TITLE: Dream Lover AUTHOR: Bugmouthga E-MAIL: bugmouthga@yahoo.com DISTRIBUTION: archive freely- please let me know RATING: NC-17 (graphic violence and sexual situations; language) CATEGORIES: Story KEYWORDS: Alternate Universe, pre-series, Mulder/Scully romance SPOILERS: The series SUMMARY: Special Agent Mulder works in the VCS, but has trouble with the gory details of his job profiling evil killers. He begins having dreams about a lovely redhead, who is his... wife? Life changes dramatically for Mulder when he and his team are called in to catch a serial killer. Disclaimer: X-Files characters belong to FOX Corporation and 1013. Author's Notes: I think I was watching a little too much "Forensic Files" when I wrote this one. This story is a lot more gory and gritty than I've ever written, but I wanted to give it a go and see if I could do it. I apologize if it might seem a little uneven, as the first 2/3 were written a couple of years ago, and the last third was finished up just recently. (Went through a long dry spell, not only with this story, but with writing in general.) Please keep an eye out for a few "special appearances" by many characters- some regular or recurring, some one-time- from the series, as well as a little X-Phile in-jokes. * Wink. Wink. * This story actually has my favorite scene that I've ever written for an XF story. Why don't you email me and try and guess which one it is? (I'd love to hear comments, too!) "Dream Lover" (An alternate reality story) By "Bugmouthga" "Mulder, don't forget, we've got dinner at my parents' house tomorrow night," she called from the bathroom, the door pulled to, but still slightly ajar. "Dinner with the folks. Got it!" he called back. "And tonight after work there are a couple of errands that need to be run." "Errands to run. Got it!" he replied absently. "Mulder, are you listening to me?" he heard the perturbation. "Listening to you. Got it!" he laughed. After hearing the toilet flush, then the water run for approximately thirty seconds, she poked her head out at him. "Mulder!" she said warningly, but her eyes were kind. Studying her sweet, lovely face, he marveled at it, as if he'd never seen it before. Though he was blind to the flash of red in her hair curving down around her cheek, he knew that it was soft to the touch and sweet to the smell. "What are the errands?" he asked. "We can take different cars today, split up the errands and both be home that much earlier." "Well, we need to pick up the dry cleaning," she told him. Mulder groaned. Not only was the best dry cleaner in town simply too far out of their way at work, but the two people who worked the counter were major assholes. "What else is there?" he asked hopefully. "There's the grocery store," she replied, a decidedly wicked gleam in her otherwise innocent blue eyes. "Damn, woman, you've conned me good," Mulder groaned. An eyebrow rose over one of those innocent eyes, which were looking more innocent by the second. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked, her tone taking on that same innocence. "You know I don't like going to the grocery store..." he began. Stepping out from the bathroom, she walked over to the bedroom vanity mirror and smoothed down her hair. "So, go to the cleaners, then." "But I don't like those people. They're such jerks." With a roll of her eyes, the lovely, petite woman stood before him. "Then go to the grocery store." "You," he sighed, albeit good naturedly, and he rested his large hands upon her small shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" "Please, Mulder, you give me too much credit," she told him with a serious expression. "After all, you were already half way there when I met you." Clutching his heart as if wounded, he chuckled and pulled her delicate form against him, holding her tightly to him, resting his chin atop her head and relishing the feel and comfort of her nearness. "I love you, you know," he whispered against her hair. "I love you," she stated no nonsensely, reaching up to give him a quick kiss. "Now, about those errands..." "You're relentless!" he laughed, landing a kiss upon her brow. "I... I don't know. If I pick up the dry cleaning, I get stuck being reprimanded by Mr. or Mrs. Asshole, who like to pick on me for my wardrobe choices, and never fail to tell me that I'm not good enough for you. Plus, you'll end up doing the grocery shopping and I'll be stuck eating a bunch of healthy shit." "I think that's an oxymoron, Mulder," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and giving him a tight squeeze. He loved the way she hugged. He knew she meant business; no wimpy little embrace from her. "And if I ever hear anyone from the dry cleaners- or anywhere else- saying that you're not good enough for me, I'll make sure they not only know that I'm lucky to have you, but also to keep their big, fat noses out of our business." "Baby, please don't cause a scene on my account," he quipped, grinning like the animal he was named for, and already fantasizing about her angry- but sexy- tirade against the good, yet evil, dry cleaners. "Then perhaps you ought to go pick up the dry cleaning," she suggested sweetly. He shook his head, clucking his tongue at her. "That was your plan all along, wasn't it?" "Well, I certainly can't have you do the grocery shopping, Mulder." "Why not?" "Because, believe it or not, we just can't survive on instant mashed potatoes, frozen pizzas, ice cream and pretzels." "Sure we could," he told her, "just as long as we don't forget the soda and beer. Only that would make the picture complete." "You pick up the dry cleaning," she told him firmly, yet with a smile. That was his undoing. Still, he had to put up at least some resistance, so he whined at her a little. "But honey..." "Fine," she grumbled, "I'll buy you a bag of Doritos and some Coke, okay?" He wrapped his arms around her slight form and kissed her passionately. "Deal." She kissed him back with equal fervor, before reluctantly disengaging herself from his embrace and exiting the room. But she told him as she headed for the door, "Oh, and don't be late. I want an early dinner tonight, because I plan on having a hot and heavy night with you afterwards!" "Yes, ma'am!" he growled at her, his excitement already burgeoning in his trousers. Admittedly, it did not take that much to turn him on. He was after all, a red-blooded All-American male. But what this woman could do to him, and how she could make him feel, was astounding, even to him. He was a fortunate man. Had he been of a religious mind, he would have considered himself blessed. As it was, he realized he had a good thing going here, and would never voluntarily give it up. * * * That evening after dinner, as promised, his beautiful, fiery redhead took him to their bed and they made passionate love all night long.... ~ ~ ~ Gasp! January 28, 1992 Alexandria Fox Mulder residence 5:09 a. m. Having awoken with a gasp, Fox Mulder, Special Agent to the FBI and profiler for the Violent Crimes Section (VCS), sat up in bed, wiping the sweat from his brow. That was some dream he'd just had. He could recall it with vivid detail. He remembered the gentle banter and teasing between he and the woman during that morning, getting ready for work and arguing about errands. And he remembered their nice, but rather hurried dinner, followed by their dessert, which consisted of a big helping or two of sweet, creamy, dreamy, delicious lovemaking. (Mulder sighed at the recollection.) He recalled how in every day conversation, she referred to him as "Mulder", even though she was his wife. This thrilled him to no end. The fact was, he hated- no, loathed- his first name. With every person he met, whether they be co-workers, friends or lovers, he asked, begged and pleaded with them to just call him Mulder. Most of his male acquaintances easily gave in- after all, what guy wanted to call another guy by the name of "Fox"- but usually his female friends (especially those who were, or who wanted to be his girl friend) reveled in the novelty of knowing a guy with such a name. Usually, he just gave up after awhile, but always held a tiny amount of resentment towards them for not respecting his wishes. But not his dream wife. She knew and respected his disdain for his frankly stupid and embarrassing given name. (Honestly, were his parents high when they named him?) That is not to say that his redheaded beauty didn't indulge herself now and then. When they were in the bedroom- or anywhere in the house, actually- and the name "Fox" escaped her lips in the midst of sexual energy, or sometimes the heaving sweaty, loving exchange just afterwards, it felt more than acceptable. And it only served to charge his wild, lovelorn imagination even more. He could remember the tiniest details, as in, what the beautiful woman looked like, her scent, how her eyes danced in the candlelight. He could recall the timbre of her voice, both in normal conversation and in the throes of passion. He knew where she liked to be touched, how she liked to be kissed. He remembered they both enjoyed falling asleep in each other's arms in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He knew she was his wife and that he loved her more than life itself. The only thing he didn't seem to know was... who the hell she was! Trying to shake off the beautiful, but disturbing dream, and concentrate on the day at hand, Mulder got off the couch and headed into the bathroom for a much-needed cold shower. * * * Mulder opened up the shower door, relishing the hot steamy water as it sprayed against his chest. "Room for one more?" he asked hopefully. "For you, Mulder, always," came the heartfelt reply. Stepping into the shower and closing the door behind him, he reached for his beautiful wife and pulled her close against him. "Mmm, good morning, angel." She tilted her head up and took his mouth with her own. "Yes it is," she replied, then gave him an Eskimo kiss. "Hey," he told her, as she reluctantly pulled away to continue washing, "I'll do your back if you do mine." "Already did my back, Mulder." "Ooh, onto the front now, are we?" "Mulder..." "I'm here to serve, honey." "Mulder," she said again, gently, "we're already running late." "And you're point is...?" "If you do my front we both know whose point we'll be dealing with, don't we, my love?" He guffawed, even as his hands began to roam her small, soapy form. "And you see a downside to that?" "I guess not..." Her eyes narrowing seductively, she smiled at him. "But if we get chewed out for coming into work late, it's your head I'm going to bite off," she added, even as she reached for him. "You can bite it all you want," he teased, "just don't bite it off." She had to roll her eyes at his sexual innuendo. It wasn't one of his best. Still, she let him have it. After all, it was early in the day and he wasn't fully awake yet- even if he was fully aroused. "Mulder." "Yeah?" "Just get me off, already!" Smiling at her blunt request- it was still too early for her as well, he supposed- he lifted her up, sighing in ecstasy as their bodies joined. "One quickie coming up! I aim to please." "Ohhh... yes... you... do..." she was forced to concede. ~ ~ ~ Gasp! Gasp! February 16, 1992 Fox Mulder residence 4:15 a. m. He awoke with two gasps this time. Every night for nearly a month, he had been having dreams of this nature. No, they had not all been of the erotic, but they had all featured a certain, beautiful redhead. And in these dreams, she was his. She was his wife, his friend, his confidant, the best lover he'd ever had, and he loved her with all his heart and soul. What's more, she returned every ounce of that love right back at him. But it was all so frustrating! Not that he didn't find these dreams to be a welcome distraction. Before he'd begun having them, his sleep consisted of nightmares about his sister and her mysterious disappearance. Sometimes he had nightmares about his father's alcoholic tirades and beatings, or his mother's drug-induced indifference. Once in awhile he would have nightmares about Phoebe Green and the sexual and emotional torture she used to put him through during most of his college days at Oxford. But no matter the content, the pattern clearly emerged plainly for not only a psychology major from one of the most prestigious schools in the world, but for the average joe on the street- bad dreams equal no sleep! To have his dreams shift so dramatically had jolted him. And although they weren't nightmares- not in the slightest- it was still torture for him. Mulder's sleeping world consisted of a nice apartment and a beautiful, intelligent, loving, affectionate wife who, not only enjoyed his warped sense of humor, also understood his mind and his heart and who was a real tiger in the bedroom. But living in that dream world only made it that much harder to face the real world every day. At least, after having a nightmare, he would welcome the day, mundane or lonely as it may be, for all he could escape. Now, he only wanted to escape back to his nighttime playground. In it, he had a home and a family. In it, he had found love. As was custom now, Mulder got up and took a fifteen- minute run before returning to his small, dingy apartment, for a shower. Then it was a quick stop to the bakery for a jelly filled donut and off to work. All the while, at least a few times every day, he would find his mind wandering, excited to get home to go to sleep, so he could meet up with his fantastic dream wife in their fantastic dream life. * * * Mulder felt like hell. He and his beloved had been in a stupid fight. It had been a stupid fight about stupid things and he had lost his temper and yelled at her, called her a conniving wench and invaded her personal space in a threatening manner. But he had to admire her spunk and her courage, even in the face of their adversity. Small though she was, she held her ground. Her face flushed with rage, she looked like an angry, little leprechaun, but he wasn't fooled by her charming, almost comical appearance. She was royally pissed off and not afraid to let him know it. Her Irish temper had reached its pinnacle and it was an impressive sight to behold. For every rude thing he said, she countered, for every nasty word he called her, she came up with something that would make the average sailor blush- which shouldn't have surprised him, knowing she had grown up a Navy brat. After their brief but heated exchange had ended, Mulder had intended on storming out of their apartment, but when the "huff" arrived, his wife beat him to the punch and left on it herself. Mulder was left alone in an empty apartment, still steaming from the frenzy of negative energy that permeated the place. He tried doing something destructive, like messing up the kitchen and eating a bunch of junk food that he knew would spoil his dinner, but she had simply trained him too well, and he found himself putting the potato chips back in the cupboard and cleaning up the spill from his soda pop. Then he tried to do something constructive, but his heart just wasn't in it. Who could pay bills when the love of his life was out, who-knows- where, doing who-knows-what, without him? When three hours had come and gone, he'd not only forgiven her and vowed to apologize upon her return, he was also starting to get worried about her. He hoped she wasn't doing anything she- or he- might regret later; he hoped she hadn't been distracted while driving and gotten into an accident. He hoped she hadn't gone to a bar- although he knew she wasn't a big drinker- and drowned her sorrows a little too fervently, only to have some low life observe her and take advantage of her. That's when the tears started to flow. "What have I done?" he asked himself out loud, wiping futilely at his sniffling nose and longing so much for his woman's tight embrace. He physically ached to hold her and it hurt twice as much not even knowing where she was. "Baby, please..." he pleaded, holding his head in his hands and rubbing at his eyes with bone weary fingers. The lock to the door turned and Mulder jumped up, a gasp in his throat. He was to the door by the time it opened and he saw his beloved, looking as weepy and pathetic as he currently did. "Mulder," she sniffled, reaching for him, and he grabbed her up and hugged her so tightly that it hurt. She didn't complain. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed into her hair, his tears and snot intermingling with her soft tresses. "Honey, please don't hate me!" "I'm sorry, too," she promised. "And I could never hate you, Mulder! You're my husband; my best friend, my lover... my... Mulder." She was a bit more discreet, wiping her nasal fluids on his tee shirt. "I hate it when we fight," he confided, leaning down and peppering the soft skin of her face with sweet, tiny kisses. "Me, too." "I wish we would never fight again," he declared, going in for a nice, long lip lock with the one he loved. "I do, too," she agreed, after their kiss had ended. "But you know that isn't likely to happen. Honey, couples fight all the time." She ran her fingers through his silky, dark locks, relishing the feel of it, in awe over the fact she was permitted to do this to such a sweet, desirable man on an every day basis. He shrugged, still not daring to release his hold on her. "I guess it's just hard for me, you know. After the way my parents' marriage ended. I just don't ever want that to happen to us..." "It won't," she assured him. "I love your parents, of course. After all, if it hadn't been for them, I wouldn't have the beautiful, loving husband that I cherish more and more each day, but..." and she paused, choosing her words carefully, wishing to remain gentle. "But, the mistakes in their marriage are just that- their mistakes, not ours. We have a good marriage, Mulder, a great one, really. But even the best marriages are capable of rough patches and horrendous fights. It's just what we do to resolve the issues; that's what separates a good marriage from a bad one. That's all." "God, beautiful and smart and a better psychologist than I am," he marveled, "whatever did I do to deserve you?" "By being the most wonderful man in the world," she replied simply. She wiggled out of his embrace, much to his disappointment, but took his hand and led him back towards the bedroom. "And hey, you know another advantage to fighting?" "Our voices are too hoarse from screaming at each other to yell for awhile?" he asked, at a loss. She chuckled, wondering how such a brilliant man could often be so dense in the ways of love. Still, she adored him and always would. "No. There's the advantage of make-up sex." "Hmm, make-up sex..." he pondered, instantly comprehending and taking the lead back to their love nest. "Yeah, lot's and lot's of make-up sex," she explained, giggling as he lifted her off of her feet and raced back into the bedroom. "So, can we schedule another argument for next week?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her, laughing with her as he pushed the door shut with his foot, before tossing his wife on the bed and jumping in after her. The sounds of their passion and need could be heard through out the apartment, in spite of the closed door... ~ ~ ~ Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! March 12, 1992 Fox Mulder residence 5:45- no, make that 5:46- a. m. With an exasperated groan, Mulder awoke to the bleating resonance of his alarm clock, cursing and swearing that he and his dream wife had been so close to... well, so close, anyway. He angrily hit the shut off button to his clock, then, with a tired and oh-so frustrated flourish ripped the cord out of the socket and threw it across the room. Grabbing his not-washed-in-over-a-week sweat pants and ratty Knicks tee shirt, Mulder headed out the door for the bathroom. On the way out, he saw the broken clock and its mangled plug. Even that reminded him of sex, what he had missed in his dream and what he wasn't getting at all while awake, and he grunted in fury, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him. * * * March 12, 1992 FBI Headquarters 7:30 a. m. A. D. Bill Patterson's private office "Good morning, gentlemen," A. D. Patterson began amicably. "I'm sorry to call you in so suddenly without any warning, but we have a situation on our hands, and it needs to be dealt with quickly and quietly." "What's up, sir?" Mulder's partner, Jerry Lamana asked, lounging comfortably in what Mulder always found to be the most uncomfortable chairs. But his partner always seemed at home, no matter where he was or whom he was with. "There's an ongoing case that has the local P. D. baffled. It's not been mentioned much in the media, because they don't want to cause undue alarm, but they've definitely got a serial killer and rapist on their hands." "Damn," Jerry swore, while Mulder's eyes went downcast, withdrawing into himself, trying to prepare for the inevitable. "Mulder," the A. D. spoke up, not noticing- or maybe just not caring about- Mulder's sullen demeanor, "they need the best profiler we've got on this." He nodded, not bothering to hide his disdain. After all, he was a profiler and this was his job! But it didn't stop him from feeling the despair with each sick mind he had to invade. It didn't make doing his job any easier, even with the knowledge that his profiling skills had put quite a few murderers, rapists and child molesters behind bars or six feet under. Even knowing all of that made it no easier. Jerry offered his partner a sympathetic smile and gave him a quick punch on the arm. Then he addressed the A.D. "Well, sir, we're on it. Are we supposed to meet with police today?" "Of course," Patterson elaborated. "In an hour. They're sending their lead detectives over and while they are hoping for some help, they don't want us to... take over as it were." Mulder said nothing. Jerry piped up, "And what is our stance on that, sir?" "Our stance," the A. D. went on with a tongue-in-cheek smile, "is to do whatever it takes to solve this crime; whatever it takes. You got that, gentlemen?" "What an ass," Mulder muttered under his breath. "What was that, agent?" "Uh, he said, 'clear as glass', sir," Jerry intervened. "Oh, right," Patterson replied absently. "Anyway, be ready for them in meeting room 7-A by 8:30 a. m." "Yes, sir," Jerry said, offering a playful salute that made the A. D. smile. If Mulder had done it, Patterson probably would have been offended. As it was, Jerry was such a likable character that he could get away with things that most people couldn't. Jerry and Mulder got up from their chairs and left the office, and the more likable fellow of the bunch put an arm around his partner's shoulder. "You all right there, Mulder?" "I swear that Patterson is a fucking idiot in the biggest way-" "Agent Mulder!" they heard from the door and they both turned and stared in shock and trepidation at the A. D. Mulder had just insulted. "Uh.... sir...?" Mulder gulped, not liking his A. D. in the slightest, but still not wanting to lose his job over one rude comment. For some reason, unknown to either of them, as most people knew Patterson wasn't all too fond of Special Agent Fox Mulder, the A. D. merely said, "You might want to assemble a team. Get a few more investigators and some people from Pathology, too. I want the best people for the job working on this, day and night, until this bastard is caught and thrown behind bars." "Yes, sir," Jerry agreed, nodding like the mindless 'yes- man' he could sometimes be. "I mean that, boys. It's good for the Bureau and for the community. It's good to let all those murderous fuck-ups out there that we don't tolerate that sort of shit." "That's right," Jerry replied, giving a thumbs up. Mulder was about to roll his eyes at him, when Patterson stared him down. "That right, Mulder?" he asked specifically. "Uh, yeah... that's right... sir," Mulder mumbled without enthusiasm. "Right, then let's get a move on. Good day, gentlemen." "Good day, sir," Jerry said with a wide smile. "Meh," Mulder grumbled and with that, the door to A. D. Patterson's office shut behind them. "Meh?" Jerry asked, shaking his head at his younger and more sullen partner. "Jesus, Mulder. You trying to get your skulky ass fired today?" "Ah, who gives a shit, anyway," Mulder retorted. "And by the way, if you were any more chipper in there, I was going to have to shove my foot up your ass to keep from puking." Jerry laughed for a moment, then stopped and pondered. "Mulder?" "What?" "That made absolutely no sense what so ever." "So? It got the point across, didn't it?" "Yeah, I guess." "Well then, there you go." Jerry shook his head. "Come on, man. Let's pick some people for the team and get ready for the P. D. They are probably going to be assholes just because they need our help." "Aren't the local P. D. assholes whether they need our help or not?" Mulder figured. "True enough. Come on." The two men went back to their desks and started to make out a list of who to include on their team. During this time, Jerry had to ask. "So, Mulder..." "Yeah?" "What's the latest on your 'dream girl'?" and he chuckled as he said it. "Dammit, Jerry, don't make me regret telling you about that." "Sorry, man. Just wondering though." "About what?" "You figure out who she is yet?" Mulder sighed, feeling dejected once again. "How can I, Jerry? She's... nobody, I guess. She's just a figment of my imagination." "That's some figment, Mulder. Every night for two months?" Sighing again, this time wistfully, Mulder nodded. "Yeah, makes me want to never wake up." "But she's got to be somebody, though, right? I mean, how could you dream about nobody for two months?" "Why not? Maybe she's just a... a dream girl, nothing more." "Well, from how you described her, she's not your usual type, and she definitely doesn't sound like one of your porn cuties, so I don't think she could just be some generic wet dream. No, there's got to be more to it." "What, Jerry? Do you think she's really my future wife?" Mulder snorted. "Come on, Jer, isn't one ex- Mrs. Mulder more than enough?" "Who's to say this one wouldn't last though, Mulder?" Jerry challenged him. "I mean, I doubt you ever dreamed about that kid you married months before you met her, did ya?" "Of course not," Mulder said with a wry grin. "In the months before I knew her, she wasn't even legal!" "Well, let me tell you something about fate, my friend," Jerry began. "Fate?" the younger man laughed. "Jerry, what the hell has gotten into you? Who said anything about fate?" "I did," his partner replied pointedly. "Look Mulder, all I'm trying to say is... well, I've been married to Christine for ten years now, and I love her more every day, but I ain't never even dreamed about her before we met! This girl living in your nighttime head, she's real; I know it." "How do you know?" Mulder challenged, clearly unimpressed. "I don't know how I know, but I know," Jerry assured him with complete confidence. "Trust me on this, man. You're going to meet the girl of your dreams- literally! And you're going to fall in love, get married and have some hot, steamy sex just about every night." At this, Mulder smiled. "Well, who am I to argue with that, Jer?" "Damn straight!" "All right, all right, enough of this mush talk. We need to pick a pathologist." "Do you want Candy Moron?" Jerry asked with a smirk. "That's Cindy Moron- eh, Moran! And no! How the hell she ever became a doctor is beyond me! She probably slept her way through med school." "Probably?" Jerry joked. "All right, she definitely slept her way through med school." "Well, at least she learned how to take care of communicable diseases, eh, partner?" Jerry laughed. "Oh, aren't you the Bill Murray of the VCS," Mulder groaned. "But no, I do not want Candy Moron as my pathologist. Shit, even if I was dead, I'd complain about having her for a doctor!" They both laughed at that one. "Okay, who, then?" Mulder studied the files of a few of the pathology team members and scanned their profiles quickly but carefully. One profile clearly stood out above the others. It was a youngster just starting with the Bureau, but who had already made a good reputation amongst the other agents. Picking up the file folder, Mulder handed it to Jerry. "This one, Jer. This is our pathologist." Jerry read it briefly, then looked over at his partner in surprise. "But Mulder, she's green! Barely even started! You want to put our serial case in the hands of a newbie?" "Everybody's got to start somewhere, Jerry. Besides, check out her record. It's spotless. She's the one, I tell ya. Let's go get her and the rest of the team together." "Yeah, but..." "No buts, man. Call ahead to pathology. Tell them I'm coming down." "Ooh, that'll be a treat," Jerry cracked, only receiving a warning glare from his partner which quickly shut him up. "Anyway, call them, then go get Thompson, Rikers and Stiles. I'll fetch our new pathologist then meet you back at 7- A." "Gotcha. Catch you in ten." Mulder nodded, then turned on his heel and walked towards the elevators. Jerry sighed, knowing that his younger partner hated going down there, because, upon first joining the bureau, he had dated most of the secretarial pool and half the morgue staff. His reputation as a ladies man soon fizzled as his work consumed him, but the stigma was still there, especially among his female counterparts. The phone rang twice. "Pathology. Ricky speaking." Jerry sniggered quietly to himself. Ricky was head of pathology and a good doctor in his own right, but he was also a flaming homosexual and he had no shame in flaunting it. The guy also had a major love jones for one Fox Mulder. "Oh, hey Ricky, Agent Lamana here. Just a heads up, the fox is headin' for the den and he's got a hankerin' for someone down there." "Ooh," Ricky squealed into the phone, nearly busting Jerry's eardrum. "Anyone I know?" "Sorry pal," Jerry replied sympathetically. "It isn't you this time, either." "Nuts," Ricky grumbled in a comical fashion. "Damn you heteros. Where's your sense of adventure?" "Eh... well, it ain't with your nuts, if that's what you're asking," Jerry replied, clearly confused and a little perplexed. "God, don't tell me he's on tit patrol. I swear, if I see one more of you guys requesting Cindy, I'm going to have to report you for using the wrong head at work!" Jerry laughed heartily, then wiped his eyes. "No, don't worry about that. Mulder's not after any eye candy, either. Said he wanted a good one, although he picked a newbie." "Yeah? Who?" "Uh..." and Jerry paused to check the name in the file again, "Agent Scully." "Dana?" Ricky said brightly. "Well, there's no doubt about it- she's a good one. Cute as a button, too, if you go for that sort." "Who doesn't?" Jerry asked, respectfully adding, "Uh, present company excluded, of course." "Ah hell, Jerry. I don't go for that sort and I'm still mad about her. She could run circles around..." and his voice lowered, as if afraid of being overheard, "... Candy Moron any day." "Well, all Mulder cares about at this point is if she can work circles around Cindy." "How very boring," Ricky muttered. "But honestly, Jer, my mom's seventeen year old Pekinese, who's toothless and wheezes a lot could work circles around Cindy. In all seriousness though, Dana's the real thing." "Good. That's what Mulder needs on this case. Someone who's willing to work." "That's our Dana, all right. She's very constientious. She'll get the job done." * * * March 12, 1992 FBI Headquarters Pathology Department 8:12 a. m. Taking a deep breath, and steeling his shoulders, Mulder mentally prepared himself before going through the large double doors that led to the Pathology Department. Trouble was, some of the staff he had slept with and dumped. Another portion hated him for it, even if they did not know him personally. And still another faction was hot for him, and wanted to sleep with him, despite the fact that he didn't do that sort of thing anymore. The worst part of all though had to be... "Mulder!" Ricky cried in a high-pitched whine of delight. "Dr. Mandoon," Mulder said, smiling a tight-lipped smile and mentally kicking himself for having to deal with the guy at all. It wasn't that he had anything against homosexuals- to each his or her own was his motto all the way- but when a particular homosexual male had the hots for him, well, that changed things. "Oh, why so formal, Foxy?" the pathologist crooned, reaching out a hand, hoping to squeeze one of Mulders'. "Please call me 'Ricky'." "Dr. Mandoon's fine," he said, ignoring the out stretched hand and trying his best not to sink down to the man's level of sleazy flirtation. "I'm just here to pick up a pathologist." "Dana, right?" Ricky stated, not bothering to hide his disappointment. Mulder's brow wrinkled. "What? Something wrong with Agent Scully?" "Oh, no. No, of course not. Dana's a peach. I was just hoping you were going to pick someone with a little more... testosterone." He purred out that last word. With a smirk, and unable to stop himself, Mulder found himself blurting, "Well, then it certainly wouldn't be you." "Ooh, you don't play fair, Foxy. But you are clever." "Thank you." "And it's so very sexy." "Rick, let's not do this." The pathologist rolled his eyes. "Not that I don't like seeing a man beg, but jeez, Fox, it's just not becoming on you." "Can I please just meet Agent Scully now?" Mulder asked hopefully. "Yeah, sure. She's just finishing up an autopsy though. You want to wait for her, or shall I just send her up?" Mulder was really anxious to meet with the good doctor and get her prepped on what he knew of the case so far, but after hearing, "Hey, Fox! Fox! Yoo hoo!" He decided against waiting and told Ricky where to send Scully. Then he high tailed it out of pathology and far away from Candy Moron- eh, Cindy Moran- who had never been out with him, but certainly seemed to have made up her mind to do so, whether Mulder agreed to it or not. Ricky laughed, watching Agent Mulder take off like a shot, to avoid Cindy, who bounced over ever so seductively, then stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. "Put it away, Cindy," he teased her, "Foxy's gone and all that flirty shit is wasted on me." Cindy glared at the man without a touch of humor. "You fags! You don't know what you're missing!" "In your case, I'm sure I do," he snapped back, enjoying this game of 'who's the bigger bitch'. "What was Mulder after here, anyway?" she asked hopefully, ignoring his jibe. "He looking for a good pathologist? Why didn't he request me?" "Because he's looking for a good pathologist," Ricky stated the obvious, only too happy to receive another glare from the FBI's resident slut. "Who'd he ask for, Ricky? A real man? Which is why you're still standing here." "Oh, too clever, Miss Moron- I mean, Moran," Ricky countered. "No, he wasn't looking for a good time, either way, honey. I think he just wanted a good doctor. He picked Dana." "Dana?!" Cindy hissed venomously. "What the fuck is so special about her? Lately, she's the most requested pathologist in the Bureau. What the hell is that about?" "She's a dedicated pathologist," Ricky reminded her. "Plus she's amicable, cares about her work and she's conscientious." "Ass kisser," Cindy decided. "Oh, don't worry," Ricky said in mock-sympathy, "I'm sure if anyone around here needs any lip service, you'll still be the one they call." "Fuck you, Ricky," she growled angrily. "No thank you, Cindy, you're not my type." "I'm sure your sweet, widdle Dana is though," the woman muttered, seething at just mentioning Agent Scully's name. "Well, technically no, as I'm gay, but if I had to choose between the two of you..." "Yeah," Cindy laughed humorlessly, "because she's flat-chested and boyish!" "No, because she's beautiful, both inside and out and she's an actual human being. Let me clue you in on something, Cindy. Whether a guy is gay or not, any real man is going to pick the human being. Bitches make good pets, but they're not very good lovers." "Why you-" Cindy began, drawing up her hand, ready to slap him silly. "Careful, honey," he warned, making sure she knew he wasn't playing around now. "I'd hate to see you end that fine career of yours on an assault charge- sexual or not." "Fuck you!" she repeated, lowering her arm and turning on her spiked heel to walk away. "Again, I say, no thank you... Candy," he grunted at her, watching her leave with satisfaction. He had won that round, although, in all fairness, the wilted salad left in the back of the fridge in the lounge could probably win a round against Cindy Moran. With a sigh, he sauntered off to find Agent Dana Scully. * * * Mulder returned to meeting room 7-A, and saw that the gang was all there. Jerry stood talking with Stiles about the latest Redskins game, while Rikers and Thompson were each trying to out brag each other over who had the hottest date last weekend. It made Mulder shake his head; just two pricks vying for the position of 'biggest prick'. To his way of thinking, they pretty much tied in the running. Jerry saw Mulder's arrival and walked over, a confused look on his face. "Hey, where's your hot shot rookie doctor?" "Finishing up an autopsy; Rick said he'd send her up when she was finished." "Oh!" Rikers exclaimed in anticipation. "Is it Candy?" "No," Mulder groaned, exasperated. "Yeah, Rikey," Thompson laughed, "Mulder wants the case solved. When he wants a blow job, he'll call for Candy." "Nice," Mulder scoffed. "So, who'd you pick?" Stiles asked with curiosity. "You said 'she'. There's a few of them in pathology." "You know why, don't you?" Thompson chided. Only Rikers seemed to take the bait. "Why?" "Because, then they're always guaranteed something 'stiff' to work with," the tasteless man guffawed, and Rikers followed suit. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," a new, young and decidedly female voice asked, startling them all. "Oh, shit, a woman," Rikers coughed under his breath. "Duh," Thompson whispered back. Glaring at his co-horts in disgust, Mulder turned around with an apologetic smile, readying himself to face this young woman, hoping beyond hope she didn't take it personally and would not only still be willing to help them out, but to not press sexual harassment charges in the bargain. He was about to make amends, when he stopped dead in his tracks, staring unabashedly at the newcomer, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. Standing there in the doorway, wearing a freshly pressed suit and a bemused expression was the woman of his dreams... literally. Dana Scully was a mere five foot two, with eyes of blue, as clich? as it sounded. Her soft, red hair cascaded down to her shoulders and it framed the fine porcelain skin on her lovely face. It was a face with freckles dusting her forehead, cheeks and nose and that she did her best to hide with make-up. Mulder realized that he knew each and every hidden freckle on that beautiful face, as well as... elsewhere. He knew every curve hidden beneath her suit. He had touched and kissed and fought with and loved that woman every night in his dreams for months. And just as Jerry had predicted, his fantasy wife, his dream lover, was real! She was a real, living and breathing human being, and God, how he hoped she wasn't married or involved with anyone, and was his breath okay and he wanted to take her hand in his, but was afraid because his hands were shaking and holy shit, she was even more beautiful in person, and all he wanted to do was grab her up and hold her tight, kissing every inch of that precious, little face and... "Mulder!" Jerry shouted, bringing his dreamy-eyed partner out of his reverie. "Hey, you in there, buddy?" Shooting the man a dirty look, Mulder did his best to compose himself and he took a step towards the vision of loveliness, nearly tripping over his own feet, but managing to stay upright. "Uh, I..." and he stopped, cleared his throat, which suddenly felt too dry. "I'm Mulder. I- I'm hoping you'll still want to work with us; I mean... well, after what you..." and he pointed back at Rikers and Thompson, completely incoherent. Special Agent Scully seemed to understand him anyway. "That's all right, Agent Mulder. I'm sort of used to that stuff by now." "You shouldn't have to be though," Jerry put in, shooting a glare back at the other men. "Hi, I'm Agent Jerry Lamana. The three stooges back there are Agents Thompson, Rikers and Stiles." Scully went through the group, shaking hands with each man. "Nice to meet you, agent," she said to each of them. Then she stopped in front of Mulder. She raised her small hand in front of him in greeting. "It's a pleasure to be working with you, Agent Mulder." "Mulder," the man said stupidly, reaching for her hand, then instantly regretting it, for all how sweaty his palms were. She didn't seem to notice though. "I mean, it's just Mulder." "Nice to meet you," she said, with a curious glance, but she smiled at him anyway. She had heard many stories about "Spooky" Mulder, most of them none too flattering. But there was something about him... almost endearing... and she found that she liked him right away. "You, too," he stuttered, pulling his hand away a little too abruptly, then wiping it against the legs of his pants. "Please, have a seat and I'll begin briefing you all on the case before the P. D. gets here." "Shit, the fuzz," Thompson sighed. "This should be fun." "Quit bitching," Rikers scolded. "We make good on this, it's bound to come up during promotion time." "And maybe we'll even manage to save a life or two," Dana added, much to everyone's surprise. Mulder, Jerry and Stiles smiled at her youthful exuberance. Rikers and Thompson merely sulked. Mulder seemed especially affected by her words. She cared about her work; always a plus. Also, she looked like she could hold her own with the big boys, which was good, too. Mulder had no doubt that women could make good FBI agents. He only worried that some of their male counterparts were downright pigs and could cause a lot of unease between the two genders. But Agent Scully here seemed to be ready to handle it all with a grain of salt. God, I love you, Dana, he thought, smiling lovingly at her, before remembering himself and turning his attention back to the meeting. Trying hard not to recall how soft Miss Scully's skin was, or what she looked like naked and writhing in ecstasy beneath him, Mulder explained the case to his team, telling them that five women had already been found dead, their necks covered in ligature marks, their breasts cut off and their genitals mutilated. Even the hardest of the hard-nosed agents at the bureau would find it hard to stomach such a difficult and heartbreaking case. But if nobody stepped up to the plate to take the job, it would only mean more innocent victims' lives would be lost. Mulder told them that he had chosen each team member on their outstanding records and because they were the best at what they did. He didn't truly mean that in Thompson's case, but the jerk was Rikers' partner, and that guy was a good agent, bad humor and attitude not withstanding. By the time the local police department had arrived ten minutes late, Mulder had already briefed his team, and had begun his thinking about what to write in his own profile on the mysterious and seriously fucked-up psycho who was causing so much dread and panic. Just as predicted, the police were snappy and pissed off at having to ask for outside help, but the fact was, they needed "Spooky" Mulder to find their man. Special Agent Fox William Mulder of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was the best guy in the profiling business. Ever since he'd caught Monty Props- the worst, most infamous serial murderer of the last decade- he had been in constant demand. Mulder took it less as a compliment to his abilities and more as a bad sign for what the world was coming to, breeding so many of these monsters. During the meeting, Detective Jordan received a phone call. He spoke briefly, his voice giving away his defeat to anyone listening on his end. After hanging up, he looked over at Mulder. "We just found another one. She's in a small park near Georgetown. Right by the playground equipment. A couple of kids and their babysitter found her... Jesus." "Well, why don't we all head over, see first hand how this guy works?" Mulder suggested. Jordan nodded, wearing a grim expression. He glanced questioningly once at Dana Scully, but sighed and said nothing about it. Sure she was young and female, but he realized that she had to be pretty damn good to be on this team, or an agent at all. And with the rate of escalation their serial killer was expanding, they would need all the help they could get. "Let's go." * * * Detective Jordan and his group of three other men went back to their police car. Since there were six people in Mulder's team, they would not fit in the average government vehicle. "Hey, Agent Scully," Thompson joked, "you got a minivan or something?" She gave him a look, her eyebrow raising high above one of her lovely blue eyes. Mulder's breath caught in his throat. He knew that look. He adored that look. He was about to say something snotty to Thompson for the guy's stupidity, but dear Miss Scully beat him to the punch. "What the hell do I look like, Thompson? A soccer mom?" The rest of the men grinned, secretly loving it when Thompson got put in his place- by anyone. He really was the most obnoxious man at the Bureau. Thompson glared at her. "No, but I'm sure you're good at kicking a guy's balls around-" "Hey, Thompson, shut it!" Mulder growled at him. He didn't like the idiot, not one bit. Nor did he like anyone picking on his girl, even if technically, she wasn't really his girl but a virtual stranger, who happened to be his wife in the dream world. "So, how we going to handle this, oh mighty one?" Rikers intervened, before his partner came up with another scathing retort- or put his foot in his mouth. Both seemed to happen on a regular basis. "Two vehicles, duh," Jerry sighed. "Jesus, FBI's finest, aren't we?" "Let's split up, three and three," Thompson suggested, vehemently hoping that little Miss Perfect would be riding with him. He wanted to play with her a little, but with Agent Mulder hovering about like a protective big brother, it was a bit too difficult. "Nah, how about four and two," Stiles said quickly, not wanting to be stuck in a vehicle with Frick and Frack. Riker and Thompson had to be the most obnoxious team at the bureau and he frankly hated listening to their shit. He tried to fit into the "old boys' club" like anyone else here, but dammit, he had a wife and three daughters at home, and he was quite proud of every one of them. He was sick of the way these two agents trivialized anything of the female gender. "That's cool," Mulder said quickly, secretly knowing that Stiles couldn't stand the two assholes either, and didn't think it would be fair to subject him to their inane chatter any more than he had to. "Rikers, you and Thompson take your car. The rest of us will ride in mine. See you at the scene." And unconsciously putting his hand at the small of Agent Scully's back, he led her and the others over to the tan, nondescript sedan parked down the next aisle. Jerry noticed the change in his partner ever since he had first laid eyes upon the wee Dr. Scully. Just as Ricky had said, she was cute as a button. And anyone who could hold his or her own against the lame-ass humor of Kelly Thompson couldn't be all bad, but Mulder seemed absolutely smitten with the little lady. Suddenly it occurred to him that Dana Scully had a strong resemblance to the person Mulder had described as his "dream lover". "Holy shit!" Jerry exclaimed out loud, once the realization hit. His three companions stared back at him in alarm. "What's wrong, man?" Stiles asked. "Uh..." He looked over at Mulder, who was wearing a curious expression. "Nothing." As they got to the car, Mulder casually slipped the keys into Jerry's hand. "You drive," he whispered. "Okay," Jerry replied in confusion. It didn't take long for him to see why though. Mulder positioned everyone carefully, making sure that he ended up in the back seat with Agent Scully. He even made sure to open the door for her, to which she offered him a bewildered smile and a polite, "thank you". Just before getting in behind the wheel, Jerry grabbed his partner's arm and took pause. "Is she...?" he asked quietly, knowing that Mulder would know exactly what he was asking. "Yeah," Mulder replied, his tone alight with wonder and tenderness. "It's her. Jesus, man, do you know what that means...?" "Go get her, tiger," the older man said with a wicked grin, giving Mulder's arm a light punch. Mulder returned the grin, then got in behind him, sitting next to the lovely Agent Scully, who was watching Mulder with a friendly, but curious eye. Jerry reasoned Scully was probably trying to figure Mulder out, because he was being so nice to her. Jerry knew a few other female agents and they would tell him how they usually came across two types of behavior with their male counterparts. There were the ones who were rude and disgusting around them, and the ones that bent over backwards for them. It seemed pretty straight forward, but then one of them explained that within those two behaviors, often opposite reasons emerged. Often times when a male agent is rude or acts inappropriately around a female agent, he's doing one of two things: 1. He's really just a rude, nasty pig who feels threatened around a woman that can do the same job he does, or 2. He's going out of his way to not make the woman feel separate or different from any of the other male agents he interacts with and trying to let her "fit in", even if it's done so in a rather warped, round about way. Then there are the male agents that treat the female agents like royalty. But there can be hidden agendas within that realm as well. They could 1. Feel that women deserve as much respect as anyone else in this job, but some men take it a step too far in their fervor to treat them as such, or 2. They really feel that women just aren't strong enough for such a tough job and they treat them with "kid gloves" as one might treat a child. Of course, unbeknownst to poor Miss Scully, Mulder was being so nice to her because she was his dream girl and he was madly in love with her, so it wasn't exactly a common reason. Good luck figuring that out, he thought with a quiet snicker. Sure, Agent Scully was smart, but it would probably take more than a friggin' genius to comprehend Mulder's true motives. Mulder sat beside Agent Scully, for the first time in his life, thankful that these damn Government Issue cars were small and cramped. His leg was touching hers. He could feel the heat that generated between them even through the layers of clothing. He watched her as she glanced out the window with an anxious expression. His own expression held tenderness and affection. "So, this your first time out in the field, Dr. Scully?" Stiles asked from the front side passenger seat. He looked back at the two agents behind him, somewhat amused. It didn't take an expert to see that Agent Mulder was quite smitten with the diminutive redhead seated beside him. At a glance, they looked like a cute couple and knowing Mulder for as long as he had- even if only on a work basis- he figured it was about time the guy settled down. The Bureau usually frowned upon agents marrying each other, but there was no set guideline or restriction; plus it wasn't as if their departments had them working closely together every day. But Stiles was one of two happily married men sitting in the front seat who knew the benefits of having a loving relationship and supportive spouse. Upon hearing her name, Agent Scully looked up. It was only then that she caught Mulder staring at her. He averted his eyes faster than the speed of light, but she still noticed. She smiled awkwardly at him, then turned her attention to Stiles. "Yes, sir. It is." "Kind of a rough case to start out with, huh," Stiles replied, glancing pointedly in the rear view mirror at Mulder. It was obvious that the guy had a thing for the young woman seated next to him, but usually a man didn't introduce himself via a serial killer over a mutilated body. Mulder cringed slightly, taking the meaning. But in all truth, when he chose Agent Scully for the job, he wasn't trying to take away a newbie's innocence. Nor did he think it was a romantic segue way into her heart. Besides, he didn't even know Dana was his dream lover until he saw her after the fact. "Well, everyone has to start somewhere, I suppose," he heard Scully say beside him. "I know it will be a difficult case, but I... I want to help and I'm willing to learn. I'll do whatever I can to aid in the capture of this... monster." Smiling affectionately at her, Mulder abruptly changed his expression when she turned his way, to something more thoughtful. She raised her eyebrow at him and he nearly melted into the seat. "Uh... that's a good attitude to have, Scully," he stammered, unable to avoid giving her his most obvious lovesick puppy face. From the driver's seat, Jerry chuckled quietly. "Thanks, Agent Mul- I mean, Mulder," she replied with a small smile. "So, Mulder," Jerry piped up, mimicking Scully's tone on his partner's name, "you get started on that profile yet, bud?" Narrowing his eyes in embarrassment at having been caught with his pants down, as well as being interrupted while gazing at the lovely Dana Scully, Mulder lowered his eyes and sheepishly replied, "Not as such..." "Well..." Jerry said with a knowing smile. "Yeah, I'll get right on it," Mulder sighed, sounding put out. Jerry grinned harder. Mulder hadn't realized it of course, but his partner had saved him from another ten minutes of hemming and hawing like a love starved band geek clamoring for the beauty queen. Reaching into his jacket pocket for a small notepad, Mulder grabbed it. A pen soon followed. He opened up the notepad, and tried to write down a thought. "Shit!" "What's wrong, Mulder?" Scully asked. "Ah, my damn pen ran out of ink," he groused. "I've got a pen here you can use," she volunteered, reaching into her own pocket. She retrieved it and handed it to him. When their fingers brushed against each other, it was if an electrical current was running between them and Mulder audibly gasped. Scully withdrew quickly, turning red as a beet. Beginning to turn a little red himself, Mulder mumbled, "Uh, thanks..." "No problem," she told him, throwing a furtive glance his way. Her expression softened. She would never admit this to anyone- she had a hard time fathoming it herself- but she found Special Agent Fox Mulder to be the most geeky, most awkward, and sexiest man she had ever met and did she really just think that? Mulder did a test scribble with the new pen on his blank page. "Oh, it's blue," he said, sounding just like the idiot he currently was. "Is that all right?" Scully asked, seemingly very concerned. "Oh, yes, yes, that's great. I had a black pen, but personally I've always preferred blue..." His voice trailed off as he stared into the sacred depths of her blue eyes. "Oh..." she whispered, caught in the spell of that which is Mulder. "I'll get it back to you as soon as I can," he promised. "That's all right," she told him sweetly. "You can keep it. I have others." Mulder could not be held accountable for the goofy grin that appeared on his face. "Gee, thanks..." "You're... very... welcome," came the quiet, shaky response. The two men in the front seat suddenly made themselves known again by mumbling and clearing their throats most uncomfortably. "Jesus," Mulder heard Stiles mutter under his breath, "next thing you know they'll be passing notes in study hall." Sinking as low into his seat as was humanly possible, Mulder smiled once more at Agent Scully then began working on a profile. * * * The three cars converged on the scene at the same time, joining countless other vehicles and a barrage of police officers, witnesses and noisy passersby. The team gathered quickly and Detective Jordan spoke briefly to an uniformed officer, who led them to the latest crime scene- and the latest victim. The man told them, as they walked over passed the swing sets and over to the tubes that the victim was a white female, aged eighteen to twenty-five years old. She was nude and her body had been mutilated just like all the others. "Any blood at the scene?" Jerry asked. The uniform shook his head. "No, sir. Looks like whatever happened to that poor girl sure didn't happen here." Before anyone knew what hit them, they were there. Every face turned a ghastly white at the horror that lay before them. A small, young female was carefully placed, face up, in between two crawl tubes. She was completely nude and her body was posed in a degrading way. Her breasts had been cut from her torso. Her genital area had been ripped open and was covered in dried blood and flies. The woman's green eyes were wide open, a look of terror etched permanently into her lifeless face. "Jesus," Rikers muttered in shock. Stiles said a silent prayer, Jerry felt a rush of nausea he barely kept down. Mulder blinked back a few tears. Even the normally gruff Thompson said nothing and turned his head. And Dana Scully nearly began to hyperventilate. She, too, turned her head, the tears already streaming down her pale cheeks. Sickened though he was by the dishonor done to another human being, Mulder was already in profiler mode and did not notice his pathologist's reaction to her first real crime scene. Jerry did, though. "Agent Scully," he said, "are you all right?" The pretty redhead opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She seemed petrified to her spot. "Corpse got your tongue, Miss Scully?" Thompson asked ruthlessly. With that, she bolted, heading away from the FBI team and the police officers and the crowds and high tailed it to the public restrooms some twenty yards away. By this time, Mulder was fully aware what was going on around him. He actually lunged at Thompson. "You fuck!" he screeched. Thompson backed away, just as Jerry grabbed hold of his out-of-control partner. "Hey, easy there, Mulder." "Shit, Mulder, what the fuck is your problem?" Thompson grunted in anger and confusion. "Just a little joke! If the bitch can't take it, then maybe she shouldn't be working here." Mulder got away from Jerry and tackled Thompson, getting him in a death grip and squeezing tightly. "Don't you ever, ever, EVER call her that again, you fucking, worthless, piece of shit!" He howled in fury. The police officers already on the scene approached and pried the two men apart, looking on in dismay recalling that the FBI was supposed to be helping, not hindering, this difficult investigation. Detective Jordan approached with caution. