him. Mulder moved his knight, rather directly, nearer Scully's queen. "What would be your definition of a lover? I mean, ideally, not one that you have had or haven't had," he said. "Abstractly?" "Yes," he said. Scully drummed her fingers on the board's edge, thoughtfully. "Well, I would have to say someone emotionally compatible. Intellectually compatible. Someone you have good conversations with, and who you trust implicitly. Someone to depend on. Who you don't mind sitting in traffic with. And of course, physical intimacy." "Someone you want to 'get it on' with?" "Right," Scully shrugged. "Scully," he said. "Yes?" "It's your turn," Mulder reminded her. She moved her queen again. "Is the physical intimacy the most important part?" Mulder asked her. "No, I don't think so," she said. "Do you?" "Not really," he said. "Maybe when I was fifteen." "It's definitely not the hardest part," Scully said. "Nearly anyone can have good sex, I think. Eventually. With enough practice." "The hardest part is the emotional compatibility," Mulder said. "Is that what you think?" "The hardest part is the trust, I think. And then the emotional entanglements," she said. "And the sitting in traffic part is hard, too. I've had so many lovers I couldn't stand sitting in traffic with." Mulder smiled. He picked up his knight again. "You know, I think we're emotionally compatible. I trust you, implicitly. We can sit in traffic just fine," he said. "Besides the physical intimacy, are we lovers, Scully?" Silence. She stared at him, the knight suspended in mid-air. "We're colleagues, Mulder," she said. "Only colleagues? Why are we here, on a Friday night?" "Friends," she conceded. "Very, very good friends." "Best friends," he offered. She smiled. He placed the knight down on the board, perilously close to her queen. "But you don't really seem like a best friend, Mulder." "Why not?" "Maybe I'm thinking of best friends from my past. Female confidantes." "Do you have a best friend now?" "Only you," Scully said. Suddenly, her heart was beating in her ears. What was happening? "So I am your best friend," Mulder said, satisfied. Scully moved her bishop. She needed to get that queen out of danger. "Sure," she said. "Mulder, what is this about?" "What is the difference between a best friend and a lover?" "Is this a riddle?" "It's a question," Mulder said. ** Again, Mulder's knight was in mid-air. He liked the moves to coincide with the questions. "Physical intimacy," she said, her voice low. "That's the difference." He lay the knight down again. "Was Chad your lover?" he said. "Yes," she shrugged. "Yes, Chad was my lover, I told you, third base. I suppose that's physically intimate enough." "But did you have emotional compatibility with Chad? Trust?" She stared at him, and he was amazed at how nervous she looked. She saw his trap. "No," she said softly, "I didn't." "But he was your lover, despite that. You were missing the most important things, but he was still your lover. But I'm not." She was pale. Poor Scully. She hadn't had multiple beers, like him. "So why aren't we lovers?" he said, allowing himself a dramatic sweeping hand gesture. "We're only missing physical intimacy, and that, you said, was not as important as the rest." "Maybe I should adjust my definition of lover," she said, still soft. Moving her queen. "Okay, how?" "Maybe it's the intent of the relationship. What both parties hope to get out of it," she said. "Ah, that's something new," he nodded. "What's that?" "I think with a lover, you hope to be with the person forever. Or that hope is there, somewhere, buried deep," she said. "You hoped to be with Chad forever?" "On some level, yes." "I had a lover, when I was first transferred to DC," Mulder said. "She lived in the apartment next to me. Her name was Natalie. I was much too old for her." He waited for her to ask. "How old was she, Mulder?" Scully said, casually. "Well, it was all legal," Mulder said. "I was 28, 29, and she was in college. She was in her junior year at George Washington. Maybe the eight year age difference wouldn't be so bad now, but I think even then I knew it was pretty inappropriate. An FBI agent shouldn't be with college girls. Is it my turn or yours?" "I don't know," Scully said, wide-eyed, listening. "Yours, I think." He lifted his knight again, and considered his options. "Still, Natalie was very good for me for a while. She was one of these wild, intense people. And she was a pretty smart cookie -- she was studying medieval history, and we had fascinating conversations, about the issue of supernatural apsects to martyrdom and sainthood, particularly. That's how it started. And of course I didn't know many people in town." "And she was hot? Being only 21, and all?" Scully said, an eyebrow lifted. He wondered if she disapproved. She'd had affairs with older men herself, hadn't she? "Yeah, she was hot," smiled Mulder, placing his piece down. "But the point is, Scully, that I didn't intend to be with her forever. I knew what the relationship was while it lasted -- a fling, with an interesting, younger woman who wasn't particularly appropriate. And I would still characterize that as a lovers' relationship." "But did she intend to be with you forever?" Scully said. "Did *she* realize it was just a fling?" "You think I'm a cad, don't you, Scully?" Mulder said. "You think I was seducing innocent co-eds." "I call them like I see them, Mulder." "She broke it off," Mulder shrugged. "I think she decided to explore her bisexual side with girls her own age." "Interesting," Scully said. "So no, I don't think she expected it to last. We were just together, for a while," he said. "Lovers." *** From: "Cecily Sasserbaum" *** Scully picked up her queen, and considered her next move. "So you're saying that you and I are lovers, Mulder," she said. "I'm asking if we are," he said. "Because we have a high degree of emotional compatibility, and because we seem to be able to sit together in traffic sufficiently, and because we're more or less intellectually compatible." she said. "And we trust one another. Implicitly," he said. "I'm asking if you really need *all* of the characteristics for it to be a lovers relationship." "So it doesn't matter if we're not physically intimate, or if we don't have the intent to be together forever," she said. "No, I didn't say that," he responded. "First of all, I don't think that's true." She placed her queen down, and looked at him quizzically. "Which part?" "Well, we've established we're not physically intimate. Not even first base, remember?" he said. "So I question that we don't have the intent to be together forever." She bit her