Chapter One.

Georgetown, Washington

September 1993

Dear Mulder,

My first confession is this... I probably will never have the guts to give you this letter. Knowing myself, I won't even bring up what happened between us that night in Bellefleur, and pray that you won't remember and that it won't happen again (not because I didn't enjoy it but because it shouldn't have happened, not like it did anyway).

I was assigned to be your partner on The X-Files, your colleague. Having sex was never supposed to be part of the deal, but here I am writing you a letter that you won't ever read, to tell you what happened between us so hopefully I can get past this and just be your co-worker.

At first, I didn't believe you when you told me about your sleeping disorder. I thought it was just a joke, some ploy to make me request a transfer on the grounds of my partner being crazy. I thought you just made it up to protect your precious X-Files and to avoid having a sceptical partner, to get me off your back so that your life's work would not be debunked.

At least I believed so until I found you hovering above me, your bare chest brushing against the fabric of my red dressing gown. Your eyes were open, hazel irises dilated with lust but still a little glassy, as though you were there but somehow...vacant.

That was when I knew you were dead asleep and that you hadn't lied to me. I had studied sleeping disorders in medical school and recognised what was happening almost immediatly.

Sleep sex, or sexsomnia, is a condition in which a person will engage in sexual activities while asleep. Your condition falls within the broad class of sleep disorders known as parasomnias.

But my guess is you probably know all that and more. I guess I'm just trying to distract myself with medical jargon. The thing is Mulder, I never thought I would end up having...relations with a man who suffered from it.

Not that I regret you.

Well... maybe I do, but not in that way.

You were gentle and passionate all at the same time, and I was craving human touch, someone to reach out to. My first instinct was to shake you until you woke up, until your eyes were clear and you knew what you were doing with your hands. God damnit, Don't get me started on what you did with your hands.

I ignored my initial reaction though and I leaned into your touch. I let you touch me and let myself touch you. I let you in in more ways than one that night, Mulder and I'm not sure how I feel about that just yet.

Looking back on that night now, I should have woken you up or at least tried to. It was wrong what we did, what I did, in so many ways. You trusted me enough to tell me about your sister's abduction and about your condition. I should have treated you better, I hardly know you and I believe that. I hardly knew you and I let the consummation happen anyway. You're a good man Fox Mulder and what we did can't happen again...not like that!

Yet, your weight above me felt too damn good and I would be lying to myself if I said I hadn't been sexually attracted to you right from the moment we met!

Our differences, they blazed, and I was drawn to you like a moth to a bonfire. You are the brightest thing in the room, Fox Mulder.

Arguing with felt like fire, the tension they seemed to create...almost sensual. You make me flare up in frustration and, in turn, your belief and determination burns with a raging passion.

Sleeping with you was similar...only expressed with our bodies rather than our minds.

On one hand, the tactile side was the closest I've come to an almost spiritual experience, your body against mine, skin on skin. It was something else.

Your touch brought my whole body to life, made me feel things I had almost forgotten how to feel. You gave me more highs in one night than I ever had with any previous lover. You fit inside me perfectly and we balanced each other out, just like we seem to do when working side by side on the field.

On the flip side, there was a carnal rhythmic element to our intercourse. Even now, I can recall your graceful but powerful movements as you gave me one earth moving orgasm after another. I can almost remember your every movement perfectly in a way that almost leads me to believe that I had, for those few hours, adopted your photographic memory.

Even now working with you down in our quiet secluded basement can sometimes be a challenge when my mind wanders momentarily away from the paranormal to what transpired between us...even now, as I write to you, you make me wet with desire.

Your needy passionate thrusts inside me somehow sent me over an edge I never knew existed. Your large enticing warm hands and your alluring pouty lips seem to have been everywhere, my breasts, my neck, my back, against my backside, my stomach and lower, lower, lower, lower.

So much lower that you and your luscious labials almost drove me insane.

In that moment, I felt almost fit to combust from the sensual feelings you were evoking. Mulder, your erotic touch created an unquenchable inferno deep within me, one that surged through my body like electricity to every cell, every membrane, every atom.

You are a drug, Fox Mulder, a drug deadlier that Cocaine and heroin combined, and I fear you may have damn well made me a junkie.

But it was all wrong, all immoral, all so very very wrong. I had sex with you and you were asleep. You felt amazing and you made me feel amazing but you weren't there, not really. I feel like I have exploited you, manipulated you, took advantage of your parasomnic disorder and it's even harder for me when you tell me that you want to trust me because I want the same trust in exchange for mine.

Damnit Mulder, why was it so easy for you to turn me on when you weren't even awake to do so?

The logical explanation: I hadn't had sex in over two years since joinging the FBI. After all, I was a joining one of the biggest boy's clubs in the nation and had behaved accordingly from the get go. I knew the rule book to the letter and was determined to avoid each and every no no, both obvious and implied like the plague. So, I had made it very clear that my male colleagues treat me like they would if I was one of the men, and not someone made with two XX chromosomes; And, you did from the moment we met which I respected about you immediately.

The illogical explanation: Maybe I like you as more than a partner... But it doesn't matter even if I did, you and I would never ever work out, or even happen in the first place. We are too different you and I. You have your crusade, your fight to find your sister and If you knew me better you would know that I would never ever stand in the way of that but; you would also know that I would never want to be in a relationship where I come second... not after Daniel anyway. It's too messy and only ever ends in heartbreak.

My last confession, Mulder, and I promise this will be the last. I've been known as 'the ice queen' every since I was named the best shot in my class back when I was in the academy. I had always relished the moniker as it had the power to ward off male agents like no man's business.

I don't understand how this happened, Mulder and I'm damn well sure that I'm not 100% responsible for it, but somehow you made the ice queen melt and I don't understand how or why it took you to do it. Hell, I'm not even sure if I like the fact you are able to bring out that side in me, a side of me that would let my sleeping partner into my bed.

From now on I'll just be your partner, just Agent Scully. I'll watch your back and you'll watch mine. You'll come up with a theory and I'll knock it down. That is how it has to be. What happened between us can't happen again. No reruns and no revivals.

Just partners and maybe someday, when I have all this crap sorted out, friends.

No more.

Yours apologetically,


A huge huge huge shout out to NikitaKaralis who came up with the idea of Mulder having Sexsomnia for this story. Thank you so much for letting me write around your fantastic idea and for betaing this first chapter for me.

Also thanks to whoever is reading this. I'd love for you to review so I can see what you think.