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?" he asked pointedly. He would have no qualms what so ever taking this matter to Patterson and having all their asses suspended from the investigation in a heartbeat. Always the peacemaker, Jerry stepped up to the plate for his partner yet again. "We're all right. It's just a little intense, you know. Emotions run high in these kinds of cases. But everything is under control now, isn't it, fellas?" He gave his partner's arm a warning squeeze, just as he delivered a warning glare to Thompson. "Um, yeah, that's right, no more shit," Thompson was quick to promise, rubbing at his sore neck and shooting daggers at Mulder. Mulder said nothing. "Good," Detective Jordan replied, turning on his heel and walking away with squared shoulders. "All right, guys," Jerry scolded his fellow agents, "we need to knock this crap off before it gets us all fired! You got that?" He heard a few mumbled replies to the affirmative, but that wasn't enough. "Dammit, guys, I mean it. Thompson, you better stop with the asshole humor. And leave Agent Scully alone. Mulder," and his voice softened, quieted, "man, I know what she means to you, but you can't turn all caveman on everybody the minute she comes up against someone. She's a smart woman, we both know that. And it's a shitty world, but she's going to have to find her own way through it. You can't play the knight in shining armor for her like that. For one thing, she's been at the Bureau for awhile now and she's managed so far without your help. Let her hold her own. Otherwise, you'll fuck up her career. Got it?" "Y-yeah," Mulder mumbled, chastised. "Now look, it's obvious this scene upset her," Jerry went on. "Go find her, calm her down. Maybe ask her out, whatever. But keep that love stuff between the two of you and keep it out of the field and away from prying eyes, okay?" "Okay," the younger agent replied. "Good. Now, go get her. The truth is, she's a damn fine pathologist, from what her file says, and we definitely need one for this case." "Right," Mulder said, wiping at his eyes. He disengaged himself from his partner's grip and straightened his clothing before starting over to where Scully had hidden. "And Mulder?" Jerry called. "Yeah?" "It's gonna be all right, man. For both of you." Mulder smiled shakily and continued over to the public restrooms. * * * Upon not finding her outside anywhere, Mulder took a chance that no one else would be in the ladies' room and ventured inside. There, he found the love of his life leaning over one of the dirty sinks, wiping futilely at her eyes with a damp paper towel. It broke his heart to know that he had caused her torment. It was only the first day they had met and already he had made her cry. How fucked up was that? With a determination to make things right for her again, Mulder took a deep breath and quietly walked over to her, standing beside her and resting a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked and she jumped nearly out of her skin. "Oh, God!" she cried in surprise. "I'm sorry, Scully," he said, moving his hand to the spot between her shoulder blades, where he began to rub it in large, slow circles. "I can't believe it," she said, trying to hold back a sob. She started to hiccough. "I know," he readily agreed. "It's a bad crime scene, Scully, probably one of the worst I've ever seen- and I deal with cases like these on a regular basis." "No, I... I mean, I can't believe I just... ran off like that," she whimpered. "I... I never would have thought I'd be capable of that. Of being such a... such a... coward..." "Now hold on just a damn minute, Dana Katherine Scully," he chided, turning her around to face him and using the full name he had suddenly recalled as if he'd always known it. "You are not a coward!" "But I ran away," she sniffled, unable to look him in the eye. "That poor woman needs our help, and I... ran...God, what you must think of me. What the others must think of me." This was it, time to make or break their working relationship- and possibly any potential romance, too. Mulder lifted her chin with a firm but gentle hand and forced her to face him. "Scully," he said in the most loving and comforting tone she had ever heard from anyone before, "let me clear a few things up for you. What we just saw affected each and every one of us. Crime scenes left by serial killers always do. That's especially true the first time a person is exposed to one. Even a pathologist! You guys usually don't see the body where we find it, with all the gore around it, how it's posed, the way its left like a piece of trash. So I don't care how much training an agent gets- it doesn't matter at all on that first assignment. Every agent and cop and forensics person here has either gone through it already, or went through it now just the same as you did." "But I... cried..." "So," he went on, "I did, too. I just might have hid it a little better than you did because I've had to do it so many times before." "But I'm a woman," she muttered, her eyes going downcast once more. Shame burned into her fair skin. "That makes it unforgivable; stereotypical..." "Jesus, Dana, you're a human being," he told her, letting instinct take over and finally drawing the small, trembling woman into his arms. He relished the familiar feel of her tiny, perfect body against him. He forced himself not to get distracted or react to their closeness. Instead, all that mattered was calming her down, explaining the facts and making her feel better. "And any human being would have a reaction to seeing that poor girl back there." "But you probably think-" He cut her off. "You want to know what I think? I think you're a damn good pathologist and that you're going to help me crack this case. I think you're a warm, caring person who probably has a real need to help others, which is why you're both a doctor and a civil servant. I think you are brave and strong and that you were having a perfectly normal and natural reaction to a horribly unnatural event." "But the guys-" she began again. "The guys as you call them understand completely. The first time Jerry saw something like that he cried, too. So did Stiles. I think Rikers lost his cookies." This elicited a small smile from her pretty mouth. "And Thompson?" she asked quietly. Mulder's smile grew wide. "He cried and puked." She could not hide the tiny sparkle in her eyes. "Really," she commented. His face growing tender, Mulder reached out to caress her cheek. "God, Dana, I'm so sorry to make this your first time out in the field. I can understand if you hated me for it. And I can understand if you want to... to withdraw from this assignment. But I..." Listening to his voice trail off in sadness, Scully wiped her eyes, this time admonishing the tears for good. "I guess this is a hard case, but... well, maybe it being my first time, it'll make things easier in the future." "They never get easier," he admitted. "You only learn how to adapt quicker." "Nevertheless, Mulder," she went on, "I could never hate you," and he paused for a moment, reflecting on her dream version, who had said those very words to him the night before, "... not even for introducing me to field work this way. Yes, it's a shock. As much as I've read about these kinds of cases, I suppose you never really understand until you experience it. I hope to never have to see another woman hurt in this way again. But it's my duty to help find her killer, to stop him from hurting anyone else. And if another one comes along, it'll still be my duty... I get that, Mulder. And I... so long as you still want me, I want to do my job." She looked up at him expectantly. "You better believe I want you," he sighed dreamily, until he realized she was staring at him with a small amount of apprehension and he began to stammer again. "Uh, I mean, I want you- on my team! I need you- that is, we need you and your knowledge to solve this case. So, I'm glad that... you decided to stay." He smiled at her and she returned the gesture. Then his brow furrowed. "Uh, you are staying then, right?" "Yeah," she said, snuggling into his embrace and chuckling slightly at his awkward but heartfelt declaration. "I'm staying." He ran his fingers through her soft, red locks. They felt just the way he remembered them from his dream only the night before. "Excellent, Scully." Grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket, he gently wiped her eyes clear of any wayward tears or running mascara. "You ready?" "I am," she told him, pulling out of his embrace and squaring her shoulders like a good, little trooper. She paused at the door, waiting for Mulder to join her. "Uh, Mulder?" "Yeah?" "What about Thompson...? Will he... will he say anything, or laugh at me? It's not that I'm usually this insecure, or that I even care what he thinks. I just- I just don't know if I can take that right now..." "Scully?" "Hmm?" "That's the whole point. Thompson doesn't think. So you've got nothing to worry about there." He put an arm around her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. She smiled at him, tears threatening to fall again, but she held them in check. "Thank you, Mulder." "You're very welcome, Scully." As they left the restroom, Scully asked, "Mulder, how did you know that my middle name is Katherine?" "Uh... I read it in your file," he lied. "Seriously? I didn't even know that was in there." "Well... it was, once. But I do have a photographic memory, so..." "Wow, really?" Unconsciously raking his sparkling, hazel eyes over her small, beautiful form, he replied, "Oh, yeah." * * * Mulder led Scully back to the crime scene, his hand resting firmly against the small of her back, just as if it had always been. Just as if it were supposed to be there. As they approached, they saw that the crowd had dispersed and, except for any law enforcement, the entire park was deserted. For some reason, it put both agents more at ease. For Mulder, it meant less distraction while he worked. For Scully, there was less of an audience to observe her first outdoor assignment and criticize over every, little move she made. Just before returning to the group, Scully slowed her pace considerably. Mulder felt her stiffen beside him, and his hand slid down off her back to catch hold of her slim fingers. "You okay, Scully?" She took a deep, cleansing breath. "Yeah, I am. I definitely am." She squeezed his hand for a moment before letting go. "Good," he replied gently, that same hand going back to its usual place. "Let's do this, Dr. Scully." "Yes, let's," she agreed and they returned to the team. Jerry nodded respectfully at them. "Everything all right, folks?" he asked. "Yes," Dana answered, back to her professional, no nonsense demeanor. Her eyes were still a little red, but no longer threatening tears. Her face was still a bit flushed, but that could have been a symptom to a number of things, and since she seemed otherwise okay, Jerry let it go. As for Mulder, Jerry observed that his partner looked focused and ready to work. The concern and obvious love he felt for the young Dr. Scully was there and showing plainly in his eyes, but he also seemed confident of her abilities and own readiness to work. What a striking pair, was the most prominent thought that came to mind. He only hoped this pair could solve this case. Mulder and Scully approached the corpse cautiously, respectfully, horrified but keeping their emotions in check. There was a job to be done and the best way to honor the fallen woman wasn't to cry for her, but to find her killer and bring him to justice. Being the profiler, Mulder was writing down observations made about the body and how she was placed. He left the science to the small redhead standing next to him and he watched as she bent down, slipped on a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and began an examination. The crime scene photographers and the forensics team had been there already, so she was free to touch and move the body if need be. Jerry, Stiles, Rikers and Thompson looked on at the young newbie with interest, watching as her brow furrowed as she studied the evidence. "What do you think?" Mulder asked quietly. "I know she wasn't killed here. No blood around the scene. Plus she has abrasions but there's no blood on the wounds. Dragged out post mortem." "That follows," Mulder concurred. "Your cursory theory on time and reason of death?" "I'm thinking- just as an estimation at this point- at least twenty-four to forty-eight hours, judging by the larvae on the wounds. The bruises on her neck would suggest that strangulation was cause of death, although, with the mutilation to her breasts and genitals, she could have easily bled out. A full autopsy will be needed to know for sure. But..." and she reached forward to open up one of the victim's eyelids, "... she's got broken blood vessels. My guess would be strangulation." "What about the mutilation?" Mulder inquired. "Post mortem?" He could only hope. She checked over the wounds, studied them thoughtfully for a moment. She struggled with tears again, but fought them back with valiant effort. "No," she murmured softly, "I don't think so..." "Damn," he muttered, and she silently nodded in agreement. "I also see marks on her wrists and ankles," Scully commented after a brief silence. "She was probably bound for quite some time. Has she been identified yet?" Jerry, who had been discreetly listening in to the entire conversation, spoke up at this time. "No, not yet. She was completely nude, so no pockets, and we never found a purse or anything to check for ID." "Well, bruising like this wouldn't occur after only a few hours. He probably had this girl for awhile," Scully surmised. "Check missing persons, look for women who've been reported missing for... two to three days minimum." "Check," Jerry responded, tapping his noggin in appreciation. Mulder smiled sweetly at her. "This is good stuff, Scully. I can count on you to do the autopsy?" "I'm on your team, aren't I?" "Damn straight." Before she could reply, Thompson walked up and stood directly behind him. His louder tone caused them both to jump. "So, Einstein and brainiac, what's up with the victim and the perp, eh? Inquiring minds wanna know." "Well," Mulder began, straightening, "I think we've got a guy who has an unusual, over powering hatred of women." Thompson rolled his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. The poor girl ain't got no tits. I think that's pretty obvious." Scully narrowed her large, blue eyes at the idiot. "Do you have any respect whatsoever?" she challenged. "For who?" he asked in confusion. She looked acutely surprised by his lack of comprehension. "For who? How about for Agent Mulder, the best profiler in the bureau? How about for the young woman who lost her life and the reason why we're here?" Mulder was about to step in and tell Scully to forget trying to explain anything to Thompson, but she had spoke up too soon. And he had enjoyed listening to her praise of him. It made him feel all squishy inside. Well, at least it would have had they not been leaning over a mutilated corpse with an asshole farting around behind them. With a raspberry sound vibrating off his lips, Thompson retorted, "What? Respect for Mulder? Shit, I don't know who old Foxy's PR man is, but it's not like he can walk on water. They don't call him Spooky only because of his solve rate. He's a damn freak! And as for the body, well, she's dead. It ain't like she's gonna care one way or the other." "Agent Thompson," Scully began, the white porcelain skin growing red and splotchy, the blue eyes burning like flame, her soft features contorting in anger, but this time Mulder did intervene, for her sanity as well as for Thompson's own dumb ass' sake. If the real life Dana Scully's temper was anything like the dream version he spent every night with, then he knew trouble was sure to follow. "Eh, Thompson, don't worry. I'll have a full profile written up and a copy sent to everyone on the team within the next three hours. Why don't you and Rikers confer with Detective Jordan and ask about possible witnesses, or see if anyone has found out who our vic is, all right?" "Yeah, sure," he muttered, grumbling to himself about busy work as he stomped off to join his partner. Scully watched the surly man as he met back up with Rikers and they went looking for Jordan together. Jerry, out of respect to Mulder's genius and his partner's apparent need to bond with the pathologist had wandered off with Stiles, busying themselves with grilling the forensic team and pestering the crime scene photographers for copies of every picture taken. Mulder appreciated that. His team- well, except maybe for Thompson- knew their roles was mainly support and back up. The essential players were both right there in the thick of it, studying the victim and the few clues left behind. He knew he would be working closely with Scully. He also wanted to get to know her. He was already in love with her, but he knew he'd be crazy to think she was already madly in love with him. He had to earn that love. It was a personal relationship- for the first time ever- he actually felt that he wanted to earn. It helped that she respected him professionally, but after recalling each and every dream for the past couple of months, that just wasn't going to be enough. Mulder glanced over and saw the star of his dreams and the owner of his heart- even if she didn't yet realize it- staring openly at him. As much as he liked her eyes on him, he was growing a bit unnerved. "What?" he asked finally. "I have something in my teeth? A booger hanging out of my nose- what?" She smiled at him. "No, I'm sorry, Mulder. I didn't mean to stare. I guess I was just... curious..." He perked up. God, was she going to ask him if he was a 'leg man' or if he preferred the top or the bottom? "Yeah? About what?" "Well... I don't know if it's my place to say..." "Go ahead, Scully," he couldn't help flirting. "You're my own personal pathologist on this case. I have no secrets from you." Another grin, this time accompanied with a bit of a blush. "Oh, well, I just don't know why you put up with that crap... you know, Thompson. I'm sure there are others, too..." It wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting- or hoping for- but she was giving him a chance to open up and show some vulnerability. Normally a guy wouldn't take the opportunity, instead opting to seem more manly and mysterious. But Mulder wasn't the best profiler in the FBI for nothing. He had the feeling that by opening up to Scully, letting her in, would put them on even ground; and hopefully, once he let her in, she would actually like the private person hiding inside. Hoping he wasn't setting himself up for disappointment, he shrugged. "What's the point? It's not like if I say anything it'll really change anyone's mind." She sighed. "Yeah, suppose you're right. I guess we sort of have similar situations." "I can't believe anyone would call you a freak, Agent Scully." Her blush cranked up a notch from mildly embarrassed to pleasantly pink. "You'd be surprised," she admitted. "But that's not what I meant exactly. I just... well, you get picked on for being the best. I get picked on, too, but because I'm a woman. You have to tone down your gifts just to try and fit in. I have to work my ass off just to be accepted. But in the end, it doesn't really matter, does it?" Mulder touched her arm, and stared deeply into her beautiful, blue eyes. "I don't know. I think when it's important- that is, to the important people- it does matter." "I'm still not so sure..." she sighed wistfully. "Do you think I'm spooky, Scully?" "Of course not," she told him with certainty. "I find your ability to profile beyond brilliant. The fact that you can get into someone's head with such accuracy- I guess some people might find that spooky, but... well, that's only what you do. Its not who you are." He nearly shuddered by her compliment. As it was, he couldn't look her in the eye when he brushed his shoulder against hers and said, "Thanks." She brushed back. "You're welcome." "So..." he said, suddenly remembering that they were on the job, in a public place and standing over a dead human being. It wasn't really the best place for flirting and bonding. "You got anything else for me to go on now?" Scully stared down at the corpse again for a long while. "She's clean. I bet there will be not a print found on or around her." He nodded. "Yeah. He's a meticulous son of a bitch. I'll agree with that." "With a crime as heinous as this, I couldn't fathom the reasons why, but I'm not entirely sure it's just about sex. I couldn't say for sure if she was raped." "You think he did this for... power? Control?" "I don't know, Mulder. I mean, that's more your forte' anyway. But I'll run a rape kit on her, just to be sure. What do you think? You think this is all about sex?" "Everything's all about sex, Scully," he admitted sheepishly. "At least, it usually is. This guy though... it's not enough to possibly rape and then kill them. He's got to mutilate, too. And he lays her out for all to see... in a degrading pose. Those types can be tough to know. The fact that he's mutilating the parts of the anatomy that signifies the woman's femininity is making a statement. Whether he's trying to say women are his playthings or just that women suck- to his way of thinking, anyway- well, I'm going to have to work through that a little more, I think." "Yeah," she murmured. "Well, I... I should probably get back to Quantico, get started on the autopsy." "And I need some time to get into the head of another seriously fucked up monster," Mulder sighed in resignation. For a man who was so good at his job, he truly hated it. "Um, should I just grab a ride with someone?" she asked, hoping beyond hope that someone wouldn't be Rikers and Thompson. "Oh, no. No. I'm heading back to headquarters. I'll work alone in my office for a bit. I'd be glad to give you a lift, Scully." "Thanks." The two agents let the police finish up cleaning up the crime scene and watched as the coroner carefully loaded the woman into an ambulance. They would take her directly to the Quantico morgue. After the ambulance drove away, Mulder took a moment to locate Jerry and whisper something about getting out of here to work on the profile. He asked if Jerry and Stiles wouldn't mind catching a ride back with Rikers and Thompson. "But what about the delectable Doctor Scully?" Jerry had asked with a smirk. "Uh... I think she's just going to ride me- ah! I mean, with! Ride back with me," Mulder exclaimed, blushing so hard his ears were turning red. Jerry chuckled. "Sure Mulder, whatever you say. Just let us all know when you got the profile done." "Not a problem," Mulder promised, heading back towards his sedan where his precious pathologist awaited. "Oh, and Mulder?" Jerry called out to him. "Yeah?" "You better ask me to be best man at the wedding- you got that?" Mulder grinned from ear to ear. "Deal!" then hurried back to the car. Stiles, Rikers and Thompson approached, watching the normally sullen, quiet Agent Mulder practically skip back to the car to take Dr. Scully to Quantico. "Wow," was all Stiles could say. "Yeah," Jerry agreed. Rikers rolled his eyes. "It's like junior high all over again." Thompson, of course, had to add his two cents worth. "Oh, right. They're just fucking adorable. Now can we please get the hell out of here?" The four men started for Rikers' car. As they walked over, the wheels in Thompson's devious, little mind were already turning at full speed. "I got fifty, says he beds her by next week." "I'll take that bet!" Rikers chimed in. "But it's been awhile for Spooky, though, hasn't it? Bagging the babes, I mean. Don't I get some sort of handicap or something?" "Jesus Rikey, it's not like he's golfing!" Thompson exclaimed. "Although I'm sure he has tiny, little balls." "Would the two of you just lay off of Mulder?" Jerry hissed. "The guy is all right. Can't you cut him some slack for once?" "What are you, his mother?" Rikers taunted. "But seriously, Thom, I think we should take into consideration that Mulder hasn't been dipping into the female population pond for a long damn time. Maybe he won't score with the Ice Queen." "Nah, it's like riding a bike," Thompson informed him. "Even old Spooky couldn't forget how to fuck. And what's this Ice Queen shit? You know something I don't?" "Maybe I do and maybe I don't," Rikers replied mysteriously until his partner knocked him upside the head. "Quit the shittin', asshole, and own up!" "Well, all I'm saying is I heard Jack Willis in domestic terrorism used to be her instructor. Seems she could master everything he taught, except when it came to how to give good head and how to come." "Oh, really?" Thompson chirped, clearly interested. "Well, this may very well change the odds a little." "Why, you think Spooky lost his touch?" Rikers asked. "I mean, little miss perfect seemed to like the fucker pretty good." "Don't know," Thompson admitted. "But it might take more than a touch to get the Ice Bitch off." The two partners laughed. Jerry shook his head in disgust and hurried up ahead, unwilling to listen to any more of their vulgar conversation. Stiles stayed long enough only to tell them to "shut the hell up already" before rushing to catch up to Jerry. "What the fuck is their problem?" Rikers asked in confusion. "Ah, they're married, who the hell cares!" Thompson told him, and they went on discussing the odds of Spooky Mulder bedding down with Dana "Ice Queen" Scully. * * * March 12, 1992 FBI Headquarters Fox Mulder's office 11:48 a. m. Mulder finished typing up the last bit of his profile on the word processor. He quickly printed it out and made copies for each team member, one for the police department and one for Patterson, who had just called and bitched him out for not having it done sooner. Just as the last page was being photocopied, Mulder's office phone rang. "Ah, just keep your panties on," he groaned, wiping at his eyes and picking up the receiver. "Mulder." "Hi, it's me," said a voice that made him sit up straight in his chair and instantly regret his remark about 'keeping one's panties on'- in more ways than one. "Scully!" he exclaimed. "What's up?" "I just finished a very thorough autopsy on our victim from the park." "Great. Find anything interesting? Surprising?" "Both," she told him and he could tell she was wearing a satisfied grin. He himself had been known to put one of those on her face on numerous occasions- at least in his dreams. "Oh, yeah? Care to elaborate, dear doctor?" "Well... maybe you ought to come down here. There are a few things I'd like to show you myself." "Of course," he replied, unable to stop himself from envisioning her stripping down for him in the morgue and throwing him over one of the autopsy tables for a midday tryst. "I'll be right there." They both hung up the phone and Mulder bounded out of his office and down the hall to the elevator with much gusto, until... "Oh, shit!" he groaned, as he pushed the button for the proper floor. "Pathology!" Feeling much less enthusiastic as he had a moment before, Mulder steeled himself for the onslaught of lust, innuendoes and come ons that he was sure he would very soon face. The worst part of his situation was that none of that stuff would be coming from his beloved Dana Scully. Taking a deep breath, Mulder pushed open the doors to the pathology department. Ricky, of course, was right there to greet him. "Jesus," Mulder muttered under his breath, "doesn't this guy ever work?" "Ooh, Foxy!" he heard the familiar squeal and he cringed just a little. "Hey, Dr. Mandoon. I'm just here to-" "To ask me out?" Ricky asked hopefully, coming closer and thrusting out a hand to shake that he knew Mulder wouldn't touch. "Eh, no. Actually I really need to see-" "Me?" Cindy asked, showing up out of the woodwork. "Fuck," Mulder blurted in spite of himself. "Well, that's usually why the guys come down here to see her," Ricky added, and Mulder couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Oh, hush up, 'Pricky'," Cindy hissed, still keeping her eyes- and her hopes- on the handsome FBI profiler in front of her. She came up closer to Mulder and took hold of his arm. "I'm sorry, Fox," she whispered. "Those fags just never know when to shut up." Ricky overheard Cindy's derogatory comment and shook his head in disgust, walking away, and nearly paralyzing Mulder with fear. This would be the first- and hopefully the last- time he had been alone with Cindy Moran, FBI man-eater. Looking and feeling clearly uncomfortable, Mulder cleared his throat and tried to disengage himself from her tight as iron grip. "Um, actually, Candy- eh, Cindy! I, uh... I need-" "Oh, Fox," she purred into his ear. "So do I, honey. So do I." "What I mean is..." he went on, doing everything in his power, save belting her across the face, to get away from her. "What is it, Fox? What do you mean?" she asked, coming even closer and blowing in his ear. "I just..." he was getting flustered, perturbed by her unwanted advances and pissed as hell at Ricky for ditching him like this. Shit, I thought the guy loved me! This is how he shows it? "I really need..." "What, Foxy?" she cooed, using one of Ricky's nick names for him. "What is it that you need, big boy?" "Scully!" he shouted, wanting Cindy to know just exactly why he was here. Also, he looked up and saw the woman in question. "Scully? Oh, Scully!" "The name is Cindy!" the busty blonde replied, insulted and not knowing that Dana stood just behind her. "What the fuck would you want with her, anyway?" "Well, Cindy," Dana piped up behind her, scaring the tall woman out of her skin, making her jump nearly a mile high, "I don't think that's any of your business, now is it?" "Dana," Mulder cried in utter relief, pulling away from Cindy and practically running into the protective vicinity of his beloved. Her mere presence could keep the devil at bay, he marveled, standing behind her and resting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you ready, Mulder?" Scully asked, making a point to ignore the put upon expression Candy Moron was shooting her way. "Um, yeah," Mulder was quick to acquiesce. "More than you'll ever know." He gave her small shoulder a squeeze, asking, begging, and pleading with her to take him away from there. "Great," Scully replied brightly, smiling warmly at the man, before turning back to Cindy and saying, "Oh, Dr. Moran, could you please see to it that Agent Mulder and I are not to be disturbed? We've got a lot of... ground to cover and we'll need a little privacy in which to do so. I'd appreciate it if you kept my autopsy bay clear for us." "But I..." "Thanks, Cindy," Dana interrupted, smiling sweetly. With calculation- but not without a sense of fun and playfulness- she took Mulder by the hand and said, "Right this way, big boy..." "God, Scully," Cindy could hear Mulder chuckling, "blow in my ear and I'll follow you anywhere!" The two agents headed around the corner into autopsy bay number six. "Bitch!" Cindy spat, not quite sure which one she was talking about. * * * Mulder gratefully followed Scully into autopsy bay number six, enjoying the feel of her small hand in his. He looked at her with unabashed love and tenderness. When she turned to face him, she held a more grim and serious expression, and that's when he noticed the body lying on the table, covered by a thin, white sheet. He took a gulp of air. It was strange, he knew, but there was something about autopsies and morgues that gave him the creeps. Of course, that was a given for most people, but the fact that dead bodies at a crime scene didn't bother him nearly as much made his phobia that much stranger. Upon noticing the concerned expression clinging to Dana's tired but still beautiful features, he took another chance and explained his odd penchant. "It's all right, Mulder," she assured him. "It doesn't sound that weird to me." "Really?" he asked in surprise. "You don't think it's weird that I can sit and stare at a dead, possibly desecrated body at a crime scene for hours on end and not blink an eye, but the minute I step into an autopsy bay, I get kind of wigged out and queasy?" "Well, when you put it that way," she joked, but rested a gentle hand upon his arm when he balked. "Sorry," she quickly apologized. "Bad pathologist humor. Sometimes I forget we're usually the only ones to find it funny." "That's okay, Scully," he said a little shakily. "But I still think it's strange. I wonder why though." She let loose with a ladylike snort. "What?" he asked. "Well, Mulder, you are a profiler!" "Yeah...?" "So, you ever heard of the expression physician heal thyself?" "Yeah?" Mulder asked, still in the dark. "So, try profiling yourself," she suggested, inwardly rolling her eyes at his lack of comprehension. But it was certainly true- even for herself sometimes- that usually the smartest people were also the most clueless. "What is it about the morgue that makes you nervous? Obviously it's not merely the idea of a dead body upsetting you, or you wouldn't be able to handle the crime scenes." "Well," he began in all earnestness, "I guess it's... it's just the... coldness of it. I mean, I know whoever killed the person has to be a cold blooded killer, with a heart the size of a microscopic amoebae, but they did so for a reason." He stopped, looked up at her. "But a pathologist has a reason to do the things we do, too, Mulder. And we're doing what we do to help a victim that would otherwise be unhelpable." "I... I know that. But it's so cold and analytical," he sighed, at a loss. "But a lot of the murderers you come across are cold and analytical." "Yeah..." "Wait a minute," she said, "is that how you think we are- how I am? Cold and analytical?" Mulder's heart sank. Without even trying to, he had insulted her. He quickly tried to set things right between them again. "Oh, no, Scully! No!" he assured her, taking her hand in an unconscious effort to regain closeness. "I- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it that way. And while I'm sure you'd pretty much have to have an analytical mind for this job, I know for a fact that there's nothing cold about you." Scully started to blush furiously. Averting her eyes, she pulled her hand away. "I... well, my hands are cold, anyway," she whispered. "Cold hands," he told her, taking both of hers into his larger ones, "warm heart..." She gazed into his eyes, unable to look away. In his hazel depths she suddenly felt an insurmountable surge of warmth and longing and need. She didn't know what to make of the strange and beautiful man standing before her, staring into her eyes and holding her hands in an autopsy bay. "I..." she stuttered, before averting her gaze and gently pulling away. "I... did want to show you something... from the autopsy, I mean." "Of course," he agreed, understanding her need to get back to business. Things were becoming quite serious between them and they had only really known each other for a few hours, although, Mulder felt truthfully that he had known her much longer than that. And he wasn't merely referring to the dreams he'd had of her for the past couple of months. It seemed to him that he had known this woman his whole life. She was his life. She was his heart and his soul and the core of his very existence. That was a lot to digest in a cold, sterile autopsy bay, and he was going to drop it, but then he realized something. "So, Mulder," Dana was saying, about to remove the sheet off of the victim, "let me just-" "Wait," he told her gently. "I..." "Oh, do you need a moment to prepare?" she asked in concern. "No, I'm okay now. It's just... well, I think I've discovered what bothers me about the whole autopsy situation. It's not the pathologist- God, no! It's the sterile surroundings that I find so cold. And the medical aspect puts such finality to it all. It's death, and certainly going to the crime scene says so, too, but... it's that last stretch before being put into the ground... getting buried, turning to dust... being forgotten..." His voice trailed off. "Mulder," Scully broke him out of his reverie, resting one of those cold, little hands upon his shoulder, "no life is ever completely forgotten. Not by the people who love them. And that's what matters, isn't it? Not that a person died, but that a person lived and loved... and that other people remembered them. Death isn't something to fear... necessarily. Not if you've lived well and held close those dear to you." "Yeah," he murmured, reaching up to touch her sweet face. "I... I believe that, too." Scully said nothing, instead remained transfixed by his eyes and his touch and his warmth. Mulder gazed upon her with a need for healing; a need to take her words to heart and to hold her close to him. "What the hell is this? The pathology department or Peyton Place?" Both agents jumped, pulled apart and looked up to see the rest of the team standing in the doorway and taking in the love scene playing before them. Jerry and Stiles looked amused, genuinely touched. Rikers appeared to be counting numbers in his head. Thompson- who had had his fill with both of them- looked pissed off and put out. Of course, Thompson's anger couldn't hold a candle to Mulder's. "What the hell are you guys doing down here?" Mulder demanded to know. "Candy Moron called," Rikers elaborated. "Said Dr. Scully must have found something and we should all be down here to check it out. She made it sound pretty important." "So much for complete privacy," Mulder grunted under his breath. But perhaps it was better that things had not progressed any further at that moment. As much as he wanted to buy Scully a ring and hijack her over to the nearest justice of the peace, he realized there was a victim waiting to be explained and studied. And perhaps, there was a new person waiting to be saved. "Yeah," he said to the group, "Dr. Scully said she had found something. Scully?" He gave her the floor. Nervous though she was, Dana regained her composure quickly and took control of the conversation. With deftness and speed, she whipped out a pair of latex gloves, slid them on, and then pulled back the sheet from the body, revealing the same dead woman they had all seen only that morning in the park where children usually played. "Yes, during the autopsy, I found a few things I'd like to share." "And those things would be...?" Thompson asked, growing exasperated with the lovesick special agents and feeling a little queasy being in such close quarters with the dead body, especially laid out on a slab, and surrounded by medical instruments. He seemed to harbor a similar reaction as Mulder to this place. "Well, besides the confirmation that she died of strangulation, this for one," Scully said, opening up the woman's mouth. Everyone momentarily feared the killer had stuffed something inside her mouth, but Scully instead was pointing out something on her teeth. "Do you see the fillings?" "Yeah," most of them murmured. "They're made of a metal compound." "So, what?" Thompson challenged, so far unimpressed. "So, Agent Thompson," she explained, as if to a child, "most fillings made in the United States are porcelain. Usually you only see dental work like this in foreign countries now a days. She's most likely not American. From the shape of the jaw line, I would guess European- probably German." "East or west side?" Thompson cracked, but no one else found the outdated joke even remotely funny, so he shut up for the time being. "That's great, Scully," Mulder complimented, both with affection for a would-be lover and genuinely impressed by the meticulous pathologist at work. "Rikers, why don't you call Missing Persons? See if there were any tourists, visitors, Green Card holders, new citizens that have been reported missing- especially anybody from Germany." "Got it," Rikers said, and he left to make the call. "Anything else, Dr. Scully?" Jerry asked. "Couple of things... first off, she was raped. I got a DNA sample and sent it to the boys in the lab for analysis. They'll be able to tell his blood type and whether he is a secretor or not." "Well, whoop-ti-do!" Thompson barked out, still smarting over Scully's 'turn about is fair play' mentality. "The fucking police lab could have come up with that!" "Thompson, you ass-" Mulder began, but a stern look from his partner made him pipe down. He remembered Jerry's lesson about letting Scully fend for herself, no matter how difficult it may be. "Well, maybe they could have," Scully told Thompson, her eyebrow raised high above her eye. "But they didn't. This is the first victim that has supplied so much information. Perhaps the other four were just warm-ups for our guy, or maybe we just found them too late to collect the evidence, but we have it now." "Oh," Thompson said, but only momentarily chastised. "So, you got anything else on the burner to share with us, brainiac?" "Uh, yeah, actually, there is something..." Scully said, her demeanor changing from self-assured and triumphant to disgusted and disturbed. "It's actually on the, uh, flip side..." She paused, then gave the obviously uncomfortable Thompson another chance to shine. "Agent Thompson, would you mind? Help me flip her over onto her stomach. That would be the easiest way for you all to see what I need to show you." "Me?" he asked incredulously. He looked about ready to flee, throw up or pass out. "Yes, there's something you all need to be aware of." "Well... can't Mulder do it, or something? I mean, why me?" Scully knew she was being unkind, but she just couldn't help herself. If you want to play with the big boys, you had to learn to play their game. "What's the matter, Thompson? I'd have thought you'd be an expert at flipping women over onto their knees." "What?!" Thompson asked in utter surprise and embarrassment. The other men looked to be as shocked as he was, but decidedly less embarrassed. But where they lacked in it, they more than made up for in amusement. Poorly concealed chuckles reverberated through out the room. "Would you mind?" Scully asked again, an innocent expression masking her less than innocent motive. "Fuck," Thompson muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry, what was that?" Scully asked, smiling sweetly. Thompson may have been the more experienced field agent, but he was in her realm now. "I said... fine," Thompson finally conceded, and with a great amount of disgust, he helped her flip the body over. "Thanks," Scully said with a big, toothy grin. She then returned to the matter at hand. "Gentlemen, you will find this disturbing..." "Why?" Thompson muttered. "I've seen an ass before, Agent Scully." "Every time you look in a mirror," Stiles retorted quietly and received a dirty look from the ass in question for his efforts. Gently, and with as much care and respect she could muster, Dr. Scully spread what was left of the woman's genital lips apart. "Oh, Jesus," Stiles sighed, feeling quite sick. "Christ!" Jerry finished for him, looking into the small cavity. "What the hell?" Mulder asked rhetorically. "It's an egg," Scully confirmed. "And before you ask, I've already had some photographs taken to add to the file." "And you just... left it... in her... in her... in there?" Thompson groaned, looking as miserable as he felt. The sensible doctor shrugged. "Well, I had to give you guys a chance to see it as is, now didn't I? I'll just remove it now..." She retrieved a pair of surgical tongs, and with precision and a strong amount of respect for the lost life before her, she removed the egg. She asked God for forgiveness for what she was about to do next, but she needed Thompson- and everyone else- to know that she could be as strong, unwavering and even as much of a pig as any man at the Bureau. Staring directly into Thompson's panicked, sickened face, she said, "Order up." Thompson took this moment to rush from the room, holding his hand over his mouth. They all watched him leave. "What's the matter with him?" Scully asked in all innocence. "He have eggs for breakfast this morning?" "Over easy," Stiles confirmed. They all chuckled at Thompson's expense, but no one forgot about the grim discovery Scully had alerted them to. She looked to Mulder, then the others. "I'll have this properly bagged and sent to forensics right away," she promised. Soon, all eyes were on Mulder, who stood above the corpse, thoughtfully scratching his chin. "Mulder?" Stiles asked. "What are you thinking?" "Shh, let him be, Paul," Jerry insisted. "The boy's definitely in his groove now." Pausing only long enough to give Scully's shoulder a squeeze, Mulder said nothing, leaving the autopsy bay and returning to his office to do a little revising on his profile. * * * March 12, 1992 FBI Headquarters Fox Mulder's office 2:12 p. m. Mulder went over the autopsy findings as well as the crime scene photos, reworking his theory on the killer and his motive. The whole finding out about the rape and discovery of the egg inside of the victim's genitalia had altered his theory quite a bit. The guy isn't just your average, every day sicko, he mused grimly. He's got a purpose, a point to make. And it's not the usual, generic statement. He thought about all the more unusual aspects of the case, particularly the breasts being mutilated and the placement of the egg in the genitals. The two together signified... fertility? Motherhood? Does he have it in for his mama, but he's taking it out on everyone else? Mulder pondered. No. The general age of his victims would suggest otherwise. Obviously, it had been a grown up man committing these heinous crimes. If they were aggressive acts geared to get back at a mother figure, then the victims most certainly would have been considerably older. That, too, and it would have been unlikely he would have raped them. There had not been very many cases in the history of the bureau where a male had raped his own mother. Killed her, sure, but not rape. So, what is it, then? Eggs... Breasts... Trying not to conjure up any bad chicken jokes, Mulder's brilliant mind made another connection that he- nor anyone else- had not considered before. Eggs...Breasts...Rape...His seed... Fertility... "Holy shit, that's it!" he exclaimed out loud as the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. "That is it!" Sitting down in front of his word processor, Mulder began to type out his new profile, his fingers brushing rapidly and feverishly over the keyboard. * * * Dana Scully had skipped lunch to make up her workload and do another autopsy that had been scheduled, then postponed, after she had been assigned to Mulder's team. Grabbing her shiny, red apple out of the refrigerator in the lounge, she returned to her office for a quick bite to eat while she caught herself up on paper work and filing reports. The profile she found in her fax machine tray changed her mind and took precedence of her attention. Sitting down at her desk and munching on the apple, the young doctor began to read Agent Mulder's profile on the killer. Attn: Scully, D. (pathology), Lamana, J. (VCS), Stiles, P. (VCS), Rikers, F. (VCS), Thompson, K. (VCS), Patterson, G. (A. D.), Detective Jordan, S. (D.C.P.D.) Case File #: JV-27A0336 Re: UNSUB The perpetrator is a white male, aged 35 to 55 years old. He is- or was- married. He has no children, but is perversely desperate to become a father. His wife/significant other is either unable or unwilling to have children with him. She is most likely close in age to her spouse, and possibly in a professional career normally associated with males. The UNSUB feels emasculated by his s. o.'s career choice and by the fact that they have no offspring. He is definitely feeling his mortality. He most likely recently suffered a job loss in a respected field and/or possibly the death of a parent- probably his own father. He chooses young women as his victims to ensure their fertility. His rape of them has less to do with hatred or control over women in general, but it is about power- or the lack of power- he feels over his own impending death and his current, hopeless situation. He has sex with his victims without a condom. It's not about lack of comprehension over DNA evidence, or practicing unsafe sex. It is about leaving his seed in the hopes of producing offspring. When this doesn't work, he kills her by strangulation. He probably isn't overtly strong, so I suspect a ligature of some kind, possibly rope, twine or plastic band, judging by the bruises on the latest victim. He leaves a chicken's egg in their genitals as a symbol of the female's fertility and their ability to conceive. The UNSUB probably keeps his victims locked away somewhere private, where only he knows the location, or where only he is permitted to go. It could be an abandoned building or a small structure out in a wooded area. It could even be something as simple as his own private office or workshop in his house or on his property. He takes the victims to this place, keeps them tied up there and rapes them everyday for up to a week, trying to impregnate them. During this time, though most likely the victim will not readily comply with his wishes, he treats them with a loving undertone, as if in a "honeymoon" phase in a new, sexual relationship. But his focus is not really on the woman. He sees her merely as a vessel and is only interested in her womb. I would suspect he even has pregnancy tests on hand to check for any success. Just as I am certain he is- or was- married to a successful, professional type woman, he is obviously attracted to strong women and he will choose accordingly, looking for the same qualities he does in a potential mother for his child as he would in a mate. I'm sure these women probably fight every aspect of his plan, using everything from physical resistance to insults to outright refusal to dissuade him. This angers him. It is here, after failure and refusal that he kills them. First he mutilates their female organs. It is a symbol of what he perceives as their failure, not his. It was their femininity that failed, not his virility. He is punishing them, and to do so, he makes sure they are alive when he begins his mutilation. While some could bleed out and die before he has a chance to, I believe he strangles them, mostly as a precaution, to make sure they are truly dead and unable to identify him later. He feels that the victims' femininity- just as his significant other's before hand- has turned its back on him, denying him the one thing that he longs for most- an heir, a chance at immortality. To placate himself until the next chance comes along, he leaves an egg- a symbol of fertility in most cultures- inside of the woman's vagina, along with his seed; it is a perverse pregnancy and a hope for what he wishes to be. Because of his lack of success in his life, I also believe that he might possibly be sterile, which could easily be attributed to any failed pregnancy attempts with in his relationship, most likely early on in a marriage, before his s. o. decided to pursue a career. Since the victims thus far have all been young, and most likely single, I think the man probably stalks them and possibly drugs or tricks them at night clubs, bars, college hang outs, any place where young singles go to meet. Because he is older and I imagine not great looking, probably out of shape, I believe he may proposition some of his victims, gauging their willingness to go with him, but he is always turned down. So he will somehow coerce, or more likely, follow the victim until she is alone and vulnerable, where upon he ambushes them. The fact that he's older will make him seem out of place wherever he hunts. But his psychosis is by now so strong, it may possibly be affecting his outward appearance, making him seem jerky, secretive or likely to talk to himself in public. This makes my theory even more cohesive that no one willingly leaves with him. All but the latest victim were discovered in a dumpster or a land fill, signifying that he is done with them and they are no longer useful to him. In his mind, he is simply 'taking out the trash'. The placement of the last victim in a park, where children play only signifies his growing desperation for a child of his own and his need to be close to them and associate himself with them, however perverse a way it may be. This man will continue to kill and destroy in his mangled attempts at creating life. As time wears on, if he is not caught, he will only become more desperate and impatient and the killing will escalate at a rapid rate. He will continue until he successfully impregnates a woman. Should he succeed, he will undoubtedly do everything in his power to keep her incarcerated and alive. He may- in his fervor for a healthy baby- even be so bold as to take her in to see a doctor, probably somehow threatening and subduing her, or possibly drugging her and making her appear to be his own wife that he's bringing in for medical care. After any such woman gives birth, I fear that he will kill her and dispose of her body to avoid imprisonment and to enable himself to keep the child in his own custody. If he is still married, he will probably go to great extremes to "explain" the new addition to the family, coming up with anything from, "I adopted the baby," to "My cousin passed away and left the child to us". My recommendation would be to stake out different bars, college campuses and nighttime hot spots for the youthful, looking for an older man who is middle-aged, out of shape and looks severely out of place. The use of an undercover female agent, who looks young and attractive in appearance, wired for sound and constantly observed, could try to entice the UNSUB into action. This will likely be the most proficient manner in which to capture him. * * * Scully sat in stunned silence for the longest time, letting the weight of the profile sink into her brain, her half-eaten apple setting on the desk beside her, forgotten. Mulder's profile had truly astounded her. The man was a genius, no doubt about it. She recalled how Thompson had called him 'Spooky'. She now understood why, although she attributed the nickname only to his abilities as a profiler and not to the passionate, caring man she had come to know over the course of the day. She was about to call him, congratulate him on an excellent profile when there was a knock on her office door. She startled, but composed herself quickly. "Come in," she said. The door opened and the object of her admiration stepped inside. He wore an anxious expression. "Hey, G- woman. Did you get my profile?" She smiled at him, gestured for him to sit down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. "I did. Just got done reading it, actually." Sitting down across from her, leaning in close and staring intently into her soft, blue eyes, he asked, "So, give already? What do you think?" "I think it was exceptional, Mulder," she replied in a serious tone he had come to know well in the course of the day, as well as from their two month dream marriage. He knew her compliment to be sincere. "Yeah?" he asked hopefully, still longing for approval from the woman he loved. "Yeah," she repeated, "and I firmly believe that your profile is going to catch this bastard, bring him to justice." Mulder blushed, obviously affected by the praise, in spite of how he craved it. He looked at her pointedly. "Well, I had a lot of help..." She shook her head. "No Mulder, you wrote that profile all by yourself. You deserve the credit. End of story." "Scully," he told her, reaching for her hand and giving it a quick squeeze, "I couldn't have written that profile without hearing your brilliant autopsy results. The truth is, I couldn't have written that profile without you." It was her turn to blush, and being that she was a redhead with a peaches and cream complexion, there was absolutely no hiding the fact. She decided to change the subject, give herself a chance to recover and compose. "What I don't understand is, why he just now started using a chicken's egg in his arsenal. What made this victim so different from the others?" He played his long, slender fingers over his full, sensual mouth for a moment in deep concentration. Though she would never admit it, Scully found the gesture to be monumentally sexy in nature. He shifted and brought her back to his train of thought. "I believe it could signify his growing frustration over not achieving that which he desires most. But in all fairness, the pathologists working on the other victims may not have been as diligent as you are. I did read in the second victim's autopsy report that she had egg residue on her person, but since she was found at the dump, the doctor presiding over the autopsy attributed it to the surroundings." "And I read that a couple of the victims were found pretty badly decomposed," Scully recalled, having gone over the file any time she had been given a free moment during the day. "Yes, indeed. A biological substance, like an egg, would break down over time, the same as human tissue," he agreed. "Between natural genetic break down and the possibility of animal scavengers, there very well may not have been anything left to find." "I concur," she said. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, each one digesting the facts of the case and silently reveling in each other's company. Scully noticed Mulder blatantly eyeing the half-eaten apple on her desk. "Mulder?" "Huh?" he asked with a guilty expression. "Are you..." "Can I have a few bites... I mean, could I take some... eh, are you gonna eat that?" He gestured to the already browning piece of fruit. "Uh... no..." Before she could make a suggestion, Mulder had scooped up the item and began chowing down on it like there was no tomorrow. "Hungry?" she asked, wearing an amused smirk. "Does it show?" he cracked. "Mildly, yeah," she replied. "Well, I don't usually eat much when I'm profiling," he admitted. "Too consumed to consume, I suppose." "I know what you mean," she agreed. "I get that way when I'm busy down in the autopsy bay. I haven't had anything to eat all day either. Well, except for the other half of that apple." "Oh, sorry," he said sheepishly, having had to stop himself from even eating the core, he was still starving. "I didn't mean to take your-" "Guess it's way too late for lunch," she interrupted. "But we could skip out for an early dinner if you're up for it." Mulder's eyes grew wide. Was she asking him out? Did she have an interest in him? Would she consider marrying him and having his babies? "Uh, when you say we, do you mean us, as in you and me?" The familiar mischievous eyebrow was raised high above her eye. "Well, since you're the only other person here, and I don't have a mouse in my pocket, yeah, I mean you and me. What do you say?" He seemed to ponder her request for a moment longer than necessary and she immediately felt a wave of panic rise up within her. "Uh, that is, unless you already have other plans. Or, maybe you don't like to socialize with co- workers... or perhaps you're just not interested..." He looked up quickly, gazing intently into her eyes. He reached for her hand again, very determined to put her fears at ease. "No, I don't have other plans. And no, I don't usually associate with co-workers on a social basis- well, except maybe for Jerry and his family once in awhile, but I'd gladly make an exception for you. And yes, I really am interested." They both stood up at the same time then shared an awkward chuckle at the apparent eagerness they each held for a dinner date with the other. They left Dana's office, he with his hand on the small of her back. Most of the day shift had left already, rushing to get home to their real lives, where they could shed their at-work personas, just as they could shed their skirts and suits. Scully noticed Mulder glancing around nervously, as if hoping to avoid someone. She watched him in amusement. "Looking for someone, Mulder?" she asked abruptly, causing him to jump. He smiled sheepishly at his skittish reaction. "Uh, not exactly," he confided. "It's um, more like the exact opposite, actually." "Cindy?" she asked knowingly. "Cindy," he admitted. "No offense- because honestly, I don't even really know her, but... well, she seems a little... over anxious to work with me, and I have a sinking feeling that has nothing to do with my profiling success rate." "You're right about that," she chuckled. He turned away. "It's just that I've heard a lot of... stuff about her- not that I'm a big gossip, or anything." "Don't worry, Mulder," Scully assured him, "in Cindy's case, pretty much everything you've heard about is true." Mulder's eyes got that far away, tender look again. "Well, it's not all true." She raised an eyebrow. "It isn't?" "That's right," he explained, going out on a limb, but wanting the woman to understand that he had no interest in anyone in the pathology department with the exception of her. "She's really not the best looking pathologist in the FBI." He gazed meaningfully at her, praying she would understand. "Oh..." she breathed, comprehending instantly. Her complexion turned as bright red as her tresses. Hoping that she might also be flattered, but not brave enough to ask, Mulder decided to lighten the mood with a joke. "Yeah," he went on, dead pan, "Ricky is pretty cute." Success! Dana Scully began to laugh! He knew her sounds of mirth and merriment just as he knew her anger, and her ecstasy, having heard all of it a million times before in his dreams. Her laughter was even more beautiful, even more magical in the waking world. "Well, I don't think you have to worry about Cindy or Ricky for the rest of the evening, Mulder," she assured him as they walked towards the elevators. "They both are always gone by now. Neither of them are into burning the midnight oil, like I usually do." Hitting the down button, the elevator soon arrived and they both stepped aboard. Before the doors could close, an older man showed up from out of nowhere and slipped in, backing into the far corner beside them. Without asking their desired floor, he pressed a button and leaned against the rail, lighting up a cigarette. Both Mulder and Scully stared at the man, utterly shocked and appalled. Checking his watch, and determined to ignore the annoying asshole next to them, Mulder saw that it was nearly five o'clock. "Scully," he chuckled quietly, "it's not even five yet! I doubt anyone still lurking around could be fairly considered 'burning the midnight oil' either way." She didn't seem to be listening. She continued to stare accusingly at the cigarette smoking moron on the far side of the elevator. Mulder tried again, hoping that this jerk wouldn't piss her off too much and ruin their evening together- with his luck, he may not get another chance with her. "So, Ricky and Cindy are out on the town? Bet they have hot dates, huh? Well, not with each other, I mean." Checking for Scully's reaction, he saw her give him a quick, warm smile before returning her attention- and a glare- back to the seemingly oblivious smoker, toking up like a chimney at the moment. "You know, there are laws against smoking in public places- particularly government buildings," the young doctor shot accusingly at the stranger. The newcomer seemed unconcerned, merely smiled indulgently at the woman's anger. "Yes, I'm sure you are right." Mulder was astounded; not only at the old man's audacity, but also by his beloved's need to stand up for what she thought was right. Could she be any more precious? Agent Scully was not clearly as amused as the oldster or as endeared as her companion. No, she was frankly pissed off- and getting pissier with each passing moment- at the walking smoke stack currently stinking up her air. "Second hand cigarette smoke is being proven as a cause of asthma, emphysema and lung cancer!" she declared, sounding a little too much like a public service announcement. The elevator stopped a floor above the ground floor. The doors opened and the older man stepped out, momentarily holding the door open with a free hand. "That's very interesting, Agent Scully," he said affectionately. "I hope you and Agent Mulder have a nice evening." With that, he blew out one last puff of smoke into their faces, just as he let go and the doors came sliding shut. "What an asshole!" Mulder coughed, waving his hand in front of their faces, trying to dissipate the offending smoke and odor. "Who the hell was that?" Scully demanded to know. "Do you know him?" "Nope. Don't recall ever seeing him before. And might I remind you that I have a photographic memory." "He sure knew who we were," she muttered. Mulder shrugged. "Well, that's no secret. I am, after all, Special Agent Fox 'Spooky' Mulder, all around great profiler and freak extraordinaire of the VCS!" "Stop it, Mulder," she scolded him. "You're a prince and don't you forget it. But that still doesn't explain how he knows me. I don't have such a high profile or reputation as you do. Unless, of course, he hangs out with Jack Willis..." "Huh?" "Nothing," she sighed, and the doors opened up again, this time on the ground floor. "Let's go eat. I'm starving!" "What kind of food do you like?" he asked, although he already had a pretty good idea. "How about Italian?" "Mmm, sounds good." The two agents each drove their own vehicles and met back up at the restaurant, so they could both drive home from there. They ended up at Antonio's, a posh, Italian restaurant. Mulder got to her quickly, and held her door open for her as she emerged from her car. Resting his hand at the small of her back, he led her inside, wondering just what this impromptu "date" would bring... * * * It wasn't too crowded in the restaurant, so the two FBI agents got a table within fifteen minutes, which was nice. They may have been merely co-workers at this point, and virtually strangers, but the hostess who seated them seemed to think they were something more than that and she chose the most secluded and romantic table available. It was dark, in a corner and out of the way. Very few tables were near it. A large, round illuminating candle sat in the center of the table, and it gave off a beautiful glow to the beautiful people sitting there. "This is nice," Scully sighed quietly, closing her eyes for a moment and relishing the break in routine and the chance to relax for the first time all week. "Yeah, it sure is," Mulder agreed, glancing around the place, noticing the romantic touches. And he certainly couldn't complain about the gorgeous woman seated across the table from him. He smiled dreamily at her. She returned the gesture. "Have you ever been here before?" she asked as the hostess produced two menus for them to peruse. "Only with y- eh, only in my dreams," he replied vaguely. Scully gave him an odd sort of look, but forgot about the comment easily in lieu of eating good food that she didn't have to cook herself. They quieted and looked over their menus. Soon a waiter came by to give them some water and take their orders. He was then off to the kitchen to give the chef their choices. The two agents, tired from a long day and a particularly harrowing case, made mostly polite small talk until their food arrived. Mulder got spaghetti with meatballs and lot's of gooey cheese, along with a small side salad and an iced-tea. Scully had ordered eggplant Parmesan with a side salad and iced-tea of her own. She noticed Mulder staring at her meal with a dubious expression. "What?" she asked, cutting off a piece and putting it into her mouth. "Eggplant?" he queried, clearly not seeing the appeal. He made a face. Her trademark eyebrow raised in challenge. "Yeah, what about it?" "I don't know, Scully," he said with a look of distaste. "But I don't see how anyone would voluntarily eat a vegetable named after an embryo and something you have to water every week. Just slop some tomato sauce on it and its supposed to be good?" "Ugh," she groaned, albeit with good humor, "don't tell me you're one of those guys with an aversion to anything of nutritional value." "Hey, I like veggies as much as the next guy," he vowed with a smile covered in maranara. "I mean, I like potatoes and I'll even eat a dinner salad... provided it comes free with the meal, of course." "Of course," she chided. "How lovely, Mulder. I'm sure your colon is eternally grateful." Mulder chuckled, enjoying her sense of humor, something his dream time spent with her had not been as elaborated upon as much as her other attributes. He decided to keep the line of banter going. It was actually fun. "And after what you found today at work, you still want to eat a dish with the word 'egg' in it? Or is it just a woman's biological clock ticking sort of reminder?" He winked at her. Knowing he was only kidding, she responded in kind. "This coming from a man who ordered a big plate of meatballs." "Ooh! Touch?, Scully." She laughed. "Mulder, don't even try to make me queasy. You simply can't gross out a pathologist. Well, except for Dr. Cindy Moron, maybe..." Her voice trailed off in a melancholy tone. Wondering why she kept bringing up the FBI's resident slut, Mulder said, "Nah, in her case she is a gross out. But seriously, you telling me that no matter what I do or say, I couldn't gross you out if I tried?" "I very highly doubt it," she confirmed, taking alternating samplings of her salad and her eggplant, wiping her mouth after every bite. "But I'm positive I could make you sick." "Impossible," he assured her, giving her another one of those meaningful glances he was becoming famous for. "I'm a guy, Scully. We don't gross out easily." "Oh, I don't know," she said with a wicked grin, "I got Thompson pretty good this afternoon." "Well, yeah- and excellent work, by the way- but in all fairness, Thompson isn't one of our finer specimens of masculinity. But the rest of us manly men, we're usually the gross-ers, not the gross-ees." Another bout of laughter from the full, sensual lips of Dana Scully had Mulder's heart melting faster than butter on a hot plate. "Are you looking for a pissing contest, Agent Mulder?" she inquired, after wiping the mirth from the corners of her eyes. "Oh, Scully," he warned her, clearly in a mischievous mood now, "be careful. That's another thing we guys excel at." "Whatever, Mulder. But I think I'd like to take your challenge. And I think I'd thoroughly enjoy myself. Plus, I'd kick your ass." "Oh-ho-ho!" he declared, in full agreement and very much enjoying himself. "You got it, Scully! Right here, right now!" "You mean here at the restaurant, during dinner, with people around?" she asked incredulously. "Why not?" She did not answer, just glanced around at the innocent patrons eating a peaceful, up-till-now, gross free dinner. "Now I see why you like eggs so much, Scully," Mulder mocked her. "It's so obviously because you're a chicken!" "Oh, you are going to eat those words, Mulder!" she told him, her competitive nature taking over, her creative juices already flowing. "Bring it on, girlfriend," he taunted. "Okay," she said sensibly. "What are the ground rules and the agreed stakes?" "Ground rules? God, you're such a doctor!" "What is that supposed to mean?" "It means, whoever grosses out the other first wins, that's all. And as for stakes, are you talking about a bet in which the winner is rewarded?" "Hmm, nice to know that Oxford education of yours didn't go to waste. Yes Mulder, that is exactly what I mean." "All right, I'm game," he grinned, loving this woman more and more by the minute. "Go ahead and tell me what you would want on the slim-to-none chance