lip. "You think we do? Want to be together forever?" "I don't ever want to be *away* from you, not any time that I can conceive of," Mulder said. "Do you feel differently?" Her heart was pounding in her ears again. How was he confusing her like this? She regretted not having kept up with him on the beers. "No, I guess I don't," she said slowly. "Another beer, Mulder?" He nodded, and she rose to fetch him -- and herself -- one. "But what about not being romantically involved with other people?" she said, reaching into the refrigerator. "We're not exclusive." She handed him the beer, and took a swig from her own. "We're not exclusive?" "It's your turn," she reminded him. "We don't date anyone else *ever*," he said, sipping from the new bottle. "I don't know if I could, what with all the time I spend with you, at work and outside of work. That's exclusive, isn't it?" "But we don't date each other." "No? What's this? Friday night, you and me, g-woman," he said. "This isn't a date," Scully was getting angry now, "and it's your turn." He lifted the piece. "Why isn't this a date?" "It's not a date because on a date, you have the intent, the desire for physical intimacy," she added. "And that's the difference." Mulder took the piece up between his fingers, and stone-faced, examined it carefully, avoiding her eyes. "So what you're saying is, Scully, that we are not lovers because we don't have the *desire* for physical intimacy." She froze, blinking at him. He looked up at her. "Let me say that again slowly-- we are not lovers, because *we have never had the desire for physical intimacy.*" She cleared her throat. "What's your point, Mulder?" "Does that, uh, strike you as strictly accurate, Scully? Never having the desire?" She closed her eyes. Lifting the bottle up to her lips, she leaned it back and took a long, long drink. When she brought it away from her lips, it was empty. "Wow, Scully, you pounded it," he said, admiringly. "I take back what I said about you in high school." "Checkmate," she said. Her head was tingly. "Checkmate, I think you've won, Mulder." He regarded the chess board. "No, you're definitely winning. You're kicking my ass." "Oh, shut up, Mulder, you know what I mean," she said. "We're lovers. Congratulations. And here I thought I was lonely and single." "Not at all," he said. "I just wish I could shake this feeling that I picked up a lover tonight because you were too threatened by my kicking your ass at chess, and needed to engineer an effective distraction," she said. She felt her pitch rising, ever so slightly. "You had a lover all along," he said, weakly. "You didn't just pick one up tonight, Scully. That's my point." She got up to get herself another beer. "You'll let me know, Mulder, if our relationship progresses in any way I should know about? If you decide we're now technically engaged, something like that?" He wasn't looking quite as self-satisfied, so she continued on. "I think I might like to tell my mother, if I was really serious with somebody," she said. "She would love to hear about it. But you're going to have to explain all of these loopholes to her, because I don't think I could. Not without throwing up." "Scully --" "My mother might suspect that my detailed, highly intelligent rationalization was really just a ... cruel ... mind game," she said. "And I think she might ... resent me playing games about something like that. She cares too much about it. About me." She took a angry sip of a new beer, and looked at him, stonily, across the room. *** He tried to figure out how to play this next move. "Are you upset because I started an argument to disrupt the game?" Mulder asked, quietly. She stared at him in disbelief. "Mulder ... no," she said. "Are you upset because I asked you about your high school sex life? Or because I won an argument?" She drank her beer. "No. On both counts." "Then -- you must be upset because I was flippant about something that you cared about," he said carefully. "And that must be your relationship with me." "Right on, FBI man," she said. "Maybe you think that calling us 'lovers' was an elaborate joke on my part, and you don't think it's particularly funny?" Meeting his eyes, she nodded, taking another drink from her bottle. "I hope," Mulder began, carefully, "that the reason you don't think it's funny, is *not* because you are completely repulsed by the idea of being my lover." She stared at him, clutching tightly at the beer bottle. "I hope that it's because you ... might like to someday, be my lover, in the way that you think of a real love relationship, with the physical intimacy and everything," he said. "And you don't like making light of it now, because someday you hope it will be serious. To both of us." Her mouth dropped open. "But you should know it wasn't an entirely flippant joke," he said. "It was meant as more of a thought provoker. Because why, Scully, aren't we -- " He stopped. "It's just I think I would be better, more suitable -- than Chad the Champion Chess Player," he said, trying to make light. She just gaped. He closed his eyes, feeling the effects of the beer. "And I really, really hope I wasn't an idiot just now," he said. "Not in front of you." She slowly drank from her bottle, again, and moved over to sit down on the floor across from the chess board. "Let's keep playing," she said. "What?" "Our game's not over," she said. "No one has won yet." He stared at her. "It's your turn, g-man," she said. "Scully," he said, helplessly. "I tell you what -- if you win, I tell you whether you're an idiot," she said. "But I won't win," he said. "I know, Mulder," she answered, a small smile. "So what if you win?" She threw her head back and laughed. It was rare, but amazing, he thought, that laugh. "We'll play another challenging game -- batting practice," she said, mysteriously. "Batting practice?" "Remember? Your favorite game," she said. "But this time, if we hit well enough..." A lingering pause. "We'll get to first base," he finished. "Exactly." Mulder felt the oddest tingling. And Scully was rarely this aggressive. It must be her chess persona. He settled down across from the chess board, considering the worst move he could make. "I told you that first base included tongue, didn't I, Scully?" he said, moving his knight somewhere or another. She picked up her queen, a killer move clearly in her mind. "If tongue usage means physical intimacy," she said, "we'll do what we can, Mulder. Because I think I'm 35 years old, and I'd like to take a lover." He stared at her, breathless. "Check," she remarked, a glint in her eyes. And she placed the queen down. *** feedback? cecilysass@yahoo.com.