that you might possibly win?" "Scared, are you?" she challenged and he smirked. "Well, how about if I win, you pay for dinner?" "I thought I was paying for dinner," he said in confusion. "How do you figure that, Mulder? I invited you to dinner, remember?" "Right. And that's the best you can come up with for winning?" "You got a problem with that?" "Oh, no, not at all. Okay, deal. So if you..." and he paused long enough to snicker shamelessly at her, "manage to gross me out, then I'll gladly pay for our dinners." "Good. Now, what is it that you want, Mulder?" His eyes momentarily lit up and he felt an uncomfortable tightness growing in the crotch of his pants, but he knew he couldn't ask for a night of hot, steamy lovemaking on a first date- or whatever the hell it was- so he compromised. "Eh... how about a... kiss?" he said, focusing on her luscious, pink mouth. She sighed in disappointment. Mulder was afraid she was thinking he was just some lusty asshole- like Thompson- and only wanted her for her body. He would soon discover just how wrong he was. "Oh. Is it Cindy you want to kiss, Mulder? Or some other warm body down in the morgue?" "What? Scully, what the hell are you talking about?" "Don't you want me to properly introduce you to Cindy, create some sort of situation that enables you to get her alone in an autopsy bay somewhere, so you can-" "NO!" he was quick to correct her. "Scully, why would you think that?" "Because," she admitted with a sad expression, "it wouldn't be the first time something like that happened. You don't know how many men have tried to warm up to me, try to get on my good side, and all because they think Cindy and I might be friends and they want me to put in a good word for them..." "Scully... Scully, look at me," he told her in no uncertain terms. When she did not respond, he reached across the table and lifted her chin with his hand. "That might be what some guys might try, but that's not what I'm going to do." "But you just said you wanted a kiss... It's just that most guys, at least deep down, really want her..." "Most guys have already had her," he informed her. "Trust me, the writing on the bathroom wall in the men's room is full of catchy limericks, all starting with 'There once was a babe named Candy'..." "Well, there you go," she told him. "I mean, I'm no prude, nor have I ever been down on myself, but I swear, sometimes I feel like the ugly step-sister working with that woman." "Look, Scully, I know we've only just met this morning- although it's been a long day- but you seem to me to be a pretty damn good judge of character. Now I've never claimed to be a saint, and in the past I have been known to dabble in the sweet taste of the female persuasion on a regular basis, I thought you could tell about me that I'm not like most guys. And I'm not just talking about being spooky, either, or being able to get into the minds of serial killers. But I'll tell you what I am like and what I do like. I enjoy a pretty face as much as the next man, but if there aren't any brains behind it, then it takes away most of the pleasure and any chance of a second glance. I like physical beauty, but only when it is backed up with intelligence and compassion. And obviously, I'm the kind of weirdo who would engage in a game of Gross out, just in the hopes of scoring a kiss with the most beautiful woman I have ever met. And in case there is any more confusion, I do mean you. So, those are my stakes, all right?" Scully blushed furiously and wouldn't look him in the eye. "Um... well... okay..." "Good. Now that it's all settled then, let's start this, shall we? Ladies first." "Oh, uh... hey, your spaghetti reminds me of the lower intestines I pulled out of a corpse during an autopsy just last week..." She smiled sweetly at him, taking a sip of her iced-tea. He shook his head. "Amateurish at best," he snickered, although secretly, he was impressed. He made a show of taking a big bite of those 'intestines'. "Okay, let's see now... You're eating a box of cracker jacks in a darkened movie theater. Some of the stuff seems kind of wiggly and extra crunchy. After you've eaten most of the box, the movie ends, the lights come up and you look down to discover your box is littered with roaches- still alive!" Scully yawned. "Please. What is this? A Halloween party for a bunch of nine year olds?" "Well, excuse me! I'm just getting warmed up, anyway. I believe it's your turn now, my lovely." With a ladylike snort, she continued. "How's this? Drinking the entire contents of a spittoon from an olden day western bar?" "Somebody sneezes across the room and ten minutes later you scratch your head and find a bunch of slimy stuff clinging to your fingers..." "Eating an apple on a stick, covered in mucous." "Picking up dog shit with your bare hands and then licking your fingers clean." "Giving a person who rarely bathes a big bowl of chili to eat, then sticking your nose inside of their buttocks an hour later." He paused, admiring her graphic attention to detail. But instead of complimenting her, he only teased her. "You got a thing for body cavities, don't you?" "If I say yes, would it gross you out?" she asked hopefully. "More like turn me on," he joked. "Okay, you're served capers, but they turn out to be rat turds." "Yeah, I think that was a big joke going around back when I was in elementary school," she sighed. Neither agent noticed that the couple a few tables away from them called their waiter over and asked to be relocated to another area. * * * Antonio's Fine Italian Restaurant Table six, section eight Two hours later... "Eating a chili dog, which is not really a hot dog, and that's not exactly chili..." "Too vague," Scully told him, finishing up her dessert. Then she got an idea and grinned most evilly. "You and Dr. Ricky Mandoon-" "Stop right there," he told her, grimacing and holding up a hand. "Does that mean I win?" she asked. "No. Technically I find that more disturbing than gross," he replied, much to her disappointment. "Come on, we have to finish this. Antonio's is going to close soon, and I don't know how many of their customers we've scared away. Hmm, I better think of a good one, so I can win and we can get out of here." She clucked her tongue at him. "Go ahead, hot shot. Win the game." "All right, smart-Alice," he said, strongly detecting the challenge in her tone. "Here it is. The winning tribute to all that is gross and disgusting... the be all end all of sickeningness... the most vile thing your sweet, little ears will ever hear..." "So? Enlighten me, already!" "Okay, here goes... You're doing an autopsy. You crack open the chest and check out all the innards. Then, as you finish with each vital organ, you eat it, until all that's left for you to do is lick the last bone clean, which you pick your teeth with." He smiled triumphantly. Scully smiled. "Well, that certainly is disgusting, I'll give you that." His eyes danced. "Does that mean I win? That you are bowing down to the master of grossology?" he asked excitedly, gloating shamelessly and even momentarily forgetting about what it was he won in the process. "Sure," she conceded, "master." "Hot damn!" he shrieked in delight. "In your little face, Scully!" "My, such a gracious winner," she chided, although she did not seem disappointed about losing in the slightest. "You're right, Scully. I'm sorry to have acted like such an ass. And you did make a valiant effort on your part. Honest. It's just- and I'm not trying to sound sexist at all- I don't think it's possible for a woman to out-gross a man, even if the woman in question is a beautiful, brilliant pathologist." "When you're right, you're right," she readily agreed. "Come on. Could you hold my coat for me while I go up and pay the bill?" Suddenly he felt the slightest bit guilty for even winning. "Wait, Scully! I really don't mind paying for dinner-" "A deal's a deal, Mulder," she interrupted. "You won fair and square, right? Why don't you wait outside for me? I'll be right out." Mulder nodded, grabbed her coat and waited right outside the door while she paid the check. When she came out of the restaurant, he helped her on with her coat, then they walked back to their cars, which had been parked side by side in the middle of the lot. All the while, as excited as he had been at first about winning and claiming his prize, Mulder was starting to have second thoughts, not wanting to make Scully feel uncomfortable or obligated; not wanting to give her the impression that he wanted to treat her the way most men treated Cindy, which was not true. Or, that he wanted her body- even if it was true. "Hey, Scully," he began, as they reached their vehicles, "I don't want to force you into doing anything you don't necessarily want to do..." "You're not," she assured him. "A bet's a bet, right? I knew the stakes when we started playing that game and I agreed to the conditions. And Dana Scully is not someone who welches on a bet." "You're sure?" he asked, even though he was already itching to have his hands on her body and his lips on her mouth. "I won't hold it against you, you know." "I'm completely sure," she stated calmly. "Well... okay... but I don't want to find out about any sexual harassment charges filed against me in the morning, got it?" "Mulder," she sighed, "at the rate you're going, we'll still be standing here arguing about it in the morning." "Hey!" "Well..." "Okay..." he said again, taking a deep breath coming closer. Feeling like a teenager fumbling around with a girl in the back seat of his dad's Cadillac, he gingerly put an arm around her shoulder, lightly reaching up to touch her hair. His other hand he brought up to her sweet face, where he ever so gently stroked her soft cheek. He gazed lovingly at her for a long time. He did nothing. "Mulder? Are you awake in there or am I going to have to stomp on your foot?" she demanded to know. Without another word, he lowered his mouth to hers- which was no easy task, considering their height difference- and tasted her luscious lips for the first time in the waking world. It was the most exhilarating, intoxicating experience of his nearly thirty-one years. Scully felt like she was spinning. She was dizzy and giddy and out of control, like a merry-go-round. She made no protest as his hands slid down to caress the curves of her body, just as his tongue poked into her mouth, dueling with her own and tickling her palette. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, longing to keep him close. They held each other, their hands and tongues roaming, exploring and enjoying each other. It was a good sixty seconds before Mulder reluctantly broke away from the kiss and pulled out of her embrace. He hadn't wanted to, but his erection would most certainly have skewered her stomach. He was merely grateful he was wearing a long coat. He felt as elated as he did guilty. "Um... Scully?" "Oh my God, Mulder," she breathed. "I'm... I'm sorry," he apologized, mistaking her feeling and troubled that he had over-stepped his boundaries. "Don't be. That was fucking fantastic!" "Scully!" "What? It was! Well, I mean, at least for me it was," she amended. Perhaps he hadn't been so impressed with her efforts. It wouldn't have been the first time she had disappointed a man. "No, it was for me, too," he promised her. "I guess your reaction was... unexpected. Wonderful, but I wasn't prepared for it. Shit, who'd of thought my ability to be a disgusting pig would enable me to make out with the most gorgeous woman on earth?" "Well..." she said, her cheeks turning red, "I wouldn't go that far." "I would," he told her firmly. He let his happy emotions creep back in again. "Damn, I'm just so glad that I won!" "Me, too," she agreed, unlocking her car door and sliding in behind the wheel. "Oh, and Mulder?" "Yeah?" he asked, leaning down against the window to hear her. "Picture this: you're eating tapioca pudding. It's a little lumpier than you'd like. You start sifting through it with your spoon, only to find that it's been embellished with things like pus, vomit, snot, bile and toe nail clippings, topped off with some nose hairs and cat fur to give it some flavor." Mulder felt his stomach curdle. "Jesus, Scully, that is fucking disgusting -- although the tapioca alone... Damn, that makes me want to yak up my dinner!" She smiled at the compliment. "Thanks." He chuckled. "Too bad you didn't think of that before in the restaurant. You would have won." She started up the engine and buckled herself in. "Mulder, I did think of it before," she replied with a coquettish look. "I just thought it would be more fun if you won the bet. Turns out, I was right." And with that, she drove off into the night. Standing next to his own vehicle in dumbfounded wonderment, Mulder forced himself to start breathing again. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, getting a dirty look from some passersby heading for their car, and never having been so ecstatic to have been duped in his entire life. "God, there better be a second date!" * * * Mulder barely got home before he pounced. In fact, she had only just shut the front door behind them when he grabbed her, and hoisted her up against the wall, and started thrusting his tongue into her mouth. "Jesus, Mulder!" she panted, fighting for air. "Are you trying to eat my face?" "Maybe," he growled in between passionate kisses, "although there is another part of your anatomy that I'd like to eat first." Before she knew what was happening, he was on his knees in front of her, yanking her pants down and ripping off her underwear. He then buried his face into her aromatic center. He flicked his tongue playfully over her sensitive areas, then dipped it into her creamy core. He repeated these motions, varying his order, electrifying her, loving her, worshipping her. "Damn, baby," she hissed in ecstasy, "still so hungry, aren't you? Ohhh..." He glanced up to watch her eyes roll back in her head. Satisfied that he was satisfying her, he smiled and whispered against her wiry, auburn curls. "Dinner was okay, but I've been waiting for dessert all damn day." She came not long after that, having an earth shattering orgasm, all still leaning back against the wall. She fell forward but was caught by strong, loving hands. Those hands caressed her limp body and stroked back her sweaty hair. "Love you," she whispered, out of breath. "Wow, Mulder...." "I'll say," he agreed. "You are so beautiful when you come. And you taste so good. You're delicious... delectable... dreamy... delightful... and you're also so... darling... dear-to- my-heart... dainty." "Dainty?" she laughed, regaining some of her strength back and sitting up to kiss him. "I've been called many things during my life, honey, but 'dainty' has never been one of them." Mulder shrugged, covering his beloved's face and neck with a smattering of sloppy, wet kisses. "Did I mention delicious?" "Yes, you did," she told him, pausing to suck on his ear lobe. "But repetition can be a good thing. Come on. Take me to bed and we can think of some more charming adjectives." Lifting her up in his arms, Mulder carried her back to their bedroom, into their sanctuary. "I like adjectives," he said with a goofy grin, setting her gently on their bed. He was about to lie down on top of her, but she stopped him, putting firm hands on his chest. "What's your hurry?" she asked, reaching for his hardened manhood and stroking it reverently in her small hands. "That's my hurry," he informed her, grimacing at the sweet torture her ministrations evoked. "God, baby, don't tease." "Hey," she protested, "you got your dessert." "Yeah... decadent strawberry pie," he said with a wicked smile, then reached for her soft, pliant breasts. "Ooh, here's two strawberries I haven't tasted yet..." "Wait," she instructed, pushing him away again. "It's time for me to get my dessert." "And what would that dessert be, angel?" he groaned, getting harder at just the idea of her beautiful lips curving around him. "Hmm," she pondered for a moment, then her eyes lit up with inspiration. "I got a donut." "Mmm, a donut... a donut?" he repeated in confusion. "Huh?" "Oh, not the little, round ones with the holes in them," she elaborated. "I'm talking about the big... long... fat... sweet... tasty... cream-filled kind. I believe they're called Long Johns." Her mouth descended upon his throbbing member without warning. He moaned rapturously for several minutes, reaching down to touch her face, her hair, and her shoulders. "Oh, yeah... baby, yeah... God, I love you..." he whispered softly. She replied in kind, but it was a bit muffled. As much as he enjoyed the way she loved him orally, Mulder stopped her before he reached the point of no return. He wanted- no, needed- to be inside of her, to join with her on the most intimate of levels. He gently extracted his swollen penis from her tight lips, and pressed her back onto the bed, before lying on top of her and entering her slowly, not wanting to hurt her, not wanting to rush. But he was so close already, and thankfully, she was ready again, so they did not last very long. While they made love and their slick, eager bodies crashed together in a frenzy of love, passion and something older than the ages, something primal and instinctual, Mulder kept up a babbling string of compliments and affectionate nicknames that began with the letter 'd'. Just as they reached their peak together, just as she raked her nails across his back and screamed out, "Fox!", Mulder called her the most wonderful and sacred of 'd' words. "Dana!" ~ ~ ~ Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! "What the hell?!" Mulder shouted, waking up on the old leather sofa in his apartment, his hair going every which way, his eyes wild, his pants undone and soaked and sticky in front. "Ahhh, FUCK!!!!" he screamed, realizing that the phone was ringing in his ear. Glancing at the VCR clock- it was nearly midnight- Mulder answered, "Someone had better be dying, otherwise you will be!" "Nice greeting, punk ass," was the enthusiastic reply. "Frohike! What the hell do you want?" "The guys and I are having margarita and enchilada night next Tuesday and you're invited. We might play some cards or even watch... a movie. Did you wanna-" "I'm busy," Mulder cut him off, hoping to spend every night for the rest of his life with Dr. Agent Dana Katherine Scully. Or at least, having more wet dreams about her. "Oh, sure, right," he heard his friend huff sarcastically. "What, you too good for us now? You got a hot date or something?" "Um... well..." Mulder stammered. "Wait, you mean you do?" Frohike croaked in disbelief. "Holy frijoles! Hey guys! Guys... No, forget about the damn video game! Listen, I think Mulder might have a date... Yeah, with a real woman and everything! Wow, he's finally gonna find out what a kiss is! He's finally going to see a booby! Maybe he'll even get laid!" Mulder could hear the other two gunmen laughing and making comments of their own about his love life- or, up until tonight, lack there of. "Of course, it'll take some effort on your part if you want to keep a real girlfriend and get laid on a regular basis, Mulder," Frohike was taunting him. "Yeah, if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black! Good night, asshole," Mulder muttered into the phone before slamming it down on the receiver. He then went back to the couch and tried to get back to sleep. If he was lucky, maybe he would pick up where he left off and enjoy the lazy buzz of afterglow with his dearest Dana... * * * March 13, 1992 FBI Headquarters Fox Mulder's Office 6:18 a. m. Mulder arrived extremely early to work, unable to sleep much longer after the Lone Gunmen had called him. He had gone for his usual morning run, then showered and headed straight to work. This would be the first time since he had graduated from the Academy and given his first assignment had he been so eager to get to work. But his fervor had little to do with a job that had since become both tedious and boring- paper work and meetings- or heartbreaking and soul sucking- writing profiles and chasing serial killers. No, he realized, he was basically just excited to see Dana Scully again and he was smart enough to recognize that fact and happy enough to admit to it. Of course he knew she would probably not be in yet. Most people didn't show up for work around here until about eight or nine, although he knew pathology hours often differed, starting around seven. God, how he missed her already! He couldn't wait for her to come in so he could see her, hear her voice, maybe touch her skin- even if it was only her hand. He was planning on asking her out for lunch, and maybe dinner, too, if it didn't seem too desperate. He would just play it by ear, or perhaps he should ask Jerry or Stiles for advice. Of course, the truth is I am desperate, he reasoned with himself, chuckling. And I know I've technically only known the woman for one day, but really, it's been so much longer... and I'm lonely and also hopelessly in love with her. I want her. I love her. I need her, so much... He realized this was a far cry from the attitude he once harbored for love and relationships, merely up until the time he'd started having those crazy dreams. Those crazy, bizarre, emotional, wonderful, precious dreams... Before that, he had been through a couple of bad relationships, and a few decent ones that had just ended badly. It wasn't as if he hated the concept of marriage or monogamy. He was happy for people who were happily married, like Jerry or Stiles. It's just he didn't feel it was his own destiny. He figured he'd had his chance- a few, actually- but it hadn't worked out. He felt that maybe some people were just destined to be alone. He thought, for a long time, that he was one of them. But then, this small, beautiful woman invaded his dreams and changed that mentality. And as fate would have it, that same small, beautiful redhead entered his life and gave the idea of love and hearth and home real potential. "Damn, I'm such a... such a..." his voice trailed off, not even knowing how to classify himself anymore. It's like I'm a whole, new man! Mulder tried to take his mind off of the long wait for Scully's arrival into work, checking memos, filing paper work, filling out long over-due reports, but he couldn't concentrate enough. Next, he tried to make himself take a nap, hopefully to dream about her. But he had the fear that she- or anyone else- might come into his office while he slept and notice the big goofy grin on his face and the hard-on in his pants, so he decided against that. He sat and fidgeted for awhile, but he knew from experience how counter productive that could be. And he'd already given up trying to write a mushy, love poem about Scully the night before, knowing that he'd only make a mess of the poetry and a fool of himself. Finally, he decided to check his phone messages. He noticed the machine was blinking. He hit the play button. "Hey dude, it's Langly. Listen, we got some info on the space anomalies you said you were interested in. Give us a call. Later!" Mulder sighed. Did those nerds ever leave him alone? "Agent Mulder, this is Detective Jordan. I wanted to let you know we IDed the latest victim. Her name was Patsy Von Klemper. She was an eighteen-year-old, German Foreign exchange student just beginning her first year of college. I also left a message for Dr. Scully about it. Thanks to her good work, we can notify her family. I appreciate you assigning her to the team and will recommend her to anyone in need of a pathologist from now on. Thank you." Mulder smiled and reminded himself to add his own recommendation to Scully's file. She was a good person and a good pathologist. She deserved a fine, illustrious career and if he could help her out in any way, you can bet he would do so. "Mulder, it's only 4:30 and where the hell did you go? Your mobile is turned off, too! I've been trying to reach you. Hey, did you ever get a chance to talk with your dream girl? What gives? I want all the hot details, and remember I get to be best man! Find me in the morning and talk to me." "Will do, partner," Mulder promised. "Hello Fox, this is Senator Matheson. I am a friend of your father's from way back when. He tells me you've chosen a career in law enforcement, and that you're a great profiler. I would love the opportunity to speak with you in person sometime. Please call my office at 555-6842 and set up an appointment with my receptionist. I look forward to meeting with you." "Senator who...?" "Hi, Mulder. It's Byers. Just wanted to invite you to dinner on Tuesday evening. We're having this sort of... Mexican theme night- Frohike's idea, I assure you. But Langly was supposed to have invited you when he called awhile ago, but you know his attention span is about as long as a pencil... huh? What? Oh, well, I guess Frohike will call you at home this evening. Bye." "It's like I'm living in a Revenge of the Nerds movie," Mulder sighed. "Hello Marty, this is Jasmine. Just wanted to let you know about the special we're having for our great regulars like you. We're cutting two dollars off of each minute for the first fifteen minutes! But the offer is only good through the twenty- first of this month. Give me a call and take advantage of this offer. Bye-bye, sexy!" "Sorry Jasmine, but I got me a girlfriend now..." "Mulder, this is Patterson. I just read your profile. Not bad, although you're a really shitty typist. I'm not sure where you are just now, but someone told me he thought he saw you leaving early. Not a good thing to do in the middle of an important investigation, son. Anyway, see me tomorrow and we'll go over plans to continue this." "Oy! Fucking Patterson. Can't he just leave me the hell alone?" "Hey Mulder, where the hell are you? I bet you're out trying to get some tail from that new pathologist, aren't you? Well, let me save you the trouble. From what I've heard, you aren't gonna get shit from her. Her nickname back at the Academy was Ice Queen. According to Willis in domestic terrorism, the name still fits! She won't put out for you, asshole. Hell, she's probably a big dyke and plays for the other team-" Mulder deleted the message with an angry push of a button. "Fuck you, Thompson!" he grunted, his blood boiling. He vowed to take revenge on the bastard for slandering his beloved's good name, but he then remembered Jerry's warning about not turning into a raging Neanderthal every time some idiot insulted his girl. She would have to fend for herself. And if how she treated the dumb ass Thompson yesterday during the autopsy finding was any indication, he knew that she was more than capable of defending herself. It didn't make holding back any easier, it didn't ease the murderous anger he felt for Thompson lessen any, but he knew he had to behave for Scully's sake. Just thinking about her sweet face gave him the resolve to bite his tongue he needed. "Agent Mulder, this is Detective Jordan again. I received and read over your profile. Sounds like a real winner. We've already met with your undercover agents and together we're setting up a sting operation. Should be in place by Monday at the latest. If you're looking for some overtime, I'd be glad to have you stay on to help us, so we can catch this rat bastard. Every little bit helps. Thanks, again." "I'll have to clear that with Patterson," Mulder groaned in irritation. Personally, he couldn't stand the A. D. and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. "Mulder, A. D. Patterson here. Listen, Detective Jordan just called me. He wants your further assistance on this case. It's probably a good idea that you do. If you want to take Agent Lamana along for the ride, that's perfectly fine; however, I don't think you need to assemble the rest of the team-" "Like hell, I don't," Mulder exclaimed out loud. While he could easily do without Thompson and Rikers- and if he had to be honest, he didn't even really need Jerry or Stiles out there with him either- but he did need Scully, and not just because she made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Truth was, she had to be the best pathologist out of Quantico and his profile was a direct product of that truth. "Hello, Mr. Mulder, this is Bryan from Blockbuster Video. We wanted to let you know the new movie title you requested, uh... Sexcapades on Ice has come in. Also, you are late returning the following titles... Close Encounters of the Third Kind, E. T. the Extraterrestrial, Debbie Does Dallas, Aliens, Nice, Naked & Nasty and Lady & the Tramp. Wait a second... Lady & the Tramp, the Disney version, is that right?" He could hear the kid laughing away from the receiver, but it was loud enough. "That's right, asshole," Mulder snapped at the video store clerk's recorded message, "I like my porn, my sci-fi and the occasional Disney flick. Mind your own business, you little fucker!" Actually, that had been the first Disney film he had seen since he was a child, but he had recently dreamed that Dana and he had rented the movie, so he rented it the next day, trying to relive the moment, he guessed. It had been a cute show, but would have been so much better had Scully been there to watch it with him. He wrote down a reminder to take his movies back to Blockbuster. "Yo, Mulder," he heard his basketball buddy from the gym he belonged to say, "I be out on the court every day, but where the hell are you, milk? Come on, white bread! Let's go a little one on one!" "Sorry, but no time, bro," Mulder replied to his friend's tinny message. Besides, he was greatly hoping most of his time would be spent with a small, beautiful redhead. After groaning over the number of messages- after all, he had more in this one morning than he usually got in a week- Mulder heard a familiar and welcome voice. "Hi, Mulder. It's me, Dana Scully. I... I wanted to thank you for the opportunity to work on such an important case. And I'm so glad I got to work with... that I got to meet you..." He smiled, feeling all mushy and giddy. "Dinner was a lot of fun... perhaps we could get together again sometime; well, I mean, if you want to..." "Oh yes, I want to, beautiful," he whispered softly. "I love you." "...Unfortunately," the recording went on, and his heart sank- but only for a moment, "I've been sent out of town on a new case. My second field assignment in as many days, if you can believe it." "Out of town," Mulder whined like a child. "Damn! I wanted to see her today!" "... not sure how long I'll be gone, but I'd love to hear from you if you have the time... and if you're interested, I mean. You can reach me on my mobile phone. The number is 555-" The recording stopped, having run out of tape. It began rewinding itself. "What? No! No! NO!!!!" Mulder screamed in frustration. He would have probably frightened someone with his volume and anger had there been anyone in the building to scare. "Oh, fuck!" He panicked for a moment, pacing back and forth in his small office, thinking, What do I do? What do I do? But seeing as he was a smart man, logic took over and he sat down at his desk and dialed a number on his phone. "Pathology, Dr. Cindy Moran speaking." Shit! Candy Moron never answered the phone before! I didn't even think she knew how to use a phone! "Uh... may I speak with Dr. Mandoon?" he asked quickly, knowing that Rick- who might tease him a little- would at least be nice and cooperative. "Sorry, he's not in yet, may I help you?" she replied in a sickly sweet tone. "Oh, no, that's all right. I guess I'll just try him later. When will he be in?" "Not till 8:30, but he's got loads of autopsies to perform. Really... Fox, I don't mind helping you out." She giggled into the receiver. Rolling his eyes, he asked, "How did you know it was me?" "Oh, please, Fox! You don't think I don't know the sound of the voice of the sexiest man in the FBI?" "Oh... uh, well, okay then. Bye." "Now wait, Fox," she purred, "What is it you needed? I'm sure that anything 'Pricky' could do for you I could do ten times better." God, she annoyed the hell out of him. Plus, her flirtation was completely not reciprocated and unwanted. But if she really wanted to take the bait, then who was he not to hook her? "Yeah, I'll bet you could. I need a number looked up." "That's it?" she asked, sounding irritated at being thought of as nothing more than a secretary. "That's what a damn phone book is for. Unless, of course, it's my number you want..." "Well, see, I want the number to the most beautiful woman in pathology." "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah; you got Dana's cell number?" The answer he got was the dial tone. She had hung up on him. He smiled as he put the phone back on the receiver. No, he hadn't gotten Scully's number, but he had managed to piss off Cindy. Plus, he'd just call Rick back later and get it. Yeah, it had definitely been worth it. With a sigh, he gave himself a minute or two to just sit back and think of a small, gorgeous redhead with shining, blue eyes and a smile that was to die for. He couldn't wait to tell her how he had made Dr. Moron so angry. He was sure it would brighten her day. * * * March 13, 1992 FBI Headquarters Fox Mulder's Office 11:26 a. m. "Fuck! Shit! Fuck!" Mulder yelled, throwing his phone across the room. It hit the far wall and broke into several pieces. "Damn!" he whimpered, resting his head on his desk. "Hey, what is this, the Profanity Olympics?" asked someone from the door. Mulder looked up to see his partner Jerry standing in the doorway. Upon acknowledging the guy's presence with a defeated grunt, Mulder resumed his moping and buried his head in the crook of his arm on his desk. "Damn, Mulder," Jerry went on, coming in without an invitation and seating himself in the chair opposite Mulder's. "What's up? You haven't returned my calls. Patterson told me we were supposed to join Detective Jordan out in the field today, but that's news to me. And you look like hell. Are you sick or something?" Another unintelligible grunt, along with a noncommittal shoulder shrug was the reply. Jerry smiled knowingly. "I see. You're definitely sick, all right. Lovesick, that is. What's wrong, man? You strike out with the cute, little doctor yesterday?" "Shut up, Jer," Mulder mumbled into his arm. "Dana would never hurt me like that." "So...?" Jerry was at a loss. "Maybe you don't like her so much now?" Mulder sat up straight, glaring at his partner for even suggesting such a ludicrous thing. "We had dinner last night, Jerry. She asked me out. Hell, just like a good, modern woman, she even paid for the meal! We had fun, talking and joking and flirting. Afterwards, we shared a big, long, hot, wet, gooey kiss in the parking lot that nearly gave me an orgasm right where I stood. And I went home last night and dreamed one of the best, erotic dreams about her that I've ever experienced! So, it has nothing to do with not liking her! I fucking love her, okay?" "Okay, okay! So... you're in love and excited and this is how you express your joy? Jesus, Mulder! No offense, but no wonder your first marriage didn't last." "Shut the hell up!" Mulder hissed at him. "Hey, hey, hey!" Jerry tried to calm him, holding up his hands in surrender. "Come on now, I don't know which end is up here. You say you're both happy with each other, you say went out and made out! Then what's the problem here, 'cause frankly, I don't see one." "She went out of town for another assignment. She doesn't know how long she'll be gone," Mulder sulked. "Okay..." Jerry said, still not comprehending the true problem. "And you're upset because... you miss her?" "Well, yeah... but it's a lot more than that. She left me a message here at the office. She gave me her number but the damn machine was full for some stupid reason and I missed the last four digits of it." "Oh. Well, why don't you call down to pathology and ask for it?" "I did. I keep getting Candy 'Fucking' Moron, who refuses to give it to me!" "Ask for Ricky, then." "Every time I did, she'd say he was busy and couldn't come to the phone." "Go down there, then." "I did. I finally found Rick, and he looked up Scully's number in his disc file, but the one listed is wrong. I keep getting some Chinese restaurant from a bad part of town where they don't speak English very well." Jerry scratched his head. "What about hard copy? You check her paper file?" "Oh, yeah," Mulder retorted angrily at the recollection. "It's been scratched out in dark, black, fucking ink!" "Why?" Jerry wondered. "That seems kind of fishy, if you ask me." "More like pissy," Mulder sulked. "It's that stupid, fucking jerk, Cindy! Both Rick and I asked her, point blank, if she did all that shit." "Did she own up?" "No, but she doesn't exactly deny it either. She just sits there with that damn smirk on her pathetic, overly-made up face!" "And no one here has her number on their own?" Mulder shrugged. "Not that I could find. Guess she doesn't socialize with co-workers much." "Hey, what about next of kin, like parents or siblings? She had to list somebody in her file." "Her parents are named as next of kin," Mulder stated dully. "Cindy changed that number, too." "Did you just try looking them up in the phone book?" "They're either unlisted, or Cindy changed their names in the file, or both." "Shit! What the hell is her problem?" "I'm not sure, Jer. It could be that she's pissed at me for not wanting her. Or maybe she's mad at Scully for being a better doctor, or for being better looking, or for being a better person. Maybe it's a combination of everything. I don't know. All I do know is that I can't reach Scully, and I miss her and I don't want her thinking I just blew her off or that I'm not interested. And I certainly don't want her hating me! But, damn! Candy is a big, nasty, conniving, bitchy wench and there's a big part of me that wants to either strangle her or at the very least, pull her skirt up in front of everyone in the cafeteria!" Jerry reached over to pat his partner's arm sympathetically. "Don't bother. I think most everybody here has seen what's under her skirt, anyway." This elicited a small smile from Mulder's sullen face. "Yeah..." "Look, Mulder, why don't you just relax? Maybe you can have one of our guys look up the number for you?" "I already tried that, too," Mulder said, his dark mood growing darker. "But I guess old 'Candy-Ass' got to them before me, too, and when I went to research to ask them to find her number, I got a big lecture about how I'm not supposed to use government resources for the purpose of personal gain." "Jesus," Jerry muttered. "She's really got you painted into a corner. Well, she's thorough, I'll give her that." "I'd like to give her something else," Mulder hissed, pounding his right fist onto the desktop. "Hey, do you know where her assignment is?" Jerry asked suddenly. "If you really think she's worth it- 'cause you know you'd catch hell for doing it- you could find out where she is and just fly down there... er, or up there and surprise her. Maybe bring her some flowers or something. I'd do my best to cover for you." "Thanks, Jer. I wish I could, but when I talked to Rick this morning, he found out that Scully wasn't supposed to be sent anywhere today- Cindy was! I guess some dumb fuck asked for Cindy- probably in the hopes of getting laid during a difficult case- but she altered the records, putting Scully down for the temporary transfer instead. And, to top it off, the request has been sealed or disappeared, or something." "She's really got it in for you and Dana." "Yeah." "Damn, dude..." "I know," Mulder heartily agreed. "No way to call her. No way to find her. No way to... reach her, at all..." "I'm sorry. But just know that if this girl is really 'the one' for you- and I think she honestly could be- then it won't really matter. Maybe she'll be kind of pissed at you for awhile, even if it's not really your fault, but if it's meant to be, then you'll hook up with her anyway." "Yeah. Sure. Whatever," Mulder sighed. "Mulder..." "She's gonna be gone a few days, a week, maybe longer and she'll never hear from me. She's gonna think that I just blew her off or ditched her. She's gonna fuckin' hate me!" Jerry watched his friend's face grow even more grim and heartbroken. And he swore he could see tears in the man's eyes. This was going to be a really bad week, he could tell. And if Dana Scully wasn't the forgiving type, it was going to be a really bad year. * * * Mulder was so excited. His beloved was finally returning to him. She had been gone away on a case for a couple of weeks now, and she was arriving home tonight. He took the day off, spending the entire time cleaning up the apartment and preparing a home cooked meal; eggplant Parmesan, one of her favorite dishes. He also took the time to buy some new, silk sheets for their bed, and he made it up, scattering rose petals all over the bedroom, as well as setting up dozens of scented candles for just the right romantic atmosphere. He wanted everything to be perfect for her return. He wanted her to be able to just come home, relax, eat dinner, have a bath and fall into bed- with him maybe on top of her, of course. God, how he missed the feel of her soft, white skin, the sprinkling of freckles that donned it, the feel of it against his. His body reacted forcefully just thinking about it. Before he knew it, there was the familiar scrape of the key in the door. Racing over to stand in front of it, Mulder waited anxiously as the door began to open... ~ ~ ~ Mulder woke up, suddenly feeling very gypped. Apparently, he was not allowed to see his beautiful Scully, even in his dreams. * * * A few days later, Mulder and Jerry found themselves helping out in the sting operation with Detective Jordan and his team. They staked out plenty of bars, nightclubs, dance halls, and college campuses but no such luck. In the meantime, another dead woman's body turned up. Scully wasn't there to do the autopsy. Mulder went through some proper and some improper channels to try and locate her. Both he and Detective Jordan desperately wanted to reach her, albeit for different reasons. A week went by. Scully still wasn't back. In the meantime, yet another dead woman's body turned up. After a week and a half of failed stakeouts and hopefulness quickly turning to desolation and desperation, Scully turned back up in Quantico. Ricky called Mulder's cell phone with the news on a Tuesday morning at a little after seven, that Miss Dana Scully had returned from Provo, Utah of all places, taking over a case that had the local pathologists baffled. Scully had examined the body in question, made astute observations and was about to head home, but suddenly another body turned up. Apparently, Utah was having it's own problems with serial killers. Thankfully, their baddie had been caught within that week. He was a copycat a la Ted Bundy, who stalked his victims by posing as someone who had a physical handicap and approaching the victim under the guise of needing help doing something. Scully had just finished up telling her tale of her second exciting case to Ricky, when she saw a haggard, bone weary Fox Mulder approach. His eyes were so tired, so sad. But she couldn't help see how they lit up upon seeing her face. Too bad she was too angry with him to care for the moment. "Hey," he said, trembling slightly, as he reached for her arm. She turned away and out of his grasp before he could make contact. "Hello, Agent Mulder," she said politely, coldly. "Look, I'd like to talk to you, in private if I may," he began. "I'm sorry, Agent, but I've got a full case load waiting for me today. Just back for the first time in almost two weeks. Been out in Utah." She started down the hallway towards her private office. Unable- or more likely, unwilling- to take a hint, Mulder followed. He walked into her office right at her heels and sat down at the chair in front of her desk without being invited to. "Mulder," she sighed, "I'm really busy and don't have time for another bull shit gross out session, all right?" "How about a kiss then?" he asked hopefully. "Fuck you, Mulder." "I'll take that, too," he joked, but it fell horribly flat. "Get out, Mulder." "Wait, Scully, you've got to let me explain some things." "I don't have time. And I don't think I want to hear your explanations, either." "But, Dana-" "I mean it, Mulder!" she shouted, losing her temper and letting that Irish heritage show. She quickly forced herself to calm down. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to-" "Hey, Agent Mulder, Dr. Scully," Jerry said popping his head in. "Thought I'd find you both here. Listen, Detective Johnson just found another one. Seems you were right about this bastard escalating his violence. That's three in less than two weeks. Jordan wants you both on this. Patterson cleared your time, Mulder. And Dr. Scully, I just talked with your supervisor, Dr. Mandoon. He says you're all good to go. Detective Jordan is at the latest crime scene. Wants us all to meet him there. I'll get the car. Meet me in the parking garage in five." Then he was gone. "Well, I guess my first day back won't be boring," she mumbled to herself. "Scully, I really need to talk with you..." "And tell me what, Mulder?" she asked, grabbing her coat, her bag and a box of latex gloves. "That you were too busy to call? Well, I guess I can buy that, what with all the bodies you guys keep finding. But I know you had to go home sometime. You... you could have called me then. I don't care if you'd woken me up. I just... I... just wanted to hear your voice." Her own voice wavering, Scully took a deep breath, trying not to let it catch in her throat. Then she headed out the door and to the elevators. Mulder was beside her instantly, resting his hand on the small of her back. She was not the type to cause a scene, especially at work, so she allowed the contact. But the minute they stepped onto the elevator alone, she pulled away and glared at him. "Dana," he pleaded, "I really, really, really wanted to call you. I... well, the message you left on my answering machine got cut off right before you said your number." "Then why didn't you ask someone down here for my number? It's in my file." "Actually, it isn't," he explained. "I mean, not the correct number, anyway. It seems someone has altered your records. You might want to get the proper information reinstated." "Altered my records? That's insane! Who would do something so ridiculous and idiotic?" she demanded to know. Mulder said nothing, merely stared at her. "You mean...? Nah, it couldn't be Cindy! Dr. Moron isn't that intelligent!" "Apparently, she's been learning behind our backs," he said. "Not only did she refuse to help me get your number, but we're all pretty sure she altered yours and your parents phone numbers in your charts." "Jeez, pretty elaborate for revenge, isn't it? Especially when it concerns her." "I'll say. But maybe she's an idiot savant and she's surprising us all with her talents." She started to chuckle, but stopped herself just in time. She was still mad at him, dammit! "Well, you could have found out where I was and looked up the number there!" she shot at him. "No, sorry Scully, but I couldn't." "Why the hell not? Because of the case you're on?" "No, because of the case that you were on. It seems, she was the one that sent you to Utah. It was initially supposed to be her. She just gave you the job at the last minute, then sealed the assignment so nobody could find it. Like I said, idiot savant." The doors to the elevator opened and they stepped out into the parking garage. "I don't know," she said, her eyes downcast. "I just find that story to be too incredible to believe, Mulder." He sighed. "Just because something is unbelievable, doesn't mean it isn't true." "What?" "Sometimes the most incredible stories just have to be true, because who would be able to make it up?" "You would," she pointed out. "You're a brilliant man, Mulder." "Uh, thanks," he said with a slight blush. "Which means you could come up with some brilliant lies." "Hey! Scully, come on!" They arrived at his Government Issue sedan and Jerry was already standing there, impatiently glancing back and forth from them to his watch. "It's about time! What the hell did you two do in that elevator, anyway?" "Nothing," Scully hissed scathingly. At the same time, Mulder replied, "We just talked." "Right," Jerry said with a knowing grin. "So, what's the seating arrangements, partner?" Mulder looked at Scully. "Um, where would you like to sit, Scully?" "Wherever you aren't," she decided, narrowing her eyes at him. "But Scully, I wanted to talk to you." "You already did!" "Shit!" Jerry groaned. "Hey, kiddies, we ain't got time for any lovers' quarrels. Now, I don't care where either one of you sit, but get in the damn car!" "Fine!" they both shouted at him. Mulder carefully waited until Scully made a move. She rolled her eyes in defeat and got into the back seat. Mulder crawled in after her, tossing Jerry the keys. "Great," Jerry muttered under his breath. "I get to play chauffeur to a couple of junior high school FBI agents. It's the fucking thrill of my life." Both agents in the back seat chose to ignore his statement. Jerry started up the car and told them he was going to the latest crime scene, which was another park in the general vicinity of where Scully's first exposure to the case happened. "Close to the other one," she murmured, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand, trying to forget about the soulful eyed man sitting next to her and staring at her with great need and urgency. "Maybe he lives nearby." "That's good sense, Scully," Mulder complimented. "Most criminals, no matter the type of crime, usually stick close to home or work in their extracurricular activities." "Oh, quit being such a kiss-ass, Mulder," she grunted at him. "That's profiling 101 at the Academy. It's not like I made some giant leap into the killer's mind, or anything." "Well," he said softly, "you've made a giant leap into my heart. Did you know that?" For once, the young doctor was stunned into silence, which was how the rest of the drive went. * * * They arrived at the park, the two agents in the back seat still quiet and brooding. When they all met up with Detective Jordan, it was Jerry that did most of the talking. The other two silently walked over to inspect the body. Scully felt the same horror filling into the pit of her stomach. She forced back the tears, just as she had done in Utah a couple weeks before. But they glistened in her large, blue eyes. She was unable to hide the pain and revulsion at seeing what one human being- if he could be called that- had done to another. Mulder closed his eyes to the sight for a moment, willing himself to be strong for the sake of the victim. As Scully had said before, there was still a job to do and one had to be strong to do it. Still, it didn't make things any easier. "Definitely looks like the same MO," Scully commented in a small voice. "At least from a forensic point of view." "I concur from the profile angle as well," Mulder agreed solemnly. "It's definitely our guy." At this time, Detective Jordan marched up to the two fibbies, ready to work out a new plan. "Hey, Agent Mulder, Dr. Scully, I think we need to double our efforts here. This monster is out of control. We need more than just one team out trying to bait him. Obviously he's still going at his... nightly activities, even with us around and looking for him. Maybe if we had a sting operation set up for each division. I got people, we could set up for at least three separate teams. How about you guys?" "I'm sure we could arrange that, Detective Jordan," Mulder nodded. "I'll talk to Patterson. I'm betting we could match- and possibly surpass- your three teams." "That's great!" Jordan declared, allowing himself a small show of enthusiasm. "I take it you're going to head up a team?" "Most certainly," Mulder was quick to volunteer. "I'm not giving up until we find this son of a bitch. I promise." "Thanks." "And I'll volunteer my services, as well," Scully piped up, not wanting to be left out of the group. "Well, thank you, Dr. Scully," Jordan told her, a grateful look in her eyes. "We need a lot of help in pathology, and you're one of the best we got working on this." "I appreciate that, Detective Jordan," Scully replied. "But I was also offering my services for the sting operation. I'm not just a pathologist, but also qualified as a field agent, sir. I'd be happy to split my time between the field and the autopsy bay." "Really?" Detective Jordan asked, suddenly elated. "That's fantastic. And you'd be perfect for the set-up. You're young, attractive, and female. Everything that Mr. Wrong is looking for!" "No, now wait a minute," Mulder cut in, the concern etched in his face like a pattern in fine crystal. "Scully, I don't think this is such a good idea." "Why not?" she challenged him, spinning around to face him with a livid expression. "Because," he reasoned, "your expertise is in pathology, not undercover work. Plus, you're too inexperienced to start out with such a big assignment. It simply isn't done!" Scully ignored Mulder and returned her attention to Detective Jordan. "Sir, if I can clear it with my superior, would you be willing to have me on your team?" "Yes, of course," the police officer heartily agreed. He stole a glance from Agent Mulder, who was glowering at him. "Uh, but maybe you and your guy ought to talk things over first. I know I wouldn't want my wife out working such a horrifying case, and she's a cop, too." He left the two FBI agents alone, to bicker over the dead body. Turning back to the tall man who had entered her life such a short time ago- thoroughly turning it upside down- Scully shot daggers at Mulder. "What the hell are you doing, Mulder!? This is my case as much as it is yours!" "I agree, and you are needed, but in pathology, not out in the field. Not like that." "What the hell gives you the right to tell me no?" she demanded, beyond livid now. "Well, I am the head of this team. And I can recommend to Patterson that you remain back in the morgue." "What?!" "Hey, trust me, Scully, I know you hate me right now, but I'd rather have you working down in the morgue than ending up there..." and he paused, trying to shake the horrendous image from his mind, "... as the next victim. I'm sure your parents and family and friends would agree with me." "You...." she began to stammer, her small, pale face turning bright red in full-blown, murderous rage. "You... fucking, asshole, son of a BITCH! How dare you?! How dare you speak down to me like that? Treat me like a child?" "Dana, you practically are one- at least by FBI standards," he tried to explain, embarrassed at her anger towards him, as well as by all the police officers and the forensics team blatantly watching the drama unfold. "I've read your file. I know how you graduated both high school and college early; how you breezed through medical school. You're too young and inexperienced for this assignment. It doesn't mean you're not smart, or a good agent, it just means you're not ready for a job of this magnitude." "Mulder, let me inform you that I graduated only a year early from both high school and college. Though it might be somewhat unusual, it's not exactly unheard of. And while I did manage to survive medical school, it was certainly not a breeze! I also made it through Academy training, which isn't a walk in the park, either, in case you don't remember. I'm twenty-eight years old, and maybe that isn't the age of the typical well- seasoned special agent, but I'm no child prodigy! I'm a grown adult woman who cuts open dead human beings for a living. I'm a responsible person who pays her bills on time and makes it to work every day without getting lost or scared or upset. I've been through the proper training to do any sort of fieldwork the FBI happens to cover. I am qualified!" He bowed his head in defeat. "But you're so small and young," he whispered to himself. Unfortunately for him, she heard him. "Well, would you like to see what this small, young, person is capable of, Agent Mulder?" she hissed sarcastically. "Don't underestimate me! I may not be six feet tall, but I could still bust your ass!" She kicked a little bit of dirt his way as she stomped off, and Mulder couldn't be sure if it had been accidental or not. Jerry walked up to his crest-fallen partner. "Good job, man. Way to keep those personal feelings private. I bet she can feel the respect now." "Shut the fuck up, Jerry," Mulder whimpered, on the verge of crying. "I'm not saying she isn't capable of doing this job. I just... well, I just wouldn't want to find out the hard way if she couldn't." "Mulder," Jerry warned him, "you are treading in some dangerous waters here, my friend. Give the lady some space and start treating her like one of us for awhile." "Well, no offense Jerry," Mulder huffed at him, wiping futilely at his eyes, "but as much as I like you, I wouldn't feel as devastated if you got hurt, and I've never been in love with you or wanted to marry you or give you my children." "Right back at you, pal," Jerry murmured, watching Mulder sulk quietly back to their vehicle. * * * March 26, 1992 Quantico, FBI Headquarters Pathology Department 8:25 a. m. Mulder marched down to Pathology the next day, his walk purposeful, his anger probably misplaced. He found Dr. Rick Mandoon sitting there reading a Playgirl magazine. Shuddering at the thought of other naked guys- isn't it bad enough we have to see ourselves naked?- Mulder forced the notion out of his head in favor of more important things. "Ooh, look at the telescope on this guy," Ricky was saying, practically salivating at the most likely well-endowed model in the magazine. "Mandoon!" Mulder hissed. Ricky looked up from his reading and smiled at the handsome man walking towards him. "Oh, if there's anything sexier than a male model, it's an honest-to-God living, breathing sex machine right in front of you. Hello, gorgeous!" "Knock off the shit, Mandoon," Mulder went on, angry as hell. "I'm not here to flirt, or deflect your sad ass! I'm here about Dana Scully!" "Ah yes, the sweetest thing to come to pathology since... well, since me!" "How could you, Rick?" Mulder asked, becoming more desperate than angry. "How could you sign the form to let her into the field?" "What the hell are you talking about, Fox?" Mandoon asked in confusion. "She's on your team! Damn, you're the one who requested her in the first place!" "But that was different," Mulder explained. "I wanted a good pathologist. I never signed her up for any undercover work!" "What's the big deal, man?" Ricky muttered. "She's a smart woman. This will be good for her career, good experience." "Not if she ends up getting killed, you asshole!" Mulder yelled at him, wanting nothing more than to grab the guy up by the collar and shake some sense into him. But even angry, he feared that Ricky would only take it as a sexual advance, so he kept his hands to himself. "Well, don't you have a lot of faith in her?" Rick mentioned sarcastically, staring pointedly at the special agent. "Jeez, Mulder, I never would have pegged you as a chauvinist pig! What do you have against us ladies, anyway?" "What? Oh Jesus, it's not that! And you, Rick, are no lady." "Oh, if it's not like that, then what is it like, huh? I don't get it. You barely know Dana. What gives? You think because she's tiny and female she don't have the right stuff?" "I know she's got the right stuff, all right? Dana Scully is the most intelligent, strong, brave and beautiful human being I have ever met! But she's young and new and inexperienced and I don't want her to get hurt!" "Holy shit, you're in love!" Ricky exclaimed in surprise, and a couple of assistants walking by snickered, wondering if old Fox Mulder, the Romeo of the secretarial pool, decided to play for the home team instead. "Shh," Mulder grunted. "The whole world doesn't have to know." He noticed Ricky smiling at him. He found it extremely unnerving. "What? WHAT?" "Nothing. It's just, wow!" "Wow, what?" "I guess it's just kind of refreshing to see a guy recognize a real woman when he sees one, for a change. And Dana is a great one." "That she is," Mulder agreed, suddenly unable to suppress a smile. "Too bad you still can't recognize a real man," Ricky cooed. "Oh, Jesus, Rick! I'm not interested! I'm not gay, okay? Excuse me for following the law of a heterosexual! It's not like I can help it! I was born that way!" "Touch?, Foxy. I guess I can't fault you there," Mandoon laughed, using that same 'I was born that way' reasoning to defend his own sexuality many a time. "But where I can fault you is the way you're treating the woman you love." "Huh? What are you talking about? I'm only trying to protect Dana." "Protect her from what, Mulder? Getting ahead in the Bureau?" "No. No! I just... don't want her exposed to the ugliness and pain that this job often entails." "Mulder, no offense, but for a hot, sexy, brilliant profiler, you sure can be fucking stupid." "Hey!" "Hear me out, handsome, I don't mean that you're stupid all the time; just, apparently when you're dealing with the one you love." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It's supposed to mean that, seeing how she's in the pathology department and cuts up dead people all day, I think she's already experienced the ugliness and pain this job entails. Hell, she may have known long before she got a job here at Quantico!" "What do you mean?" Mulder demanded to know. "What have you heard?" Ricky rolled his eyes. "Nothing! Jesus, Fox, everybody faces shit in their lives, usually long before they grow up and get a job. I'm sure little Dana's no different. And yeah, she's small, physically, but so what? I've seen her help flip over a three hundred pound cadaver with hardly a nudge! She's strong. But what's more, she's smart. And while all brawn and no brains might make for a hot night with a blond, hunky surfer boy, it doesn't mean I want it to continue into the next day." "Can you spare me the gay analogies," Mulder groaned. "I get it, all right. I'm... hovering, being over protective. It's not enough to love her, I need to respect her, too." "Wow! Who says can't teach an established hetero new tricks?" Mulder scowled at him. "Hey, at least I didn't say 'old'!" "So, I should probably just back off a little. At least at work, right?" "That would be my thought on the matter." "But, I want her to know that I love her and care about her. I mean, sure, I'd care about any agent on my team, but with Scully, it's different; it's... it's much more." "I hear you, man. But you can still say 'I love you, baby' without treating her like one." "Right," Mulder sighed. He turned to leave, but then turned back once to whisper, "Hey, Rick? Could you at least put in a good word for me?" "I always do, Foxy, I always do!" * * * April 09, 1992 Georgetown University Main Library 8:36 p. m. Dana Scully sat in the large library reading a few outdated medical journals at a table by herself. She tried to look the part of a college student. She wore jeans and a tee shirt with sneakers on her feet. Her red hair was bunched up in a messy ponytail on the top of her head. She had not worn anything overtly revealing, knowing that most of the victims that had been found, had been last seen very similar attire. Most of the other agents on the team hadn't given it much thought, except maybe to comment that she was "dressed rather casually for work" (Stiles said that), or "God, you're so fucking short!" (From Thompson who, along with Rikers, was unfortunately back on the case as well). Dana normally wore high heels as a part of her FBI uniform. Of course, the one who did not comment at all was the suddenly silent yet supportive Agent Mulder. (Still, she had noticed him staring appreciatively at her backside quite a few times during the last five days.) But Mulder had been the epitome of a supportive team leader towards her and everyone else. He hardly said anything to her, except to give directions or encouragement. But she knew he was watching her carefully. She also knew that he had something he wanted to say to her, but that he was holding back. She admired his restraint, knowing from experience now, that he was usually a guy who just spoke his mind. She had already been there for an hour, then sat there, going back and forth to the shelves, looking for another old journal to read. She tried not to look bored or out of place. Of course, after a quick glance around, she noticed that most of the kids sitting around her did look bored, so she readjusted her facial attitude. It didn't seem to matter either way. No one seemed to be paying her even the slightest bit of attention, save for the fussy librarian, a nebbish looking man in his fifties, with a big gut, who wore a bow tie and had a Hitler-style moustache. The minute Scully would take a magazine or book off a shelf, he would rush over to tidy up the mess she'd apparently made. And of course, she knew Mulder always had his eye on her. She somehow knew that every time she stood up to change reading material, her team leader, valiant protector- and best kissing partner ever- was listening over the microphone, and watching her over the monitor the dean had allowed them to put in, staring at her ass. She wasn't sure which bothered her more- the fact that he was doing so, or the fact that it really didn't bother her all that much. Just before closing time, Scully heard Mulder speak to her through the monitor. He was telling her to just pack it in for the evening, when she could hear a commotion happening, probably just outside of their surveillance van. "Mulder! What's happening?" she whispered in alarm. "It's okay, honey," he let slip. "I think there's some drunken frat boys trying to over turn the va- ahhhh! Oh, shit!" Scully could hear a lot of screaming and shouting, and then, nothing at all! She figured she had better get out there. She might have to arrest some intoxicated students before they could hurt her team. Shaking her head, Dana stood up and started for the door. "Oh, excuse me dear, but are you finished with the magazine?" the librarian asked. "Huh? Oh, um..." she paused, trying to channel her inner adolescent. "Um, like yeah, dude. I totally am." "Oh, all right," he went on, moving quickly- and wheezing slightly with the effort- and coming to walk beside her. "On your way back to the dorm, are you?" "On my way home, anyway," she said distractedly. She really needed to get back to that van. "Well, it's rather late and I've just closed up. Perhaps you might like having someone to walk you home. It's just not safe for a young lady on campus anymore." His eye twitched nervously several times. "Um, well, I..." she began, not quite knowing how to get rid of this loser without hurting his feelings. Ironically enough, this was the same kind of dork she attracted all through her own high school and college years, just much younger. "No, thank you, sir. I'm sure I'll be fine." Again, she started for the exit. "But I insist, miss. As new head librarian, I find it my duty to look after the students here." Trying not to roll her eyes, Scully relented. "Well, fine, I guess. I'm not on campus tonight, though. But I have a ride waiting for me down the street... Eh, I think." "Of course," he told her chivalrously. "I'll wait with you." He escorted her out the door. "Thanks," she said, smiling icily. She didn't know how she was going to explain how her ride might be upside down by now and surrounded by puking fraternity brothers from Alpha Beta Jerk. "I'm Mr. Jefferies, the new head librarian here," he was babbling, as they walked. "Nice to meet you. I'm Dana Sc- eh, Mulder. Dana Mulder." "So, are you a freshman, Miss Mulder? A sophomore?" Despite trying to keep in character and find her lost patrol, Dana had to pause for a moment and relish the compliment. "Um, a senior, actually." "Oh? Well, how wonderful for you! What's your major?" "I'm pre med," she told him absently, still looking for that damn van. "That is exceptional. Any idea which field you'll be venturing into?" "Forensics." "Oh," he said, momentarily taken aback. "Well... I... that's interesting." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Yeah, I think so," she replied, not caring for his less than enthusiastic attitude towards her chosen field. Most people she knew- including most of her family- had reacted in such a way when she had made her decision. "My wife is a doctor, too," he was saying, undoing his bow tie and flinging it casually over his shoulder. "Oh? That's cool," Scully muttered, still searching for her ride out of here. "Well, she's a scientist, really," he went on, not realizing that she wasn't truly listening. "She's actually studying a medicine that will help AIDS patients. It's painstaking and slow going, but they're coming along, she says." This perked Scully's interest, especially considering she herself was a doctor and scientist. "Really? That's great, Mr. Jefferies. I hope she can find something that helps." "Oh, please, call me Ronald," he told her, gushing. "Uh... okay... Ronald." What the hell is wrong with me? I guess Bill and Charlie were right. I am a dork magnet! They walked by a large building full of empty classrooms. "May I call you Dana, Miss Mulder?" he asked, blushing slightly. What a pig! He's a married man and he's flirting with me! I'm only a college kid and he's an old fart! Well, at least I'm pretending to be a college kid... "Um, that's my name." "Splendid," he cried almost ecstatically. "Say, do you see your ride anywhere?" "Uhhh..." Dana searched frantically for the big, white van that held 'her guys', as Ricky had started referring them to her as. It was nowhere in sight. "No... not yet." Damn! I'm going to kill those assholes for leaving me stranded with Mr. Bow tie and his dork talk! "... And I'm working as a librarian, as I'm in between teaching jobs," he was saying and it was only then did she realize he had never stopped talking. "Oh, that's... great," she replied, longing to be anywhere but there. "Yes," he agreed, puffing his chest out. "I've been a college professor for a number of years. Used to work at the University of Maryland for the longest time, but was laid off, due to down sizing and cut backs." "Well, that is a big problem now a days, isn't it?" Scully said, blowing out a breath and wishing she had been laid off earlier that morning. "I'll say," he agreed. "Hey, while you're waiting for your ride, would you like to go get a cup of coffee?"" "No!" she retorted a little too forcefully, causing the little man to recoil in alarm. "Um, I mean, no thank you, sir. I'm sure my friends will be here any minute and I wouldn't want to worry them." "Of course," he said, nodding in understanding. "It's just not safe for a kid these days. Do you have good parents? I know I did. I think that's what got me through this life; a sense of family. Don't you agree, Dana?" "Sure do." "Are you close with your parents, my dear?" "Well, yeah." "That's good. And you want a family of your own someday, don't you?" She paused as if in reflection. "I guess I never really thought much about it before. Just too busy keeping track on my career- eh, my education. But yeah, I probably will, if I find the right guy, that is." "Good to know. Very sensible attitude," he was babbling on, while she checked her watch for the hundredth time in less than three minutes. "Of course, there are always times when finding the right person doesn't necessarily help you get that family you want." "Um, yeah... well, there are no guarantees in life," she mumbled, desperately wanting this nerd to pack up and move along. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him remove his tie from his shoulder. The realization struck her, but not in time. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," he told her as he wrapped his bow tie around her neck and tightened it. "I prefer the philosophy of making your own guarantees in life." Unable to scream or speak or even breathe, Scully struggled against the wheezing man. He wasn't the strongest person she had ever faced, but he had taken her by surprise and then cut off her airflow, making it difficult for her to concentrate, move or breathe. "Shh," he murmured gently into her ear, as she continued to struggle and weaken. "There now, my beautiful girl. Relax. Shh. I don't want to hurt you. In fact, I find you to be most intelligent and fascinating. And a redhead to boot! God, your hair is unbelievably gorgeous. I think I know how we can both solve our problems with finding the right person to start a family with, sweetness." He took a moment to breathe in the scent of her. She smelled fantastic and he was still struck by her good looks and intelligence. He could imagine the beautiful child they would have together. Because no one was around at this time of night in the area, he had no qualms about attacking her while out in the open. He was planning on taking her back to his vehicle, parked on the other side of the building, and driving her home to the love nest he had built for just the two of them. "Come on, my sweet girl, let's go home now. Come on, love. Stay with me and I won't hurt you. In fact, if you come with me quietly, I'll even loosen the tie. How's that sound? Do you understand?" Realizing that she had lost a lot of oxygen and was probably close to losing consciousness, he knew she might not comprehend what he was telling her. He also knew she would not put up any more of a struggle. She would be too weak to do so. He had her now, his beautiful, new bride and the mother to his future offspring. Scully nodded weakly, her eyes fluttering. "Good," he replied in satisfaction. "All right, my dear, I'll just loosen this tie a little and then we'll walk to my car." He did as promised and was surprised when his young charge` wrenched away from him, then reached into the back waistband of her pants. "Dana?" he asked in confusion. "Fuck you," she wheezed, pulling out her nine millimeter. "Hands up. You're under arrest." Nerdy Mr. Jefferies opened his eyes wide. "What? Dana! What is this? What's going on?" "What's going on is that you just tried to abduct me and I'm going to arrest you for it." Still having a little trouble breathing, she managed to pull some ID out of her pocket. "Special Agent Scully, FBI." "Oh," he cried in disbelief, looking both confused and disappointed. "Damn, Dana. You lied to me. Oh, this is so horrible. So tragic." "Tragic for you, maybe," she spat, about ready to retrieve her cell phone to call Mulder and ask him where his stupid ass was hiding now. "For us both, I'm afraid," he said, and before she knew what was happening, he pulled out a pocketknife and lunged. It wasn't a big weapon, but it was effective. He stabbed her in the hand that held her gun and she dropped it, howling in pain. Though small, he was still bigger than she was by at least four inches and fifty pounds. Plus, he hadn't almost been strangled to death just a few moments before. He started to stab her wherever he could reach her flesh and she kicked and struggled against him, fighting like the wild Irish girl she could be. "I'm sorry," he said, nearly sobbing. "We would have made such a lovely baby together." "Not even!" she hissed through gritted teeth and great concentration. She pulled her knees and, with all the might she could muster and then some, she kicked him in the stomach, causing him to fall back, crumpling up into a little ball. Retrieving her gun, she kept it aimed right at him. "One move, one little move, and I'll shoot you! Don't make a sound, don't move, don't even breathe!" "Okay," he whispered miserably. Scully reached for her handcuffs. Again, he lunged. This time she took no chances and shot him in the shoulder. To her complete and utter shock and horror, he still got up and charged for her. She shot him again, hitting him on the right side of his chest. When he grabbed up his knife and started to throw it, she panicked and hit him in the left chest. He went down. He didn't get up again. He didn't move. He didn't make a sound. He didn't breathe. Shaking uncontrollably and starting to sob, she said, "When I tell you to stay down, you need to stay down!" All at once, her team members descended upon the scene, taking everything in and rushing over to the shot man lying at the bottom steps of one of the buildings. They confiscated his weapon and checked for a pulse. Mulder arrived, too, his hazel eyes growing large in horror at the sight. He could have cared less about the fallen man lying dead on the Georgetown campus, but of his favorite team member, the woman he loved, standing there, covered in blood, rubbing one hand over her small neck. She still held her weapon, but was trembling uncontrollably, barely able to stand. "Scully!" he cried, rushing over to her. "Mul..." she rasped, then fell gratefully into his tight embrace. "Call for an ambulance and a forensics team!" Jerry was yelling, taking over for his partner and friend. "And get Detective Jordan here now!" "Right!" Stiles volunteered, whipping out a cell phone and dialing the proper numbers. A crowd had started to gather, college kids, professors, faculty were all around. Someone had already called the police. Sirens could be heard in the distance. "Rikers, Thompson, you're with me on crowd control! Come on, let's get these people back to their dorms and offices. Once the police get here, they can take over. Let's go!" Both men barked the affirmative, then did as they were told. Jerry was about to join them, but he paused long enough to stop in front of Mulder and Scully, who were still holding each other, still sobbing in each other's arms. "You gonna be okay, Mulder?" he asked. Mulder said nothing, only nodded, hugging his beloved Scully even tighter to him. Jerry nodded back and left them alone for the time being. "Mulder," Scully whimpered into his shoulder. "I know, I know, Scully. You're okay. God, I'm so sorry I left you alone. I... I'm just glad you're all right." He stopped long enough to peer down into her tear stained face. "You are all right, aren't you, Dana?" As if coming out of a trance, Scully suddenly realized where she was and what had happened. She also realized that she had cowered like a child and fell so willingly into his arms. She had behaved in just the way she had accused him of treating her as- some tiny, helpless female, incapable of strength or logic or reason. Abruptly, she pulled away. "I'm fine," she said, shutting herself off from him. She walked away from him a little, trying to regain a little composure. The ambulance and police arrived around the same time. The guys all crowded in on Detective Jordan, each giving their own theory as to what had happened. Since each theory varied considerably, Jordan insisted on speaking to the only person who could possibly tell it like it was. He found Agent Scully over by the ambulance, trying to dissuade the medics from examining her. "I'm fine, really," she was politely refusing. "But Scully, you've been cut up quite a bit!" Mulder was right there next to her, protesting. "And your throat looks bruised all the way around it." "I said I'm FINE!" she shouted into his face, reaching up to lightly shove him away. Mulder exchanged knowing looks with the paramedic, but wisely backed away. He bumped into Detective Jordan. "Oh, sorry." "Trouble in paradise?" Jordan asked, jerking a thumb in Scully's direction. Rolling his eyes, Mulder mumbled, "You have no idea." "I hear she's the one that actually bagged the perp?" Mulder nodded. "Well, let me talk to her about it for a minute. I'll make sure she gets the proper medical attention." "But maybe I should stay with her-" "Agent Mulder, just calm down and back off a little. I said, I'd make sure she's okay. You two make a cute couple, but you both get kind of... sensitive around each other in tense situations. In the future I'd advise not working with your significant other. That's why my wife and I not only work different divisions, but also different precincts. Makes dinner conversation that much more interesting and pillow talk much less stressful, if you catch my drift." Mulder was about to reply that he and Agent Scully weren't technically significant others as of yet, but since he liked the idea that everybody seemed to think so, he let it go and just nodded. He watched closely- but from a safe distance- as Detective Jordan talked to Scully, while the paramedic tended to her wounds. Meanwhile, the police took over barricading the scene and crowd control. The forensics team took their meticulous time in gathering the evidence. Mulder, Jerry and the guys started coming closer. All of them felt guilty for not being there when their fellow agent needed them. Their van had been attacked by a bunch of drunken frat boys and turned over on its side, effectively shorting out all their video and audio equipment. By the time they had summoned the campus police, Scully had been out of radio contact for nearly thirty minutes. And they all knew what had transpired during that half-hour. The youngest, smallest member of the team had nearly fallen to the serial killer, but had fought bravely and ended up saving herself and countless future victims by shooting the bastard who had been responsible for at least seven young women's deaths. Bigger than their guilt, they felt protectiveness for their littlest agent and her tough, spunky attitude. But even bigger than their protectiveness, they felt pride that one of their own had brought down the devil and lived to tell the tale. Her strength and intelligence had earned their admiration and respect. Her tenacity and wit had endeared her to their hearts. And thus, Agent Scully had become the darling of the Profiling department. She now had four 'big brothers' who adored her- not that she wanted them, but there they were- as well as a man who was madly in love with her, and wanted nothing more than to crush her against his chest and cover her smudged, blotchy face with kisses. As it was, they were all brought into police headquarters to make statements and fill out reports. Scully refused Mulder's offer to drive her home and instead stayed with the team, barely tolerating her new band of big brothers hovering around her and offering to get her coffee, a soda, a glass of water. If she drank anything else she feared her bladder would explode into a wet, sopping mess. When she told them as much, they all laughed, then respectfully backed off, including Mulder. But he kept within her eyeshot. By the end of the evening, it was Detective Jordan who took Agent Scully home, much to Mulder's dismay and disappointment. But A. D. Patterson had reared his ugly head and said she was on immediate leave, pending investigation into her shooting, as well as giving her a few days' rest after her tough scrape and first foray into undercover work. The rest of the team was forced back to FBI headquarters to wrap up their own reports and fill Patterson in on what had happened. Mulder was stuck there all night long. But it was during this time they found out all about their serial killer. Mr. Ronald Spencer Jefferies was 52 years old. He was married, but separated to Mrs. Caroline Jane Jefferies, age 46, a scientist studying a new prescription drug created to help AIDS patients. They had no children. Mr. Jefferies had recently lost his job teaching at the University of Maryland. He came into contact there with a lot of young women, as well as some of the hot spots they frequented around the area. Just before losing his job at the university, Mr. Jefferies' father, one Christopher Ivan Jefferies, passed away at the age of 79 of prostrate cancer. He had been married for fifty-nine years to his wife Beatrice Irene Jefferies (nee` Fitzgerald) and they had four children and nine grandchildren, none of them coming from their eldest child, Ronald, of course. Furthermore, it was learned that not only was Ronald Jefferies and his wife separated on account of their disagreement over trying to start a family, Mr. Jefferies had been having problems with his own prostrate and feared the worst. It seemed the need to procreate before it was too late became a matter most urgent. His wife had been notified of his death, as well as his secret activities and the newspaper covered the story on the front page: Serial Killer Caught and Slain- College Professor wanted to teach his students too much about the facts of life. The case was now officially closed. * * * The excitement was building up within him now. He couldn't wait to touch her porcelain skin, to press his lips to hers, to enter her, feel himself moving within her, joining with her in the most intimate of ways. Mulder opened the door to the apartment. Slowly he pushed it to; slowly it revealed... absolutely... nothing... ~ ~ ~ Going to work was torture. Mulder was being celebrated as a great profiler for helping to catch this latest scum-of-the- earth, serial killer, but he didn't feel like celebrating. All he wanted was to talk to, look at, and be with Dana Scully. But she was on sick leave and still under investigation for the shooting. He knew she would be cleared and back to work soon, but not soon enough for him. He had gone down to Pathology and asked Rick to check her file. The proper numbers had been reinstated. He noticed Dr. Moran walking by as he and Rick were looking up her file in the computer. She said nothing to him for once, merely glared at him with a hateful expression. Mulder offered her a big grin in return, so grateful to be hated by this awful woman. Sure enough, Scully had corrected everything in both her computer file and the paper file. He took down both her cell and her home phone. Three days later, he still had not called. Was he being cautious and giving her space, or was he simply being a chicken and hiding away from her possible wrath? Even as a psychologist, he wasn't quite sure. He figured if he had to render a guess, it would be a combination of the two. Either way, he just wasn't ready to speak to her. One thing he made sure he did was add his own commendation to her file, which had been filling up with praise and accolades by quite a few people from the Bureau, as well as Detective Jordan. Mulder's was the most praising of all, and that was even after he toned it down a lot. After she had been absent from work for over a week- and he had not seen her in even longer than that- Mulder braved up enough to dial her number. It rang four times, then... "Hello, this is Dana Scully..." "Uh, hi Scully, it's me, Mul-" "I'm unable to come to the phone right now, so please leave your name and number and I'll be happy to get back with you as soon as possible. Leave your message after the tone." Beep! "Oh, uh, hi Scully, it's me... um, Mulder, that is. I just wanted to see how you were, make sure you're okay- not that you wouldn't be! I also wanted to thank you for doing such a good job on the case. I've heard you've been cleared and should be allowed back to active duty any day now. I... wanted to tell you that I was proud to have you as a part of the team, and that not only would I recommend you to anyone else needing a good agent like yourself, but I'd also want you on my team again, either as a pathologist or a field agent... or both. I'd just want you, is all... er, well, you know what I mean. "Anyway, maybe when you get back we could have dinner again- or lunch, if that's what you'd prefer. Either way, I'd love to go eat you- eh, with you, eat with you. And I'm not suggesting we have to gross everyone else out in the restaurant with my stupid game, or even that we would get to kiss afterwards, although if you want to, I know I'd want to... oh, shit, I sound like a fucking school boy, aren't I? Well, I guess that's kind of how you make me feel sometimes. Well, most of the time. I... look, all I know is that I really want to see you again- eh, outside of work, that is. Um, not that I don't want to see you at work, too, but I'd like to see you outside of work also, if that makes any sense. Anyway, I can't wait to see you again, 'cause I really do lo- ah, care about you and want us to get close-" Beep! "Shit!" Mulder groaned. "I never gave her my number and I used up all her message space! I'm sure she's going to hate that! I know I do when someone does it to me- well, unless it's her, but that doesn't mean she still wouldn't hate me for doing the same thing and-" "Who you talking to, pal?" "Huh?" Mulder looked up at the door to see his partner, Jerry, standing there and watching him with an amused expression. "Who ya talking to?" Jerry said again. "Oh, um, Scully." "Scully? Well, I don't see her in here." Mulder rolled his eyes. "I was talking on the phone to her answering machine, jerk wad. She wasn't there... or maybe she was and just didn't answer. Maybe she knew it was me and didn't want to talk to me. Or maybe she was home and she was busy having sex with some hunky doctor she met at the ER..." "Or, maybe she didn't answer because she's back at work and downstairs in Pathology as we speak," Jerry informed him with a smirk. "Really?" Mulder asked, his eyes alight with hope. "Really," Jerry confirmed. "I was just down there on another matter, and who should walk by but my favorite little sister. God, she does hate it when you get all protective on her, doesn't she?" "Yes," Mulder said in irritation. "And I thought you told me to lay off! How come you get to aggravate her and I don't?" "Because, Mulder, I'm not in love with her. I just think she's a sweet kid and a good agent. I feel like a big brother, and basically it's a big brother's job to annoy." His eyes going downcast, Mulder recalled his own little sister that had been snatched from his life nearly 19 years ago, when he was only twelve. "Yeah, I used to know that..." "Ah, Jesus, I'm sorry to bring that up, man. I forgot how your sister disappeared and- anyway, I didn't mean to make you feel bad." "It's all right, Jerry," Mulder said, knowing he was a bit over sensitive when it came to the subject of the little girl who had been taken away so long ago. "Let's just drop it." "Right. So are you going down to pathology?" "Yeah." "Really? And you're not afraid of... them?" "Not even a little! Cindy seems to hate my guts as of late, which is just fine since the feeling is mutual. And Rick actually leaves me alone because he says I belong to Dana now." Jerry's eyes twinkled. "And do you, belong to her?" "Whether she wants me or not," he vowed with a sardonic grin. "You're such a kook, Mulder," Jerry chuckled. "Well, good luck, partner. Just remember not to squash her independence or crowd her or invade her space." "Enough! Jesus, you'd think I don't know how to talk to a woman!" "Well... do you?" Mulder stood up and gave his partner a playful shove. "Fuck off, pal, and out of my way. I'm off to give my heart away to the smartest, sexiest pathologist in the history... of pathology." "Just don't get it stomped on, Mulder," Jerry warned him, watching his friend head to the elevators. "If she does, then it's her prerogative to," Mulder called back. "Besides, how bad could it hurt? She's got those tiny, little feet..." Jerry watched Mulder step onto the elevator car and disappear behind the sliding doors. "Yeah, those tiny, little feet, but with those big ass heels," he murmured. * * * When Mulder got down to Pathology, Scully was still in the middle of an autopsy. Seeing as how it had nothing to do with any case of Mulder's, he knew he'd have no legitimate reason for busting in there- well, at least none that were work related, anyway- so he opted to sit in her private office to wait for her. He waited. And waited. And... well, there was a pattern emerging. Before Scully returned, Mulder received a call on his cell phone. "Mulder," he answered with a sigh. "Mulder, this is A. D. Patterson!" Sitting up straight in the chair, he asked, "Sir, what is it?" "We've got a situation on our hands here, Mulder." "Yes?" "A couple from Virginia claim that their two children have been kidnapped by the husband's brother, who is mentally ill and a possible pedophile." "Oh," he said softly, feeling his gut beginning to tighten already. "One of the daughters have been found. She's alive, but pretty beat up. She's at Georgetown Memorial right now. But the other child is still missing. We need to find her, Agent Mulder, bring her back safe to her family." "Yes, sir," Mulder replied, for once agreeing with the man. "Wherever you are, I need you up in my office in five minutes." "I'll be there," Mulder promised. "I'll give you the details and then you and Agent Lamana can go meet with the parents. They'll be at the hospital with their daughter." "Yes, sir. I'll be up in just a moment." "Good." He heard the phone disconnect. Jumping up out of Scully's chair, he started for the door, then glanced back wistfully at the desk, longing to see and touch and hold and talk to the person it belonged to. "I won't leave you hanging again, my love," he promised in a whisper, and took the time to write her a quick note before heading back upstairs. * * * Not ten minutes later, a tired Scully arrived back in her office. She was already exhausted, and it was not even close to lunchtime yet. Plus her scars from her superficial stab wounds were itchy and bothering her. She took painstaking care not to scratch and dislodge the healing scabs. Her neck was still stiff and sore, and the large bruises around it were nearing its end stage, but to that ugly, yellow color, signifying almost back to normal, but with the most hideous shade imaginable. Right away, she noticed that something seemed different in her office. The desk chair was pulled out- and she always pushed it in when she was done sitting at it- and it looked like one of the drawers had been rifled through. She then saw the note sitting a top her desk and sat down to read it. Dear Dana, I hope you're doing all right. Wanted to call you, but I guess I just wasn't sure you wanted to hear from me. Anyway, I had to leave for a meeting, but hopefully, I'll hook up with you sometime today. I'd REALLY like to see you. Yours, Mulder XOXO She saw the hugs and kisses sign at the bottom of the note. Tears stung her eyes. She hated how emotional she got when she was near- or because of- this man. She liked to remain focused and in control. It was impossible for her to do so when Fox Mulder was around. Still, she couldn't deny the attraction she felt for him. She hadn't felt this way about anyone since... well, since ever! She'd had merely three serious boyfriends in her adult life (college, med school, the Academy). Only two of them had she had sex with. Both had been older men, well established, and seemingly forgiving of her inexperience. But she soon learned that neither was as forgiving as she initially was ready to believe. Dr. Daniel Waterston had been a teacher of hers in medical school. He adored her mind, felt she could become the next best thing in the field of medicine. He was also a married man who manipulated the young woman, tricking her into believing he was separated and near a divorce. In the privacy of the bedroom, the kindly teacher and loving mentor became a bossy, overbearing lover, who felt thoroughly dissatisfied with his new, young girlfriend and left her feeling much the same. Fortunately, she had soon discovered that he was not separated from his wife at all, and that he often took on a member of the student body for more in-depth study. After having sex with him only twice, Scully wised up, left him and left the field of conventional medicine for a career in the FBI. While in the Academy, she had made the same mistake again regarding her love life. Jack Willis was one of her instructors while in training, and he took quite a shine to her. He was another strong, power-hungry man, and it was her physical type (small, petite and young) that attracted him far more than her brilliant mind, good looks or sweet personality. She did make sure that Jack wasn't married before she accepted his invitation to go out for a drink after class one evening. He took command of her right then and there, and did his best to get her into bed. Only a month into their dating, he'd had his wish. Though Jack was an amicable fellow at work, he could be just as bossy and domineering as Dr. Waterston had been several years before. Dana did not take too kindly to being bossed around and reined in. She also did not care for his bedroom manners- because he basically had none. Foreplay was not in his vocabulary, although he had quite a colorful one during sexual intercourse. He often used foul language while inside of her, calling her dirty names. This did nothing to arouse her, but everything to insult and offend her. When she mentioned it to him, he went off the deep-end, telling her that it was just the way he was and he meant nothing by it, but if she wanted to end the best sex of her life just because she was a fucking prude- an 'ice queen' unable to melt in the sack- then she could just go fuck herself and forget about dating him anymore. He had meant for her to cower and acquiesce, but instead she informed him that fucking herself actually was the best sex in her life, and the fact that she'd only been with one other man before him didn't stop him from coming in at a distant third. He smacked her on the cheek for that remark. It hurt her pride more than anything else, so she decided not to press charges against him, nor did she see him again. Feeling himself fortunate for not having to answer for dating a student, much less physically assaulting her, he never bothered her again, although that didn't stop him from trying to ruin her reputation. Even before graduation, she had sealed her reputation as the Ice Queen. Fox Mulder was of a different breed entirely. True, he was fiercely over-protective and a little intense when it came to her. But when she forced herself to look at him objectively, in spite of his initial unwillingness at wanting her to join him on the stakeout the week before, she felt that, deep down, he trusted and respected her abilities. What's more, he appreciated them. And even unconsciously, she knew that having a man's respect and trust was what was truly important in a relationship for her; not someone who just wanted her for her body- although she was pretty sure Mulder liked that aspect of her, too. He seemed to appreciate her both inside and out and she had never found a man who had felt that way about her, until now. That realization touched her heart, and at the same time, scared the shit out of her. She sighed, opening up her drawer, looking for a stick of gum. "Dammit! He stole my Milky Way!" she muttered. * * * April 30, 1992 Georgetown Memorial Hospital 9:51 a. m. Agents Mulder and Lamana stood at the front of the bed of ten year old Tabitha Hunter as she lay, sleeping. She had several cuts and bruises about her face and body, some of the wounds quite deep. She also had fractured ribs and her left arm had been broken in two places. It had to be one of the most sad and heartbreaking sights either agent had ever seen. Mr. and Mrs. Hunter, Tabitha's parents, kept up a quiet vigil at her bedside, looking up hopefully every time the girl stirred, flinching visibly every time she whimpered. After a moment of silent observation of the child, Mulder looked to Mr. Hunter, who seemed to be the more composed of the two parents, and decided to start the questioning with him. "So, Mr. Hunter, you believe that your brother Martin did this...?" "I know he did," Mr. Hunter said through gritted teeth, barely containing his hatred. Still, he managed to be a supportive husband, rubbing gently on his trembling wife's arm as she began to cry. Mulder took note of the woman's pain, thought up a different plan. "Eh, perhaps we should speak out in the hallway for now, sir," he suggested. "Yes," the man agreed, lovingly patting his wife's hand. "That's probably a good idea." He stood up slowly and Mulder reasoned he'd probably been sitting in that uncomfortable chair all damn day. Leaning down to kiss his wife, then turning to his sleeping daughter, he tenderly kissed her brow. Then he followed Mulder out of the room, leaving Jerry with the heartbroken Mrs. Hunter. Once out in the hallway, Mr. Hunter leaned his back against the wall and heaved a bone weary sigh. "Well, go ahead. What did you want to know, Agent Mulder?" "First of all, I'm so very sorry this has happened to your family," Mulder told him sincerely. "The Bureau is going to do its best to resolve this matter quickly. I'll try to keep the questions brief. I know you'll want to get back to your wife and daughter." Hunter agreed, then chuckled humorlessly. "You're sorry what's happened to my family, huh?" Mulder nodded solemnly. "Yeah, me, too. It's just too bad that my family is actually the cause of all this pain and heartache. God damn, fucking, Martin! I can't believe it! I just..." He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder. I... I, well, what did you want to ask me?" "Well, could you tell me why you believe your brother, Martin Hunter, abducted your girls?" "Because, for one thing, Tabby told us so. She's asleep right now, because she's been sedated. The doctor said she needed the recuperative rest, but the... the nightmares kept waking and upsetting her, so... but yeah, before she was sedated, she told us." "What did she tell you, sir?" Mr. Hunter's green eyes turned misty, and he turned away to wipe at them before facing Mulder again. "She said, uh... she looked up at me with those big, brown eyes of hers, and she said... 'Daddy, Uncle Marty took Sarah and me'- that's our other daughter, the one still missing- but she started to cry and then told her mother and I that Martin had brought them back to this field out behind his apartment complex. There was a... a kind of play house or maybe a large tool shed, some kind of structure there that she said she had never seen before. She called it a playhouse. She said he told them that Sarah was his wife and Tabby was their baby. I'm not sure what the hell that was supposed to mean. Anyway, she said Marty told them to go inside it, and it was there that he... he... oh, Jesus! He hurt my girls; my babies! He beat the shit out of them, then raped and sodomized Sarah!" "I'm sorry, sir," Mulder said again, "I know this is difficult." "You know," Mr. Hunter went on, ignoring Mulder's kind words, "both my wife and I had always been careful to instill a good sense into our girls. We tried to teach them to watch out for bad situations, or dangerous strangers. We never told them they would have to watch out for their own family, though! We never thought we would have to..." Mulder tried to take him down a different train of thought, maybe getting him back on track would take him out of that ugly, hateful place he had been forced to visit because of his questions. "Have you ever seen the playhouse, Mr. Hunter?" "No," he replied with a shrug. "I've been there in that field at least a thousand times before, but I've never seen it. Marty probably... he probably just set it up within the last few days. Jesus!" "I'm so sorry, Mr. Hunter," Mulder said again, in a quiet and respectful tone. "I realize these questions are very difficult to answer, but I wouldn't be asking them if they weren't necessary. We just want to find Sarah, too. We want to bring her back safe." "I know," the frightened father whispered. "I understand, too. Go... go on. Ask me your next question." Glancing down at the notes he took from A. D. Patterson earlier that day, Mulder continued. "So, Tabitha was found in the parking lot of the apartment complex your brother lives in..." "Yeah. She was hurt so bad, but she still managed to crawl out of the playhouse and through that big field up to the parking lot. An elderly couple found her lying between some cars and they called for an ambulance." "Did she say what happened to her sister?" Mulder asked carefully. Hunter shook his head. "She said she thinks Marty knocked her out; said he knocked out Sarah just before her. When she woke up, she was alone in the playhouse, so she got out of there." "That's a brave girl, a smart girl," Mulder commented, eliciting a small smile from Mr. Hunter. "Yes, Tabby has always had a good head on her shoulders, just like her mom. Sarah, on the other hand... well, she's more like me, sort of the dreamer; maybe a little flaky, but a nice girl. A free... free spirit..." He broke down in sobs. Mulder reached out to put a steadying hand on the man's arm. Before he knew it, Mr. Hunter was on the ground, curling up into a ball. "Shh, Mr. Hunter, please. Calm down. It's going to be all right." "How can you say that?" Hunter screeched, although he sat back and out of his fetal position. "How can you when my ten-year-old daughter is lying in a hospital bed, sedated and recovering from being beaten by her own uncle?! And her fourteen-year-old sister is missing, and she's been raped! Even if we find her, Agent Mulder, it's not going to be all right! Do you understand? It never will again, no matter what you do, no matter what happens! Nothing is going to be all right!" "Okay, you're right, Mr. Hunter," Mulder agreed, sitting down on the floor beside him. "You're right, sir. I'm sorry. But whatever happens, no matter the outcome, don't you want to know what happened to Sarah? Don't you want to bring her home, no matter what?" "Yeah," Hunter murmured sadly, "of course. What kind of father would I be if I didn't?" "That's right, Mr. Hunter. And you're a good father. You love your children." "Yes, I do..." "Then help me to find her, Mr. Hunter," Mulder pleaded quietly at his side on the floor. "Help me. Tell me what I need to know. I'll do my best and no matter what, I will return her to you, okay?" "Okay," Mr. Hunter replied. "Yes, that's good. That's right. Please, ask me whatever else you need to." "Thank you, Mr. Hunter, thank you. First of all, I need you to tell me about your brother, about Martin." Mr. Hunter nodded solemnly, then began his tale... * * * Going by what Mr. Hunter had told him, as well as talking to some other family members, Mulder learned about Martin and what made him tick. He learned that Martin Bryan Hunter was the third and youngest child to Vincent and Janet Hunter. He was thirty years old, was five foot seven and weighed about one hundred and forty pounds. Martin had been born premature and was small all of his life. He was constantly picked on. The doctors theorized that, because of his frail beginnings and due to complications during his birth, he had some amount of brain damage. He had never been particularly violent towards people, but he was never able to keep pets because he would always end up hurting them. He usually befriended children to play with because he was so small and shared a similar mentality. He had always been very fond of his two nieces. He was particularly close to his eldest niece, Sarah. He was never permitted to be alone with them, or any child, because of his peculiar behavior, but he always seemed to be safe enough under adult supervision and he'd always have a good time with them. Although he was maladjusted and had the mentality of someone much younger, he still responded to his body and its sexual needs. Because he thought of himself as younger, he had been known to hit on younger women and even under aged girls. Upon checking his bedroom, they found dozens of pornographic magazines hidden under his bed. They held pictures of both consenting adults as well as child pornography. Mulder had learned that when she was little, Sarah and Martin would pretend to play house, to be husband and wife. When younger sister Tabitha came along, they often pretended she was their child. Martin had been reading Flowers in the Attic lately, which depicted incestuous relationships- even marriage- between close family members. It stood to reason that Martin, in his own warped and childlike mind, had wanted to marry his niece, Sarah, and start a "grown up" life with her, having sexual relations. Sarah had been babysitting her younger sister that day, so it stood to reason, Martin would want to take Tabitha with them, as their "baby". Why he beat her too, was unclear, but it was obvious they were dealing with an individual who did not have a clear sense of reality. The fact that he beat them and possibly left Tabitha for dead meant he did not care for confrontation and would not tolerate them fighting against him or trying to deviate from his "plan". With a heavy sigh, Mulder discussed this with Jerry and they started searching some of the places the reclusive Martin was known to hang out, usually alone. They were well into their search when another family member stepped up and told them that Martin's eighteen-year-old cousin Randi was missing as well. By this time, he had called in the familiar team of "the guys". Scully, still busy in autopsies all day could not get away. And as much as he loved her and respected her work, Mulder had no real desire to even need a pathologist on this case. "So, now we're looking for an eighteen-year-old as well as a fourteen-year-old?" Stiles asked wearily. "That's what it sounds like," Jerry told him. "Damn, this guy needs to quit dipping into his own gene pool for a good time," Thompson spat in disgust. "Shut your ass up," Mulder hissed at him. "Hey, sorry man. I wasn't trying to be a jerk-off, Mulder! I was being serious!" "Yeah, cool down, bro," Jerry advised. "We're all on the same side here, aren't we guys?" Everyone responded in the affirmative. "Come on, Mulder, let's keep looking." They were going over the field thoroughly, and venturing back into the wooded area beyond it. It was getting dark and they were all gritty and tired and dirty, but nobody was willing to call it a day. Every last person searching- that included FBI, police, family members and friends, and other volunteers- wanted to find those girls and find them alive. Mulder and Jerry ventured farther into the woods, ahead of the other rescue searchers. They were so tired, therefore quiet and slow by this time, but they kept on walking. About an hour later, they could hear some faint sounds. "Oh, feels so good," they could hear a man groaning. "Stop it! Marty! Stop! You're my uncle!" they could hear a girl crying. "This is sick! It's wrong! Stop it! Stop it! Stop!" Mulder sprinted ahead while Jerry paused long enough to call for back up. Running through a thick patch of trees and bushes, Mulder came to a clearing with another small playhouse set up, much like the one found in the field. On the outside by the door, he saw a small man on top of a young girl. He ran like the wind and tackled the man, who was completely naked and screaming like a banshee. Jerry was there in a moment, and he had to pry his partner off of the naked man, as he had currently straddled him and began punching him until the suspect's face was nothing more than a bloody pulp. "Jesus, Mulder! Stop it, now! Get off him, man!" Jerry yanked his friend off of the guy, then pushed him aside. "Hey, go look after the kid, okay? I'll take care of this son of a bitch." "Right," Mulder whispered, trembling and sobbing. He turned and saw Sarah lying on the ground, naked and crying hard. She kept trying to cover herself with the foliage around her, but to no avail. "Help me," she whimpered to Mulder. "Yes, I'll help you, honey," he promised, ripping his jacket off and wrapping it around her. It covered her down to her mid thigh. "Here. Shh, it's all right. It's okay, Sarah. We're going to take you to the hospital. We're going to take you to your family." "Marty took my sister," she sobbed, allowing him to hold her and resting her head on the kind man's chest. "She's at the playhouse in the field. He- he hit her so hard. I don't know if..." "She's in the hospital, honey," he assured her. "She's going to be fine, just like you are." "B-but my cousin, R-r-r-an-di, sh-she's in... inside..." She gestured feebly to the playhouse a few feet away. "In the playhouse?" Mulder asked calmly. He felt her small head nod against him. "All right, it's okay. Jerry, you got that bastard in restraints?" "Not that he needs them, but yeah," Jerry stated pointedly, wondering if his buddy was going to end up in trouble for beating the hell out of the suspect. "You need to check the playhouse. Sarah says Randi is in there." "I'm on it," Jerry said and he got down on his knees to crawl in for a look. About that same time, back up arrived, as well as the paramedics and some of the volunteers, which included Sarah's father, Mr. Hunter. "Daddy!" Sarah cried. "Baby!" Mr. Hunter shouted with relief. Ignoring her haggard appearance and bloodied face and body, he pulled her out of Mulder's embrace and into his own. The paramedics joined them to look the girl over. One of them ventured over to check on Martin Hunter, while several police officers surrounded him. "Damn," one of them said, "did the girls do that?" He gestured to the bruises and cuts already forming on the man's face. Mulder was about to open his mouth and reply that he had done it, but before he could, young Sarah spoke up. "Y- yeah. We did. First my sister and me hit him, then my cousin and me. We fought against him." "Brave girl," Mr. Hunter sobbed, holding his precious child in his arms. "Smart girl." Looking at the girl in surprise, Mulder saw her smile at him. He knew she must be grateful to him for stopping her uncle from further brutilizing her. But what he wanted to say was that she was the real hero, simply for surviving it. In the end, he said nothing. As the paramedics prepared to take the injured girl and her father away in one ambulance and the perpetrator in the other, Jerry emerged from the small playhouse wearing a grim expression. "Guys, need you over here, too." A couple of paramedics ventured over. "She's in there?" Mulder asked Jerry. The man nodded silently. Tears flooded the FBI agent's hazel eyes. "She's- she's dead, isn't she?" Again, Jerry nodded. "Oh, fuck," Mulder groaned, his stomach tightening in knots. "Mulder," Jerry began, trying to comfort him. He set a hand on his friend's arm. At that moment, they brought out the girl's body, her eyes open, her face frozen in permanent horror. "I... I gotta go," Mulder cried and ran from the scene, unable to stay and clean up, unable to face the dead girl's body for a second longer. * * * April 30, 1992 FBI Headquarters Pathology Department 8:46 p. m. Scully rolled her neck around in a circular motion. It was her first day back and it had been a real doozy. If she never saw a dead body again it would be too soon. Of course, she knew that attitude would have to change by tomorrow, seeing as how she worked in a morgue. She had been prepared to go home around six-thirty that night, but she had been asked to stay later for a couple of cases. Then she heard that Mulder was working a case that involved a missing teenaged girl. Not long after that, she heard it was two girls. Not long after that, she heard she would have to perform an autopsy on one of them. The thought caused her to shiver. Before Mulder's team had brought in the body of Randi Jennifer Grayson, cousin to the two before-hand missing girls, Sarah and Tabitha Hunter, Scully made sure to grab a quick bite to eat, knowing she probably wouldn't have any time to later. She also made a couple of phone calls and retrieved the messages on her home phone. There were four messages. The first was from her mother, the second from her sister Melissa. The third was an automated message from Wal-Mart that her lay away payment was overdue and if she didn't pay within twenty-four hours, they would cancel it and return the merchandise to the store. She'd sighed, not caring one way or the other at this point. She was too tired to care about much of anything. Except for what came next... The last message went like this: "Oh, uh, hi Scully, it's me... um, Mulder, that is. I just wanted to see how you were, make sure you're okay- not that you wouldn't be! I also wanted to thank you for doing such a good job on the case. I've heard you've been cleared and should be allowed back to active duty any day now. I... wanted to tell you that I was proud to have you as a part of the team, and that not only would I recommend you to anyone else needing a good agent like yourself, but I'd also want you on my team again, either as a pathologist or a field agent... or both. I'd just want you, is all... er, well, you know what I mean. "Anyway, maybe when you get back we could have dinner again- or lunch, if that's what you'd prefer. Either way, I'd love to go eat you- eh, with you, eat with you. And I'm not suggesting we have to gross everyone else out in the restaurant with my stupid game, or even that we would get to kiss afterwards, although if you want to, I know I'd want to... oh, shit, I sound like a fucking school boy, don't I? Well, I guess that's kind of how you make me feel sometimes. Well, most of the time. I... look, all I know is that I really want to see you again- eh, outside of work, that is. Um, not that I don't want to see you at work, too, but I'd like to see you outside of work also, if that makes any sense. Anyway, I can't wait to see you again, 'cause I really do lo- ah, care about you and want us to get close-" Then she heard the beep and the machine ran out of space. "He used up all my space," she murmured. "If that were anyone else, I'd probably be pissed." She shook her head clear. Damn, that man drives me insane! Soon she found herself immersed in yet another autopsy, that being Miss Randi Grayson, five foot six, one hundred and two pounds, blond hair, and hazel eyes. She was a pretty, young lady, rather thin and small boned. She had a small tattoo of a rose on her left shoulder. She was also covered in bruises, cuts, bite marks and six fatal stab wounds to the chest. She had been sexually assaulted and her genital area showed definite tearing. Scully had learned that her own cousin had done this to her. This made her want to cry for the poor girl lying on the cold, sterile slab in front of her. It also made her ever so grateful for her own family, crazy and overbearing as they could be. At least they had decency, respect, compassion for others. Mulder, Jerry and Stiles asked to witness the autopsy, to which she complied. She noticed that Mulder was exceptionally quiet, didn't say a word, never asked any questions, wouldn't even look at the body or make eye contact with anyone else in the room. Jerry did most of the talking and asking, with Stiles throwing in a question here and there. It was only as they were finishing up, that Mulder spoke up, asking one, single question. "Was she in a lot of pain?" he had asked plaintively. Always feeling the truth was best, Scully had nodded sadly and said, "Yes, Mulder, I believe she was, unfortunately." He said nothing more. As tragic as it was, the autopsy had been very straightforward. There were no real surprises, not like the first autopsy she had done for Agent Mulder and his team. This one was clear-cut. A girl was beaten, raped and stabbed. End of story. Scully, along with the other agents, shuffled out of the room, turning off the light on the way. Back in her office, Scully wrote a hasty report, getting the facts down, with the promise to herself to do a more thorough job when she returned in the morning. She was just beat. It had been way too busy of a day for her first day back on the job. Grabbing her brief case, she headed out to the parking garage. She had been hoping to speak to Mulder before she left, but didn't recall seeing him after leaving the autopsy bay. She figured he had a lot of reports to fill out himself and had probably slipped away to finish things up in his office. Still, he had seemed very upset, his normally glorious tan skin was pale all through the autopsy and she highly doubted it had anything to do with feeling queasy about it. With a sigh, she decided she would try calling him when she got home. If she got home! "Damn! My keys," she groaned, remembering that she had stuck them in her lab coat earlier and then left the coat in the autopsy bay. With another, incoherent groan, she slumped back to the elevator to retrieve the keys she knew she needed in order to ever get out of here. * * * Opening the door, she hadn't wanted to flip on the light to grab her coat. She knew where she had left it. Unfortunately, it wasn't there. It was then that she noticed two distinct things. First of all, the girl's body had been pulled out of the refrigerated drawer and was lying on her slab, still covered, but exposed to the elements. Secondly, she could hear someone crying in the corner. Feeling a chill run through her, Scully flipped on the light and gasped at what she saw. "Mulder!" The man she knew to be so strong and protective of her was currently cowering in the corner, near the dead girl's body. He was not looking at it or touching it, but merely sitting beside it, as if guarding it. In his trembling hands, he clutched Scully's lab coat. He held onto it for dear life, kept it tucked under his cheek and chin. "Scu..." he sobbed. "I- I'm sorry. I thought you'd..." "Mulder, what the hell is this?" she asked, coming closer, surprised to see him flinch as she approached. She knelt down beside him. "What's going on?" "I... I didn't want to leave her alone," he whispered. "Well... that's... very noble of you, Mulder," she said diplomatically, standing up long enough to push the drawer shut, "but she needs to be kept on ice until she can get to the mortuary. She'll begin to decay unless we freeze her." He flinched at her sensible explanation, too. "Mulder?" she asked gently, reaching out a hand to rest upon his knee. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" "Why'd you come back?" he asked accusingly. "I didn't want anyone to see me like this. I didn't want you to see me! Why? Why'd you come back?" "My keys," she explained dumbly, "they're in my lab coat. I forgot them and I can't drive home without them." "Oh," he responded without emotion. He brought his knees up to his chest and bowed his head low, unable to face her. "Mulder, please," she whispered. "Can't you tell me what's going on here?" "No," was his muffled reply. "Why not? I mean, I confided in you on my first case and you comforted me." "Yeah, then you pushed me away..." he sniffled. "But that's because you were being so overbearing!" she began in exasperation, before forcing herself to calm down. "I- I'm sorry, Mulder. I know I was mean to you. I guess we got so close to each other so fast, and then when I didn't hear from you... I realize now it's not your fault. Ricky confirmed about every stupid, ruthless thing Cindy did to us. I'm so sorry I was such a jerk to you. Can you... forgive me?" "Of course," he whispered into his knee. "I love you." Scully's heart leapt into her throat. She knew that he was emotionally under a lot of duress, otherwise she couldn't imagine that he would have admitted such a thing so early in their acquaintance. But then, this was Mulder and he seemed to be full of surprises. She sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around his trembling body. "Well, if that's true, then certainly you can tell me what's the matter. Right?" He nodded, sniffling and unconsciously nuzzling his face against her neck and throat. She found the sensation a little ticklish and very arousing, but she said nothing of it, instead focused on his beautiful, pain-filled eyes. "Tell me, Mulder. Please?" "This girl, she reminds me of my sister." "Oh?" "My sister Samantha. I was twelve and she was only eight when she disappeared. We've never found her. I'm still looking. This girl here, this Randi? She has her eyes, Scully. She has her exact eyes..." He let go of her lab coat in favor of the real thing and tightly embraced the woman he loved, seeking her comfort. "Oh God, Mulder," she whispered, lovingly stroking his unkempt hair back. "I'm so sorry, honey. Really, I am." She now did not have to wonder why he was so protective of her. She realized he did not think of her as a little sister, but Mulder would be the type of man to fiercely protect anyone he cared about; anyone he loved. Especially after going through such a terrible loss as a child. "I... it's hard for me to talk about it." "I understand," she cooed sympathetically, continuing her ministrations in his hair. "But... I want to talk about her... I want to tell you about her." "I'd like that, Mulder," she said, offering him a warm smile and giving him a squeeze. "Did you want to go to a coffee shop? Get some dinner? I bet you haven't eaten all day." "Don't want anyone else to see me," he said, shaking his head. "Well, you can't stay here," she said, looking around at the gloomy atmosphere. In his current state of mind, his unease of autopsy bays would not be a good place to hang out and shoot the breeze. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break into your space. I'll just go up to my office now." "Why don't I take you home, Mulder?" she suggested. He shook his head violently in the negative. "No!" he whimpered. "I... can't go there, not tonight. Don't want to be alone. I'm going to stay at the office all night." "No way, Mulder," she scolded him, having the feeling that his office would be just as gloomy and depressing as her autopsy bay. "If you don't want to be alone tonight, why don't you come stay with me? I'll make you something to eat, we can talk about Samantha, if you want." "I don't want to impose," he murmured sadly. "It's no imposition," she promised. "Look Mulder, I listened to your message earlier that you left on my machine at home. I realize we haven't been connecting very well in the past couple of weeks, but... I know you have... feelings for me. And well, I do for you, too." "Are they good or bad feelings?" he asked warily. She chuckled, then reached up to tousle his hair. "They're good- for the most part. Although I will have to punish you for stealing my Milky Way bar! If there's one thing every man needs to learn is to never come between a girl and her chocolate!" Finally, she elicited a smile from him, even if it was small and tired. "Are you sure, Scully?" he asked. "You don't mind if I stay?" "Not even a little," she promised, running her fingertips over his cheek and making him flush with arousal. She thankfully mistook it as embarrassment over her rather familiar touch. "I'd love to spend some more time with you, Mulder. I enjoy your company, and frankly I enjoy you as a human being. It would be an honor to spend another evening with you." His grateful tears glistened in the harsh light of the room, cascaded down the planes of his well-chiseled features, through the rough terrain of his five o'clock shadow. He brought a hand up to her beautiful face, caressing her as lovingly and as tenderly as she had done to him only a moment ago. "Thank you," he whispered. For a brief moment, he pressed his full, sensual lips to hers. "Mmm, thank you," she said back, loving the taste of him, even in his vulnerable, rumpled state. She stood up, then held out her hand to him. "Come on. Let's go home." He took that hand, squeezed it and let her help him to stand. "So, you're going to cook something for me?" he asked hopefully as she retrieved her keys from her lab coat and they headed for the door, turning off the lights as they left. "That's right." "You a good cook?" "I've never had any complaints." "And we'll talk all night if I want?" "Yes, we will." "I bet you're a good listener." "I will be for you." "Will you tuck me in for bed?" "If you're a good boy, I might." "Hmm, will you kiss me good night?" "Like you even have to ask!" "Want to make love?" "Don't push it, Mulder." "Well, I had to try, didn't I?" "Yes you did, honey..." * * * April 30, 1992 Georgetown Dana Scully Residence 9:29 p. m. The darkened apartment lay silent, dormant, awaiting its mistress in a lazy slumber. Once the door opened and the lights were turned on, the sleepy apartment came to life, to warmly greet its occupant... and a guest? "Come on in, Mulder," Scully said hospitably. "Sorry about the mess, but with me recuperating all last week, I haven't had a chance to clean up much." "That's all... right..." Mulder began, coming in and getting his first look into her apartment. He didn't notice anywhere in the place that looked like it needed cleaning at all. But what he did notice was that Dana Scully's apartment was, in fact, the apartment they shared together in his dreams. "Wow," he murmured in surprise. Scully watched him taking in her home. "Is that a good wow, or a bad wow?" she wondered aloud. He knew he couldn't tell her the whole truth. That this was a great wow and that the apartment was beautiful and familiar. This was home to him now much more than the small, dark, dingy apartment he currently slept in and collected mail at. Her apartment had been his true home in his heart-of-hearts for several months now. But he couldn't admit that. "Um, it's a good wow," he promised. "Oh. Well, thanks. Come on in. Have a seat." "Thank you," he replied, taking a seat on the comfortable sofa. He relished the familiar feel of it. He smiled in recollection. He wanted to ask her, "Do you know how many times we've made love on this couch?" but he refrained, not wanting to freak her out, or get himself kicked out of her place. "Great sofa," he told her, still grinning. He could almost smell the bodily fluids they had left upon it from his dream world. "Thanks, Mulder. Gee, most guys don't even take notice of things like that. Well, except for maybe..." "Except for who?" he challenged. "A gay guy?" "Um, how's about I make that dinner for you now," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. Mulder stood up quickly, gently taking hold of her arm before she could bolt for the kitchen. "You don't think I'm... gay... do you?" The young doctor laughed out loud, a miraculous sound to his ears. "No, Mulder, I don't think you're gay. I think in your case, it's just that meticulous attention to detail that makes you so observant, that's all. Jeez, why are men such homophobes?" "I'm not a homophobe," he sulked. "I don't care about anyone's sexuality. I mean, I like Rick Mandoon... well, sort of... in a strictly non sexual way, of course..." He paused to see her staring at him, her eyebrow raised with incredulity. "What?" "Oh, nothing." "Oh, okay! Like every heterosexual male, I might harbor just a little bit of homophobia, but it's not intentional. And I still like Mandoon... but only as a friend... shit, I did it again, didn't I?" "Did what?" she chuckled. "No, seriously Mulder, I know you harbor no ill will towards Ricky, or towards homosexuals in general. And yes, I know that you're not one of them, either." He puffed out his chest. "Is it because I'm so manly and virile?" "Eh, you could put it that way, I suppose," she said, her eyes still twinkling with mirth. "I just remembered your reaction when we kissed in the parking lot after dinner that first night." She began to blush furiously. "Ah," he said, grinning and mistaking her meaning. "Like the song goes: If you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss, right?" "Actually, I felt it against my hip," she blurted, causing them both to flush bright red. "Uh, how's about you make that dinner now?" he stuttered in embarrassment. "Right, good idea," she agreed, anxious for a way out of the corner she had painted herself into. She hurried into the kitchen area and busied herself with the task of making dinner. Mulder gave them both a few minutes of alone time to regain their composure before venturing after her. As he came closer, he could hear the familiar kitchen noises being made. He approached cautiously, realizing she wasn't used to a man being here and not wanting to startle a woman who could be wielding a knife. She was at the counter, as he figured, using a kitchen knife. She already had some chicken baking in the oven and was slicing some vegetables for steaming. In spite of the sight of the icky veggies, Mulder was enchanted by the beautiful vision of Scully and the domesticity he felt becoming a part of the scene. "Can I help?" he asked, still careful to keep his distance from her knife. "Oh!" she said, taken off guard, but recovering quickly and relaxing. "Sure, Mulder, that would be nice." Smiling lovingly at her, he asked, "What should I do?" "Hmm, well, I've got a salad that needs tossing. How are you at mixing things up?" "You have to ask?" he laughed. "Right," she chuckled, coming closer. "Wash your hands." "Yes, Mommy," he cracked and she swatted him in the butt with the apron she had grabbed from the counter. "Hey!" "Behave yourself," she scolded playfully as he dutifully washed his hands at the sink. He dried them and held them up in front of her face. "Do I pass inspection?" Shoving his hands out of her face and still laughing, she spun him around, then slid her arms around his waist. Mulder caressed those arms as they encircled him. "Ooh, getting frisky, are we, Agent Scully? Shouldn't we save dessert for after dinner?" "Very funny, smart-ass. Hold still, I'm trying to put this on you. There now, turn around and let me look at you." Mulder did as he was told and she giggled at him. He glanced down to see he was now wearing a frilly apron with the words Kiss the Cook embroidered on the front of it. "Oh, my God," he said in surprise. He remembered coming home one night to find Scully making dinner for him wearing that very apron- and nothing else! At least, that had happened in his dream world. "Oh, it's not so bad," she assured him, mistaking his exclamation. She handed him the tongs and steered him over to where a large bowl of lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers awaited. "There you go, Agent Mulder. Now toss!" "Yes, ma'am," he replied, saluting. Then he went to work. They made dinner together in companionable silence. Scully would check on the chicken in the oven from time to time. Soon, the vegetables were steamed, the chicken was baked and the salad was tossed. They both removed their aprons before taking the food over to the dining room table. Scully set two long tapered candles down in the center of the table, lighting them, before sitting and serving first Mulder, then herself. Mulder took it all in, finding it hard to believe that someone would go to all this trouble, so late at night, and all for him. His heart warmed and tears glistened his eyes. "Hey, you all right?" Scully asked gently, putting a hand on his arm. "Um, yeah, I'm good, thanks," he replied, turning away to wipe at his eyes. Wisely, Scully let it drop. "Well, let's eat, shall we?" "Yeah," he said, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was. He had not eaten since he'd stolen her candy bar from her desk that morning. They began to eat, Scully, having already eaten something earlier in the evening, picking daintily at her more modest portions. She didn't finish anything but her salad. Mulder, on the other hand, wolfed down his food like there was no tomorrow. He helped himself to seconds of everything but the salad. Mulder gulped it down, hardly bothering to chew. Scully watched him, smiling and happy to see him enjoying her cooking and glad to know he was eating a good meal for a change. "Good?" she asked. "Mmm, delicious is more like it," he corrected her through a mouthful of food. "Delicious as... McDonald's?" she teased good- naturedly. "More so, but not as delicious as the chef who made it all, I'm afraid." He winked at her, relishing the pretty blush that colored her cheeks. "So..." Scully said, longing to change the focus of the conversation off of her, and remembering that he had some things to get off his chest. "Um, Mulder, if you're not ready to, or just don't feel like it, I understand, but you did say you wanted to talk to me about your sister..." "Oh, yes, I did..." He took a deep breath, looking down at his empty plate and holding in a belch. "I do... You know, a lot of people know about my sister, know that she disappeared. But what they don't know is the details, what really happened. Up until recently, I'm not sure I knew either. And I never talked about it, not to my parents, and not to my friends or co-workers. I couldn't even tell the police anything at the time, because I just couldn't remember anything, which is kind of ironic, considering I have a photographic memory." "But this was a different kind of circumstance," Scully added, reaching for his hand. "You were a child when this happened. You were traumatized. It wasn't something you could help." He shrugged, feeling embarrassed for some reason. He recalled how his father had yelled at him and blamed him for it all; he remembered that his mother couldn't even look him in the eye for the longest time, that she would take to her bed and sob, even under sedation. "I guess my parents might have had a different view of things than you." Braving up enough to glance up at her face, Mulder saw Scully's blue eyes flash in anger and disgust. It took him a moment to realize that those emotions swirling around inside of her were not meant for him, but rather his parents, for how they had treated him. She, unlike most of his family, did not blame him for Samantha's disappearance. Again, his eyes filled with tears and he squeezed her hand. "They had no right to-" she began, but stopped herself. She really cared about the man seated across from her at the small table. She didn't want to begin a relationship with him by insulting his parents, however wrong she knew them to be for treating their son so horribly after such a tragic event. "I- I'm sorry." "It's okay," he assured her, running his fingers up her bare arm and tickling her skin, causing the hairs on her arm to stand on end. "And thanks for being on my side. Not too many people ever are, you know. And I'm not just talking about this situation." Feeling self-conscious over the intensity of his gaze, Scully still could not look away. She could only stare, transfixed, into his gold-flecked, hazel orbs, her baby blues conveying all the raw emotion she felt for him but was unable to speak of out loud. "I... I'll always be on your side, Mulder," she stammered, feeling goose bumps rise up on her flesh, even though it was a warm, comfortable evening. Finally, he looked away. "Thank you. I guess Samantha was, too, though... on my side, I mean. She was a typical little sister; always tagging along, trying to play with my toys, being so annoying..." "Hey, I'm someone's little sister!" she chided him with a sly smile. "And I'm sure you are absolutely the most perfect, little sister ever," he said skillfully, fully aware he was being a kiss- ass and not caring in the slightest. If he had to kiss someone's ass- either in the figurative or literal sense- then it could only be Scully's. Besides, she had a cute, little ass. He'd stared at it enough to know by now. "Nice save," she chuckled, then sobered and urged him to continue. "Thanks... I guess Samantha and I had a typical brother/sister relationship. We both loved and hated each other. She spent most of her time chasing after me; I spent most of mine trying to get away from her... "It was November, back in 1973. Mom and Dad had gone out for the evening to visit friends down the street. They would be back late. I was left in charge. Samantha had been pestering me to play games with her all day. She loved board games like Checkers, Sorry, Monopoly. I would only play Stratego with her. I told her it was a compromise and she could take it or leave it. Deep down, I knew I was just being a bully." "Mulder-" "It's okay, Scully. You don't need to defend me from myself. I wasn't the best brother in the world, I can face that. I know I wasn't the worst, either. We just... well, it was the usual brother and sister rivalry between us. But anyway, I played a few games with her, and then I wanted to watch some television. Of course, we fought over that, too." "Of course," she said with a knowing smile and complete understanding. She had two brothers and a sister, therefore, she had three times the amount of things to fight about. "It wasn't long after that, I think I kind of... went blank. Not remembering anything. My parents found me lying on the floor in the living room, unresponsive- almost catatonic. My dad's gun was there beside me on the floor, but... they tested it and knew it hadn't been fired. Plus, none of the bullets were missing." "And there wasn't a trace of your sister, anywhere?" Scully asked, already knowing the tragic answer. "Nobody ever found her, or came up with any leads?" "Sadly, no. But I... well, I know what... happened to her now." "Really?" she asked, gulping in grim anticipation. "What? Did you finally remember?" "With some help," he elaborated. "I went through regressive therapy a couple of years ago to retrieve my memories. Ever heard of it?" "A little, not much," she admitted. "I... well, no offense, Mulder, but I... I would be hesitant to think of any memories recovered that way as absolute." He chuckled, squeezed her hand again. "Oh boy, well if you don't like what I just told you, then you're going to hate what I'm about to say to you now." A confused expression crossed her lovely features. "What do you mean?" He took another long breath and held it for a moment before continuing. "Here's where I find out if you really like me or not." "Mulder," she insisted, "of course, I-" "You might want to hold that thought, Scully, until you hear what I have to say," he interrupted. "Listen, I know this is going to sound fantastic, probably insane, but here's what happened, as I finally remembered it... "Samantha and I were fighting- as usual- and all of a sudden, a bright light came in through the windows. I was scared, but when my sister screamed for me, it pushed me into action. I realized I was the oldest and the one in charge and I had to protect her. But I couldn't! I..." He stopped speaking and began to sob. Pulling his hand away from hers, he stood up. "I... Scully, I'm sorry. I guess I just can't. I want to, but..." She stood up next to him and took a hold of his hand again. "Is it too difficult, Mulder?" she asked sympathetically. "No, I... it's not really that," he whimpered. "I just... I don't want to risk... losing you." "Me? But-" "Trust me, Scully, if I tell you the truth, you're not ever going to want to see me again. You're going to laugh at me and send me packing. You'll think I'm crazy and probably get pissed at yourself for wasting all that time and energy- not to mention food- making me dinner." He bowed his head low. Now she did look angry and upset, but not for the reasons he thought. "Mulder, look at me!" He did so. "How can you think so little of someone that you claim to care so much about? Do you really feel I'm capable of being so cruel and indifferent to another human being?" "What? I- no, of course not. You're the most warm and caring woman I know, but-" "But nothing, Mulder. Either I am that kind of person, or I'm not. Either you think I'm capable of listening without prejudice or you don't. Either you trust me, or you can't. It's as simple as that." He nodded, sniffling and wiping futilely at his teary eyes and runny nose. "You're right, Dana. I... I can trust you. I do. There just isn't that many people I feel I can trust though, so I guess that sometimes it's hard for me to recognize when I find them. I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry, Mulder," she told him, her tone much more gentle. She took him by the hand yet again. "Come on, let's get comfy." She led him to the sofa. "What about the dinner dishes?" he asked in surprise. "What about them? They'll still be here tomorrow. Come here. Let's sit down." He eyed her incredulously for a moment, recalling with perfect clarity from his dreams just how much of a neat freak she usually was. Finally he shrugged it off and followed her over to the couch, still sniffling and teary eyed. Once he was seated beside her, she removed a few tissues from a box on the end table and proceeded to wipe his beautiful eyes, then his runny nose with a loving hand. "There," she said, discarding the tissue, "is that better?" "Yeah, thanks," he replied, still astounded by this woman's sweetness and tender touch. "Here, scoot back, lie down" she further instructed, pulling him back so that his head rested in her lap. "How's this?" she asked. "Uh..." he paused long enough to marvel and truly appreciate the fact that he currently had his head between her legs but he shook the lusty cobwebs from his mind. He realized that, as much of a turn on it was, it was not the reason he was there. "Yeah, this is perfect. Thank you." She smiled down at him and his heart melted. "You're very welcome. Now, if you're comfortable and if you're ready, please continue." "Scully..." "Yeah?" "Aliens." "Pardon me?" "I said, 'aliens'. Samantha was taken... abducted by..." It was here in the conversation that he still expected her to laugh her butt off or knock him off her lap and shove him out the door. Instead, he heard, "Are you sure?" It was a simple, straightforward question. It required an equally straightforward answer. And although he could hear the skepticism and the disbelief in the tone of her question, what he could not hear was any teasing or amusement. He could see no fear or wariness in her expression. Nearly starting to hyperventilate at this new twist in the road, Mulder nodded vigorously, then started to cry again, and he turned, burying his face into her stomach. His arms wrapped around her, clinging for dear life. "Shh, Mulder, shh, it's all right, darling," she whispered, stroking the sides of his face and up and down his back. "It's okay, Mulder." He nuzzled his nose into her belly, inadvertently tickling her and making her squirm. Upon realizing this, he stopped the motion. He took a moment to breathe in her comforting and familiar scent. "The bright light I had mentioned? That was them. I remember not understanding what was going on at the time, but realizing there was still danger. That's when I went for my dad's gun. But I dropped it, became paralyzed with fear when I saw Samantha floating in the air in front of me. She had stopped screaming and... she wasn't moving. I- I saw the front door open by itself and on the other side of it was... was... one of them! It was an alien! A tall, skinny creature with gray skin, elongated limbs, a large head, and large eyes. It had no nose to speak of and a slit for a mouth. There were more of them, too. I couldn't see them, but I... I felt their presence somehow. They took Samantha, I'm as sure of it as I'm sure of the fact my name is Fox Mulder and that I'm a profiler for the FBI." "Jesus, Mulder," she whispered, leaning down as well as she could to press her lips to his forehead. "I'm so sorry, honey. Really, I am." "Do you believe me?" he asked doubtfully. "Do you think I'm crazy? Do you hate me?" "I believe you... experienced something. I don't know that I believe in the existence of alien life, but... I do believe something very strange and traumatic happened to you and your sister way back then. Whether your memories are a result of a child's mind trying to deal with something too painful for you to process, or if you honestly did see some sort of... being kidnapping your sister, I... I just don't know. But I do believe that you believe it and I respect that belief. And no, I don't think you are crazy or ridiculous, or... or... spooky. And no, I don't hate you or want you to go away. And yes, I still have feelings for you, I still care deeply about you and I think my attachment to you has grown even more." He looked up at her. "You still want to be with me?" he asked hopefully, his eyes betraying the scared child hiding inside of the man. "More than ever," she promised, bending down again, this time trying to capture his lips with hers. Being in such an awkward position, however, she only managed to kiss his chin. "Let me help you out here," Mulder offered, sitting up enough to push her back on the sofa and lie down on top of her, kissing her passionately. The two FBI agents kissed each other fervently. Both of them had gotten a taste of each other on that first date, and they had each been longing for more ever since. Tongues dueling, fingers entwining, their breaths intermingling. They kissed and caressed, petted and panted, moaned and melted for nearly an hour. But when the groping got too desperate, when the kissing became too frenzied, when Mulder's hips- and very noticeable erection- started grinding against her center of their own accord, Scully stopped her exploration of the fabulous Fox Mulder and gently pushed him up into a sitting position. She then sat up beside him and snuggled in close to his side. "I... I really do want you, Mulder," she panted, trying to explain, "and I certainly adore you, but I... I'm just not ready for physical intimacy yet. I... hope you can understand that. I'm sorry if I-" "No need to apologize, Scully," he soothed, equally out of breath, but forcing himself to calm down, for both their sakes. He kissed her on the ear he was whispering into. "I'm sorry I was moving so fast. It's just... well, I want and adore you, too. And I am, after all, a guy." She shook her head. "No. You're not a guy- you're a man." Mulder smiled lovingly at her. "You stole that from an old John Cusak movie, didn't you?" Smiling back at him, rather sheepishly, she admitted, "Guilty as charged." "I remember that film. The Sure Thing. Man, that takes me back. It was great!" Dana gave him a look that did make him believe she thought he was crazy. "It was from Say Anything." "No, I'm pretty sure about The Sure Thing." "Maybe you shouldn't be, because it was from Say Anything!" she argued. "Hey, I'm the one with the photographic memory here," he reminded her. "Well, that may be, but you're also the one who's wrong!" "Wrong?" he asked, feigning disbelief. "Me?" "You," she told him in no uncertain terms, "el wrong- o!" "Ooh, sexy and bilingual! Gee, Scully," he teased, "you just keep unfolding like a flower." "Shut up, Mulder." "Will do... Hey, Scully?" "Yes, oh long-winded one?" she sighed good-naturedly. "You know, I've found evidence to support my theory on what happened to Samantha." She sat up straight and looked him in the eye. "You have? Where?" "In the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover building at FBI headquarters, of course." She stared at him for a moment, unable to come up with anything coherent. "Yes," he replied knowingly to her unasked question. "I'm totally serious." "What did you find?" she finally managed to get out of her mouth. "Files," he explained. "Lot's and lot's of files. They're all the cases about UFOs and unexplained phenomena that the government can't- or won't- solve, so they deny their existence and keep them hidden away in a dusty basement. My old man's friend, Arthur Dales clued me in on them. And a friend from my Academy days, Diana Fowley, well, she helped me look for them. But they're down there, untouched and unsolved for years. They're called the X-Files!" "The X-Files?" she asked, stifling a yawn. "Why?" "Uh, long story," he said, noticing how tired she was becoming. "It doesn't matter, 'cause the 'x' makes them sound cool. But I'm hoping to take possession of those files and open my own department, devoting it to the investigation of these unsolved cases." "Who would be in your department?" she asked, this time unable to stop her yawn. "Arthur Whozit? That Diana lady or Jerry?" He laughed, running his fingers through her soft, red tresses. "Nah. Arthur is retired and Diana is no lady- eh, what I mean is, she's been reassigned out of the country. And I know Jerry likes me, but... well, not that much. Actually, I was thinking lately that you might like to join me. After all, having a scientist with me on these cases could prove valuable, your opinion could make the department stand out. You could give it legitimacy." "You can count me in," she mumbled, although Mulder would never hold her to that promise, seeing as how she was already drifting off into la-la land, snuggling into his embrace. Looking up at the clock on the wall, Mulder realized that it was nearly two a. m. He knew she was exhausted. It had been her first day back to work after being injured and he recalled that she had been so busy the entire day. She was trying to stay awake for him, but he could see she was rapidly losing that battle. Mulder subtly scooted them both down on the couch, so they could recline and get some sleep. He kissed her brow. "Mulder, when we gonna get the files?" she asked, nearly unintelligible. "Shh, relax, Scully," he whispered soothingly. "Sleep now, okay? We'll talk more about it tomorrow." "But it... is already... tomorrow..." He chuckled, trying to keep still. "It's all right. Don't worry about it now. Just sleep, Dana. Good night, I... I love you." "Love... you..." she replied, then started to snore quietly. Swallowing the lump in his throat and willing himself not to cry again, he held her tighter to him, kissing her small face gently. When she rolled over in her sleep, suddenly on top of him, her hand brushing against the front of his pants, he practically did cry. "Jesus, this is going to be one hell of a night!" * * * Mulder lay on their tasteful but comfortable sofa. He was on his stomach and gazing down lovingly below him. Tucked snuggly away between his warm, naked body and the soft couch cushions, was the equally naked Dana Scully. She was staring up into his eyes, a joining of their souls, just as their bodies were joined a little further south. "You're so beautiful, Dana Katherine Scully-Mulder," he whispered, not yet moving within her, just content for the moment to be inside of her. "The feeling is mutual, darling," she promised, bringing up her small hands to frame his face. "God, I love you." "I love you," he replied, then slowly began moving in and out of her sacred core. "Scully, you're so soft... so wet!" "That's for you, love," she sighed sensually, grazing the tip of her tongue over his Adam's apple and causing him to shiver in delight. "And I am so hard for you," he declared, struggling a little, but managing to lean down far enough to kiss her mouth. "Thank you, Mulder," she whispered into his ear after their lips parted. "Thank you for loving me so much. Thank you for loving me this way." "Thank you," he hissed as his body built up energy and steam, getting closer and closer to absolution with his beloved. His face contorted in pleasure. "Oh, yes, baby. You feel so exquisite!" "You do, too, honey. Ohh! So... oh, God!" Realizing they were both tired and both so close already anyway, Mulder sped up his pace considerably, promising himself their next love making encounter would include a nice, romantic dinner, soft, burning candles, a slower, more languid pace, and possibly a relaxing bubble bath afterwards. He thrusted his hard shaft into her soft, yielding center. She met every thrust with her own, pumping her hips against his at a frantic speed and wrapping her legs around his waist. When the sweet inevitable finally surrendered, they clung tightly to each other, crying out words of love, as well as each other's names. Mulder collapsed on top of her, knowing that his full weight was crushing her a little, but unable to move regardless. She didn't seem to mind. Both of them were panting wildly, but they continued to cling to each other, not speaking, not kissing, just holding and giving themselves time to catch their breaths. Once their breathing gradually calmed, Mulder got up off of her and pulled out of her. Then he carefully, gently, lifted her small, limp body up and draped her over him as he settled back on the sofa. "Mmm," he sighed rapturously, "I love my little Scully blanket." "Hey," she cracked, nuzzling him possessively, even while struggling to stay awake, "who are you calling little?" "You, darling," he confirmed, chuckling. "But don't worry, you're not too little. In fact, you cover me just right." "And I fit perfectly into your arms," she observed, yawning. "Just as, even though we're so different in size, you fit so perfectly inside of me." "It's true," he agreed. "No doubt about it. We were made for each other." "Soul mates..." "Destined..." "Meant to be..." "Lovers for all time," he finished, and she replied with a soft snore. Chuckling quietly, he grabbed an afghan off the back of the couch, covering their beautiful, nude forms from the chill in the night air. He held her tenderly, kissing the side of her face. "Love you, Scully," he whispered. "Love you..." ~ ~ ~ May 01, 1992 Georgetown Dana Scully's residence 6:52 a. m. He could still feel her small body against his, the left over sensations of the dream still clinging to his sleep-addled brain. But soon the euphoria faded away into the realism of a stiff neck, cold feet and empty arms. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he opened his eyes. The apartment was the same from his dreams, only this was not a fantasy. The sofa he had just made love on with the scrumptious Agent Scully the night before was still beneath his butt. Only trouble was the precious woman who was supposed to be on top of him and filling his arms was nowhere to be seen. Mulder straightened, sitting up and rolling his neck to work the kinks out, and that's when he noticed the afghan from the back of the couch was draped over him. Tossing it aside, he wiggled his toes, when it occurred to him that he could do so, and he realized that his shoes and socks had been removed. Did I do that? he wondered. Or maybe Scully did it after I fell asleep... Oh, my God! Scully! Looking into the dining area, he observed that last night's dishes had been cleared away, in their place, a new, clean setting, which also boasted breakfast condiments, including orange juice glasses, butter, powdered sugar, salt and pepper, and maple syrup. He could smell hot coffee brewing and what he believed to be pancakes and eggs cooking. It put a smile on his face... But only momentarily. His beloved was still AWOL and in his tortured mind, full of guilt, sadness and self-doubt, Mulder could only speculate that perhaps she had regretted last night, or decided he was just too weepy or unstable. Or maybe he just looked really, really ugly in the morning and she fled out the door in terror, leaving her own apartment just to get away. And she had removed his shoes in order to slow him down in case he followed her... Yeah, that had to be it! "Morning, sleepy head," a soft, sweet voice said from the kitchen entranceway, startling Mulder out of his depressing, half-asleep reverie. "Sc-Scully?" he asked in frank surprise. She came forward, sipping at one of the two coffee cups she held in her hands. "Well, I'd like to know who else would be wearing my bathrobe," she joked. She sat down beside him, extremely close, then set both of the mugs on the coffee table in front of them. "Let's try this again, shall we?" she said, turning towards him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Leaning into him, she nabbed him with a wet kiss right on the lips. "Mmm, good morning." "G'morning," he murmured, still in shock over the fact she hadn't run off into the night, and marveling how she tasted like toothpaste and coffee. "I've got breakfast ready," she told him. "Pancakes, eggs, fruit..." "Eggs," he repeated dumbly. "Yeah, and no more 'egg' jokes, Mulder," she snickered. "Just too early in the morning." She stretched once. "Hmm, you hungry?" "Hungry," he stammered, nodding like a bobble head. Scully laughed and kissed him again. "Not much of a morning person, are you, Mulder?" "Uhh..." "I see. Well, come on, Mr. Articulate. I don't know about you, but I'm starving! I guess making out with a sexy man the night before gives me an appetite." She took his hand and pulled him up into a standing position. When he merely stood there, blinking at her, she grabbed their coffee mugs and gestured for him to follow her to the table, which he did without question. It was then, he realized the call of his bladder, and he excused himself for a quick detour to the bathroom, but he'd finished and washed his hands quickly and was back at the table within a New York minute. Once he sat down, she left their coffee on the table and ventured into the kitchen and came back with a tray that held a large platter of pancakes, a big dish of eggs and two generous bowls full of fresh fruit, as well as a pitcher of orange juice. By this time, Mulder was finally shaking off the last remnants of sleep, as well as his fears over her potential rejection of him. He was rubbing at his sore neck again. "You okay?" she asked in concern. "Yeah, just a kink in my neck from sleeping at an awkward angle." "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean for us to sleep on the sofa all night. Next time we have a sleep over, it's the bed for both of us." "Next time?" he asked, his mouth falling open. "Yes, I feel a little stiff-necked myself, and besides, we can snuggle close together just as easily in my bed as we can on the couch, right?" "Uh, right," he readily agreed. He couldn't quite grasp yet her open invitation into her bed. He was still reeling over the fact that he would be welcome back for a next time at all. "And anyway, it's nothing that a hot shower can't cure," she was saying, rubbing her own sore spots, then placing only one pancake on her plate and opting to sprinkle it with powdered sugar, rather than smother it with drippy syrup. "The heat will work all our kinks out, I'm sure." "Y-yeah," he agreed, finally understanding and fully content with his situation. Now completely relaxed, he began to chow down heartily on the delicious breakfast placed before him like there was no tomorrow. He had three pancakes gone from his plate before Scully could even finish a strawberry. "Jesus, Mulder," she chuckled, sipping at her juice. "Slow down. I won't take it away from you. You're going to bust a gut if you keep up that pace." "You calling me a pig?" he challenged her playfully, through a mouth full of pancakes. "Nah," she retorted with a grin. "Pigs tend to chew their food. You eat more like a duck." "Scully," he whined at her. "Just kidding," she promised. They ate in silence for awhile, both of them really hungry. After Mulder cleaned his plate for the second time, he patted his full stomach in satisfaction. "Yum!" "Thanks." "You know, I believe you're right, Scully. Making out with someone sexy does give you an appetite." "Sure, Mulder," she replied with a sardonic grin. "I know we were up pretty late last night. I bet I looked like something the cat dragged in." "Well, no cat I know has ever dragged in a sweet, loving, beautiful woman before," he cooed, reaching out to touch her arm. "So no, I think I'd have to disagree with you on that." "There's the articulate, intelligent, mush-monster I know and love," she laughed and his heart nearly stopped at her inadvertent admission. He watched as she glanced over at the clock on the wall. "Oh, shit! I've got to hit the showers- especially if we're going to have to travel all the way to Alexandria so you can shower and change, too." "Well, we could save some time and shower here... together," he suggested in all innocence. "Nice try, Mulder, but I think showering together right now would be an extraordinarily dangerous thing to do. Not to mention, you don't have anything clean to change into here." He jutted out his lower lip, causing her to smile and sigh, "Aw, poor baby." "But Scully," he promised, "I wouldn't... I mean... I wouldn't... jump your bones, or anything." "Who says I was worried about you?" she asked pointedly, and he spit his orange juice across the table at her in surprise. He stared with an apologetic, dumb-founded expression. "And, on that note," she said, standing up from her chair as she wiped her face with her napkin, "I shall hit the showers!" She had almost made it to the hallway, when Mulder stopped her. "Scully?" "Yes?" "Would you... I mean... If we did take one together... a shower, I mean..." "Honey, I'd fuck your brains out till we ran out of water. Unfortunately, we don't have that much time. Besides, I don't want our first... encounter to be in a shower. I'd prefer something a little more romantic. Now, let me get ready for work, before we end up late!" And with an extra-girlish flounce to her step, she turned and disappeared down the hallway. Gulping, gasping, trying to tamp down the arrival of his sudden, nearly painful erection, Mulder stood, attempted to clear the table. "I don't know about you, Miss Scully," he said out loud, "but I'm going to need a cold shower." * * * May 01, 1992 Alexandria Fox Mulder's Residence 7:52 a. m. "Nice place you have here, Mulder," Scully said, glancing around at the sparsely decorated, messy, dusty, dark, odorous apartment. "Liar," he said good-naturedly. "It's a dump. We both know it. It's okay to say so." "It's not a dump," she told him, "... per se. But if this is the home of the fabulous Agent Mulder, then I definitely love it." He smiled. "It's just a glorified shed." "Huh?" "It's just a place to keep my stuff, mostly." "But you live here. It's your home," she insisted. "Home is where the heart is, Scully," he explained. "And my heart belongs with you." "So, you live with me, huh?" she joked. "How come you're not coughing up half the rent every month?" "Well, it's more like my heart lies within you." "Does that mean you live inside of me?" she asked in all innocence. "I'd sure like to," he admitted, his hazel eyes turning green with lust. "Or at the very least, visit often." Scully began to blush furiously. "Um..." "Hey," he chuckled, rubbing her shoulders, "I'm just kidding." "You are?" she asked. "Well, no," he had to admit. Damn, this woman could be confusing! "What I mean is, yes, I want to make love with you- a lot! And I do think about it... a lot! Look, I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I..." He paused, trying to figure out how to put it. "I feel like I've known you my whole life! I feel I can share anything with you and I know that I'm safe to do so. You're very lovable, in case you weren't aware, but you're also very trustworthy, and for someone like me, that means just as much." "Oh," Scully whispered, truly touched, but it was obvious that something was eating away at her insides. Instinctively, she sought out the warmth and comfort of his arms, burrowing into his embrace. She stretched up to kiss him repeatedly about his face and neck. "Wow!" he said, overwhelmed by the love and affection coming at him full force in the small package of this wondrous woman. He could see his soul baring speech had touched his beautiful companion- much more than he could have imagined. Holding her close, he kissed the top of her head. "You okay?" "Yes, no... I... don't know," she replied, sniffling and unconsciously wiping her nose on his shirt. It was dirty from the day before, but he wouldn't have minded either way. "Scully?" "Mulder..." "Yeah?" "I... I don't want to... disappoint you, but I'm scared." He forced her to face him. "You're scared? You're not scared of me, are you, Scully?" She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid of... us." "Us?" "I..." Again she hesitated. "Mulder I want to tell you something... but at the same time, I don't." "What do you mean?" "I just... well, I don't want to hurt you... but I don't want to scare you away, either." "Well, I admit that you have my heart in your hands," he told her. "And you do have the power to hurt me like no one else could... but trust me when I say that you could never scare me away. No matter what!" "Promise?" she asked, sounding more small and young than she had even on that first case together in the middle of that fateful crime scene. "Cross my heart," he affirmed, picking up her hand and using her fingers to do just that. He kissed her. "Please, Scully. Talk to me." "Well..." "It's okay," he promised her again, noticing her struggling. "Just tell me." "I... I know I talk a good game, but... I'm... Mulder, I'm frigid," she finally blurted. He stared at her in confusion. "Are you cold? You want me to turn on the furnace?" "No," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I mean, well, when it comes to sex, I just don't... I've never even... God, I'm a lousy lay, all right?" She pulled out of his embrace and, pausing long enough to glance at the fish tank and it's two living occupants, she sat down on his old, leather couch, hiding her face on the arm rest. "Dana," Mulder responded, following her over, sitting beside her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "What's this all about?" "Oh, come off it, Mulder. You know what I'm talking about," she muttered. "You're not the only one at the Bureau with a clever nickname. Haven't you ever met Jack Willis? He's in domestic terrorism now, but he used to be an instructor of mine. You can't tell me you've never heard of the Ice Queen! It's practically legendary at the Academy." He smiled lovingly at her. "Well, honestly Scully, no, I haven't, and if it's a reference to you, I honestly can't imagine why. But as for being legendary, you'll always be a star in my eyes." Scully looked up at him, her eyes a little on the weepy side. "You... truly are the most... wonderful man I have ever met." "Aw, honey," he began, but she stopped him from saying more with a touch of her fingers to his lips. "That's why I'm so afraid, I think. I don't know if I'll ever be... good enough for you. Will I... measure up? I've only been with two... um..." "Scully, you don't have to tell me this right now," he said gently. "Yes, I do," she insisted. "Listen," and she took his large, warm hands into her small, cold ones, "I've only been with two men before... well, physically, I mean. In medical school, I had an affair with one of my professors, Dr. Daniel Waterston. He... well, he was married, but he... he told me that he was getting divorced. Like an idiot, I believed him." "An understandable mistake," he assured her. "You were young. You didn't know any better." "Yeah, but... but it still doesn't change the fact that I couldn't... please him right. I... let's just say I got gold stars in his classroom, but when it came to the bedroom, all I was handed out were demerits." "Oh, Scully..." "Anyway, we had only... been together twice, when I found out about his wife, so I left." "Well, that's certainly admirable," he commented. "You did the right thing." She merely shrugged. "It wouldn't have worked out even if he had really been divorced. Like I said, I just couldn't... measure up to his standards." Mulder's mind started wandering despite his best efforts not to. All he could think of were images of some old guy trying to make Scully have sex on a trapeze or upside down on her head. He couldn't understand how a beautiful, intelligent, young woman wouldn't please anyone. He could feel as romantic as the next fellow, but as a guy, he knew that the biggest and greatest thing a woman could do for a man to make him happy was pretty much show up... preferably naked. For the average guy, it didn't take much more effort than that and a "yes". "Scully," he said, scratching his head, "I don't get what you-" "Then, back in the Academy, I met Jack Willis. I hadn't been with anyone since Daniel and... well, I guess Jack was the first to show me any interest. I was just thrilled to learn he wasn't married, and so happy that someone showed an interest in me, and so eager to become a better lover ... I guess I wasn't very discriminating." "Happens to most people at least once in their lives," he said, recalling quite a few one-night stands and short "relationships" with women he'd had no real interest in other than sexual pleasure. He wasn't proud of the fact, but he at least had always been up front with every one of his sexual conquests, making sure they knew, without a doubt, that he wasn't up for anything more than a good time. Looking at Scully now, all he could think about was a life with her, marriage, a home, and maybe children. Possibly a dog- not a cat, they're too snobby- but a life spent together, living and loving. The youngster from Oxford, who had been burned by the infamous man-eater, Phoebe Green had long ago lost his innocence. The earnest young man who had married a girl just eighteen-years-old when he signed up for the Academy was gone as well. But he was surprised to learn that the callous, cynical love-'em-and-leave-'em profiler had now fallen by the wayside, too. In his place was the man he had become the moment he had awoken from that first dream in which he met his beautiful dream girl. He was now the ardent lover, the attentive significant other, the affectionate man in love. "Jack wasn't exactly the hearts-and-flowers kind of guy," she told him. "In fact, he made the lying, cheating Dr. Waterston look like a prince." "I'm sorry, Scully." "Not that the two were alike at all, or that I was drawn to a certain type. But the one thing that happened twice, the only constant in both of those relationships was... well, neither man was very... impressed with my skills or attributes." He looked at her, watching as she bowed her head low in shame and embarrassment. Holding up her chin in his hand, he said, "Wow, Scully. What are the odds?" "Of what?" she asked, almost fearful of his answer. "That you would end up being in a relationship with not one, but two, complete, idiotic assholes? I'll be the first to agree with you, Scully. You've been both fucked and screwed, and not necessarily in that order. But you know, what's even more important than the first man you sleep with, is who's the last. And I intend to be that man." And he meant that. He knew from his dreams just how passionate and sensual and beautiful and... and... just downright hot Dana Scully could be. His dreams told him of the love and intimacy they would share. It was too real to ignore or dismiss. They weren't just great nighttime fantasies. He realized that the moment she walked into his life. They were prophecies. Of course, he couldn't tell her that- not without trying to explain his dreams, which he wasn't quite prepared to do. "Mulder," Scully mumbled, obviously mortified by her earlier failures and desperately afraid of repeating the same mistakes with him, "I'm just afraid that... if we... have... sex, then you'll be... disappointed in me, too, and... just... leave me..." After stroking back her hair, Mulder then reached for his beloved, pulling her closer and into his embrace. She was nearly on his lap. "Scully," he told her in no uncertain terms, "Scully, look at me... First of all, I would never have sex with you." Her large, blue eyes actually grew larger. "Oh... but I... thought that you... Huh?" "I believe I have been showing an interest in making love with you, yes," he confirmed. "But that's a whole different ball game, Scully, if you'll excuse the bad sport's pun. Yeah, I want to share physical intimacy with you, but in order for us to do so, we both have to be in love, and on the same page in the relationship. And we both need to feel ready and trusting of the other. Making love isn't about performance or a 'good lay'. It's about expressing all that love and affection and passion you have for that one, special person in your life in the most intimate... primal way. "Take it from someone who knows the difference, Scully. I've been in lust before, I admit it. I've even had a bad case of puppy love once or twice. But just being with you, I... well, now I know what true love is. And when we do cross that line- and that's only when you are completely ready to do so- we won't have to worry about pleasing each other or getting pleasure ourselves, because the fact that it's you and me- together- will bring us the greatest pleasure of all. That's what I think making love really is. That's what I believe love is all about." Tears spilled down her cheeks and Dana Scully was not a weeper by nature. She was simply that moved by his heartfelt words of love to her, his promise not to run, not to stop loving her, not to find her frigid and unsatisfying. She leaned into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. "You really do mean that, don't you." "For the first time in my life, Scully, yes, I do. I honestly do mean that. And remember, when you are ready for that next step, I'll be right there with you, and we'll love each other the best we know how, creating true intimacy. And how can anyone be disappointed in that?" Stretching her neck to its limit, she reached up and kissed him passionately on the lips. Mulder eagerly returned the gesture, as well as the sentiment behind it. "Thank you," she whispered into his breath as their lips parted. "Thank me for what?" he asked in confusion. "Thank you for caring enough to respect my fears and for... loving me enough to help me face them and get through them." "You're entirely welcome," he said, kissing her again. "I only have one more question, Mulder." "What's that, honey?" "Where the hell have you been all my life?" she joked, laughing joyfully and running her fingers playfully through his silky, dark locks. "Looking for you," he replied in all sincerity. They stared dreamily at one another for some time. "Well, you found me," she said, gazing into his hazel eyes. "Thank God." He smiled, then glanced at the clock on his VCR and reluctantly stood up, pulling out of her embrace. "And now I'm going to have to find a shower and get ready for work. If I come in too late, Patterson will have my ass!" "He can't," she told him in all seriousness. "It's mine." "Well, yeah," he had to agree. "You have the rest of me already. You might as well get the complete set." Grinning like a Cheshire Cat and strutting like a rooster, Mulder headed down the hallway towards the bathroom. "Oh, and Mulder?" she called to him in a casual tone. "Yes, my love?" "I'd like you to meet my parents for dinner, on Sunday!" His mind in a panic, Mulder accidentally smacked his forehead into the bathroom door as he was closing it. "Ahh!!" "What's that?" "I said... ahh, great!" * * * May 01, 1992 FBI Headquarters Pathology Department 11:58 a. m. "Uh, hey Rick. Is Scully around?" "Ooh, Foxy Mulder! Our little Peaches is just finishing up with an autopsy. Why? You got another case for the wee doctor?" Mandoon asked, eyeing the FBI agent with great appreciation. "Wee doctor?" Mulder chuckled with an affectionate tone. "That's a good one, although I wouldn't advise calling her that to her face." "Well, duh!" Ricky replied. "I'm not suicidal. So, uh... what's the scoop now, handsome? Another forensics job for your favorite pathologist?" "Nah, no slicing or dicing on my behalf," Mulder admitted sheepishly, all the while, keeping an eye out for any of the angry ladies he had tussled with in the past, as well as for the venomous Dr. Cindy Moran. "Well, not unless she gets steak for lunch." "Lunch, so that's what the straight crowd is calling it now a days," Ricky said knowingly, with a sly grin. "So, you and little Peaches are an honest-to-God item now, huh?" "Yeah," Mulder confirmed, nearly puffing out his chest in pride over the fact. He couldn't keep the grin off of his face. His obvious sense of accomplishment wasn't lost on his friend, who chuckled good-naturedly at the love struck G-man. "I guess you smartened up and took my advice." "Guess so." The pathologist stretched and nodded in smug satisfaction. "That's our smart boy! You know," he declared in all confidence, "I've always said that nobody knows the mind of a straight woman better than a gay man." Mulder scratched his head, intrigued by Rick's theory. "How you figure that?" "Because, for one thing, I'm just an objective observer," Ricky happily explained, surprised for once that someone might actually take his words of wisdom seriously. "Sometimes if a person is too involved in their own situation- and who isn't, right?- a woman- like Dana- she cannot see herself as clearly as the objective observer would. And the straight male who clearly loves this woman- in this case, you- well, no offense, my dear, but you guys have to be the most clueless human beings on the planet." Laughing, Mulder nodded in agreement, until he spied Dr. Cindy Moran walking by, and he shut up just in time to hear her mutter, "Asshole!" at him as she passed. "Hmm," Rick reconsidered. "I stand corrected. Make that the second most clueless human being on the planet." Both men laughed together. "What's so funny, guys?" someone asked, coming up from behind them and laying a hand on each of their shoulders, causing them to jump in surprise. "Jesus, Peaches!" Ricky yelled in alarm, and she smirked. "Oh, hi, honey- eh, Scully," Mulder said, smiling lovingly at her and barely suppressing his urge to kiss her. They had discussed things on the way to work just that morning, about trying to keep their personal life away from the office. He just never figured on how difficult it would turn out to be. "Agent Mulder," she replied, sounding like the consummate professional she was, although the longing in her eyes was evident to anyone looking into them. Rick rolled his eyes. "Oh, for crying out loud! Don't bother trying to hide it. It just makes you both look extraordinarily guilty! We're all adults here." "What are you talking about, Ricky?" Dana asked in confusion. "I'm talking about the fact that we all know the two of you are involved and in love, and subtle signs of affection would not be deemed all that terrible- at least, not to me." "Huh?" Mulder queried. "Oh, Jesus! Why are the smartest people always the most idiotic? Just suck face if you want to, okay? It's not like anyone's going to care around here in the morgue!" Mulder smiled and reached for his beloved, but Scully held him at bay, resting a hand on his arm. "But Ricky," she began to protest. "No buts, Dana," Mandoon assured her. "Nobody down here but a bunch of horny doctors and dead bodies, anyway." Dr. Cindy Moran walked by again, this time heading to the autopsy bays. She gave Scully a scathing look and hissed, "Bitch!" loud enough for all to hear. "Don't forget to mention the brain dead," Scully muttered, adding to Rick's list. Mulder watched his beloved with great affection, while Ricky put his index finger to his tongue, then touched it to Dana's hip, making a fizzy sound. "Ooh!" he squealed in delight at one of the first daring and derogatory remarks he had ever heard the normally quiet, mild mannered Dr. Scully ever say. "Damn, Peaches! You are on fire, girlfriend!" "Thanks, girlfriend," she replied in a mocking tone, causing Mandoon to laugh and clap her gently on the back. "I have to concur with that assessment," Mulder added, and he admired the visible blush that appeared on her face. "Now," Rick announced, giving Scully a small shove closer to Mulder. "Go ahead, give him a kiss, Peaches. Give all those dead bodies something to talk about." Dana blushed harder. "Er, well..." she began, but before she could form a cognitive sentence, Mulder grabbed hold of her and captured her lips with his own, relishing the sweet taste of her, a sweet taste he had been deprived of all morning. Rick watched them, getting a strong case of the warm and fuzzies for a few seconds. About twenty seconds after that, he reluctantly pulled them apart. "Whoa, slow down, kiddies. I said to give those dead bodies something to talk about, not to make them any more stiff than they already were!" "Ricky!" Scully cried, scandalized. "Sorry," Mulder chuckled quietly beside her. "No, it's all right, kids," Rick assured them. "Don't ever be sorry for loving each other. I just thought you two were gonna wrestle each other to the ground and start boinking each other where you stood!" Scully's blush intensified. "Ricky, really!" "Yes, really," he smirked. "Hell, just watching the two of you kiss makes me as hard as a rock and I've still got a half hour till lunch." Mulder and Scully stared at Dr. Mandoon for a moment. Neither could help looking downward at his crotch for the briefest of seconds. They remained in stunned silence for a moment longer, before glancing at each other. "Well.... gotta go!" they replied in unison and quickly left the pathology department and the horny doctor far behind. Rick watched them leave, waited until they got on the elevator and the doors closed before laughing out loud. He removed the large banana from his pocket, peeled it and began to eat it with great enthusiasm. "Ah, the heterosexual," he mumbled over a mouthful of potassium. "They are so gullible!" * * * Saturday The Lone Gunmen's Lair 6:42 p. m. "Guys," Mulder said proudly, ushering in the petite redhead through the entranceway and into the dark, cramped room. "I'd like you to meet Dana Scully!" "Ah yes, the famous Dr. Scully," the tall, lanky man with the neatly trimmed hair and beard said. He brushed down imaginary creases out of his crisply pressed suit. "I'm John Byers." He offered her a hand to shake. "It's definitely a pleasure to meet you." "Hello, Mr. Byers," Dana replied, shaking his hand and smiling at him. "It's nice to meet you, too, although I'm not so sure about me being famous. I've only been at the Bureau for awhile..." "You are famous around here," a stringy-haired blond put in, waving at her from across the room. "Hi, I'm Langly. Ringo Langly," he added, waggling his eyebrows mischievously at her. "And trust me when I say you're a legend in Mulder's mind, right, man?" "Uh," Mulder replied eloquently, when Dana pointed her gaze in his direction. He smiled goofily at her, then shot daggers at the dork in the Ramones tee shirt and the Garth glasses. He suddenly wished he hadn't shared any of his dreams with anyone, let alone the Gunmen. "She's hot!" someone commented from behind the desk, and Scully looked over to see a small, middle-aged man wearing a beat up leather jacket and staring at her with a leering expression. She was startled, as she hadn't noticed he'd been sitting there until he had spoken up. "Frohike, down boy!" Mulder scolded him, giving his friend a stern look. "Frohike?" Scully repeated slowly, having never heard of such a surname before. "I know," Mulder agreed, "even his name sounds dirty, doesn't it?" "Hey!" Frohike protested, as Dana and all the guys started laughing. "Scully," Mulder said, smiling and stretching out his arms in presentation, "The Lone Gunmen." The young pathologist gave them all a smile. "It's great to meet you all. Mulder has told me so much about you." "Well, hopefully you'll still want to be our friend, anyway," Byers put in, causing Dana to smile even harder. * * * Sunday Baltimore William and Margaret Scully residence 5:24 p. m. "Oh, Fox, it's just so wonderful to have you here, especially while the whole family is in town." "Thank you, Mrs. Scully," Mulder replied amicably, albeit nervously. Dana's mother, Maggie, was giving him a sweet smile that looked remarkably like the one his beloved often sported. "No, thank you for helping me set the table, dear," Maggie went on, escorting him to the living room where the rest of the Scully clan awaited him. "You're welcome, Mrs. Scully," he said, trying not to hide the terrified squeak in his voice. His eyes sought out Dana, and he spotted her on the floor with her two nephews, teaching them how to play 52 Card Pick-up. It made him smile in spite of the danger he felt he was in. "Go on in and sit down, Fox," Maggie instructed him. "Dinner will be ready very soon. I hope you like pot roast." "Love it," he assured her, wondering if he could figure out a way to follow her back in to the kitchen and away from all the prying eyes. "Good! Then I hope you brought a big appetite." "Yes, ma'am, always," he replied, patting his stomach to reiterate the fact. Mrs. Scully laughed appreciatively. "Wonderful! I love to see a man with a good appetite. Now, go sit down. It won't be long." "Um..." he began hesitantly, noticing the stern look Mr. William Scully, Sr. was currently bestowing upon him, "are you sure there isn't anything else I can help you with?" "No, dear. You've already been such a big help anyway, so go rest up for that meal. I promise, it will be worth the wait." "I'm sure of that," he said, offering her another winning smile. She patted his arm, then left him to his own devices. "Mulder!" Scully called, still laughing at her grumbling nephews as they picked up an entire deck of cards at their parents' feet. She stood up and motioned for him to join her over on one of the love seats. Quick as lightning, he bolted over to her, sitting down beside her and taking her hand. They exchanged loving smiles, then she snuggled up against his side and he beamed at her touch. Venturing a brave glance over to Scully's father, Bill, Sr.- as he preferred to be called- sitting in an old armchair, Mulder noticed the man's expression had softened a little. He could even see the minutest traces of amusement, possibly even approval hidden in the murky depths of his eyes. Nodding respectfully at the retired Navy captain, Mulder's gaze shifted over to the long, sectional sofa where most of the rest of the Scully crew sat. The eldest Scully child, Bill, Jr. sat beside his new wife Tara, a tall, buxom blond, absently stroking her arm. They were both staring unabashedly at this strange newcomer Dana had brought home and into their lives. But where Tara's expression was kind and friendly, offering him a smile now and then, her husband's glare never ceased. Mulder felt as if the guy was going to bore a hole in his forehead if he kept this up. Sucking in a deep breath, Mulder continued down the sectional to where the youngest Scully child- and the only sibling younger than Dana- sat with his wife. Charlie Scully seemed to be a complete opposite to his elder brother. Both were tall men, but while Bill, Jr. had a strong, robust physique, Charlie was thin and slight. Both had red hair, but Bill, Jr.- as well as Scully's sister- had light red hair, nearly blond, and Charlie's was a deep red, just like Dana's. In fact, he had a friendly Opie Taylor look to him that had instantly put Mulder at ease. Of course, the fact that Charlie smiled, kidded and laughed a lot sort of helped, but Mulder took an instant liking to the freckle-faced jokester. Charlie's wife, Jenna, was petite, with dark hair and eyes and a smile that made her resemble a childlike elfen sort of creature. She also had a friendly demeanor and was quick with the jokes and puns. Opie Taylor meets Punky Brewster, Mulder thought to himself, but refrained from grinning too widely at the thought or mentioning his observation to anyone. Charlie and Jenna had three children. There was Brandon, the oldest, and a tall, dark haired seven-year-old, with blue eyes and freckles all over his handsome, little face. His little brother, five-year-old Ryan, was shorter, stockier and had the red hair. But he had his mother's lovely dark eyes, and Mulder gathered he would grow up to be a charmer, just like his brother. And resting gently in Charlie's long arms, was their two- month-old daughter, Dana. Mulder liked babies as much as the next guy, but he had to admit, he was especially beguiled by the small infant who shared the name of his beloved. The little baby didn't have much hair yet, just peach fuzz really, but it was coming in red, like Scully's. She also had large, expressive blue eyes, just like her aunt had as well. Mulder felt a pang of jealousy, like one he had never experienced before, seeing the way Jenna and Charlie doted on their baby girl. He wondered if he and Dana would ever get married and have kids. He knew, according to his dreams anyway, that they would one day marry but the idea of producing offspring- something he had honestly never considered before- suddenly became a potential reality. He hoped that, if they ever did have any kids, at least one of them would be a little girl who looked just like Scully. Glancing around, Mulder unconsciously searched for the remaining member of the family, Dana's older sister, Melissa- or Missy, as they all called her. He hadn't seen her since they had arrived and the introductions were given. Scully had said before hand that her sister was sort of the black sheep of the family, rarely coming home for family gatherings, usually preferring to go traveling, making a living off of palm reading and doing occasional waitressing or babysitting. Unlike his precious Dana, who wore a simple, elegant gold cross around her neck, Missy wore a large, velvet choker with a big crystal hanging from it. While he wouldn't exactly call it tacky, gaudy did fit the description. Upon catching a glimpse of movement from the hallway, Mulder spied the mysterious Melissa pacing back and forth while she spoke to someone on the phone. She wore a dress that twirled magnificently every time she turned on her heel in the opposite direction. He could tell by the inflections in her tone that she was sounding a little breathless and flirty. Ah, he thought knowingly, big sissy Missy has a boyfriend. I wonder what he's like... I bet he's some kind of hippie that never made it out of the sixties. Probably drives a VW bus and keeps a bong in the back seat. He looked up again, and caught Missy staring at him. When she smiled and winked, he grew a little uncomfortable, until he noticed that Dana was staring at her sister, smiling and winking back. Holy shit! Mulder realized. This is silent girl-speak! They're talking about me! Damn, I hope that means I'm hot. Well, they did smile... but could it have been a God-he's-such- a-fucking-dork smile? Yet they winked, too. Winking is always good... right? "So, Fox," Mr. Scully, Sr. said from his place on the sofa, startling Mulder out of his reverie and causing him to flinch with a guilty look on his face. "Sir?" he asked attentively, and he could see Bill, Jr. snort disapprovingly at him with his peripheral vision. "Oh, Ahab, call him Mulder," Scully helpfully interjected, and the man in question, gulped nervously, afraid of asking Mr. Scully, Sr. to do anything on his behalf. "It's okay, Scully," he whispered politely, all the while, tugging on her sleeve in a panic. "Of course, Mulder," Bill, Sr. went on, seemingly unfazed by being corrected by his smallest child, "who are your teams?" "I'm sorry?" Mulder asked in confusion. "Your teams, son. The ones you root for in each sport. You know, football, basketball, baseball..." "Oh, my favorite teams," Mulder repeated in understanding. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that this question would be a test of some kind, and no matter what answer he gave, he was destined to fail. "Well, uh, I like the Washington Redskins, and the Knicks and... the Yankees of course." "Yankees?" Bill, Jr. barked, shaking his head in disgust. "Ridiculous!" "Be nice, Billy," his father snapped. "Everyone is allowed their own opinion." "But he grew up on Martha's Vineyard, you said!" Bill Jr. protested, until his father shot him a warning look, effectively shutting his mouth- for the moment anyway. Mulder looked confused. "How did you guys know that?" "Oh, Starbuck told me over the phone when she called about dinner," Mr. Scully said absently, indicating his youngest daughter. "The Yankees, they're all right." Everyone's eyes in the living room instantly grew wide, including the two kids playing on the floor and the infant in Charlie's arms- of course, her eyes were already wide to begin with, but her expression did fit right in with the rest of the family. Mulder glanced around, wondering what the hell was going on. He looked to Dana to translate the unfamiliar Scully- speak he had not yet grown accustomed to. "Dad's a big Red Sox fan," she whispered, tightly gripping his arm. He watched her face as a sudden thought occurred to her. "God, he must really like you," she beamed quietly, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. Exhaling a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in, Mulder looked back at Mr. Scully, noticed that the amusement was much more than a twinkle in his eyes now. He wore a friendly grin that contrasted wildly with the open scowl adorning his eldest son's face seated to the left of him. Mulder returned the smile, suddenly feeling a little like he was fitting in. "Thank you, sir. I'm inclined to agree." "The Yankees fucking suck," he heard Bill, Jr. mutter under his breath. "William," Bill, Sr. groused in a tone that shut his big, adult son right up again. "What's a fuckin-suck?" five-year-old Ryan asked his mom, who turned white at the question. "Thanks a lot, big bro," Charlie snapped at his brother, this time without a hint of humor to his tone. "Ah, knock it off, Charlie," Bill retorted, "with the dirty mouth you've always had, I'm surprised the baby isn't swearing up a storm!" The two brothers continued to squabble. Their wives tried to calm them. The kids listened in with the intensity only the under-ten set was capable of. Dana rolled her eyes in annoyance. Mr. Scully chose to ignore the entire event and Mulder sat in the middle of it all, trying not to laugh his ass off. "Dinner is ready!" Mrs. Scully announced, stepping into the entryway. And just as Mr. Scully, Sr. had instilled a great amount of fear in Mulder, his wife completely impressed him with her take charge attitude, listening as she began to shoot orders. "Charlie, why don't you put little Dana," and she paused, her voice wrapping around the baby's name like a caress, "in her playpen. You can set it next to the table if you want," she added, smiling at her daughter-in-law, who seemed nervous about leaving the baby alone. "Okay, Mom!" Charlie replied, getting up and saluting her with an adoring smile. "Jenna, honey, why don't you get the boys washed up for supper?" "Good idea, come on, guys. Grandma's got dinner ready, but we need to wash our hands first." "Yeah!" Brandon shouted with glee. "I'm hungrier than a bear!" He growled playfully at his brother. "Me, too!" his younger brother Ryan shouted right back, not to be out done. "I'm so hungry I could eat a house!" "That's horse, son," Jenna was saying as they ventured into the bathroom. "Tara, sweetheart," Mrs. Scully continued, "if you and Billy wouldn't mind helping me bring out some of the food?" "Sure," Tara said, so relieved to have a nice mother-in- law, she practically cried every time she saw her. "Jeez, Mom," Bill, Jr. began to complain, but another glare from his father, and he was off like a shot. "Bill, can you get Missy off the phone?" Maggie asked her husband, this time in an exasperated tone. "Right," he readily agreed, not above taking orders from the family matriarch himself. "Damn kid's running up the phone bill. If it's any more than it was last time, I'm going to charge her." "Bill," Maggie said gently. "Let's not start that right now. Besides, I don't think palm readers make enough money to pay for two phone bills." Mr. Scully, Sr. grumbled something incoherently, but stopped long enough to give his wife an affectionate lip lock and a pat on her bottom. She smiled and smacked his rump right back, although a bit harder. Mulder was amazed. Sure, this family had their share of rivalries and squabbles, but everyone seemed just so much in love with each other, so affectionate and giving... just so damn normal. It was a far cry than anything he had become accustomed to with his own family, especially after Samantha had been taken. He looked over at his beloved, who was staring at him with a sheepish expression, before she shot her mom a warning look. "Mom," she whined- yes, actually whined, sounding much like Mulder imagined she probably sounded like through puberty, "do you and dad have to do that in front of people?" "Oh, good Lord, Dana," Maggie sighed. "I swear, sometimes you kids still act like you're fifteen and embarrassed by everything your parents do!" Barely suppressing a chuckle, Mulder listened to Scully's mother, his earlier query having been answered. "Well, I'm not fifteen anymore," Scully replied, by way of retort. Margaret Scully rolled her eyes, but then smiled at her daughter. She loved all her children equally, but Dana was definitely her cherished baby girl. "Dana, why don't you and Fox go sit down. And since you're not fifteen anymore, I won't even check to see if you're holding hands under the table." Mulder blushed, but the woman of his dreams seemed unfazed by her mother's teasing. "Yeah, but I bet you can't make that same promise in Dad's case. Or Billy's. Oh, and it's Mulder, Mom. He prefers his last name." "Oh, I don't mind, Scully," Mulder promised, smiling at his potential mother-in-law, and he actually meant it. He felt guilty for thinking it, but he wished his own mother had been more loving and teasing and affectionate, like this woman, who he had to admit he already had taken a shine to. "There, you see, now," Maggie playfully scolded her daughter. "Fox doesn't mind at all. All right, go on, you two. It's dinner time!" Maggie turned and headed back for the kitchen. Bill, Sr. and Melissa passed by them in the hallway, arguing over next month's phone bill. Suddenly, two, small boys rushed around them, followed by their apologetic mother. Charlie already had the playpen set up in the dining room and was cooing at his daughter over the side of it. Tara, Margaret and Bill, Jr. walked through, carrying several trays and bowls of food. Mulder stared at everyone, suddenly feeling like the loneliest guy in the world. But then, something wondrous happened. He felt a soft, small hand slip into his and squeeze it gently. "Come on, Mulder," he heard his beautiful Scully whisper to him. "Let's join the family for dinner." Nodding and smiling gratefully at her, Mulder squeezed back and they ventured into the dining room together. * * * Sunday Night Georgetown Dana Scully residence 11:02 p. m. Dana switched off the bedroom light, smoothed down her silk pajama top and slid in under the covers on her bed. Instinctively, she snuggled up against Mulder's side, who turned towards her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her close. She reached up and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Tired?" she asked quietly. "Sort of," he admitted, closing his eyes. "You Scullys are certainly a handful," he joked, as he began running his fingers through her silky hair, enjoying the texture against his digits, as much as she enjoyed the sensation of him stimulating her scalp. "Oh," she murmured, "does that mean you're too tired to talk for awhile?" She sighed happily at his touch. Mulder chuckled and opened his eyes, giving her a quick kiss. "Scully I will never be too tired to talk to you. What's on your mind, honey?" "I was just wondering..." she began enigmatically. "'Bout what?" "How you felt about dinner tonight?" "Dinner? It was delicious. Your mom is a great cook. I see where you get your culinary talents from." "That's not what I- um, I really wanted to know what you thought about my family." "Honestly?" he teased. "Of course," she replied, although she was starting to worry. "Well, I really like your mommy," he said in his best teenaged-geek voice, which, if he had to be honest, wasn't that far off from his own. "Mulder!" she groaned. "Seriously, I do," he assured her. "And not just because she can cook. She's just really... well, honestly, I think she's got to be the nicest woman on the face of the earth- present company excluded." Dana smiled. "Well, my mom really likes you, Mulder. She told me so when I was helping her clear the table after dinner." "Really?" Mulder asked, beaming with pride. He knew Dana's family was important to her and he had desperately longed for their approval. "Yeah, she said she thought you were very sweet and conscientious... oh, and that you were sinfully handsome." "Sinfully?" Mulder perked up further. "Really? She actually used those exact words?" "Yep, she sure did." "Wow, that's stupendous!" he exclaimed, unable to stop himself from a little crowing. "I don't think I've ever been described in such a way before." "Well, I've always thought you were devilishly sexy," Scully chuckled. He kissed her again. "Thank you, baby. But it's just pretty cool to hear that your mom called me sinfully handsome!" He paused, the wheels in his mind turning a little too quickly. "Wait a minute! Your mom is a devout Catholic, isn't she? Was that whole 'sinful' bit really a compliment, or does it actually mean she thinks I'm too much like Satan, or something." Dana laughed out loud, until he stared at her in the darkness, his face shadowed further in self-doubt and worry. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mulder. I don't mean to make fun. It's just that... well, sometimes I think you're too smart for your own good." "What do you mean?" he sulked turning away from her. "Mulder," she tried again, pulling him back into the confines of her tight embrace. "Come on, honey, it's all right," she apologized. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I love you." "Love you, too," he grumbled back at her, but allowed her to pull his head to her breasts, where he snuggled shamelessly, until she giggled under his ticklish touch. "Mulder!" she laughed, trying to push him away. He leaned over her, looked imploringly into her eyes. "So... you really don't think your mom was talking about the devil?" "No," she assured him, "she was not comparing you to Satan. Jeez, Mulder! How could you even think that?" He shrugged, then lay back down, resting his head upon her breasts again. "I don't know. I guess I'm just a weirdo. But I am glad- not to mention relieved- that your mom likes me so much. Had she ever complimented any of your other boyfriends that way?" "No," she admitted. "Actually Mulder, except for my prom date, Marcus, I've never brought anyone home to meet my family before. And I only brought Marcus in to meet my parents because they told me I couldn't go otherwise." He sat up again, staring down at her in shock. "You mean I'm the first guy..." "The only guy," she confirmed. "But you said you dated both Daniel and Jack..." "Yeah? So?" "Well, I thought they were serious relationships for you." "I thought so at the time, yes. But... as much as they might have meant to me, well, as misguided as my affections were, of course, the fact was, I never even entertained the notion of bringing either of them home to meet the folks. I've always been ... very private about my dates, I guess. I usually only confided in my best friend, Ellen, or with my sister, Missy. And Charlie would often find things out, mostly because he would eavesdrop on me and my conversations." She paused, shaking her head at the memory. "But I really never liked anyone knowing who I was seeing at any given time." "Not even your parents?" he asked in surprise, finding it odd considering how close-knit she was with them. "Especially not my parents," she amended, shuddering involuntarily against him. "I don't think you'll ever fully understand, Mulder," she tried to explain. "First of all, you're a guy. Nobody seems to care if you get lucky; in fact, everyone seems to encourage it." "I don't recall my mom shaking her pom-poms and cheering for me when I lost my virginity," he teased her, then felt grossed out by the image he put into his own head. He could certainly understand that aspect. No one wanted their parents to know anything about their sex life, just as much as no one ever wanted to know about their parents'. It was a tricky concept that most people seemed to share. It was sort of like the idea of having sex well into old age was a hope everyone had, except of course, nobody ever wanted to get old. That, plus the fact that the idea of old people having sex was nearly too unbearable to think about. "You're a sick man, Mulder," she sighed, bringing him back to reality and away from the disturbing train of thought he had unwittingly thrust upon himself. "I do believe you're right about that," he had to agree. "So, girls have it even worse than boys. That's understandable. I get it. But what else...?" "Well, there's the whole Catholic thing, too," she reminded him. "Granted, it's not as strict anymore, well, not for the most part, but back then? Jeez! Once Mom caught Bill, Jr. checking out a nudie magazine, I'm surprised he's still alive to tell the tale... But for Missy and me, it was a million times worse." She pondered something for a moment. "Of course, that didn't stop Missy from losing her virginity in the tenth grade, to Chris Curran, in the back of his mom's old station wagon. Took about two minutes." "Were you there?" he asked, wondering how she could know so many details. "Gross! No," she assured him. "Missy told me about it later. But with the stars in her eyes that night, you'd of sworn she was swept off her feet by Prince Charming himself and they made, slow passionate love at the Ritz Carlton or something." He laughed. "And I'll bet your parents knew all along, didn't they?" "Nope. Don't think so. Missy was a hell of a liar, Mulder. Me, I'm not so good. Plus, I was usually more into my studies, anyway. But still, even into adulthood, I learned to become very guarded about whom I dated and who was privy to the fact. Even when you're a grown woman, unless you're married to a guy, anyone you bring home, a lot of parents- particularly old school parents, like mine- are just going to think of that boyfriend as some kind of enemy, at odds against their valiant effort to keep their daughter pure for her wedding night, or some kind of bull shit like that." "Huh?" "Sex, Mulder," she groaned in exasperation. "It's always about sex, isn't it? And the old double standard that women shouldn't have it before they get married. And if they do, they're suddenly some kind of harlot. Of course, it's not nearly as bad now a days, but still... So, yes, any guy that I'd bring home, my parents are only going to wonder whether or not we're sleeping together!" "But technically, we are sleeping together," Mulder teased. "Look, we're in bed right now." "Smart ass," she smirked. "You know what I mean. I'm talking about sleeping together in the Biblical sense. Having sex!" "I see," he went on, pretending to not understand, and he was rewarded with a light whack against his head and a chuckle rumbling from the chest he currently lay against. "All right," he said in all seriousness. "I'll go with that. But doesn't that mean that your parents think that we might be sleeping together in the Biblical sense, now that you brought me home?" "I suppose they might," she said. "And they're okay with that?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I think they are, although, seeing as I'm nearing thirty and you're the first guy I've ever brought home to meet them, they're probably more relieved than anything. Well, that, plus the fact that they both really like you." She smiled at him, ran her finger tips over his stubble-covered cheeks. "But what about you?" he asked, nuzzling against her hand. "I thought you were such a private person and didn't want anyone knowing- including your parents- who you were seeing? So why did you bring me home to meet the parents?" She took a moment to answer, as if she hadn't really considered her reasons for doing so. "I guess it's because I love you so much, I want the whole damn world to know about it, including my family!" Tears glistened in his eyes and he stroked her face as he got up and hovered over her again, bending down to give her a long, slow, wet and tender kiss. "Jesus Dana, that was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I don't think anyone has ever loved me as much as you do." "I feel the same about you, Mulder," she told him. "And I think my parents can see that, too." "Even though, according to your theory, they should be worried that I'm sleeping with you... in the Biblical sense?" Scully laughed for a moment, then calmed herself and patted his shoulder. "I know, Mulder, and I'm sure that you wish they had something to legitimately worry about, don't you?" "Hey," he reminded her, "I already told you, we'll begin a sexual relationship when we're both completely ready and not before. I'm not complaining." "I know," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion and on the verge of tears. "And I... I'm almost rea... I just-" "Shh, Scully relax," he reassured her, squeezing her tight, "you don't need to explain anything. All you need to do is tell me when you're ready, and I'll be there." She smiled and nuzzled his neck with her nose. "With bells on?" she joked. "If it turns you on," he said seductively, "I'd even wear a chicken suit and a ten gallon hat!" Dana laughed out loud, gripping his shoulder with the effort. "Um, that's okay. Contrary to popular belief, chickens and eggs do not do anything for me." "Hmm," he speculated, gently caressing her soft skin underneath her pajama top and driving her wild, "so what actually does do it for you, Agent Scully?" "You!" she growled, grabbing his hand and urging it higher, until he palmed her breast. He groaned loudly, remembering from his dreams just how soft and silky her skin was, especially on her creamy, white breasts. "And what would you like me wearing the first time we make love?" he asked, not caring if she ordered him to bed wearing a Ninja uniform or a pig costume. He rolled her taut nipple between his fingers, enjoying the arousing hissing sound his action had elicited from her. "Nothing," she rasped, coming closer to pepper his bare chest with open-mouthed kisses. "Nothing but a smile?" he joked, until he felt the rough velvet of Dana's Tongue across one of his flat nipples. "Oh..." "I'll be the one to put the smile on your face," she promised, blowing cold air over his wet nipple, causing it to pucker nicely. "Oh, God! Scully?" "Yes, darling?" "You know what you're doing to me right now?" "Uh-huh?" "Can- can I do that to you?" Instead of answering him verbally, Scully let him know her reply by sitting up and yanking her top off with a feral cry. Recalling every inch of her beautiful breasts, Mulder was nevertheless mesmerized by getting to see them for the very first time in wake-time. He ran his fingertips lightly over her chest, marveling over the expanse of her peaches and cream complexion, over each freckle, staring reverently at every lovely centimeter of her. "God, Scully, you're... so... beautiful!" "The feeling is mutual," she promised, watching in great anticipation for his mouth to lower upon her bosom. And Mulder anxiously did just that, but he stopped himself about an inch before his lips could devour one of her rose-tipped, delectable nipples. "Um, Dana, are you sure about this?" "Yes," she moaned, longing in agony for his touch. "And we're just engaging in... foreplay, right?" he wanted to clarify. "Yeah, if it's okay," she whimpered. If he didn't put his lips on her soon, she was afraid she was going to have to shove her breast in his mouth herself! "Of course it's okay," he assured her. Then he went back to the glorious task that she'd been dying for him to complete all along. He lowered his mouth to her left breast and began to suckle her, stopping only to lave his tongue over it, before switching over to her right breast and doing the same. "Oh, God, you've got a talented mouth!" she sighed, running her fingers through his already messy hair. He paused in his ministrations to gaze up at her and whisper, "It's easy to be talented when I have something so exquisite to feast upon." Already damp with desire, Scully felt a new wave wash over her and saturate her underwear. "Jesus, Mulder," she hissed. After a moment, she pulled him up her body, until they were face to face. Mulder tried to kiss her, but she held up her hand. He watched in confused fascination as she spit into her right palm and rubbed it together with her left. "Um, Scully," he asked carefully, "are you planning on washing my face with that?" Dana smiled. "No. I just want to play with you, not your face but your head." Before he could voice any more confusion, Mulder quickly understood her meaning when she reached down into his boxer shorts and began stroking his large, engorged penis. "Oh... Oh! Dana, oh baby, that feels so good," he panted. "You didn't think I was going to leave you... hanging, did you Agent Mulder?" she whispered into his ear. "And my, but how well hung you are." Her tongue snaked out and flicked against his lobe, just as her hand was busy with his lower extremities. "Uhh..." he grunted incoherently in reply. "Nor would I leave you empty handed," she told him, reaching with her free hand for both of his and guiding them back up to her breasts. "Yes!" he moaned, giving each nipple a light tweak that made Scully yelp. "And we certainly can't have those, full, delicious lips going to waste, now can we?" she continued, stretching upwards and capturing his mouth with her equally talented lips. "Oh, Scu..." he mumbled against her mouth, and her tongue thrust inside of him. Things got a little quieter for awhile, as Mulder found himself otherwise occupied with his mouth on hers, his hands busy kneading her breasts and his manhood being manipulated in the sweetest way by Scully's deft fingers. The only sounds were his constant moaning and groaning, Scully's surprising- and sexier than hell- purring and the squeak of the bed springs, as Mulder's hips joined in on the action, thrusting uncontrollably into his beloved's grip, creating even more delightful friction for his heated, swollen flesh. "Oh, God, Dana! I'm gonna come!" he warbled into her mouth and she stopped kissing him to concentrate on the matter at hand, if you'll pardon the pun. She sped up her ministrations down south on his pulsating member. He had also stopped fondling her breasts and instead anchored himself by firmly gripping her at the hips. "Oh, God! Jesus, Dana! Feels so good! I'm gonna explode! Oh, fuck! Yes, Scully! Love you, Scully! Scully- mine! Love you! Mine! Oh, Scully! Dana! Scully, Scully, Scullleeee....!" Dana watched in fascination, desire and a certain amount of pride her beloved, as his face contorted in sheer pleasure, crying out her name one, final time, and ejaculating all over her hand and the inside of his boxers. He collapsed in a sweaty heap against her, panting wildly, trying to catch his breath and staring up at her with glassy eyes and an expression of pure love. Wiping off her hand with a tissue from the nightstand, Dana then wrapped both arms around him, holding Mulder tightly to her. Never had she experienced before this type of reaction for any of her affections from another lover. Though she had never gone all the way with her college boyfriend, she had often given him the same ministrations- mostly to appease him and to shut him up about not getting any when all of his friends supposedly were- but even an eighteen-year-old boy, a walking hormone with feet, a young man at his sexual peak could not hold a candle to the reaction she had elicited from her Mulder. She came out of her reverie and noticed the man in question, still panting lightly, lying beside her and gazing at her. Mulder reached over and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear and out of her face. Scully could feel the tremble in his hand. Taking that hand and bringing it to her lips for a kiss, she asked, "Are you okay, Mulder?" He smiled lovingly at her, reaching up to her face again, this time to stroke her cheek. "I'm good, Dana. Really good." Scully returned the smile. "Good to know," she giggled. "I love you, Scully, so much," he stated reverently. Gulping, her heart caught in her throat, Dana replied, "I love you, Mulder, so much." Finally regaining some of his strength, Mulder pulled himself up to hover over her. He gazed into her soft, blue eyes. He could see the love there, plain as day. He could also see desire, need, lust, all left unsatisfied. "You make me feel so good, Dana," he told her truthfully, as he lay himself carefully on top of her. He thrust his pelvis against hers. He could feel her readiness through her pajama bottoms, through her underwear and even through his own, soaked boxers, which were beginning to feel a bit on the sticky side. "I'm so glad I make you- oh!- feel good," she gasped, involuntarily thrusting back into his body at the intimate contact. "I want to make you feel good, too," he went on, softly grinding his hips against her, listening to her moan. His voice was as thick and rich as honey as he reached for her breasts again, gently caressing and stroking them. Scully closed her eyes. "Yes, feels good, Mulder," she sighed. "So nice." Mulder's hands began to wander downward on her small but supple body, making tiny circles over her skin with his fingertips. She began making that purring sound again that had driven him insane with desire just moments before. Now he intended on returning the favor. Watching her face, seeing the receptive way she was responding to his touch thus far, he reached down and started to remove her pajama bottoms and underwear. Her eyes snapped open and she stared down at him in surprise and uncertainty. "M-Mulder?" she asked, a touch of fear in her tone. "Relax, baby, I just want to make you more comfortable..." "Oh." "And I want to love you, like you loved me." "Oh.... Oh!" She realized his intentions. He was going to stimulate her genitals with his fingers. Immediately she grew apprehensive. Her college boyfriend used to do this for her after she would finish him off. Both Daniel and Jack had also done so occasionally during what little foreplay she had encountered with either one of them, once they found out how difficult she was for them to arouse. Not one of them had ever been able to make her come this way; very rarely had any of them even turned her on at all. The truth was, she was afraid that Mulder, loving and sexy and eager-to-please as he may be, would not be able to satisfy her either. The only person who could do so was she herself with her own hand. "I- Mulder... you don't-" she stuttered, gently trying to push his hand away. "Yes, I do," he told her, pushing her back down, just as gently. "What's more, I love you. I want to please you. I want to make you happy." "You do," she tried again. "You do just by being here and by loving me so much." "Is that true?" "Yes," she promised. "Then please, allow me to love you, in the way that only I can." "But I-" "Shh," he whispered reassuringly, letting his fingers tease her wiry, auburn curls, "just let me love you, Scully." She closed her eyes, not in pleasure, but in grim anticipation for what she was sure would be the first downfall of their relationship and her first failure in their sex life. "Oh, my God," she heard him say in an amazed tone, and her eyes opened suddenly once again. She stared at him, as he looked up into her worried face. "Baby," he continued, gently dipping one finger into the seam of her womanhood, "you're already so wet!" "Oh," she gasped, both at his observation and at his feather-light touch to her sex. In her panic, she had forgotten that pleasing Mulder just a few moments earlier had really turned her on. She had never gotten so hot and bothered by fondling a man's genitals before. But Mulder was... well, Mulder. And he was so very different than any other boyfriend she'd ever had. As his fingers gently began stroking and probing her in earnest, Scully's eyes slid shut again, nearly unable to withstand the intense pleasure her lover was bestowing upon her. "Mulder," she whimpered. Dana's eyes opened yet again, this time in disappointment, when Mulder's sensual touch had stopped abruptly. With half-lidded, lust filled eyes, she glanced down in time to see Mulder, lying in the cradle of her spread thighs, bending his head down over her womanhood and taking a deep whiff. The look of heady pleasure on his face caused her own desire to capitulate and more wetness glistened in her engorged crevice. "Jesus, Scully," he whispered reverently. "You know, you look so good. Smell good, too..." "Oh, Mulder please-" "So I know it's going to be no stretch of the imagination to say that you also taste good." "Oh, my God-" she began, but was silenced with a gasp as Mulder plunged his tongue deep down inside of her. When he simulated the sex act with his tongue inside of her, she cried out and whimpered, overwhelmed with pleasure. When he swiped that rough, talented tongue over her clitoris, she screamed in ecstasy and came harder than she ever thought possible, his name breaking forth on her trembling lips. Feeling her aftershocks on the sides of his head, where her knees pressed tight against him, on his shoulders, where she had reached down to grip him, and on his mouth, where her delicate sex continued to spasm, Mulder lovingly cleaned her up with his tongue and then he crawled up her small, firm body. He lay beside her, drawing her into his strong, warm, protective embrace. Scully clung to him, her eyes open wide in astonishment, her body still shaking, her mouth moving in a silent, one-way conversation. When he asked her if she was all right, she looked up at him and the biggest, toothiest grin broke out on her face. "Yes, Mulder," she told him, her voice slurring in sleepy satisfaction, "I'm goo-ood. In fact, I'm more than goo- ood. I'm fuckin' fantastic!" "I'll say," he laughed, feeling a real sense of manly pride. He remembered her telling him that she was frigid once. Now, he never claimed to be a walking dictionary or anything, but the woman who had just had a huge orgasm all over his tongue a moment ago did not meet what his definition of frigid meant. He noticed her yawning. "Tired, Dana?" "Mmm, I never knew before, but I guess having a soul- shattering orgasm really does make one tired." "Damn straight," he yawned in agreement, his own sleep-inducing climax catching up to him. "Do you care if I take off my boxers? They're kind of a mess." "Go ahead," she giggled, her eyes already drooping shut. "After all, I'm naked, too, right? Might as well join the party..." "Might as well," he said, slipping off his dirty underpants and tossing them to the floor at his side of the bed. He then slid back down next to his beautiful, drowsy, drifting- off-in-the-afterglow beloved and wrapped the blankets around them, tucking them both into a warm cocoon of covers, limbs and naked skin. He kissed the top of her head as she snuggled up against him in much the same way she had initially when they'd gone to bed. "Good night, Dana. I love you." "Love you..." she murmured. Her eyes were closed and her breathing pattern grew slow and steady, indicating sleep. Imagine Mulder's surprise when his darling Dana sat up and stared at him, suddenly asking, "You never told me if you liked my family, Mulder." His eyes crinkled in amusement. "Well, I told you I liked your mom," he defended himself. He drew her back down to his arms again for further snuggling. "But what about everyone else?" she asked through a loud yawn, her voice tickling against the bare skin of his shoulder. "I liked everybody," he promised with a chuckle, kissing her nose. "Now go to sleep, Orgasm-Girl." "Even my brother, Bill?" she asked, already drifting off to sleep. "He's an asshole, you know." Mulder laughed harder. "Yeah, I even liked the asshole. You know, you're very cute when you're post-coital and half asleep." "I know," she mumbled. "You, too." "Scully?" he snickered. "Yeah?" "I love you." "Love you..." "Shouldn't we get some sleep now? We've got work tomorrow." He was answered with a soft snore. Mulder soon followed her into slumber. * * * Mulder lay awake, watching his beautiful wife sleeping in his arms. She was always gorgeous to him, but she looked even more sweet and young and innocent when she was asleep. Like a little, earth-bound angel. He ran his fingers lightly over the porcelain curve of her face, reveling in its smooth splendor. He could not resist the urge to kiss her, so he didn't even try. Scully awoke to the touch of his full, sensual lips upon her own. She smiled into the kiss, then poked out her tongue to lick him a few times. "Mmm, Mulder," she murmured sweetly, "you taste like... like me." He grinned. "Well, in case you forgot, I had you for dessert last night." "That's right," she recalled, her grin widening and turning towards mischievous. "Raspberry tart?" "There's nothing tart about you, my love," he vowed. "You're more like strawberries dipped in cream, or honey suckle, right off the vine." "Oh? Sounds yummy." "Oh, you are," he assured her. "Tasty as all get out. Better than ice cream." "My, that does sound delicious," she continued to play along. All the while, carefully reaching down for his already swollen member. He groaned when her small doctor hand wrapped around it. "But you know," she told him, stroking him steadily and enjoying the way his eyes rolled back in his head, "as sweet as sugar can be, sometimes a girl just needs a quick fix of protein in the middle of the night." "Protein?" he grunted, then watched as she scooted her way down until her face was directly above his penis, which was saluting her in appreciation. "Yeah, protein," she explained, preparing to pull his large manhood into her warm, wet mouth, "like the kind I'd find in a big, meaty sausage..." "Jesus, Dana!" he squeaked as she engulfed him whole. "No," she mumbled around his cock, the vibration making it feel even more exquisite, "not Jesus. But I can perform miracles." "Oh, by all means, perform then, my love," he told her, tangling his fingers through her hair and watching her red head bob up and down over his shaft. "Miracle worker..." ~ ~ ~ Monday morning Georgetown Dana Scully residence 5:49 a. m. The sound of an alarm clock woke him up. It wasn't as loud or obnoxious as the alarm clock at his apartment but it was still annoying. He reached out a hand, seemingly knowing where it was and how to turn it off and he did so. He could feel something soft and warm occupying his still heavy-with-sleep arms. He could also smell Scully's scent all around him. Opening up his eyes, expecting to find his beloved filling his embrace and still sleeping against his shoulder, he instead found her side of the bed empty, the sheets already cool. What he held in his arms was actually her pillow, which was warm and wet from his own body heat and drool. As nice as it was to wake up in her bed, he was still monumentally disappointed that she was not there to wake up with him. He wondered where she was. He didn't hear the shower running, and wondered if she already had. Pondering briefly if she had gone off for an early morning jog before work, he suddenly became aware of the delicious smells wafting in through the open bedroom door from the kitchen. "Well, at least she's making breakfast," he whispered, and got up. He retrieved a pair of jogging pants and a tee shirt from his overnight bag, picking up his sticky boxer shorts and throwing them into the hamper in the bathroom. "Two points!" he heard her say from the doorway. Mulder spun around and saw her, already dressed and ready for work, yet still glowing from their exploratory activities of the night before. It made him smile. "No, that was a three pointer, for sure," he informed her. "In what league, Mulder?" she challenged him playfully. "Pee Wees? You were two feet from the hamper." "Just get your hot, little ass over here and kiss me already," he instructed her in no uncertain terms. To his great relief, she did so without question. "Mmm, Mulder," she said after they broke the kiss, "you taste like... just like... me." She averted her eyes, blushing. His dream coming back to him, he replied, "Well, in case you forgot, I had you for dessert last night." Dana blushed an even darker shade of pink. "Raspberry tart?" "There's nothing tart about you, my love," he vowed, just as he had in his dream. "You're more like strawberries in cream. Or honey suckle, right off the vine." "Sounds good." "No," he corrected her. "Yummy. It sounds 'yummy'." "Um, okay..." she said, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Sounds yummy then." "Oh, you are," he went on, his eidetic memory coming into play. "Tasty as all get out. Better than ice cream." "Hmm, sounds yummy," she began. "Delicious," he interrupted. She rolled her eyes. "All right, delicious. But you know, as sweet as sugar can be, sometimes a girl just needs some protein for breakfast." Mulder realized that she had veered from the dream. She'd mentioned breakfast instead of the middle-of-the-night, which was understandable- as it was morning. But she had not reached for his burgeoning erection either, which was not so understandable. "Uh, Scully?" "Yeah, protein for breakfast," she continued, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort or the script she was supposed to be following. "How about-" "A big, meaty sausage?" he asked hopefully, unconsciously shifting his crotch in her general direction. Her peaches and cream complexion turning bright red this time, Scully averted her eyes from his and said, "M- Mulder! I thought we were talking about breakfast, not what's in your pants." She glanced down at the front of his pants. "Holy shit!" "Um, thanks... I think," he laughed, turning a little pink himself. "What I mean to say is," she stammered, unable to keep her eyes off his crotch, "that I've got your bacon- eh, I... I mean I made you some bacon, that is... from a pig, you know... for breakfast..." "Really?" he teased, enjoying the fact that he had flustered the levelheaded Dr. Scully and all because he had a hard on the size of Mt. Everest. "You mean those long strips of... meat?" "Mulder!" she gasped, still mesmerized by the front of his pants but turning as red as a beet now. Finally, she regained enough composure to look him in the eye. When she did, he could see embarrassment, desire and surprisingly, a fair amount of amusement swimming around in the depths of her baby blues. "Yes," she told him, "I mean long strips of... meat. And if you're a good boy and eat my bacon, perhaps someday soon, I'll return the favor." And with that, she turned on her heel and left the bathroom. Left stunned in her wake, Mulder felt his mouth water, as he quickly stripped down and hopped into the shower- a decidedly cold shower. * * * Monday, two weeks later FBI Headquarters Fox Mulder's private office 12:41 p. m. "Mulder, this is just too weird!" "Scully, are you looking at my ass?" he inquired, looking back at her as he retrieved a file from the bottom drawer of the cabinet. "Yes, but that's not what I was referring to," she informed him and he smirked. "I'm talking about this case file. I mean, seriously, the Jersey Devil, Mulder? That story has been going around since... well, since much longer than I've been around." He shrugged, smiling as he handed her another folder. "Just because it's an old story, doesn't mean it isn't true." She folded her arms across her chest. "All right, aliens might be a possibility. As a scientist, that idea intrigues me, I'll admit it. And I do think it's a bit presumptuous to believe that human beings from earth are the only intelligent life in the universe. But the Jersey Devil? That's just some campfire story to scare the kiddies with." He kissed her nose. "Maybe. Or maybe there's more to it than that. Guess we'll never know unless we have the opportunity to do a thorough investigation. Go ahead, check out the next file." "All right," she sighed, "but if it's an investigation on Santa Claus or Ichabod Crane or something, I will be forced to declare us both insane and have us committed." "Could we share a cell at the asylum?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her. Scully's expression softened. "Of course, Mulder. I wouldn't have it any other way. I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid." She looked down at the file in her hand. A few minutes later she glanced back up at him, her trademark raised eyebrow in place. "What is this about, honey? Werewolves?" "Not sure, but some kind of human-to-animal transformation, I'm sure of that. The Native Americans have passed down these stories for generations, Scully. Why would they bother to if none of the stories were true?" "Don't ask me," she replied in that no nonsense tone that drove him wild with desire. "But it's probably just a parable used as a learning tool to teach a lesson to their children. You know, like with the Sasquatch." His eyes nearly popped out of his head in horror and disbelief. "Scully, you can't be serious!" "What?" she asked in confusion. "Why not?" "Not Sasquatch, too?" he cried. "Surely, you're not blowing that possibility out of the water! I mean, you're a scientist, remember?" She rolled her eyes, then picked up her half-eaten sandwich and started nibbling on it. "Fine, Mulder, fine. As a scientist, the possibility of discovering a new species of primate would certainly be a welcome surprise. I just find it highly unlikely that a large primate could be out wandering the woods of North America and no one has yet to kill or capture one of these creatures, nor offer any hard evidence to support this theory of existence." "No hard evidence?" Mulder squeaked incredulously. "But what about the footprints? What about the hair samples? What about the Patterson film?" "The foot prints, while tempting to label as proof, is highly circumstantial at best. Any hair sample tested have, to the best of my knowledge, been declared inconclusive and everybody knows it was just some big guy in a gorilla suit in that Patterson film." Mulder grabbed the rest of her sandwich out of her hand and popped it into his mouth, his own lunch long gone by now. He appeared genuinely astounded by her dismissal of the Bigfoot legend and wasn't too shy to tell her so. "Jesus, Scully! 'Some big guy in a gorilla suit'? You have got to be the most skeptical human being on the planet! Not to mention, stubborn!" "Thanks for all the 's' words, Mulder," she retorted, this time not as playful. "Are you planning on adding any more? Like... stupid maybe? Silly? A real shit-head?" His eyes grew tender and he knelt before her in the chair, resting his hands on her thighs. "I would never call you stupid, Scully. In fact, I shouldn't even be using your name and that word in the same sentence. It's blasphemy." At this, he elicited a small smile from her. He continued. "As for silly, I think that you have the most adorable silly side, but unfortunately I haven't gotten to see much of it yet. But you most certainly are not a little shit-head." She frowned at him. "Mulder, I don't recall using the word 'little' at all, before shit-head, or otherwise." Mulder winked at her. "I know." "You ass," she chuckled, letting him have the implied short joke as well as acknowledging there were no hard feelings for their disagreement. "But I would have to add a few more 's' words to the pot, Scully," he informed her. "Words like... sweet and sunny... and sensual and sexy," he paused long enough to growl at her and she laughed. "And lest we forget the ever popular stimulating." "Stimulating, huh?" she questioned with a wry grin. "You mean mentally or... physically?" "Ooh, provocative, too. I like that. But actually, I'd have to say true on two counts. You give both my heads something to think about." "Mulder," she scolded him, but it came out sounding more come-hither than anything else. When he offered her an innocent, little boy smile, she shook her head at him, then stood up and pulled him up with her. She took his hands in hers. "Are you sure you really want me working on the X-Files with you, Mulder? I'll probably just drive you crazy, you know." He played in her hair with one hand, rested the other on her hip. "Scully, no matter what, you will always drive me crazy... with desire!" They took each other in a tight embrace, then vowed to each other to remain together forever, no matter what! * * * Monday, one month later Georgetown Dana Scully residence 9:30 p.m. "God, I'm so... pooped," Scully groaned, dropping her briefcase and keys on a small end table near the foyer. She slipped out of her heels and sat down on the couch and closed her eyes for a moment. "Mulder?" He came out of the kitchen wearing that same apron he had worn the very first time he had visited here. She could smell something cooking, the scent clinging to him as he sat down next to her. "Hey, honey. Long night, huh?" he greeted her, pulling her close into his embrace. "Yeah," she yawned. "That pile up at the morgue after lunch really had us hopping down there." "Fucking terrorists," Mulder hissed, recalling the case that had called his beloved back to pathology so abruptly after lunch. He began running his fingers lightly over her scalp, the action as soothing to him as it was for her. They each drew comfort from the physical contact. "They did catch the asshole who shot everyone, right?" "Yeah," she sighed, not particularly wanting to rehash the day's events, but understanding his need to know. "He was taken into custody... in a body bag." "Did you work on him, too?" he asked. "No," she told him, "I didn't. Cindy did, I think." "Good." "Why is it good?" she yawned. "Because she's a jerk, she deserves to get stuck with a killer?" "Well, not exactly," he told her with a smirk. "I just meant that, in case she screws everything up, it's no big loss." His smirk faded when she sat up, pulling away from his embrace, and glaring at him. "What's the matter, honey?" he asked. "Hungry? I made you something to eat." "What kind of crack was that?" she demanded to know. Mulder was admittedly confused. "Um, no crack. I just figured you'd be hungry when you got home, so I-" "I'm not talking about that," she replied, her cheeks reddening, not in embarrassment or desire, but in bona fide, genuine, all-out fury. "I'm talking about Cindy." He shrugged. "What about her?" "Why do you always insult her like that, all the time?" Another shrug. "What do you care, anyway, Scully? She's a major asshole. She treats both of us like shit. But then, I guess that makes sense..." "What makes sense?" she challenged, still glaring, by now her arms folded defensively across her chest. "Well, assholes can always be counted on to give us shit," he explained with a grin, pleased by his joke and desperately trying to figure out why Scully was suddenly so pissed off at him, or, at the very least, to lighten the mood a little. "Not funny," she announced. "Scully," he tried again, doing his best to discover what the core of the problem was, "what's this really about?" "I'm just sick of listening to men berate women all day long at work, I guess." So that was it, he thought, his eyes narrowing. "Did someone say something nasty to you, Scully?" he asked, his hands already balling into fists and just itching to pound into somebody's face. "Knock the caveman shit off, Mulder," she snapped at him. "Somebody has something to say about me or my gender just about every damn day in my working life! It hurts, sure, but it's nothing new, and I figure they're just ignorant, uninformed idiots who don't know what they're talking about, so I blow it all off!" "I... but then, why are you-" "But what I never thought I'd get," she went on, talking over his confusion, "was hearing that load of bull shit in my own home, spoken by the man I love!" She stood up and headed for the kitchen. "Scully," he said in dismay, jumping up and following after her. He saw her standing at the counter, turning off the stove and emptying the pots filled with vegetables and a pasta dish into Tupperware bowls. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Putting this food away," she snapped. "I'm not hungry, but I don't want it to go to waste." "And what was that all about back there?" he asked, growing angry over her anger- and not understanding her motive behind it- as well as for not wanting or even appreciating the meal he had made for her. "I never said anything sexist about you, Dana! And I never would! Ever! You should know that!" "Yeah, I know," she said, slamming a lid down on the bowl filled with broccoli. "You just don't mind insulting other people of my gender!" "Huh? Dana, who the hell are you talking about?" he muttered, starting to feel the slightest bit perturbed by this discussion. "Dr. Moran? Cindy? The name ring a bell, Mr. Photographic Memory?" "But I always insult, Cindy," he protested. "Exactly!" she replied, resting her hands on her hips, and staring him down with narrowed eyes. Now he knew he was in trouble. That was classic angry posturing. Coupled with her cool expression and challenging tone, Mulder reasoned his beloved was not only prepared to tussle, she was actually looking forward to it. Aw, shit! "But honey," he tried, already knowing he was up a creek without a paddle, "you insult her all the time, too! Besides, she hates us, remember?" Scully rolled her eyes. "Oh, grow up, Mulder! You make us all sound like kids on a playground." Mulder pondered over her assessment. He smiled in spite of himself and the dire situation he was facing. "Yeah, that about sums it up. The FBI is full of big babies and bullies, all right. But I don't understand why you suddenly care that I insulted Dr. Moron. Everybody does it, even the guys that like her! It's a Quantico tradition!" "It's a sexist tradition!" she countered. Mulder's hand went to his breast in complete horror and utter shock. His prim posturing and choice of apron made him appear actually comical and endearing. But Scully was too angry to do much laughing. She glared at him again, her nostrils flaring. "Sexist?" Mulder declared, his shock quickly veering towards hurt. "Scully, how could you say that? I'm the least sexist guy I know!" "Right," she interrupted, laughing humorlessly at him. "Tell me, then, why do you insult Cindy all the time?" "Because she's a jerk-" "No excuse," she cut him off. "Thompson and Rikers are jerks and you hardly mention them at all!" "Well, she's stupid," he tried again. "Actually Mulder," she informed him, looking for another lid for the pasta bowl, "Cindy is a great pathologist! I know the general consensus is that she must have slept her way through medical school, but she didn't! As powerful as sex can be, I doubt a nice fuck or two is going to put her at the top of her class, even if her professors were Drs. Strangelove and Freud! The woman is gifted! In fact, I've even learned a lot from her when I've assisted her with autopsies." "Oh," he replied quietly. He'd had no idea of Dr. Moran's true credentials, instead relying on rumors and hearsay. "That's right, 'oh'," she mimicked. "Did you ever really stop and think why you pick on her, make fun of her and call her names?" "Um, well..." "It's because she has a reputation for sleeping around, isn't it?" "I don't know," he admitted, having never really thought about it. "Maybe." "Yet, if I recall correctly, my dear Agent Mulder, you have quite a reputation down at the Bureau yourself." "That was a long time ago," he insisted, his own hackles rising. "That's not really the point though," Scully informed him. "The point is, you slept around and your fucking FBI buddies label you a stud! Dr. Moran does it, and she's labeled as a bimbo, a slut who must have slept her way to the top, 'cause there's no possible way she could have done it otherwise, right? Isn't that right, Mulder?" "I... don't know," he winced, already knowing he was caught in his lie. He whispered, "Fuck," under his breath, realizing there was no way out of this confrontation. "Even for someone like you, it's still just the Quantico tradition, right Mulder?" "Scully-" "Instead of a double play, it's the old double standard!" "Oh, come on!" he pleaded. "So, yeah, sometimes I think you're just as bad as all the guys who insult me on the job, too!" she told him, preparing to put the leftovers in the refrigerator. Mulder, who was beyond being pissed now, grabbed the bowl from her. "Allow me!" he snarled, throwing it across the room, where it hit the wall, causing the pasta to fly everywhere and sending the bowl clattering to the floor. "You want a sexist pig, Scully? Well, oink, oink!" "Mulder," she yelled at him, looking at the mess that had taken over her kitchen. "You asshole!" "Fuck off!" he shouted into her face, ripping her apron by tearing it off his body and flinging it at her. "Enjoy dinner!" he spat out as he shoved passed her and left her alone in her apartment. * * * Mulder was steaming by the time he got home. At least, he was steaming more so than before. He couldn't believe Scully had turned on him that way. Sure, he understood she'd just worked a long day and that she was constantly having to deal with other guys' shit. Someone was always putting her down, treating her either like she was incapable of doing anything because she was a woman, or that she was simply there for any guy to look at and be treated like a piece of meat because she was a woman. Either way, it was insulting, derogatory, offensive and just plain wrong. Mulder knew that. He understood how stupid making such assessments were. He was all for equality between the sexes in the work force and everywhere else. What upset him so much was the fact that Scully thought he would think otherwise. He considered himself to be an enlightened male. He realized earlier on into his and Scully's still new relationship that he had acted like a bit of an over-protective, alpha male. But he had the advantage- or the disadvantage, depending on how one looked at it- of having had all those dreams, of knowing her intimately before hand. He hadn't been trying to protect Scully because she was a woman, but rather because she was his woman. With a sigh, he stopped himself, sitting down on the couch and opening up a beer. That's not what he meant, exactly. While he truly thought of he and Scully as belonging to each other with their hearts, he did not think of her as his property. He knew she was her own person. In fact, it was that person that had caused him to fall in love with her in both the dreamscape and in the waking world. He wouldn't wish for her to be any different. But why is she comparing me to some of those stupid assholes down at the Bureau? he pondered. Why? Just because I said something about 'Candy Moron'? So what! Okay, fine! So, she's smart? All right, I'll buy it. After all, she made it through medical school. And from what I've read about her file, she's actually done a lot for the Pathology department. He reasoned that was true. He could accept that. But he had been picking on Dr. Moran because she was a jerk, not for anything else... right? "Shit!" he sighed. He knew that wasn't true. Not entirely, anyway. Lately he'd been picking on Cindy simply for the fact that she treated Scully so badly, but when he thought back, he'd been teasing Cindy and picking on her for years, mostly because she slept around so much. Promiscuity isn't really a good thing, he reasoned. He knew how people talked. Some guys might want to date a woman with a promiscuous reputation, but it was very rarely that he would want to get serious with her, or fall in love with her. He only wanted one thing from her... "Shit," he sighed again. In other words, he, like so many men before him, was falling into the trap that there were only two kinds of women: Those that fell into the categories of good or bad girls. That any woman, who enjoyed sex before marriage, or outside of a monogamous relationship, was nothing but a whore. But the same could not be said of his own reputation. Mulder, at one point, had been the Casanova of the FBI secretarial pool and beyond. "Aw, fuck!" he groaned as the realization hit. Here he was with a sexual past as muddied and indiscriminate as Cindy Moran's. The big difference was, Mulder was still considered an excellent profiler and a competent agent. With Cindy, although she was a good doctor- he'd personally never worked with her but he trusted Scully's judgment on this- her career had stalled and she'd become something of a joke at the Bureau, and only because she held a similar sexual appetite as he used to have. "Jesus, no wonder Scully is so pissed," he whispered, and he picked up the phone to dial her number. It rang six times before the answering machine picked up. He pondered briefly as to whether he should leave a message. "...please leave your name and number after the tone." Beep! "Hi, um, Scully? It's me. Are you there? Look, I'm sorry, honey..." he paused, giving her a chance to pick up and accept his apology or to chew him out. Either way, he just wanted to hear her voice. In the end, she did neither, nor did he get to hear her voice. She never picked up the phone. "Dammit!" he shouted, grabbing up his coat and rushing out the door, heading back to the place he'd just left. * * * Monday Georgetown Dana Scully Residence 11:10 p.m. Mulder arrived in record timing and took the steps up to the door of Scully's apartment building three at a time, before bounding down the hallway, and suddenly he found himself standing at her door. He automatically lifted a hand to knock, but paused momentarily. He knew he had really hurt his sweetheart. Plus, he had created a big mess from the dinner he had made her, not to mention taking that dinner and throwing it, thus redecorating the kitchen wall. He pondered for a moment if he should have brought with him a peace offering. He could have picked up some take-out dinner to replace the meal he had destroyed. He could have gotten her a bouquet of flowers, an apology card. He should have made her a homemade tape of love songs! Instead, he'd just rushed over here, empty handed, wild-eyed and scared shitless over what Scully might say to him when she saw him. Of course, she'll never say anything if I don't knock on the door and let her know that I'm here, he reasoned with an audible groan and he willed his knuckles to rap against the hard wood of his beloved's front door. An eternity later, he could hear footsteps shuffling closer. Mulder exhaled a breath he just now realized he was holding. Oh, please let her forgive me, he thought, desperately. The door opened. "Listen, Scully," he began, already apologizing and itching to pull her small form against him and hold her tightly. Instead, he found himself face to face with a slightly older woman, one who he'd met only once before. One who was staring at him disapprovingly, a frown marring her otherwise pretty features. "Missy..." he murmured in surprise. "Um, is Scully- eh, I mean, Dana... is she- can- can I talk to her?" "Not yet," she replied coolly, pushing past him and grabbing his arm. "Come with me, outside." "But I-" "Now!" she stated, raising her voice ever so slightly. "I need to speak with you first." His gaze lingered on the door, as Missy pulled it shut, still not having had a chance to even see his beloved. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Could it be Scully wanted to end their relationship after his ridiculous temper tantrum? He would have thought she would have the decency to tell him face to face, rather than send her big sister to do the dirty work, but maybe she knew how much hearing Scully's own voice telling him to go to hell would kill him inside. Perhaps this was a final gesture of the kindness she had shown him since they'd met way back in his dreams. "I... I want Scully..." he whimpered softly, unable to wrap his brain around the idea that he might not ever get to see her again. Melissa's hardened expression softened the slightest bit. "Just a second. I want to speak with you first. Come on, outside. We'll sit on the front steps." "But I-" "Come on," she urged more forcefully, yanking his arm roughly and leading towards the door that took him even farther away from his love. They made it outside and Melissa sat down on the top step, smoothing down the ruffling of her skirt. It was now quarter after eleven at night, but it was springtime and the air was warm and pleasant. Mulder could detect the light scent of jasmine in the air, and spotted the flowers planted on either side of the front steps. The night sky was particularly clear as well, and Mulder's trained eye could pick out several constellations at just a glance. But the pleasant evening did nothing to quell Mulder's raw emotion, his pain at causing a loved one any anguish, and his fear over her possible rejection. "Sit down," he heard Melissa say, could feel her tugging on his pant leg, urging him to sit beside her on the top step. Reluctantly, he did so, nervously thrumming his fingers together and focusing his teary eyes on the activity. To his surprise, Missy did not begin chewing him out for yelling at her sister. Nor did she try to explain away Scully's temper or outburst. In fact, she said nothing at all. Her silence confused the already troubled Fox Mulder, and when he braved a look in the elder sister Scully's direction, he saw that she had her eyes closed and she was running the fingers of her right hand over the crystal hanging around her neck. Mulder knew Missy Scully was of the new-agey sort, and that Dana had told him she would often begin meditating out of the blue, causing worry, confusion, or annoyance, depending on who she was with. While he wasn't worried- at least not about Melissa's need to commune within herself- or whatever the hell she was doing- although he was a trifle bit confused, not to mention becoming extremely annoyed over her need to go all 'mystic' on him in the midst over what he considered a major crisis in his life. He watched her for a moment longer, observing the way she continued to play with her necklace with her eyes closed and a serene expression on her face. He would have found the vision a little comical- maybe even sensual if he wasn't already so much in love with her sister- but as it was, he was scared over what Missy wanted to talk to him about and irritated by her silence and her need to turn this fearful situation into an experience he felt was more appropriate at a Yanni concert. "Uh... Missy...?" he began tentatively. "Shh, just a moment," she whispered calmly, her eyes still closed. "I'm focusing." "Um... okay..." he said, rolling his eyes. A moment later, Missy opened her eyes and stared straight ahead for several seconds before blowing out a breath. Then she faced him, smiling gently. While making eye contact with him, she surprised him by taking his hand. He jumped, momentarily startled. "Melissa?" he asked, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "It's 'Missy'," she told him. "You're 'Mulder', not 'Fox'. I get that. But I prefer 'Missy', okay?" "Sure," he readily agreed. He waited a moment longer, growing even more uncomfortable under his girlfriend's sister's intense gaze, as well as at the continued, physical contact. "Uh, Missy?" All of a sudden, her mouth jump-started into action. "You know, I'm Dana's big sister. I love my brothers, too, of course, but Dana and I have always been especially close." "That's... good," he murmured, uncertain of what else to say, but feeling she had been expecting some sort of acknowledgement for her statement. "I've been through a lot with Dana," she went on. "Braces, too many schools, boyfriends, being picked on, living the nomadic life of a Navy brat. It's not been easy for her- not for any of us, really, but I think it's been hardest on Dana. Girls usually have a harder time fitting in during adolescence than boys do- at least, that was the case in our family." "Yeah, I would probably agree with that," he said, in full realization that girls not only matured faster than their male counterparts, but that the changes nature bestowed upon their minds and bodies was much more noticeable and obvious, therefore often teasers making that oh so painful and private transformation into adulthood that much more of a public and often times humiliating experience. She nodded then continued. "Dana has always been a tough cookie. Sure, she cried when she was little, like if Billy teased her real bad- and he usually did- or if she got physically hurt, or she saw an animal get hurt or killed, but when it came to every day life's woes, she was pretty stoic about it all, never let anyone know if something was bothering, even if something was." "She's a strong woman," Mulder put in, recalling in just the few short months since he'd known her how strong a person she truly was, although he had seen her cry on several occasions already. They were perfectly reasonable situations for a person to cry, and he'd really only witnessed her doing so with him alone, but at the same time, he didn't feel as though Dana was as stoic as Missy would have him believe. "And she's been treated really shitty by quite a few different... men from her past," Missy surmised discreetly. "She's told me the horror stories of bad dates and a couple of relationships gone wrong." "Oh..." he whispered, unconsciously holding his breath. Was Missy planning on adding him to that list? "I've never seen her cry over a guy before- or a fight with a guy before. Not once..." she paused and looked at him pointedly. "... until now." "Um," he mumbled, frozen in the onslaught of her gaze. "Oh... I..." She smiled at him then. "It's really all right, Mulder. I'm not going to attack you for making my little sister cry or anything... although Bill Jr. probably would have. Actually, I think you making her cry a good thing." "Huh?" he asked ever so eloquently, and completely surprised. "You do?" "Yes, I do," she confirmed with certainty to her tone. "Jesus, Mulder, my sister is nearly three decades old and it took her that long to care enough about a man to actually cry over him! I'd say it was long over due." Suddenly blinking back his own tears, Mulder whispered, "But I didn't mean to make her cry. I... I never wanted to hurt her," he promised, his hazel eyes boring into her, hoping, begging for her to believe him. "Scully is my everything. I'd be lost without her. I was just acting like an asshole and started being rude and snappy, but I love her so much and I..." he stopped in mid sentence, watching Missy trying to stifle a chuckle. He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if she found his great love for her sister to be nothing more than a big joke. "Hey! What's so funny?" he demanded to know. "I'm sorry, Mulder," Missy apologized, forcing herself to settle down. "I'm not making fun of you and I certainly do believe your sincerity. It's just... well, that's exactly how Dana sounded when she called and asked me over here. She was in tears and babbling how she had hurt the only man she'd ever loved and was hoping that you would forgive her and not hate her and that you guys wouldn't break up over this silly fight." "She said all that?" he asked in frank surprise. "Oh, yeah," she chuckled. "It only took twenty-eight years, but Dana finally had her first bout of teenage angst!" Mulder couldn't help it. He laughed right along with Scully's weird, new-agey sister, realizing how junior high it all sounded. But just as suddenly, he stopped laughing and turned serious. "So, she doesn't want to break up with me then... right?" he asked, the teenaged angst plain as day on his own face as well. This only made Missy laugh harder. "Oh, Jesus," she sighed. "I've never met two brainiac nerds better suited for each other than you and my sister." "What?" "Just get your ass in there and make up with her, before I sic our brother Bill on you!" He stood up and opened the front door. "Yes, ma'am," but he paused and glanced back at her. "Missy?" "Yeah, nerd?" she laughed. "Thanks," he said warmly, giving her shoulder a squeeze and heading inside. Her work finished, Melissa Scully stood up from the top step, brushed off her skirt and ventured towards her car. "What a fucking dork," she smirked. "It'll be a miracle if they ever get laid at all!" * * * He arrived at her apartment door in record time, but he stopped for a moment, wondering what it was he should say to her and how Dana would respond. He wasn't sure what to say, except that he was sorry and that he loved her. He only hoped she truly felt the same- at least about the still-loving-him part, anyway. He knew what Missy had said, but she was so flaky, it was possible she could be wrong. "Here goes," he whispered to himself, and raising his hand, he rapped lightly, against the door with his fingers. He waited. "Scully?" he called when he received no answer. He knocked softly again and was met with the same lack of response. After a moment of hesitation, Mulder took hold of the doorknob and turned it. It was unlocked. He steeled himself, preparing for... anything, and ventured inside. It didn't take him long to locate Scully. She was sitting on the couch slumped over the armrest, fast asleep. He could still see the tearstains on her cheeks, which caused his chest to tighten. Next to her on the sofa cushion was one of the X-Files he had brought with him to go over with her during dinner. And clutched in her hands was the gray tee shirt he had left from the night before. It was pressed to one side of her tear-stained face. I threw that in the dirty clothes last night, he realized instantly. She must have fished it out of the hamper... Quietly, slowly, he made his way over to where his beloved slept. He sat down beside her, gingerly touching her shoulder and she whimpered his name in her sleep, making the tears prick his eyes. He carefully pulled her small form into his eager arms, relishing the closeness, her scent, her breath against his chest, the very feel of her. Scully began to stir, and she sniffled and unconsciously wiped her nose on his shirt, and he smiled, began stroking her hair. "What time izzit?" she mumbled, her voice a sleepy slur of syllables that caused him to chuckle. "Hey sleepy head," he whispered, kissing the top of her hand. "I think it's about eleven thirty by now." With a startled gasp, she jumped up into a sitting position, staring at him with a wide-eyed expression, her tears renewing. "Mulder!" Taken aback by her surprise and still scared to death that she would hate him and never forgive him, he started to babble nervously. "Oh, Scully, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. Missy said to come in- she left, I think- but I'm just so sorry that I hurt you, and acted like a big, fat jerk and I-" "Oh, Mulder!" she cried and threw herself into his unexpected embrace, climbing frantically into his lap. She straddled him and wrapped her arms around him, attacking his face with fierce, sloppy kisses. "God, I'm so sorry, Mulder!" she said, punctuating each and every word with a kiss. "Love you, honey. Please forgive me!" "Scu- mmmph..." he mumbled, before she basically swallowed his lips in a desperate need to kiss, taste, and love. Mulder's addled brain finally caught up and he began participating in the kiss, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, crushing her body to him, keeping her close to him. When they finally broke for air, she laid against him, resting her head on his shoulder and pressing her lips to any skin of his she could reach without moving too far. She had been pretty busy all day and their emotional outbursts earlier that evening had really taken its toll on her. Mulder craned his neck and out of his peripheral vision he saw her resting her head on him with her eyes closed. There were still a few tears dotting her cheeks but she also wore a sweet smile. He smiled, too, even though she couldn't see him. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through her hair. "Does this mean you forgive me?" he asked, nuzzling his nose into the nape of her neck. "'Pends," she mumbled sleepily, drooling a little on his shoulder. "'Pends on what?" he asked, tightening his grip on her waist. "On if you forgive me," she yawned into his ear, falling back asleep. "It's a deal then," he declared, even if she was already snoring. Struggling a little, he stood with her still in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He undressed her and laid her, naked, in her bed, then pulled the covers up to her neck. Next, he went back and finished cleaning up the mess he had made during their fight and checked her supplies, so he could make them pancakes for breakfast. Satisfied with that, he picked up a little in the living room, brushed his teeth, and then relieved himself in the bathroom, before washing his hands and face and stripping down to his birthday suit. Naked, he padded down the hallway where his beautiful woman awaited him, still sleeping and snuggled up under the blankets. He climbed in bed beside her, made sure they were both adequately covered, and wrapped his arms around her, falling quickly into slumber. * * * The two of them lay together on the bed, both naked and warm under the covers and in the safety of each other's arms. Mulder ran his fingers through her messy, red locks, lazily and gently scraping them over her scalp, listening contentedly to the steady purr she emitted over his action. It was a blissful, peaceful, lazy moment of pre-wake up paradise. But all of a sudden, Scully sat up and asked, "Mulder, when you gonna marry me?" "Huh? Dana, we are married," he reminded her. "I know," she told him, "but... not really. We haven't even made love yet." "What are you talking about?" he asked, his sleepy eyes growing wide in astonishment. "Mulder, I want to be your wife," she told him matter- of-factly. "Not just in your dreams, but in real life." "What the...? How the..." he stammered. "Scully, I-" "And I want to make love with you- in real life!" she announced, pulling out of his embrace and heading, naked, for the bathroom. ~ ~ ~ Gasp! Choke! Sputter! Cough! Georgetown Dana Scully residence 4:56 a.m. Mulder woke up from his dream, gasping, accidentally inhaled a strand of Scully's hair, then began to choke and sputter and cough. Scully, who he had been spooning, woke up from his hacking into her ear and turned to ask him if he was okay. Her efforts were rewarded with a face full of hot air, morning breath and a little bit of spittle. "Sorry," he wheezed. "Jesus, Mulder," she said, patting him on the back. "You just barf up a lung, or something? Are you all right?" "Yeah," he choked. She wordlessly handed him the glass of water from her nightstand and he drank the entire thing down, soothing the burning in his throat. "I mean, no, I didn't barf up a lung, but yeah, I'm okay." "What happened?" she asked, gently rubbing his back and shoulders. "I... I'm not sure, but I think I inhaled your hair," he chuckled, causing his hacking to continue. She patted his back again. "Just like Bill Murray was scared of doing to Sigourney Weaver's hair in Ghostbusters II," she laughed. "That's right," he said with a smile, his throat finally calming. "He did warn us of the dangers of spooning, didn't he?" Scully gave him a pouty face that he found to be absolutely precious. "Does that mean you won't spoon me anymore?" "Of course not," he assured her, reaching for her and taking her into his arms. "Just so long as you shave your head." "Hey!" "Just kidding. Come on, let's get up. I'm making breakfast." "You're going to cook for me?" "Yeah, isn't that a sweet thing for me to do?" "Um, I guess that depends on how good of a cook you are," she snickered, and he gave the left cheek of her buttock a squeeze, causing her to jump. "Brat," he playfully scolded her. They got up. She reached for her robe, seemingly not surprised and completely unconcerned about waking up in the buff. He grabbed for his boxer shorts and a tee shirt and put them on, scratching on his private parts while meandering tiredly towards the kitchen. "I saw that!" she called to him on her way to the bathroom. "You'd better wash your hands first!" "I will, I will," he laughed, slightly embarrassed. All the while, his mind kept playing over in his head the strange dream he had just woken up from. His dream Scully and his waking Scully, while obviously the same person, had never seemed so connected before. Was it a good thing? He hoped so, but this last dream just had him so confused. With a sigh, he washed his hands, then began putting the pancake mix into the bowl with some water. * * * FBI Headquarters A.D. Patterson's office 9:01 a.m. "You wanted to see me, sir?" Mulder asked, standing before his supervisor's desk. He didn't have anything all that pressing to attend to at the moment, but he was anxious to get out of his office. Whenever the A.D. wanted to speak to him, it was bad news, whether it involved a case or something personal, Mulder dreaded the feeling he got in the pit of his stomach every time he saw this man. "Have a seat," Patterson advised, and with a sigh, Mulder did as he was told. He stared expectantly at his boss, waiting for him to continue. Patterson wasted little time getting down to business. "Look, we've got another serial you need to profile." "What?" he balked. "But sir, I've already dealt with eight of them in the past six months! I've been loaned out, I've assisted, I've worked on cases unofficially..." "Yes, and it's your job, Agent Mulder," Patterson reminded him. "I know that, sir," Mulder replied carefully, trying not to sound like a whiny kid. "It's just that... well, I've been seriously thinking of putting in for a transfer and I-" "Transfer?" Patterson interrupted, sounding alarmed, much to Mulder's surprise. He always had the impression that his A.D. couldn't stand him. "To where?" he demanded to know. "Have you talked to someone about that yet?" "Um, yeah, Blevins," Mulder admitted sheepishly. "I've been talking with him about opening up a new department for a different kind of investigation that the Bureau currently does not handle. It's a fairly new concept I've been thinking about, although I've honestly been wanting to quit Profiling for a long time now." Patterson rested his head in his hands, a weary expression on his face. "Yeah, I figured you were getting ready to leave. Almost from day one you've been acting that way." Mulder couldn't meet his supervisor's eyes when he asked, "How did you know, sir?" "I could just tell by the look in your eye. You were suffering even in the beginning. Believe it or not, you aren't the first guy who was too sensitive to handle this job." His voice took on a sneering quality, laced with contempt. "Oh," Mulder murmured, keeping his eyes downcast. "The big difference is," Patterson went on, "you are actually good at what you do. Most of the guys too sensitive for the job are also just not cut out for it. You're the big exception, Mulder." "I'm sorry," the younger man sighed. "I realize I have a knack for getting into a killer's mind, but it just gets too intense, it's... too much for me. Each time I head down that path to insanity, I'm always afraid that I... that I won't make it back." "Well, aren't you dating that little red-head from Pathology? What's her name? Doctor something-or-other... or have you finished with her already?" The fire rose in Mulder's belly. "Her name is Dana Scully and I will never be finished with her!" Patterson smiled, knowing he had exposed and messed with a raw nerve near and dear to Mulder's heart. So, not only did his top profiler have a new girlfriend, he was very much in love with her. The A.D. was hoping to use this bit of information to his advantage. "Then I take it you're... serious about this girl?" he asked innocently. Mulder folded his arms across his chest, displaying defensive posturing. "Is there a problem with that, sir?" "No, none whatsoever," Patterson assured him, but Mulder just knew the asshole was up to something with this. He had never cared about his best profiler's personal life before. In fact, he always seemed glad that Mulder didn't have a significant other to hold him back or distract him from work. "Then what's going on?" the younger man asked. "Nothing. In fact, I think it's great that you've got someone." "Huh?" Mulder responded in confusion, clearly surprised over the A.D.'s answer. "Look, Mulder, I know this is a tough job- one of the hardest, I believe- and it can get to a guy. But it really helps to have someone to come home to... a soft, pretty lady to kiss the hurt of the day away, to help you forget about the work-time hours. My wife Sandy is always there for-" "Wait a second," Mulder interrupted him. "I know what you're doing. Yes, Dana is a wonderful woman and I love her very much. Yes, she loves me, too, and takes good care of me. But the point is, I don't want to bring all of that work-time pain home every night, even if I know she'll be there for me. I want out of the VCS. I'm done here!" "Okay, fine," Patterson growled, clearly knowing now that he wouldn't be talking Mulder into staying with the department. But he wasn't ready to relinquish his hold on his top profiler just yet. He knew this latest case was going to be hell and he was now gladder than ever to be giving it to Mulder as his last assignment for the department. "Put in your thirty days notice then, and finish this one, last job and you're free to venture into any other avenue of the Bureau your pathetic, little chump of a heart desires!" Mulder visibly paled. "But I... thirty days?" Patterson shrugged. "It's standard procedure." "But I thought two weeks' notice was sufficient." "Not for the profiling department," the A.D. explained with a hint of malice to his tone. "Do you have any idea how difficult it's going to be to find someone to replace you? It's going to be damned near impossible! There's no one as intuitive at getting inside these bastards' heads as you are you know what makes them tick. You know how they think, how they feel. You anticipate their evil deeds probably before even they can!" Agent Mulder averted his gaze. This was as close to gushing as A.D. Patterson had ever gotten. That he was praising Mulder's abilities had sickened the younger man, made it so difficult to feel normal or clean. "I..." he stammered. "I didn't know you thought so highly of me, sir," he said, a challenge in his tone. Patterson glared at him. "Well, to be honest, Mulder, I don't think that highly of you at all- at least, not personally. Frankly, I think you're an arrogant, self-absorbed, know-it-all son of a bitch. And a whiny pain in the ass! But... well, even I can't argue with your solve rate ratios. You're the best I've ever seen. You've got a real talent for profiling- like a... calling for it, if you will. And now you want to just throw it all away..." He shook his head in disgust. "What a damn waste. It's a waste of your talent- hell, your life! And right now, you're wasting precious time standing around! Here!" He threw a file folder onto the desktop in front of the silent- and still shocked- Agent Mulder. "This will be your life for the next month or so. If you're still intent on leaving the damn department, at least try to do so with your head held high." "But sir-" Mulder finally spoke up, but was interrupted. "Catch this sick bastard, Mulder. Consider it a gift- one last gift from you to the department, to the victims you may save- to the future victims you'll be turning your back on..." "Hey!" Mulder started again, his hazel eyes narrowed and smoldering, his jaw clenched. But Patterson wouldn't give the guy a chance to vindicate himself. He waved Mulder off with a flick of the wrist. "Now, go on. Take the file, Agent Mulder, and get the fuck out of my office!" Seething with rage, Mulder violently scooped up the file. "Gladly!" he hissed, leaving the A.D.'s office, slamming the door loudly behind him. Hoping his dose of 'tough love' would snap his top profiler out of his funk- although he had meant every unkind word he'd uttered- Patterson closed his eyes, taking a brief moment to decompress from the whirlwind that was Fox Mulder. With a sigh, the A.D. chuckled softly at all that had just happened. He had been dying to tell Mulder off for years now, to kick him out of the department and tell him to go to hell. And finally he got his chance, but all in the effort of keeping the man from leaving. Rubbing his eyes, Patterson muttered, "What a fucking prick!" * * * FBI Headquarters Pathology Department 10:15 a.m. Mulder sat on the empty gurney in the autopsy bay, starring in awe at the woman he loved while she finished up an autopsy on an adult male victim of homicide. He tried not to focus on the dead body she worked on, but rather, on her skillful hands- small as they were, they were also efficient, deft, yet gentle and respectful of the task they had to perform. He watched her eyes, could see the wheels turning behind them, always vigilant, always thinking, always theorizing and contemplating. He watched the way her mouth moved, as she spoke of her findings into the microphone for recording data. He didn't pay much attention to the words themselves, but to the way her mouth moved, how they formed each syllable. It was sensual. It almost made him forget he was in a morgue.... Almost. He was nearly in a daze when Scully had finished up and she had to call his name twice before he heard her. "Mulder. Mulder, hey... you in there?" She had already removed her bloody gloves and knocked playfully against his noggin with her hand. "Huh? Oh, sorry, Scully. Yeah, I... I'm here. I guess." "You guess? That sounds awfully noncommittal. What's up, handsome?" With a sigh, he said, "Ah, Patterson's on my ass again." "Would you tell him to leave it alone?" she teased. "It's mine, remember?" This elicited a genuine smile from the sulking Mulder. "I try, but he doesn't care. Still wants to chew it out on a regular basis. He gave me another tough profile to write up." She gave him a sympathetic expression. "I know it's hard, Mulder. You have one of the toughest jobs at the FBI." "I told him I wanted to transfer out," he went on. "Start work on The X-Files. Was going to put my two weeks notice in; he told me I had to give him four weeks." His face returned it's glum demeanor. "I just want to get out of the VCS. It's killing me inside, honey. It really is." "You've already talked to Blevins, then?" she inquired, not meaning to ignore his complaint, but too curious not to ask. "Sure have," he said. "Told you I was going to, didn't I?" "Well, yeah, but I thought I was going with you to that meeting. You never gave me a specific time to go. You never gave me the notion that this was something concrete. What did Blevins say?" "Seems to be on the ball with it," he told her. "That's why I wanted to give notice soon with Patterson. Was going to talk to you about it this weekend, when we'd have time together to relax, but now I'll probably be sucked into another psycho's brain for the next month." He groaned, rubbing at his eyes over the thought. "Did you mention my possible involvement, Mulder?" "Yes," he said. "Blevins seemed to like the idea, you know, having scientific proof to back up any findings in each case." He smiled at her; he was proud of her and her smarts and her good reputation as the quintessential scientist. She looked slightly peeved to the casual observer, but Mulder knew better. He could see the color rising in her cheeks. "I really wish you would have discussed this with me first, maybe let me accompany you to the meeting." She stared at him pointedly. "Uh..." he paused, trying to think of the right thing to say. All he could come up with was, "Sorry?" "Right, sorry," she muttered. "So, I get no say in anything, then? Am I supposed to be the 'silent' partner?" "What? No! Scully, I'm sorry. I know I should have included you in the meeting, but it was sort of... impromptu, I guess. I was walking down the hall last week, and Blevins just happened to be there, coming up from the other way, and one thing led to another and... there you go." "It happened a whole week ago, and you couldn't tell me? Jesus, Mulder, you sleep beside me every night! In the past week alone, you've told me how you were married once, how you're allergic to crab grass and all about your uncle Abner's prostrate problems!" She did not seem happy. Wearing his most apologetic and sheepish expression, he said, "I... was going to. I just... kind of forgot about it... well, you've been so busy and I've been... semi-busy and I just..." His voice trailed off. "I'm sorry?" he tried again. "Yeah, sorry," she groused, looking thoroughly pissed off. "Well, that just makes everything magically okay, then, doesn't it?" "Whoa, what the hell does that mean, Scully?" he demanded to know, starting to sound a bit peeved himself. "It means, Agent Mulder, that I'd like to have a little more say in my own damn career and I don't like being left in the dark! It means, not including me in the meeting or even telling me was just an asshole thing to do!" By the end of her tirade, her chest was heaving and her fair skin mottling red in anger. Normally watching his woman become so hot and bothered would have been a turn on for Mulder, but not when her ire was directed at him. That changed his reaction considerably. "Well, you know me, Scully," he snapped at her. "Just the perennial asshole!" She would not be baited. "Yeah, I guess so," she agreed icily, folding her arms across her chest. "I am out of here!" Mulder exclaimed, fuming and on the verge of having a hissy fit. He decided to salvage what little dignity he still possessed and high-tailed it out of the morgue and back into his office. "Whatever!" he heard Scully yell at him as he skulked down the hall. He sighed, only wishing he'd had thought of slamming her door to present finality to their argument. But, alas, hindsight is 20/20. * * * Still fuming about Scully's anger over his decision to talk to Blevins on his own- no matter how justified it may have been- Mulder holed up in his office and sat at his desk, staring at the unopened file setting in front of him. For the longest time he did not open it, fearing what was going to be in there. When he finally worked up the courage to do so, he was not to be disappointed. Inside the plain, manila folder, Mulder's eyes were barraged with the gruesome sight of dozens of crime scene photos of different victims, each one more hideous than the last. Picture after picture revealed the wrongful deaths of four young women. All of them were discovered in wooded areas in Maryland near a walking trail. Houses were nearby. All of the women were mutilated beyond recognition. Mulder read in the notes that three of the four dead women had been identified with dental records. The other still had not been identified at all. "Jesus," Mulder murmured, amazed at the fury it must have taken to tear these girls apart like they were. As difficult as the case that had caught Ronald Jefferies, who would mutilate a woman's genitals out of failure and frustration, this particular case seemed even more heinous. These poor women had been gutted mercilessly, their bodies literally torn apart. One of them had actually been decapitated... "Who the hell could have done this?" he wondered aloud. "How? And why?" "Isn't that what they pay you the big bucks for, partner?" came a voice from the doorway. "Jerry!" Mulder exclaimed in surprise. He had been so engrossed in the crime scene photos that he hadn't heard his partner knock once, then open the door. "I did knock," Jerry informed him. "Guess you didn't hear me, huh?" "No, I... guess I didn't," Mulder mumbled, his concentration already back to this devastating case. "What's up?" "Just got done talking with Patterson a few minutes ago," Jerry went on. "How come I got to hear from him that you're bailing out on me?" He didn't sound pleased. This certainly gave Mulder cause to stop his reflecting. He set down the file on his desk and gave Agent Lamana his full attention. "I'm not bailing out on you," he explained. "I'm just bailing out on the VCS." "Isn't that the same thing?" Jerry demanded to know. He looked hurt. "No! No, of course not," Mulder assured him. "I just... I got to get out of the VCS, Jer. It's killing me inside. I just can't... do this anymore." He slumped his shoulders wearily. "Did Dana talk you into quitting?" Jerry snapped. He knew how persuasive women could be, and how that particular woman had Fox Mulder wrapped around her little finger. He would do anything she asked. "No! In fact, she's kind of pissed at me, too, right now. But either way, shut the fuck up about her!" Jerry understood that he'd crossed the line, and breached a rule of partnership- never rag on your partner's significant other. "Sorry, man," he apologized. "I know, she's a good girl. I guess I'm just... shocked, Mulder. I thought we'd be partners till the end, you know?" "I know," Mulder sighed in an apologetic tone. "I used to think so, too. But I found another avenue in the Bureau that I need to pursue. It might help me find my sister, or at least, come to grips with her disappearance." "Well, I guess that's what you need to do then," Jerry reluctantly agreed, simultaneously giving his blessing. "Where you heading? Missing persons?" "Nah, it's a new division I want Scully and I to open, focusing on cases that have been formerly deemed 'unsolvable' by the Bureau. It's called the X-Files division." Jerry smiled. "The 'x' makes it sound cool," he said. Mulder laughed. "Yeah, that's what I keep telling Scully." "So, you'll be working with little sure-shot full time, eh? You are so going to get laid every lunch hour!" Jerry offered Mulder a leering and appreciative grin. This actually made Mulder blush a little. "Eh, Scully's got rules about what's appropriate and what isn't while we're working." "Women! When will they learn that it's okay to be a little spontaneous now and then?" Both men laughed. Jerry walked the distance between them around the desk in just a few, large steps. He held out his hand. "I'm going to miss you, man." Mulder stood, extended his own hand, and grasped Jerry's firmly. "I'm not leaving yet, Jer. Got a month left here." "Still, I'm going to miss you." Neither was sure which one of them initiated it, but the two men suddenly found themselves giving each other a brotherly hug, the obligatory rough pats on the back included. Thompson walked by and observed them through the open door. "Queers!" he shouted. "Does shorty know?" He was referring to Scully. "Up yours!" Mulder retorted as he and Jerry pulled away from each other quicker than lightning. "Yeah, I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you, 'Fag' Mulder," Thompson laughed, as he continued down the hallway. Mulder groaned. "Great! As if I don't have enough shit going around about me as it is! Now I'll probably have to fend off rumors that I'm stepping out on Scully with you!" They both simultaneously shuddered at the thought. "Don't worry, Mulder," Jerry assured him. "I'll be the first to nip that one in the bud. That's not exactly the reputation that I want to have around here, either." "Thanks, partner." "And speaking of which, while we still are partners, what's our latest case looking like?" Sitting back down, Mulder gestured for Jerry to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, which he did. Then, Mulder pushed the case file in front of him. It was opened to one of the crime scene photos. "See for yourself." Jerry was instantly taken aback by the horrid image placed before him. "What the fuck!" he exclaimed, looking away long enough to shut the case file. "What the hell is wrong with people these days? Is it me, or do these freaks just keep getting worse and worse by the day?" "It's not just you," Mulder wholeheartedly agreed. "And this is my big send off from the VCS. I swear, Patterson seemed to enjoy giving this case to me. Almost like he saved it for me purposely." "Nah," Jerry assured him, "Patterson is a nasty son-of-a- bitch, and I know he hates your guts, but I don't think he could legally- or ethically- do that to you." Mulder shrugged. "I don't put anything passed that asshole. Either way, we have to find this monster quickly!" "That's for damn sure. You look at the autopsy results of the victims yet?" "Yeah, but I want to look 'em over with Scully, too. Get an expert's opinion before I try and write up my profile." Mulder's voice trailed off. Oh, how he was dreading this case. "Good idea. You know, you're bedding down with the best pathologist we got around here. Heading down to the morgue now?" "Uh... I guess..." "You guess?" Lamana laughed. "What's up, man? Usually you'll find any excuse to go down there and see your little Miss Dana-Pants." "Actually, she's wearing a skirt today," Mulder informed him with a smirk. "Damn, she looks good in a skirt... but, uh, I told you, she's sort of pissed at me right now." His demeanor turned lovelorn. "Christ," Jerry snickered, "what's with the two of you? I know you guys are crazy about each other, but more often than not, you just seem to make each other crazy!" Wearing a sheepish expression, Mulder shrugged again. "Yeah, we love each other, but you're right. We haven't quite worked out all the kinks yet." "So, get on it then, Mulder," Jerry advised him in a big brotherly tone. "Work it out. It isn't worth risking the relationship over." "What isn't?" "Whatever it is you two are fighting about!" Mulder snorted. "Since when are you Mr. Sensitive, Jer?" "Since never, but I know a good woman when I see one, and Dana's good for you, man. Except for this job, which I know can really get you down, I've honestly never seen you happier than when you're with her." This elicited a smile. "Yeah... yeah, I am; well, except for when I screw up and she gets pissed at me." "Ah, Mulder, since the dawn of time, men have been fucking up and women have been getting pissed off over it. It's the law of nature, I'm afraid. Just don't do anything too stupid, or you could really be in trouble." "Don't I know it, and I'm currently guilty of being an idiot to her. And it's no surprise, of course, that she's royally pissed off at me." "Naturally," Jerry agreed. "Just fix it!" "Yes, sir," Mulder saluted him. "So, uh... what do you suggest?" Jerry held up his hands in protest. "No way, Mulder. She's your girlfriend. You figure it out." With that, he started for the door. "Lemme know when you're ready to hit any crime scenes or have your profile written." "Will do. Later, Jer." Lamana nodded and left Mulder, who sat at his desk, trying to figure it out... * * * Thirty minutes later, Mulder arrived down in pathology, file in hand. To his relief, both Drs Mandoon and Moran were otherwise occupied and he didn't have to deal with either of them at all, which was nice, because frankly, he just didn't have the time or the energy to do so. He first looked for Dana in the autopsy bay where he'd left her earlier that morning, but found her a few minutes later in her office, writing up a report on her latest case. He paused to regard her for a moment before announcing himself and because she was so engrossed in her task, he had ample opportunity to watch her. She was bent over her report, her pen flying furiously in an attempt to get every little detail written down and recorded. She wore her reading glasses and he could see her surprisingly tidy scrawl reflected on the lenses. God, she's so beautiful, he thought to himself, his heart swelling with love and pride, knowing that such an intelligent, kind, lovely woman was with him. She was more than he thought he would ever deserve in life. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," a teasing voice broke him out of his reverie. Mulder "woke up" to see that Scully was staring at him with a slightly amused expression. "Oh, hey, Scully," he said in a careful tone, unsure of her true mood after their latest argument. "Hey, yourself," she replied, removing her glasses and gesturing for him to sit in the chair in front of her desk. He did so quickly, just glad to be welcomed inside and set his new case file on the desk. "Working up your report?" he asked, making small talk. "Just finished, actually," she told him before lapsing into silence. The two of them regarded one another for an instant, as if unsure how the other might be feeling. Both were still stinging from their latest confrontation. As they were still fairly new to each other, fights still worried them, and their standing in the relationship. Mulder realized that an apology was in order, but before he could open his mouth to give her one, Scully spoke up again. "Listen Mulder, I'm... I'm sorry for being such a jerk earlier. I guess you caught me off-guard and I was already kind of preoccupied. It still doesn't excuse my behavior, though, and I'm- oof!" During mid-sentence, Mulder had hurried around the desk and scooped Scully up into his arms, planting a big, wet kiss upon her full, sensuous lips. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close, allowing his tongue to rove her mouth, just as his hands roved the curves of her body. As was customary during such a moment, Scully felt the electrifying, dizzy, giddy feelings bubble up inside of her, just as they always did whenever Mulder was with her this way. One would think that she would be used to it by now, but it still always hit her like a joyous surprise. She knew she would always feel this way with him. Finally, reluctantly pulling out of the kiss, but only because they needed to breathe, Mulder continued to hold the woman he loved in his arms, stroking her cheek with a gentle hand. He gazed lovingly into her true-blue eyes. "Scully, I'm the one who should be apologizing, not you. I know you were right- I should have consulted with you first before talking to Blevins or putting in for a transfer. I know you should have been present at that meeting, and no, I do not think of you as a silent partner. Your input is going to be vital to the success of the X-Files. I know this. I guess I was just so anxious to get the ball rolling, I over-stepped and went ahead without your consent. I didn't mean to, honest. I don't know if opening this division will help me find my sister or not, but it's certainly worth a try. I guess I just tend to get a little over zealous when it comes to Samantha... I'm sorry, honey." He kissed the top of her head. "It's all right, Mulder," she assured him, smiling up at him with such love and understanding in her eyes. "I know. I mean, maybe I don't, really, but I can relate. If someone had ever taken one of my siblings, I'd feel the same. I'd want to learn the truth, no matter what!" "Even if it was Bill, Jr.?" he joked. She smiled. "Yeah, probably, even if it was Billy, snot that he is." "Thanks, Scully. But you know, if you really don't want to transfer out of pathology, I'd... understand. I mean, I wouldn't like it, but I'd understand, and I certainly wouldn't hold it against you, or be angry." "Well, that's very noble of you, Mulder," she told him with a wry grin, "but I'm afraid your kind offer is a little late in coming. I gave my thirty day notice to Mandoon less than an hour ago." "Y-you did?" Mulder squeaked in surprise, delighted beyond compare. This woman always kept him guessing. "What did he say?" Her eyes twinkled. "Um, let's just say that he may not be too happy with you for awhile. He told me that you were stealing the best forensic doctor right from under his nose." Just stating the compliment out loud made her blush. Mulder ran his fingers through her soft, red locks, a look of pride upon his face. "He's right, you know. I am stealing away the best doctor here at Quantico- and that's including Mandoon, himself! But... losing old Ricky's love is just a risk I'll have to take. I really do need you with me on this, Scully. Your scientific knowledge will be essential! And I know that you're the ideal partner for me, whether at home or here at work. You keep me honest... and I further know that nobody will ever look after me or protect me better than you can." "That's because nobody will ever love you as much as I do." The two of them smiled at each other then leaned in for another kiss... Dr. Rick Mandoon walked by then paused in the doorway. "You two! I can't believe you're stealing my best girl away, Foxy!" Breaking the kiss, Mulder regarded Mandoon, who seemed understandably disappointed by the loss of Scully from his team, but he also looked happy for them, too. "Yep, that's right, Rick. Gotta have her on my team. I need her." "So, swapping bodily fluids at home just isn't enough anymore, huh?" Rick joked. "You got to monopolize all of her time!" He playfully stuck his tongue out at him. Scully blushed furiously. Mulder grinned and replied, "Nope. Not enough. Never enough." He gave his beloved a meaningful glance, which she reciprocated. Mandoon rolled his eyes. "Well, at least you won't have to deal with Candy Moron anymore. If that isn't reason for a transfer out of pathology, I don't know what is." He gave Dana's cheek a chaste peck, then a pat, and he then patted Mulder's cheek, as well, although the cheek he smacked Mulder on was not on his face. He left Dana's office before Mulder could protest. "Ewwww!!!!" Mulder couldn't help but complain, in a thoroughly grossed out way. "He touched my ass! Can you believe it? I mean, he actually felt up my rump!" Scully chuckled. "Well, I can't exactly blame him for wanting to. It's a very nice ass." And she gave it a quick squeeze to reiterate the point. He groaned in arousal. "Yours are the only hands I want touching it." "Good to know." She winked at him. Suddenly, Mulder's face grew more serious, tender. He drew her close to him again and said, "So, speaking of swapping bodily fluids..." "I know," she agreed, "but I'd rather not discuss it here at work. How about tonight, at home? I'll make you a nice dinner." "You always make nice dinners," he complimented her. "And even if you didn't, I'd still be there." They kissed once more. Afterwards, he reluctantly disengaged himself from her embrace and got down to the case that had him baffled. "Say, Scully, if you're not too busy, I'd love to have some input on this new assignment I'm on." "I'm never too busy for you, my love. What's the run down?" They both sat down again, and Mulder presented her with the file he had brought with him from his office. "Brace yourself, Scully," he warned her. "This is some pretty gruesome shit." It was on the tip of her tongue to reply, I eat gruesome shit for breakfast, but she quickly refrained from doing so. Not only did it sound disgusting, she knew Mulder would never let her live it down. Instead, she replied, "I've seen gruesome shit before." She reached for the file in question. He stopped her, resting his large hand gently upon her small one. "Not like this, Scully. Trust me. It's... it's really bad." Reluctantly removing his hand from hers, he let her proceed and open the case file. From Mulder's tone and hesitance to show her, Scully surmised that this case would be even worse than the one they first met on. But, she also knew that he was very protective of her, so she couldn't be sure of any exaggeration on his part. Either way, he had asked for her help, and she intended on giving it. With a look of determination on her lovely face, Scully steeled herself and opened the file. All professionalism and objectivity fell by the wayside and the color drained from her face, as Scully observed the first of the crime scene photos. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, unable to stop herself. "It's pretty horrifying," Mulder agreed solemnly. He felt remorseful at ever having to show these pictures to anyone else- much less the person he loved most in the world- but he really needed some feedback. Anything to help put the monster responsible for this carnage behind bars forever. "Mulder, this is..." "I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've seen pictures of the aftermath of Jack the Ripper's work, Mulder, and that was barbaric! But this picture, I... there's hardly anything left of that woman." "Yeah," he murmured. "But what do you make of it?" "I don't know... you have an autopsy report?" "There are four of them, Dana, in the back of the file." She thumbed through the pictures and all the paperwork, until she came across what she was looking for. She skimmed over the first report she came to, her horror renewed. "Oh, God." "Scully?" "Mulder, the doctor who performed the autopsy on... Linda Jane Castleman, the first known victim, he had a hard time believing an actual person could have done this to her. He says he found slashes all over her body that looked suspiciously like claw marks." She paused, considered something for a moment. "Could this possibly be the work of an animal, Mulder? A bear attack, perhaps? Or maybe some sort of large cat, like a cougar or panther?" "Read on, Scully. I mean, if they hadn't found signs of sexual assault in what was left of her genitals, I might be inclined to agree with that assessment. Animals can be vicious, sure, but I've never heard of any of them raping someone." "Semen?," she asked. Scully hadn't wanted the wounds inflicted on these poor girls to have been done by an actual person. Somehow, the idea that a wild animal had ravaged their bodies made it easier to accept. "Nah, but there was wear and tear on the vagina- and I don't just mean from the attack. Plus, they found latex residue in there." "Condoms," she surmised. "So, I guess that leaves out the theory she was attacked by animals..." "But they did look like claw marks," Mulder had to agree. "In fact, if you read the second victim's autopsy report- Sandra Kroger- you'll see that the pathologist speculated that she was raped, then possibly torn apart by an animal or animals." "That's as good of theory as any after looking at these photos," Scully surmised. "What if the killer has access to some sort of dangerous, exotic animals? Maybe someone who works at a zoo, or a circus? He might rape the woman, and then stick her in a cage with a lion, or a tiger, or a-" "Bear? Oh, my!" Mulder cracked, making her smile in spite of the grim circumstances. "That does make sense, Scully, except for the fact that it was determined the women are killed at the crime scene where they are found out in the woods. So, he isn't moving the bodies post-mortem. He's killing them out in the woods." "Maybe he's taking an animal out there with him," she suggested. "Perhaps training it to kill on command. He could even own an exotic pet- probably illegally." "Good angle," he complimented her, feeling that such a possibility could easily fit the facts of the case. "I mean, it definitely looks like an animal attack. A human being would need some sort of tool to do that much damage to another person, most likely a power saw or something. Even though the crimes took place in a wooded area, it isn't that remote. They are always found on or nearby a well used hiking trail, and surrounded by private residences. Surely, someone would have heard something as loud as a piece of mechanical machinery being used out there." "Well, with that reasoning," Scully added, "You'd have thought someone would also have heard those poor girls screaming." "You'd have thought," Mulder returned with a nod. That was a point he would definitely have to look further into. Were there any witnesses? "So, can I leave you with the autopsy reports to look over? I'll need to start working up a profile for Patterson." "Of course. I'll let you know if I come up with anything unusual." "And I can count on you, heaven forbid, should we need to perform anymore autopsies?" She touched his hand. "Like you even have to ask." "Thanks, Scully," he replied, lifting her hand to his lips for a kiss. "If I don't see you for the rest of the day, I'll definitely see you at dinner." "Definitely," she repeated with a twinkle in her eyes. They kissed once more, leaning in over the desk, before Mulder reluctantly said goodbye and left her office. * * * Awhile later, Scully found a fax resting in her tray. It was Mulder's new profile on his latest, horrific case. She grabbed it up and read it eagerly. Attn: Scully, D. (pathology), Lamana, J. (VCS), Patterson, B. (A. D.) Case File #: JV-42Y724 Re: UNSUB The perpetrator is a white male, 25 to 35 years old. He is single and probably wealthy. He's ladies' man, romancing women that he most likely meets at clubs. I believe the term is 'swinger'. He's into one-night stands. He doesn't have a girlfriend, at least not an exclusive one. Though he doesn't hold any ill will or hatred towards women in general, he does not hold them in very high regard, thinking of them as nothing more than a toy, something there to pleasure him. He fancies himself a real animal in the bedroom, probably having orgies, or performing high risk and unusual- and perhaps dangerous- sexual acts, all in the name of pleasure- his own, that is. He does, however, practice safe sex, using a condom with each encounter. He may seek out women who crave such attention, but he does not go out of his way to please them sexually. All that matters is that he is satisfied. During sexual intercourse, he is rough, even brutal, although his sexual partners will excuse it, or welcome it. He is rich and probably good looking, so they will allow him to perform lewd and violent acts on them in the hopes of gaining financially or socially. While his sexual performance may be violent, he does not kill them during sex, nor do I believe he intends to kill them. I believe that he has a psychosis that renders him animalistic during sex and he unconsciously ravages them just after intercourse, in a fit of rage or frenzy that stems from his thinking that he is- or can transform into- an animal. He may even believe himself capable of lycanthropy or therianthropy, which is the ability to transform himself into an animal. He then reacts like an animal, and tears his victims to shreds, killing them with the aid of some sort of sharp tool that he relates as animal extensions of himself, like claws. He takes them to the woods, because wild animals live in the woods and he feels at home there. If he does not indulge in killing these women himself, the only other alternative would be that he owns some sort of exotic pet- a large cat, or maybe a bear- and has trained the animal to kill on command. The UNSUB most likely lives in the area where these killings are occurring, giving him a walkable distance to and from his house for these late night trysts. If he is utilizing an animal in his killing, keeping one at a home in the woods, or nearby his house in a cage, he would have easy access with the privacy he would require sustaining an animal like that. Because the UNSUB only appears to be killing during a full moon, once a month, it goes without saying that he is on a cyclical path of destruction. Either the moon is honestly effecting his psychosis, or he has convinced himself that it has, because he believes he has the power to transform into a beast, a virtual animal. His crimes will not escalate rapidly, because he operates under the influence of the moon's cycle, unless, of course, he decides to have multiple sexual partners in one night. Regardless, his brutality demands that he is caught immediately, as he represents a great danger to all he comes across." Scully blew out a breath. That profile was intense. It sounded fantastic, too, but in this case, she fully believed it to be the most logical explanation. She beamed at her significant other's talents. She was very proud of him. She knew he could continue to do well in the VCS, but she further knew that staying there would destroy him emotionally. She loved him. She wanted to take care of him, both at home and here at work. As strong as he was, she felt protective of him. There was so much tenderness inside of Mulder that she knew he needed to be looked after. She was merely grateful that the privilege had been bestowed upon her. She was up for the task, and she wanted nothing more to be Mulder's guardian, as well as his partner and lover. She only hoped this monster was caught soon. The sooner the better. Not only for the public's safety, but also for Mulder's own well-being. * * * A. D. Patterson's office 4:05 p. m. Jerry Lamana joined Mulder in Patterson's office. They stood together before the A. D.'s desk, a united front, as he read over Mulder's latest profile. Patterson took his time, even going back over to re-read a page or two. It was as if he could hardly believe the profile of such an unusual killer, regarding an already unbelievable crime. Lamana had read the profile himself just prior to this meeting. He was still reeling from the crime scene photos. As much horror and evil that he'd already seen in his ten years with the VCS, this case took the cake! Mulder stood in front of Patterson's desk, staring down at his hands, for lack of a better focal point in the A. D.'s drab office. His mind was currently going off in a dozen directions at once. He was still contemplating this strange and disturbing case, still not sure he quite had a grasp on this killer's motives or way of thinking. Personally, he didn't even want to get into this deranged bastard's mind. He had seen crazy before. He had gotten to know depravity all too well. And he recognized evil when confronted with it. But this particular killer had gone well beyond all of those. These killings had no reason to them- not that any killer's reasons were valid, but at least they did have a reason. It was almost as if the murderer truly had lost his mind completely during the attacks, truly becoming an animal. "Possible trained animals to attack at will," Mulder heard Patterson speaking, drawing him out of his queries. "Virtual animal?" Mulder looked at him. "Sir?" "I said, 'a virtual animal'?" Patterson was all too happy to repeat in a sarcastic tone. "And what the hell is this about ly... canthropy? Ther...ianthropy? What is that shit doing-" "Technically speaking, sir," Mulder interjected, "lycanthropy is the condition where a human believes he or she can transform themselves into a wolf. Therianthropy is a more general term, where a human believes he or she can transform into just about any other animal... sir..." He noticed the pissed off look on the A. D.'s face and his voice trailed off, realizing too late that he had been asked a rhetorical question. "I know what they mean, agent. I was asking what the hell they were doing in an FBI profile?!" "Sir," Jerry respectfully pointed out, "I believe Agent Mulder's report didn't say that the guy could transform into an animal, but rather he thought he could..." His voice trailed off, too, as he also received a dirty look from the man in charge. "And let's not forget to add lion tamers and zoo keepers to the list," Patterson joked humorlessly. He glared at Mulder. "Your profile is all over the place, Mulder. It's a goddamned mess! It's a piece of shit!" Both Mulder and Lamana exchanged shocked and bewildered looks between them. They had seen Patterson angry before, but the A. D. had never looked this livid, nor had he ever ridiculed one of Mulder's profiles. Mulder himself, sure, but never his profile. This was a first, a dangerous first! "What seems to be the problem?" Mulder dared to ask. He might not have done so any other time, but he was tired, disturbed and knew his days with VCS were numbered anyway, so why bother with protocol? "The problem, Agent Mulder, is that this profile reads like you pulled it out of a science-fiction movie- a bad science- fiction movie! But we're not in the world of make believe, Mulder. This is real goddamn life, and if you can't keep your thick head out of the clouds and do your fucking job, then-" "Hey!" Mulder protested, having grown so tired of having to deal with this tyrant and his shit. "I read the file from front to back, all the way through, at least three times! I studied the scene reports, the witness and police statements, the autopsy reports, the fucking gruesome crime scene photos that will probably give me nightmares for months! As a profiler, I follow my gut instincts and this is what my instincts are telling me!" "Well, your gut instincts on this case are SHIT!" Patterson roared, thoroughly unimpressed with Mulder's little speech. "You read the autopsy results, all right. Sounds like you got a little carried away with the statement that he compared the victims' injuries to that of claw marks! Surprised you didn't claim a werewolf did it!" "I never said anything like that!" Mulder shot back. "I even conferred with one of our own pathologists about the autopsy results and she said-" "Let me guess," Patterson interrupted in a venomous tone, "Dr. Dana Scully, am I right?" "Yeah. So?" Mulder challenged, not liking where this conversation was heading at all. "So, Dr. Scully, as we all know, is your damn girlfriend, Mulder! Of course she's going to agree with any stupid-ass thing you say!" "Scully's not like that," Mulder insisted, his fury rising at even having to defend his beloved's intentions, which were always honorable. "She always speaks her mind, and she's never been afraid to voice her opinion on something, even if it differs from everyone else's- including my own! It's one of the things I love about her!" "Whatever!" Patterson snapped, not interested in going over the virtues of Dana Scully at this particular point in time. "But if she agrees with any of the gobbledy-gook you wrote down in your profile, then she's as full of shit as you are!" Mulder was in mid-leap going over the A. D.'s desk, preparing to wrap his bare hands around the man's throat for his unsavory remarks about Scully, but Jerry caught hold of his arms, stopping him effectively. The action was not lost on Patterson, however. "Keep it up, asshole, and you won't be transferring to any department in the Bureau! You'll be on the unemployment line- or worse! In a psychiatric ward in some understaffed, dingy little hospital where they don't allow conjugal visits, if you catch my drift!" Patterson turned to Jerry. "Get him the hell out of my office, Lamana, before I throw his ass out of Quantico altogether!" His face was beet red and as angry as Mulder's. Still struggling to keep hold of Mulder, Jerry said, "Yes, sir," and yanked his friend back out of the office. He closed the door and pulled hard on Mulder's arm, who was still angry and shouting obscenities at Patterson, farther down the hall. A few passersby stopped and stared, although both agents ignored them. "What the fuck, Jer?" Mulder screamed into his face. "Why did you-" "I am trying to save your job, dick head!" Jerry snapped. "I don't even want this job!" Mulder began. "But you do want the X-Files," Jerry reminded him, his voice still gruff, but no longer screaming. "And you do want to stay in the Bureau and work with Dana, right? But you keep up the shit you just pulled in there, and you'll have nothing! Patterson will make sure of that! Hell, he's never liked you, but he's never had reason to go after you! Well, you just gave him that reason!" He realized he had a hold of Mulder's collar and he let go. "Is that what you want, man?" "No," Mulder muttered defensively, straightening his shirt and tie. "Do you really think Patterson could have me committed?" "Hell, I don't know," Jerry sighed. "Probably not, but let's not find out the hard way, okay, pal?" Mulder took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, man," he apologized to his friend. "Patterson, he just- I mean-" "I know, I know," Jerry agreed. "I get it, Mulder. Patterson is a world-class asshole and he hates your guts. For some reason, you two just never clicked." "Yeah," Mulder grumbled, staring down at the closed door to the A. D.'s office. "Maybe it's because I never could prescribe to his 'you have to become a psycho to catch a psycho' bull shit!" "Maybe," Jerry soothed. "But man, you have to stop this erratic behavior, or you will get your ass fired! Poor Dana will be stuck as the sole breadwinner in the family. At least think about her before you blow your gasket again and ruin your career." Smiling at the mere mention of her name, Mulder said, "She would do it, too. She could, you know." "Yeah, Mulder, I'm sure she would, too, probably without complaint, but do you really want to her have to?" His smile faded. "No... I... it's just when Patterson insulted her, God, I just lost it! I mean, he's never even met her! How can he make such a stupid assumption?" "He wasn't really," Lamana informed him. "He was merely trying to get your goat- which he did in spades. Just try to ignore him from now on- and keep your distance whenever possible. The less you see him, the less likely you two will get into it again. I'll play middle man whenever I can." "There was nothing wrong with my profile, Jer," Mulder sulked. "I didn't think so either," his partner soothed. "I think Patterson is just hitting you where it hurts the most- your profiling skills and your girl- because he's pissed that you're leaving the VCS." "That's lower than low," Mulder grunted. "But you'd think he'd be thrilled, considering the way he acts towards me all the time." "Oh, it's no secret that he doesn't like you personally, Mulder. And I don't think he likes your methods for getting the job done, especially since it contradicts his own way. The truth is though, you get the job done, and you're brilliant and you're an asset to his team- Patterson knows he can't argue with that, no matter how much he might want to." Mulder shrugged. Although he appreciated the compliment from Jerry, the idea of Patterson feeling that way about him gave him a bad taste in his mouth. He gave his friend a pat on the back and started for the elevators. "Where you going, partner?" "Down to pathology. I need to see Scully." Jerry watched the man enter an elevator and disappear behind the closing doors. He sighed. This was going to be one, hellish month! * * * "Scully?" Mulder called into the last autopsy bay. He received no answer. Checking his watch, he saw that it was after five o'clock. He frowned. Scully was not in her office, or in any of the autopsy bays. He realized that it was officially quitting time for most down here, but Scully was always staying late to finish paperwork or do a last minute autopsy- something! But tonight she was nowhere to be found. "Damn," he muttered to himself. He had really wanted to talk to her. Just hearing her voice always made him feel better. Not even Mandoon was there to confirm Scully had left. Slumping back to the elevators, Mulder headed back up to his office. Once he got there, he gathered up his stuff to go home. It had been a really shitty day and he was anxious for it to end. Against his better judgment, Mulder checked his messages before leaving. He was hoping to get one from Scully, maybe telling him to pick up some milk from the store, check the mailbox on the way in, anything just to hear that sweet voice he craved so much. Instead, he got an angry message from A. D. Patterson, demanding that he re-do his profile and that it "had better damn well be on my desk first thing in the morning!" "Fuck you!" Mulder grunted at the message machine. With a dramatic flair, he grabbed his briefcase and jacket, turned off the lights and slammed his office door shut behind him, wishing fervently that Patterson's big, ugly head had been in it. * * * Georgetown Dana Scully residence 6:52 p.m. Mulder arrived home in a sour mood. Not being able to find Dana had upset him a little, and his drive home had only exacerbated the fact. Of course, having heard Patterson's message and playing it over and over again in his mind didn't help much either. So, by the time he stepped in the door, and upon not seeing Scully there to greet him, he was a bit on the pissy side. Despite not seeing her, Mulder sensed that Scully was nearby. But that didn't stop him from slamming his briefcase down on the coffee table, effectively knocking a number of magazines and the day's mail to the floor in a heap. His jacket landed in a weird position on the arm of a chair. With an annoyed groan, Mulder stooped over to pick up the displaced mail and magazines. Then he banged his knee on the coffee table and swore in pain and anger. "Fuck!" "Mulder, that you?" Scully called, most likely from the kitchen. "I'd like to know who else would have a key to your place and be swearing in your living room," he answered grumpily. "Meow!" she said, walking in to find him rubbing his sore knee with one hand and trying to rip his tie off of his neck with the other. "Poopy day?" she asked. "The poopiest!" he muttered, nastily flinging his tie to the floor beside him. "Fucking Patterson! I HATE him!" She smirked at him. "Don't hold back, tell me how you really feel about him." "Scully," he said in a warning tone that meant he wasn't in the mood to play around. But he paused and gave her a good look for the first time since she had come into the room. Having changed out of her professional work attire, Scully was now sporting a pair of jeans, and one of his tee shirts, which hung down nearly to her knees. She had scrubbed all of the make-up from her face, and he could see every freckle she usually tried to hide from the outside world. She was also barefoot, her toe nails painted a pale pink. She looked quite fetching to his way of thinking, and he suddenly felt less angry than he had just a moment before. He gazed at her lovely form, as she stood before him, her hands on her hips, her sweet face wearing a mischievous smile. "Yes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Too tired and whipped to produce a full-blown smile of his own, he let his eyes reflect his love and affection for her. "Nothing," he sighed, "I'm just worn out by the events of the day." "What happened?" Scully asked in concern, venturing closer. "Last time I saw you at work, things seemed to be looking up for you. What did Patterson say?" "Only that my profile was shit and that I have to re-write it! Oh, and that I wasn't taking this case seriously! What the fuck is he talking about? Doesn't he know that I take every case seriously? That I do my job to the best of my abilities because I'm as anxious as everyone else to catch these bastards and I want to vindicate their victims, and prevent them from having any more, and... and... mmm..." Mulder's rant wound down as Scully continued to advance upon him, finally reaching him and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down towards her while she stood on tip-toe, and engulfing his scrumptious lips in a kiss. In seconds flat, Mulder forgot all about the case and having to re-write his profile and the asshole that is Patterson. All he could think about, all he could feel was the beautiful woman filling his arms and practically sucking his bottom lip off of his face. When they finally broke apart for air, Mulder closed his eyes in contentment, holding her small form snuggling against him, breathing in the scent of her hair and feeling their hearts beating in sync between their tightly pressed bodies. He realized just how lucky of a man he was. "Feeling better?" she asked him, her head resting against his shoulder, reveling in his protective embrace. "Oh, yeah," he whispered into her hair, nuzzling his nose through it. "So much better..." "Good," she replied no nonsensely. He chuckled, then finally noticed his surroundings. First off, he detected several aromatic scents, and he sniffed the air, trying to discern each separate smell. Besides Scully, who's natural, womanly scent he knew by heart, he could tell she was cooking something delicious in the kitchen... possibly a pot roast or steak. He could also detect a hint of vanilla. When he glanced around, he noticed that the living room was lit only with lighted candles, as well as the fireplace. The living room itself, while usually tidy- unless he did something to clutter it- was nearly immaculate, save for his discarded briefcase, jacket and tie. Fresh flowers were arranged tastefully in a vase set up near the television set, which was turned off. In the background, he could hear music playing, soft instrumentals that gave him a warm and fuzzy feeling. The entire room just screamed romance! "Scully," he murmured, impressed by all she had done in so short a time, before suddenly recalling the unfinished conversation they'd had in her office earlier that day. "So," she began, her sweet smile turning sultry, her blue eyes smoldering with lust, "speaking of swapping bodily fluids..." Mulder felt himself grow hard instantaneously over her words, and his heart began to beat so fervently, it felt as though it would burst through his chest. "What... about dinner?" he asked dumbly. "It'll be ready in about an hour," she informed him, reaching up to unbutton his dress shirt, before pulling it out of the tuck in his trousers and tossing it to the floor. "I, however, am ready now." "Oh..." he stammered, hardly comprehending all that was happening. He was just too turned on to really understand much of anything, except for the call of his hormones. All the blood was flowing down to his other head. By this time, Scully had unbuckled the belt of his pants and was tugging them, along with his boxer shorts, down to the floor. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed in appreciation, at eye level with his saluting member. He was about to thank her, but didn't get a chance, when she had taken a hold of him and then brought it into her mouth, as far back as she was able. "Oh, my God!" Mulder returned the sentiment, still in shock over Scully's seduction. She was quite good at it. Although Mulder had been pleasured this way before by other women, this was the first time Scully had felt ready enough to tackle the feat herself. Not that she hadn't satisfied him manually a number of times, but never this way... until now. Mulder had had quite a few lovers in his lifetime before meeting Dana, and of course, many of them had done to him what his beloved was doing to him now. Some of those women had been very good at this, experienced in the art of oral gratification, and yet, while Mulder could tell that Scully was a novice in this area, her love for him and her eagerness to please him more than made up for it. In fact, he had to insist that she cease her ministrations after only a minute or two because he was already so close and he wanted this miraculous occasion to last. And he wanted to come inside of her. She actually seemed disappointed, but let go of his member and stood up in front of him. Mulder quickly got his shoes and socks off, then his pants and boxers flew across the room, landing on the coffee table and knocking over the mail he had just recently picked up. Once that necessity was accomplished, he moved onto something better. "My turn," he growled seductively at her, and he could see her flush with arousal. He picked her up, and carried her over to the sofa. Gently he set her down, and began the pleasurable task of undressing her. He first removed her jeans and underwear. Then he took off her shirt, whereupon he gasped in delight, revealing that she wore no bra at all. Her firm, pale breasts unabashedly presented to him. "Jesus, Scully," he moaned. "Surprised?" she asked innocently. "You never cease to amaze me, angel." He bent forward and took his time worshipping her offering, suckling one breast, then the other, laving her entire chest with wet, open-mouthed kisses. "Oh, Mulder," she sighed dreamily. "You feel so good. I love how you touch me." This only urged him onward. "Well, if you like what I just did, then you're going to love what I'm about to do..." He pushed her backwards against the cushions of the sofa, then, kneeling before her, he spread her legs apart and brought his mouth to her core. He first breathed in the aromatic scent of her, which drove her wild with desire, then he lowered his lips to her. At the first touch of his tongue to her clitoris, she nearly screamed, it felt so good. Mulder smiled against her wiry, auburn curls. He loved the way she responded to his touch. Mulder continued to stimulate and pleasure for several minutes, until, to his surprise, she tugged gently on his hair, wanting for him to stop. "What's wrong?" he asked in confusion and concern. "Nothing, darling," she said, pulling him up so she could kiss him. She could taste herself on his lips and it only added more fuel to her fiery lust. "I just want... need... more of you." "Your wish is my command," he whispered and started to lift her up off of the sofa. "Shall we take this to the bedroom?" "Um, actually," she stated shyly, "I... I..." "What is it, honey?" he queried, preparing himself for the possibility that she still wasn't quite ready for this. "I'd like to... on the floor... in front of the fireplace, if you don't mind." He stared at her for a moment. "Kind of... a fantasy of mine," she admitted quietly, looking slightly embarrassed. Mulder's face lit up and he grinned from ear to ear, excited beyond compare that she was comfortable enough to share one of her fantasies with him so soon. "Sounds like a lovely idea, Miss Scully." He carried her over to the area in front of the fireplace- no wonder she had it lit on a warm, spring evening- and carefully set her down, before lying on the floor beside her. The soft aura from the fire made her skin just glow and it danced in her true-blue eyes. "So beautiful," Mulder murmured, caressing her soft skin with tender hands, as he hovered over her. She gazed up at him with pure love in her eyes. He could sense some unease, but he knew her well enough to realize that she was still worried about not being able to please him, an irrational fear harbored from having been in two bad relationships in a row during her young life. He knew that she trusted him completely, that she would never fear or doubt him. It would be his fervent mission tonight to make her realize that she was desirable and not frigid in the slightest. Well, that and to get her off. He remembered her telling him that she had not only been a disappointment to her last lovers, but also that she had never been satisfied by a sexual partner before... until him. A sudden thought occurred to Mulder. One that he didn't really want to bring up for fear of spoiling the mood, but it was something he knew, as a responsible lover, he needed to say. "Uh, Dana?" he whispered, his voice sweet and sensual, trying to keep the atmosphere romantic. He rested his hand upon her breast, giving it a light squeeze. She groaned in appreciation. "Yes, love?" "Uhhh..." he paused a moment, trying to figure out how to put it. When he glanced down at her, he noticed her confusion. Knowing it could quickly turn to panic or uncertainty, he blurted, "Birth control?" "S'okay, got it covered," she promised. "On the pill?" "Yeah, basically ever since our first date," she confided, smiling, and it touched him as much as it turned him on. "You always knew, too?" he asked, sliding down to lay on top of her, resting his weight in the cradle of her thighs. He was met with another grin, this one rather shy. She reached up to caress his face. "Let's just say I had a feeling about you, and was really, really hoping..." "Oh, Scully," he sighed dreamily, and he kissed her tenderly. All the while, she could feel his burgeoning erection pressing against her abdomen. "God, Mulder," she exclaimed with urgency, "I need you NOW!" "Oh, Dana, I need you, too," he cried, equally urgent. Slowly, gently, he entered her, taking his time, not wanting to hurt her or rush anything. To his relief, he slid quite easily into her tight, wet warmth. "Oh, my God, Scully!" he panted in ecstasy. "You feel so damn good!" "You, too," she sighed into his shoulder. "Mulder, I can't believe this! We- we fit so well together." "Yes, we do," he agreed. "Like we were made for each other." "Soul mates..." "Destined..." "Meant to be..." "Lovers for all time," he avowed. He could recall having this exact conversation once in one of his dreams about her. "You ready?" he asked, stroking back her hair out of her eyes. "So ready," she told him. "Mulder, I love you." "Love you," he replied, then began to move inside of her. Already so stimulated from their earlier foreplay and just from the excitement of the moment, Mulder had the feeling they weren't going to last very long. Each stroke he made within her was sweet agony to him now, so close to succumbing to the void he was already. But he held back for as long as possible, wanting to give her the chance to catch up to where he already was, just dangling over the edge of surrender. He kept his strokes deliberately slow and precise, paying attention to her reactions over each move he made, and seeing what she responded to best. And he loved the way she was responding to him now. She was either moaning his name, or whispering sweet nothings into his ear, or kissing his face and chest, or gripping his back and shoulders, or wrapping her legs around his waist, or- better yet, all of the above! It was turning him on more than he'd ever been before, and he had the fleeting thought of how anyone as hot and exciting as Scully could be classified as frigid or unable to please a lover. It didn't make any sense to him. As she bit down on his earlobe and his name came pouring out from her luscious lips, like a fine wine, that little fleeting thought flew out the window, never to be heard from again. Once she was on the verge, and she started thrusting frantically against him, needing more and more friction, Mulder finally gave himself permission to let go as well, and their bodies came crashing together in a passionate frenzy of movement, sound and ecstasy. Just as his dream lover had, Scully called him, "Fox!" at the pinnacle of her climax, which caused him to shoot fireworks inside of her, sobbing her name as they panted heavily, clinging tightly to each other. Their afterglow was spent lying in front of the fireplace, speaking drowsy words of love and contentment, with plenty of kisses and happy sighs. After only a matter of minutes, both had fallen asleep on the floor in front of the waning fire glow. * * * Twenty minutes later, Scully awoke with a gasp and sat up, pulling out of her lover's arms, waking him up in the process. "Uh-oh!" Mulder, still sated and feeling groggy, rubbed at his eyes. "What's wrong?" "Dinner! Shit, I forgot all about it! I hope it's not ruined!" "I'm sure it's fine," he yawned, as she got up and hustled, naked as the day, into the kitchen. He chuckled as he watched her little bottom disappear through the doorway. Standing up, he stretched and searched for his boxers, which he found and flung over his shoulder. Then he ventured back into the bathroom, relieving himself and cleaning up a little, before slipping his boxers back on. He couldn't believe it, as he stared at himself in the mirror while washing his hands. He and Scully had finally taken the plunge, gone all the way, rocked the Casbah- he went through a dozen other cliches that basically meant they had made love. He looked closely at his goofily smiling reflection. Even through his stubble and the shit eating grin he could see it- the post-coital glow that no other woman had ever put on his face before. "Wow!" he said out loud, and he meant it. His smile grew even wider and it was beginning to hurt his face, although he would not have been able to stop if he tried. So he didn't even bother to, and, clad in only his underwear, he floated on a cloud back into the dining area, where Scully's delicious dinner- as well as her delicious self- awaited him. Sitting down at the table without bothering to put any other clothing on, Mulder saw that it was already set with place mats, plates and bowls, utensils and long-tapered candles that had been just lit. Everything looked lovely and romantic, and he sighed happily, hoping this feeling would last forever. As long as Scully was his, he was sure it would. A moment later, Scully appeared around the corner, this time wearing his office shirt from today. He grinned like a fox. It looked a lot better on her. She carried with her a tray of food- a steak that was large enough to feed them both, surrounded by baked potatoes and vegetables. Everything smelled delicious! She set the tray down in the center of the table, and they dug in immediately. "Making love sure gets me hungry," he told her with a wink, as he piled more food onto his plate. "Especially hot, steamy love making. Mmm, mmm..." She laughed. "Oh, I totally agree." And she retrieved some more veggies for herself. They ate in companionable silence, pausing once in awhile to smile dreamily at the other. Though he didn't mention it, Mulder could plainly see that same glow of love and satisfaction adorning her own lovely face. He hoped she noticed it on him, too. Without coming right out and saying it- because he didn't want to embarrass her at all- he wanted her to realize that not only had she been satisfied by a partner, but that she had satisfied him as well. "Scully," he murmured through a mouthful of food. "Yes?" "I love you," he told her, unable to hold back. Though they weren't married- yet!- this was as close to his dream fantasy as he had ever been. If he had been asked a year ago if he thought he could ever truly be happy with his life, he would have said no. But here he was, sitting across from the most important person in the world to him, eating a fantastic dinner that she made for him. He was almost done with the VCS, ready to begin a new chapter in his career, his beautiful significant other by his side. He was in love, so deeply in love, contemplating marriage and possibly even children. He was... dare he say it? Happy! He was so, so happy! Hearing her reply of, "I love you, too, Mulder," was music to his ears. They simultaneously reached across the table to take each other's hands. "You done?" she asked, gesturing to his empty plate. "Oh, the night is young, my lovely. I have more amorous plans for you later. Maybe indulge in one of my fantasies." He winked at her. Scully blushed. "I meant if you were done with your dinner." "Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks for the fantastic meal, beautiful. I loved it." "You're very welcome, handsome," she replied in kind and reached for the plates. "No," Mulder put a hand over hers. "Let me. You cooked. I'll clean." "Sounds good to me, thanks," she said, beaming at him. "But I can help. I'll keep you company." "Sounds heavenly," he agreed and they both began clearing away the dishes from the table and taking them back to the kitchen. Mulder rinsed off the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher, while Scully put their leftovers into the fridge. "So, what are we doing later, Mulder?" Scully asked with a shy smile on her still glowing face. "What's this fantasy of yours?" "Oh, I'll have to think about that," he teased her. "I mean, I have a lot of fantasies and they all involve a certain passionate, fiery, red-haired sex goddess, but I need to decide which one to go with first..." Scully blushed harder than he'd ever seen her, over his assessment of her. "Jesus, Mulder, do you know how turned on I am right now over what you just said?" "I don't know, let's see..." he said playfully, reaching under the shirt she was wearing and copping a feel through her wiry curls and making her nearly squeal. "Mulder!" she cried out in shock and embarrassment. He could feel the fresh wetness on his fingers. He brought his hand up to his face, sniffing then tasting his fingers. "Ah, dessert," he growled seductively at her. Flabbergasted as she may have been, Scully was also very much aroused by his actions. "No, Mulder, the dessert comes later tonight... in our bed." It was now Mulder's turn to be flabbergasted. If he could recall correctly, and he always could, that was the first real time she had referred to it as "our bed". An old childhood saying flew through his addled brain. "First comes love, then comes marriage..." "I am so there, my love," he promised. "You'd better be," she retorted in a flirty tone, before turning more serious. "So, uh, what are you going to do about Patterson?" "Aw, shit, Dana, did you have to bring him up? I was having such a nice time, too!" "Sorry, Mulder," she apologized, shutting the fridge and coming over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I don't mean to be a drag. I just didn't want you to completely forget about the re-write." He looked ticked off, although not at her. He turned to kiss her once. "I don't think I should have to re-write my profile. You read it, Scully. Do you think it was shit?" "Of course not," she assured him. "I personally think it was spot-on accurate. But honey, it's not my call. Patterson is your superior- well, your boss, anyway..." and he smiled at her. "But he basically ordered you to do it." "So? What if I don't?" he replied in a challenging tone. Her answer resonated Jerry's earlier warning. "You could jeopardize your job, your career... the X-Files. I thought that was important to you, Mulder." "It is, the most important- except for you, Scully." She kissed his bare shoulder. "Then why risk it? Look Mulder, we both know the truth- that your profile is right. So, go ahead and re-write it. But keep your original profile, too, and later, after you catch this monster, you can just rub it in Patterson's face when he sees which profile actually fit the killer." Mulder took hold of her, lifted her up into his arms and he kissed her as he squeezed her tight. "Thanks, beautiful. I love you, too." He set her back on her feet, but not before giving her bare bottom a playful squeeze, which made her squeak in surprise. He laughed appreciatively, then sighed in resignation. "What are you going to do, Mulder?" she asked as he retrieved a pen and a tablet of paper from the junk drawer under the microwave and sat down heavily at the kitchen table. "Gonna re-write the damn profile, make it read so cookie cutter that anyone could look like a suspect, even Patterson himself! Then I'm going to take my woman to bed and make her scream in ecstasy!" Scully's stunned expression made Mulder smile. He was surprised to hear her say, "Well, don't just sit there, Mulder. Write!" His eyes smoldered at her. She was as anxious to hit the mattress as he was! This truly was a match made in heaven... * * * Thursday A. D. Patterson's office 8:35 a. m. Mulder found himself, the next morning, standing in the exact same place as he had the day before. This time though, he could have cared less what his boss thought of his profile, and this time, he seemed to be wearing a smile he could not wipe off his face if he tried. He could tell that it unnerved Patterson, for as much as it seemed to amuse his partner, Agent Lamana. Patterson was reading the profile, glanced up to see Mulder's face smiling blankly at the far wall. He frowned. This was a far cry from the man who'd tried to leap over his desk and beat the shit out of him the evening before. Mulder was such a fucked up asshole! Jerry edged closer, hoping that Patterson either couldn't hear him whispering, or that he would be too engrossed in the profile to notice. "So, uh, you sure look like a happy man, Mulder." "I am happy, Jer," Mulder had to agree, his smile growing wider. "I can see that," the older man teased. "You and Dana do a little something last night?" "How about three little somethings," Mulder corrected his friend, sighing dreamily at the recollection of bringing his beautiful lover to orgasm three times. He felt a stirring down below that it took a lot of will power to suppress just thinking about it. "Damn, she must be good," Jerry smirked, giving his friend's back a quick pat. "You have no idea!" The two men shared a knowing smile when Patterson cleared his throat and they both looked to see that he was staring at them through a nasty glare. "You done discussing your sex life, Agent Mulder?" "Yes, sir, for now," Mulder stated, still wearing a hint of that afterglow smile he could not shake. "Did you finish reading my profile, sir?" "Yeah, I did," Patterson told him, looking even angrier at Mulder's sudden happy-go-lucky attitude. "And it sucks! It's almost as bad as the first one! I mean, it's so fucking vague that it reads like anyone could be the killer. Even-" "You, sir?" Mulder interrupted innocently. "That's enough, Mulder!" "Sorry, sir." "Just... just get in touch with the police. We need to work together with them and get this asshole caught soon. He's not as high profile as your last big case, but this guy is even more violent. Assemble a team." "How about Stiles, sir?" "Sure, whatever. You should include Rikers and Thompson, too." "I don't think they'll be necessary, sir..." "I want them assigned," the A. D. informed him in no uncertain terms. "Sure," Lamana spoke up, anxious to appease Patterson, get the hell out of his office and get the details about Mulder's special glow this morning. He'd have to go check in pathology as well sometime today. If Mulder was glowing this much, he was sure Scully would be twice as shiny. The thought made him chuckle. "We'll get right on that, sir." "I'll need a pathologist on call," Mulder said. "I know we haven't come across any bodies, and hopefully we won't, but I'd like her there, ready to assist as needed." "Fine," Patterson said, his lips turning upward into a Grinch like smile. "Why don't you have Dr. Cindy Moran report to you directly, Agent Mulder." Though the glow remained, the smile definitely left his face. Mulder shot daggers with his eyes at his boss. "But, Scully, I mean, she's the best down there, and I want-" "Yes, we all know what you want, Mulder," Patterson snickered nastily. "But what I don't want is to have you dickin' around in pathology all the time, trying to get some on company time while there is a vicious killer on the loose!" "Sir, I wouldn't do that!" Mulder protested, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "I know you won't," Patterson told him. "Because Dr. Moran will be your pathology attendant." His grin grew wider. He had him now. He wanted Mulder's last case with him to be hellish. He hated this man and if he could make his life any harder, he would. He knew being separated from his lady fair down in the morgue would piss him off. And that would make Patterson very happy, indeed. Taking a deep breath, Mulder forced himself to cool down. He glanced once at Jerry and motioned for him to follow, and they headed for the door. "Fine, sir," Mulder agreed. "Dr. Moran will assist as the pathologist." "That's right," Patterson said with satisfaction. "Good idea, sir. I'll just have Dr. Mandoon loan Scully out to the VCS for stakeout duty with me. She needs more practice in the field anyway." They left before Patterson had the chance to say anything. Patterson's ears began to toot with steam. "Fuckin' Mulder!" he roared. * * * Once outside of Patterson's office, Mulder's smile came back with full wattage and Jerry was guffawing out loud. He slapped Mulder on the back. "Damn, that was cool, Mulder!" "That's just my way," Mulder said with a shrug. "I'm proud of you, too, bro, for not losing your temper." "Eh, what's the point? In a month I'll be done with the dumb ass forever, right? Why fuss over it?" "Spoken like a true pathologist," Jerry cracked. "Sounds like Little Miss Sunshine is a good influence on you." "That's putting it mildly, Jer," Mulder replied, heading to the elevator and stepping inside. Jerry followed. "Where we headed?" "Morgue, of course. Got to break it to Mandoon that I'm in need of two of his pathologists for this case." The elevator doors closed. They were alone. Jerry faced his friend. "All right, man, give!" "Give what?" "What the hell did you two do last night to put that smile on your face?" Mulder chuckled. "Why you gotta know?" "'Cause I'd like to share it with my wife. Maybe get that same smile on my face!" "Sorry, Jer. My love life is mine and Dana's. I don't like sharing." "What the fuck?" Jerry exclaimed in surprise. "That doesn't sound like the Mulder who used to tell me every little thing Dana did to you in your dreams!" Looking a little guilty, Mulder explained. "Well, that was before. I mean, I didn't even really know it was Dana at the time. But it's all for real now. It's sacred to me. She's sacred to me." "Wow, Mulder, when the hell did you grow up?" Lamana said. "Whoa, who said anything about growing up?" Mulder joked. "I just want to keep my love life private, with just my love. I'd never want to hurt her, or betray her." "Like I'd ever say anything." "Oh, I know you wouldn't, Jerry, but if someone happens to overhear, well, you know how people gossip around here." "Yeah, it's pretty pathetic." The elevator doors opened, and the two men headed down the hall towards Mandoon's work area. "So, uh, can't you even give me a little hint?" Jerry begged. Mulder smirked. "What's your favorite number, Jer?" he asked. "Sixty-nine," Lamana replied automatically. "Ours, too," Mulder said with a wink, leaving Jerry with a big grin on his face. They talked to Mandoon, who balked at assigning "Candy Moron" to such an important case, but gladly signed Dana off for some time with the VCS. They even talked Rick into telling Cindy, so they wouldn't have to deal with her right away. Instead, they ventured down the hall to Scully's small office. Scully was reading over a case file, sitting at her desk, when her unexpected guests arrived. Just as Lamana suspected, Dana wore a smile even bigger than Mulder's. And yep; she was twice as shiny! She absolutely beamed when she saw Mulder walking through her doorway, and neither man could deny the radiance she put forth. "Hi," she said, wanting nothing more than to take her significant other into her arms, but felt a little shy having Agent Lamana there with them. "Guys... what's up?" She stood, and Mulder was there next to her in an instant. He seemed to hold no qualms about being shy in front of anyone, and Jerry watched as the tall, lanky Mulder bent forward to press his lips passionately against hers. Lamana couldn't help but notice just how substantial the height difference between the two lovers actually was. He scratched his chin, trying to figure out just how they managed simultaneous oral sex. "Hey, Jerry," Dana said, when Mulder finally released her. She smiled fondly at him. Lamana seemed preoccupied. "Huh? Oh, hey..." "What's going on, Mulder? Did you give Patterson your re-write?" She smiled knowingly. "You better believe it, Scully. He hated it." "Well, good," she said, delighting in the thought of Mulder pissing off Patterson yet again. "And I take it you're down here making assignments." "Yep." "Have you talked to Rick yet? I'm sure it's just a formality, but I'll just need to check in with him, so I can be your pathologist." "Already talked to him, honey," he told her, purposely ignoring watching Jerry doing calculations of height ratios in his head. "Everything's set... except, well, you won't be the pathologist." "What? Why not?" Scully looked unhappy. "Don't worry. Patterson made me assign Candy Moron as the pathologist on this case." "And you don't want me to worry?" she asked. "But why did he do that?" "Dana, how tall are you?" Jerry blurted. "Uh, five foot two..." "To be an asshole, Scully, same as always," Mulder explained, offering Lamana a glare. "So... we won't even get to be together- eh, work together?" she asked, her smile fading away into sadness. "It's not like that," Mulder promised. "When he made me assign Cindy as the pathologist on the case, I went ahead and told him that I'd assign you to stake out duty with me!" The smile was back, brighter than ever. "Really?" "Really!" he said, taking her hands in his. "And guess who I'd like to ride with me in my car?" "We need to get started!" Scully announced with an ear to ear grin, eager to get through the last VCS assignment Mulder would probably ever have to solve. "Yeah, let's head upstairs and call a meeting." The three agents started for the elevators again, anxious to avoid Dr. Moran, until she could catch up to them for the meeting. "Hey Mulder," Jerry was saying, "How tall are you again?" "Forget it, Jerry," Mulder hissed in annoyance. While the elevator made its slow trek back upstairs, Jerry grabbed Mulder's arm and whispered to him, trying not to attract Scully's attention. "So, uh, I mean, she's so short. How the hell did you guys...?" "Where there's a will, there's a way, Jer," Mulder informed him, tapping his skull with a finger. "Now, shut up about it!" * * * The meeting went as well as could be expected. At first Rikers and Thompson flirted shamelessly with Candy, who, while she enjoyed the attention, didn't find either of them to be desirable prospects, so nothing came of it. Stiles enjoyed visiting with Dana, and wasn't surprised to learn how close she and Mulder had become. The local P. D. arrived right on time, and remained quiet and respectful while Mulder and Lamana took turns explaining the details of the case. Everyone turned silent and solemn when they saw the crime scene photos of the victims. It was more gruesome and animalistic than anything any of them had ever seen. Not even Thompson dared to make a joke, so intense the violence captured in the pictures these crimes were. Mulder passed out both of his profiles to each member of his team. A few of them looked on in confusion. Scully smiled encouragingly at him, and he explained. "You guys might be wondering why there are two profiles here. The first one I wrote myself after reading over the case file on this monster, and conferring with the best pathologist Quantico has to offer..." He stared pointedly at Scully, and everyone else acknowledged his praise of her, especially Dr. Moran, who appeared livid, and a little embarrassed. "Who wrote the second one?" Detective Jordan- once again assigned to a difficult case and once again working with Agent Mulder- inquired. "Uh, I did," Mulder admitted. "So, which one is right?" Thompson muttered, smiling in a big brotherly way to Scully, who rolled her eyes at him, before he continued leering at Cindy. "Well, uh..." Mulder stammered, unsure of how to answer. "The first one is the profile we need to follow, folks," Lamana put in, receiving grateful looks from both Mulder and Scully. He grinned. He may have been an ass kisser when his boss was around, but there was no way in hell that he'd ever doubt one of Mulder's profiles. The man was never wrong. "Let me guess," Stiles said, holding up the second profile and waving it into the air. "Patterson." "Yep." He wadded up the paper and threw it at the wastebasket across the room. He made it. "Two points!" he shouted in triumph. Everyone smiled at him. Rikers tore a bite out of his useless paper, chewed it up and spit it at Stiles. It hit him in the side of the face. "Hey!" Stiles protested. "Two points!" Rikers beamed, turning to wink at Cindy, who smiled obligingly at him. Thompson laughed out loud. Everyone else just groaned. "You guys at the FBI sure know how to get the job done," Detective Jordan sighed in resignation. "Anyway," Mulder went on, trying to get his restless group back on track, "I think a stakeout operation is the way to go. We've got a pretty small area to canvass in those woods, so if we have teams strategically placed near each of the crime scenes, I'm hoping we'll run into this fucker before he butchers another hapless victim." "Question," Stiles asked, raising his hand like a schoolboy. "Has the killer ever killed in the same place twice?" "Not in the exact area, no," Mulder informed him, "but he seems to like staying within the same vicinity. It's an area in the woods, possibly a mile and a half in diameter." "Lives nearby, I'll bet," Thompson gathered. "Duh, Kelly," Rikers chided him. "That was in the profile!" "Was it?" Thompson asked. "Oh. Well, I knew I heard it somewhere." A couple of them snickered or groaned at him. He looked to Cindy for approval, just as his partner had, but she was busy examining her nails. "Stakeout teams?" Detective Jordan asked. "How many can you spare, sir?" Mulder asked. "We can do round-the-clock with maybe six teams." "Good. That'll help. We've got three here, plus a pathologist on stand-by, should the unfortunate need arise." Cindy Moran sneered at him, taking it as an insult. "Then let's map out the stakeout locations and get organized. Since he seems to strike every month on the full moon, we don't have much time." The group nodded to each other, then met with Jerry Lamana at the far end of the table for the proper assignments. A very bored Dr. Moran sighed and left the room, heading back down to pathology. Mulder was about to sidle up next to Scully, but he suddenly found himself faced with Detective Jordan, who held out his hand to him. Mulder shook it. "Agent Mulder, nice to see you again, although I wish it were under better circumstances." The younger man smiled. "Thank you, Detective. Good to see you, too. I'm glad you were able to join us here during this difficult case." "Heard you requested me." "Yes, I sure did," Mulder confirmed. "I thought we all worked so well together on the Jefferies case, so I figured assembling the same team would be to our advantage in catching this monster." "I hear ya," Jordan nodded pleasantly. He glanced over at Dana Scully, who was currently getting her ear talked off by Rikers and Thompson. They appeared to have her cornered. Mulder noticed this, too, and he felt his hackles rise. Were they actually harassing her again? Couldn't they just leave her the hell alone? Jordan noticed Mulder staring at her. He smiled. "You and the missus seem a little more... relaxed around each other. Get everything worked out?" "Yes, sir," Mulder assured him, smiling. He liked Scully being thought of as his missus. He needed to come up with a plan to actually make her his missus soon. The very idea warmed his heart. "Good to hear. She's a tough little thing. Glad to see her back on our team, as well." "Me, too," Mulder agreed. "You're... not still wanting to protect her so much though... are ya?" Jordan asked carefully, remembering the friction between the two of them during the last case they had all worked together on. "Actually, she looks after me now," Mulder joked and both men chuckled. "Yep," Jordan chuckled. "Women can be fierce protectors. I don't know who it was that said women are the weaker sex, but it sure wasn't me." He paused in reflection before adding, "Well, I'll be in touch, Mulder. I'm going to get coordinates from Agent Lamana now, then head out." They shook hands again, and Mulder bid him farewell. Mulder then made a beeline to Scully. By this time, Rikers had joined Lamana and the others at the table, Thompson was still jawing at Scully. Mulder narrowed his eyes, as he came closer. "All right, short stuff, watch yourself out there," he heard Thompson say, and watched as the man playfully cuffed Scully's ear. "You, too, Thom," Scully replied, smiling at him. Thompson approached Mulder, stopped before him. "She's a good kid," he said, motioning over to Scully. "I know," Mulder replied, unsure of Thompson's purpose. "Don't let her get hurt." "I won't." Thompson started to walk away, but stopped and turned back once more to face Mulder. "And... don't you ever hurt her, okay?" This surprised the hell out of Mulder. "Uh... I won't." "I mean it, Mulder," Thompson said in a warning tone. "If you do, I'll kick your pansy ass in. Then I'll marry her myself." With that he ventured off to join his partner. Mulder stood there, stunned. Scully approached him, put her hand on his arm. "Mulder, you okay?" "Uh, yeah," he stammered, then glanced down at her, beaming with pride. "Congratulations, my love," he said. "Huh?" "You've just been officially accepted into the boy's club." He put his arm around her. "Thompson?" she asked knowingly. "Yeah." "He seems to have developed an appreciation for me ever since I helped out on the Jefferies case." "You didn't just help out, Scully. You cracked the case and caught the perp." "Well, apparently, Thompson's admiration for me has only grown," she surmised, at a loss. "Why, I couldn't say." "What's there not to admire?" he told her, reaching down to squeeze her hand. "You ready to go back out there? Face the bad guys?" "You know it," she affirmed. He smiled appreciatively. "Yeah, I know it. And heaven help the psycho who comes up against you. But, uh, just in case, I'll be your partner out in the field. I'm on your back, Scully." He moved his hand up to her shoulder, where he caressed it. "And here I thought you preferred my front, Agent Mulder," she teased him. She, too, started over to Jerry for her assignment. "Oh, Scully," Mulder called after her, grinning like a fox, "I love all your fine sides." * * * The next month was spent doing many a stakeout for the nine teams. Every day, they waited and watched. Every night was more of the same. Nothing ever happened. Dr. Cindy Moran stayed in pathology, went about her business as normal, since there were no new bodies to examine. She had read the case files, had cringed along with everyone else over the photographs of the murders. But that was all she could do. Well, that and glare at Mulder and Scully whenever they walked by. She still hated the both of them, and she always would. Mulder himself had the unfortunate task of having to report to A. D. Patterson every week, working day and night, but having nothing to show for it. During the first few days, both the police department and the FBI had re-interviewed everyone that lived in the wooded area near the crime scenes. As was expected, no one ever really heard much of anything, although during the latest murder, one neighbor, the one closest to the actual site, mentioned that he'd heard what he believed to be a dog baying at the moon. That seemed to provide them with nothing. There was one lead, but it seemed weak at best. There was a man living in the biggest house out in the Maryland woods. He was a young guy, coming from old money. His name was Carl McKenna. He was single, and according to the neighbors that knew of him at all, he was quite the party man, often seen with a different woman every night. He was basically a playboy with a steady income of his parents' inheritance. He was also gone a lot, and he was out of town that entire first month of their investigation, so no one was able to speak with him. Having no solid leads within a month was rare for Mulder and it frustrated him to no end, not to mention, getting chewed out by Patterson every Friday during his weekly progress meetings. He ended up extending his stay in the VCS, determined to solve this case as his one, last hurrah before joining his new partner on the X-Files. He found solace in the arms of his beautiful Scully every night at home. They made love whenever they had the chance, and he slept with his arms wrapped around her waist and his head resting against her chest every night. While some would assume the pair were merely going through their "honeymoon phase", Mulder knew that it went deeper than that. He had finally found his home, his place in life. He had already informed his landlord that he would not be renewing the lease on his apartment and was taking his time moving his stuff into Scully's place- no, into their place. It was home to both of them now. While Mulder remained focused at work, he was surprised and happier than he'd ever been during such a heinous case. Scully kept him grounded; she made sure that he slept and ate, and was always there when he needed to confer about the difficult assignment. He bounced theories off of her brilliant mind, knowing that no one understood him better, and really, no one else was smart enough to match wits with him as she was. They visited the Lone Gunmen a few times, got the latest dirt on John F. Kennedy's assassin, and governmental tracking devices hidden away in money. Every Sunday, they had dinner at her parents' house, enjoying a home cooked meal that neither had to prepare, and relishing the normalcy of life in the Scully household. Mulder had even introduced Scully to his mother. Teena Mulder, not the warmest woman in the world, had surprised her son by taking to Dana right away. Mulder had plans to introduce his beloved to his estranged father during the next few months. He wanted Scully to know his family ties, even if it was painful. He wanted her to know all about him, all of his secrets, all his shames, and all his triumphs. So busy was he all day and all night, working the case, or enjoying his woman in the most intimate of ways, he barely had the time to dream, much less remember them. It occurred to him one night, when he actually did have a dream with Dana in it. His dream lover, Dana. In it, they had made love in the shower, and she then asked them when they would ever get married. He woke up confused, then reassured himself by waking up Scully and asking her to take a shower with him. She was tired and a little confused, but she agreed. She wanted to keep him happy and keep the darkness at bay. In the few times she had worked with him before their involvement, she had seen, first hand, how affected Mulder could become by the cases that consumed him. She felt it was her job to make sure he kept work and home life separate, that he stay focused on the job, but that he didn't lose himself in the work. She thought this job to be as important to her as joining him on the stakeouts. Everyone that knew Mulder, and worked with him certainly appreciated her efforts. They remembered how obsessed and impossible to work with Mulder used to be when he was faced with such an evil and elusive adversary. This time around, he was a lot easier to deal with. The big difference this time was that everywhere he went, his beautiful partner was there beside him, a gentle, guiding source of light and inspiration. She, in turn, also became a beacon of hope for the rest of them. Had she known she was thought of in this way, as sort of the patron Saint Scully of the VCS, she would have balked... or laughed her ass off, but Mulder would have agreed with the assessment. Still, the killer kept a low profile, never veering his ugly head while Mulder pursued him. The wooded area that was his stomping grounds were so riddled with tire tracks and foot prints- all belonging to the police and the FBI- one wouldn't be surprised to find him too spooked to return. Two days before Mulder and Scully were scheduled for the late night shift on a stakeout, they seemingly got a break when the elusive neighbor, Mr. Carl McKenna returned from a month long cruise to the Bahamas. He had answered the door in Bermuda shorts, flip flops and a bare chest, which was impeccably ripped, of course. He was tan, blond, not as tall or lanky as Mulder, but stocky and muscular. He narrowed his eyes at Mulder as he let the team inside for an interview, although he wasn't shy about staring appreciatively at Agent Scully's attributes. Mulder looked about ready to tackle him. Scully sensed this in the nick of time and stepped in between the two men, putting a reassuring hand on Mulder's arm. "Thank you for letting us in, Mr. McKenna," Dana said cordially, but with an air of professionalism and no warmth whatsoever. "We'll try not to take up much of your time." "Ah, it's no sweat, Agent Scully," he told her, staring down at her chest. He didn't even bother to look at her face, which he thought was cute enough. He looked her over, wondering how long it would take to get her into bed with him. She looked like she might be fun to play with for awhile. Mulder, being a man and knowing what evil lurks in the heart of them, knew exactly what the nasty, little weasel was contemplating. He wanted to pick up the asshole and toss him through the big stained window in the large entryway of his house. He tried to suppress it, but his inner caveman was itching to come out and play... with McKenna's head. Scully rolled her eyes at the playboy's lack of respect and nasty thoughts. She may not have been a man herself, but she, too, knew the kind of shit they talked about. She worked in the FBI. There were three men's rooms for every ladies' room, and one couldn't help but pass one by no matter where one was headed. She'd overheard enough bull puckey to write a thousand and one bad pornos. Glancing at Mulder and only seeing an inarticulate Neanderthal, Scully sighed, and decided to start the interview herself. "So, Mr. McKenna..." "Please, call me Carl," he told her, his green eyes sending signals of days on a yacht filled with sun and fun and nights bouncing up and down on that fabulous bed in his own private cabin. She gritted her teeth to keep from losing her temper. "Well... sir, there have been some vicious crimes committed in your neighborhood recently and we've been interviewing all of your neighbors about it, to see if anyone heard or saw anything unusual or suspicious. Of course, you were out of town all month and-" "In Paris," he told her with a meaningful glance, "the city of... love." He let the last word pour seductively out of his full, luscious lips, and through his perfectly capped teeth. "How nice for you," Scully replied, trying to remain professional and wishing that Mulder would just grow up and help her out with this sleaze ball. She didn't even like talking to him. "Yes, it was," he agreed with a flirtatious smile. "It's a beautiful place. I'd love to show you sometime." "Uh, it's a little too expensive for me," she told him, thinking that would be the end of it. She glanced over at her beloved, who was currently turning into the Incredible Hulk, his neck muscles were bulging so much. Scully rolled her eyes. Come on, Mulder! Wake up, already! "I wouldn't mind paying your way," he told her suavely. "I'd love for you to join me... as a... friend." "I'll bet," she muttered under her breath. "Actually, Mr. McKenna, I'd really like to get back to the matter we came here for, and-" "No, call me Carl," he insisted again. "Okay, Carl," Mulder finally spoke up, looking like a threatened alpha male. Scully cringed. This was not going to end well at all. "Why don't we start with where you were on the night of January, 23rd of this year?" McKenna looked taken aback. He chuckled nervously and directed his query to Scully. "Am I being accused of something here? I thought you were just going to ask me about some disturbance in the neighborhood." "Just answer the question, Carl," Mulder hissed at him. The young man shrugged. "How the hell should I know? I'm a busy guy. I'm hardly ever even home! I was probably out somewhere, out of town, maybe, or just off visiting a... friend." And he winked at Scully. She couldn't stop herself from saying, "Ugh," out loud. McKenna looked surprised. He'd never been rejected before. His demeanor changed in an instant. "Look, Miss Scully," he began. "Please," she told him, in a mocking tone, "call me Agent." He blew her off. "Yeah, whatever. I don't really even remember where I was that night, okay? But I didn't do anything! In case you haven't noticed, I live in a big, damn house. I've got money, cars, women. Whatever the hell I want. So there's no need for me to commit whatever crime you seem to want to pin on me!" "And what crime would that be, Carl?" Mulder challenged him. "I don't even know!" McKenna shouted, becoming angry. "Look, I have friends coming over in a little while, and I think this interview needs to end now." He purposely walked over to the door, opened it and gestured for the two agents to get the hell out. "Good day," he said, a polite remnant left over from his privileged upbringing, no doubt. Scully exchanged a glance with Mulder. She was still so new to this interviewing process. Should they demand to stay? Should they leave without incident? She watched her partner for a signal. He walked over to the door and she followed suit. Mulder stopped in front of the young, insolent man and said, "We'll be in touch." He offered a snide smile, as he wrapped his arm around Scully's shoulder and said, "Come on, Dana." Looking back, he could see McKenna's face grow red with anger, and then he slammed the door shut. Scully shook her head at him. "Dammit, Mulder, that was childish of you." "What?" he asked innocently. "What'd I do?" "You really want me to answer that?" He shrugged, feigning ignorance. "Honey, you were- you just- argh! Why'd you have to go all caveman on him?" "What do you mean?" "Mulder, so he flirted with me, who cares? You know I would never even entertain the idea of going off with him- or anyone!" "You wouldn't?" he asked like a chastised child. "Of course not," she sighed in annoyance. "I'm yours, you know that. I'll always be yours, Mulder. Please don't ever think you have to doubt my fidelity." "I- I won't. Scully, I'm sorry." She smiled, but he could see that she was still somewhat disappointed at how the interview went. "It's okay. I just wish... well, we didn't really get any information from him at all... well, except that he's a horny, chauvinistic asshole, but that was pretty obvious from the start." They arrived at the car and Mulder kissed her. "I love you, you know that?" "Yeah," she chuckled, "I know that. And I love you. But the fact remains, we're still at square one with this guy, and his is the closest house to most of the crime sce-" "He did it, Scully," he informed her. "He's our killer." "He- what?" she sputtered. "But- but- we hardly talked to him. How do you know?" "They don't call me 'Spooky' Mulder for nothing, sweetheart. He's our guy." She narrowed her eyes and her nose involuntarily twitched. Mulder found it adorable, but he was smart enough not to tell her that. "Wait a minute. This isn't all because he was being so flirty and sleazy with me, is it, Mulder?" "No, not just because of that, Scully. Trust me, my instincts are telling me that McKenna is the one." "But he hasn't even been around, Mulder. You heard him. Gone all month. He probably jet sets all over the place." "Yeah, gone all month and no murders, hmm..." Scully pondered the thought as they both got into the vehicle. "Well, he does fit the profile." "That's right." "But it's hard to believe that such a pretty boy would be capable of such violence," she surmised. He stared at her, his face crestfallen. "You think he's pretty, Scully?" he asked in despair. "No, I said he was a pretty boy." "What's the difference?" "The difference is that McKenna is stuck on himself. I'll bet he has a mirror in every damn room, and it's only so he can check out what he thinks is the hottest body in the house- which in his mind is his own." Mulder laughed. "Ah, I see. A pretty boy." "Yep. I guess we should call and get some surveillance on Mr. McKenna then, right?" "Definitely." "Will it be us?" "Fuck, no!" he exclaimed in disgust. "I don't want to go anywhere near that asshole, and I certainly don't want you to come into contact with him again. He's probably riddled with STD's. I wouldn't be surprised if they're airborne around him." Scully sighed good-naturedly. "Well, if he is the killer, then he practices safe sex, remember?" "Still," he said, "I don't think we should come into contact with him again. I bet even his sleaze is contagious!" "Oh, brother!" Mulder started up the vehicle and headed back for the city. He turned to her as they reached the small, dirt road that would lead them out of the forest. "Hey, Dana?" "Mmm?" "Do- do you think I'm pretty?" Her eyes dancing, Scully stared at him appreciatively. "Oh, pretty doesn't even begin to cover it, darling. You're beautiful... exquisite... and so... damn... hot!" He could feel his appreciation over her answer stirring down south. It made him groan. "Want to make love after dinner tonight?" "How about before dinner?" she suggested. "Yeah," he agreed, reaching over and rubbing his hand up and down her supple thigh. "Better that way. We can work up an appetite." * * * Mulder had the undesirable task of talking to Patterson that Friday, the very night he and Scully were scheduled for stakeout duty. He had to tell him that so far, no criminal activity relating to the case had been reported. He tried to tell Patterson that he believed Mr. Carl McKenna was their lead suspect, but Patterson balked at the idea. Apparently, McKenna's family was old school Washington, and his uncle had connections to the FBI. He demanded that they stop harassing what he termed, "such a fine, young man." After being threatened with firing, Mulder finally had to concede to Patterson's orders and halted all surveillance on Carl McKenna. He did, however, intend to keep up with the stakeouts. Without a bead on McKenna's whereabouts, the stakeouts were the next best thing. He was livid after the meeting and it took Scully's cool hand running through his sweaty hair in his private office to calm him. "God damn that asshole! Patterson doesn't deserve to be an A. D. He's got shit for brains!" "I know, Mulder, I agree," Scully said sweetly, standing beside his desk, and moving her hands down to his shoulders, which were knotted and tense. "I mean, who the fuck is this punk, anyhow?" Mulder demanded to know. "How can some playboy asshole get the FBI to stop tailing him with a simple phone call?" "I don't know, love," she admitted, leaning down to kiss his brow. He pulled her down into his lap, and kissed her full on the mouth. Afterwards, he felt much better. "You know, we could get in big trouble if we get caught doing this, honey," she tried to remind him tactfully. Mulder chuckled. "Scully, everyone sees us kissing all the time and nobody says anything. I doubt they care. Most people I know seem to think we're..." and he paused, laughing at the description, "... cute." "Well, I'm sure we are," she said, "but I don't think Patterson would agree." "Yeah... well, it's kind of hard not to kiss you when I see your beautiful face, Scully." "Thanks. I feel the same about you," she had to agree. "Still, I just don't want us to lose our jobs over it." "I don't think it would come to that," he offered. "If it's Patterson, it very well could," she told him. "He's out to get you, Mulder. Well, out to get us, I'd say." "He's never really even met you, Scully." "If he hurts you, he hurts me." Mulder couldn't help it. He kissed her again. "Love you. I guess we should clock out now, get a little rest before the stakeout tonight." "Right," she agreed, grabbing up her belongings, which she kept in his office now that she was working this case with him and hardly in pathology at all anymore. They left together in the same car and went home. * * * Wooded area in Maryland Government Issue vehicle 11:43 p. m. Sharing a bag of sunflower seeds, Mulder and Scully spent the first hour of their stakeout discussing Carl McKenna, and his apparent guilt. They both were hoping to spot him at any moment, bringing some unwitting victim along with him. But when one hour turned into two, and then into three, both agents were having trouble staying awake, despite the nap they had taken together before reporting to work earlier that evening. Mulder watched his beloved yawn for the countless time. Stifling his own, he asked, "Hey Scully, you bored?" She smiled lovingly at him. "I know where you're going with this, Mulder, and it's not that I don't want to, but I'd hate to get caught with my pants down if McKenna shows up." "Whoa! Sex?" he blurted, feeling his nether regions stiffen. "You thought I was talking about sex? You mean, you want to?" "Isn't that what you were going to suggest?" "Uh, no, although I really like your suggestion better." He waggled his eyebrows at her, reaching for her. Scully chuckled, gently shoving his hands away. "Mulder, I'd love to, but we can't. Not while we're still on the job, anyway. Don't worry..." She checked her watch. "Just a couple more hours to go. So, what was your original idea, Mulder?" "My original idea will always be to make love with you, Dana." She snickered. "Come on, Mulder." "Ah, okay," he acquiesced, squeezing her knee once. "I was just going to propose we play a little game, to keep us awake and alert." "You have a deck of cards?" "Nope." "Did you want to play I Spy?" "Not exactly what I had in mind..." "Well, what then?" "Remember our first date, Scully?" he asked with a sly grin. Scully laughed out loud. "You're kidding. You mean you want to play the gross out game?" "Yeah, why not?" "Um, okay," she agreed, smirking at him and he smirked right back. "You want to make stakes this time, too?" "You bet I do," he told her, grinning devilishly. "What are yours?" His wicked grin caused her to startle. "Well... I was thinking..." "Never a good sign," she cracked. "Ha-ha, smart ass. But, when we start work on the X- Files..." "Yes?" "On that first day..." "Hmm?" "Could we..." "What?" "Just that one time..." "Tell me!" "I want us to do it on top of the desk in our new office," he blurted, feeling a little sheepish. Scully cracked up laughing again. "What?" he asked. "Oh... nothing, Mulder." "So, is it a deal?" he asked hopefully. She thought about it for a moment, wiping the mirth from her eyes. "Eh... sure, Mulder. Whatever you say." "Yes!" he exclaimed, savoring what he felt was a small victory just by getting her to agree with it. She eyed him with amusement and affection. "You know, you haven't won yet, Mulder," she reminded him. "I know, I know. So, what are your stakes, my love?" "Mmm, I think I need some more time to come up with something good." He narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to make me kiss Ricky, or go on a fishing trip with your brother, Bill, are you?" "You never know," she said with a sly grin. "But thanks for the good ideas, though." "Shit..." "Would you like to start the game?" "You can, Scully." "Nah, go ahead." "Is this a trick?" he asked suspiciously. "Of course not, darling," she promised. "I would never trick the man I love." Her beautiful face held a mischievous expression. "Right... okay, fine. I will then. Let's see... re-eating your vomit!" "Hello... regurgitation?" she dismissed him. "If that's all you got, Mulder, then I'm definitely going to win." He scoffed at her. "We'll see about that. Go ahead, hot shot. Play!" "Eating pate' on a cracker that turns out to be crap!" "What kind?" he felt the need to ask. "Uh, cat!" "Huh. I would have went with cow patties, myself." "Just go!" "Being served sewer water." "Being served shitty sewer water." "Copy cat!" Mulder teased. "How about eating moldy food with fur on it?" "Eating a dead animal- full of fur!" Mulder had to admit that put a nasty image into his head, but not enough to concede. He merely smiled. "Someone at a nudist colony farts out juices that hit you right in the face!" "Why would I be at a nudist colony?" Scully asked logically. "And how tall would this person have to be to have an ass at face level with other people?"' "Quit over analyzing and play." "You're about to kiss me, when I accidentally sneeze into your mouth." "Eh, that wouldn't gross me out because it's you." He touched the tip of her nose with his finger and she smiled. "That's sweet, Mulder." "Thanks." "Now, quit stalling and play!" He laughed. * * * Thirty minutes later, under a cloudy, starless sky... "Raisins that are rat turds!" "Jell-O that isn't!" "Vague, too vague." "Puppy crap and jelly sandwiches, then!" Mulder chuckled at her originality. "Dog shit refried beans," he said, just as his cellular phone began to ring. He sighed, forced to momentarily stop the game. Scully watched him as he talked to someone on the other end of the line. From the frown lines etching his brow, she gathered it was Patterson. "Sir," Mulder said, "I'm having trouble hearing you. The signal must be bad out here in this neck of the woods, could you repeat-" There was a pause... "What? Oh. Oh! But sir, this case, it's so important to me! I would really like to... I think this is a big mistake, sir. I said, I think this is..." He sighed, then hung up. "Get cut off?" she asked, noticing the disappointment on his face. "Yeah, but not before hearing the bad news," he sighed sadly. "And what would that be?" she inquired, taking his hand in hers. Grateful for the touch, he gave her slim fingers a light squeeze. "They're calling me in, Scully. Off the case." "For tonight?" "For keeps. Patterson seems to be disappointed in my efforts. He thinks I'm not handling the case the way I should. I think it goes back to my original profile. You know what he thought of that. I guess, in Patterson's mind, I've lost my touch, and he just can't wait to send me off into the sunset." "But that's ridiculous!" she protested angrily. "Mulder, considering how much time and effort the Bureau has already invested in this case- not to mention you, personally..." "And you, Scully," he reminded her. "Well, regardless, Patterson is throwing all your years of service and hard work back in your face treating you this way." He shrugged, trying to make the best of it. Sure, he'd been mad about it, but not as much as Scully, apparently. He actually delighted in the fact that she got pissed off on his behalf. Now, that was love. "Look on the bright side," he tried to soothe her. "At least now we can put the VCS behind us and start working on the X-Files in earnest." "Well, that's true," she agreed, "and I am excited to be working with you full time on the X-Files, but... I still think Patterson did you a great disservice, and he owes you an apology!" "That's never going to happen, Scully." "Well, it should, dammit!" she grumbled, folding her arms angrily across her chest. Her color was blotchy and red- a sign that her Irish was up again. Mulder smiled. "Thanks, Scully. I appreciate your protective instincts towards me. I'd feel the same if someone screwed you over. Hey, let's just finish our game and blow this pop stand. Carl McKenna is officially someone else's problem now." She returned the smile, forcing herself to calm down somewhat. "Oh, that's right. I still need to win this game, don't I?" "Go ahead and try!" he challenged her playfully. "You're at a dirty movie, walking through the row to get to the last seat..." "What?" he asked in surprise. Mulder had been what he would once call "a porn freak", but those days were long gone. He had even given all his movies and magazines away to Frohike a couple of months ago. His eyes went wide, remembering that Dana had helped load the car, carrying the very trash bags and boxes full of the stuff. She must have seen. "Um... I never... I mean..." "Mulder," she said with a knowing look that told him she knew everything. "Well, technically, I don't usually watch those kinds of movies at a theater, but for the sake of this game, I'll humor you," he told her haughtily. "Still, I don't see what's so gross about me walking across a theater... unless I step in something sticky." "No, even better," she said with an extremely wicked smile. "You're passing by some guy. You accidentally step on his foot. You're about to apologize when his spunk squirts you right in the mouth!" Mulder, who had just put a sunflower seed into his mouth, coughed, sputtered and choked on it, nearly gagging from her suggestion. "Jesus fucking Christ, Scully! That's... that's... oh, fuck! That's disgusting! You win, all right. God damn!" She smiled sweetly at him. "As if there were ever any doubt," she replied smugly. "Mmm, I can't wait to claim my prize." "And what will that prize be, pray tell? Me holding your purse at the mall while you try on clothes?" he sighed, although, considering the earlier alternatives he mentioned, this one seemed pretty mild. "Nice idea, Mulder, but no. I have much bigger plans for you." "Oh," he mumbled, slowly steering the car down the narrow, unpaved road. "Great." They drove for several minutes, Mulder trying to get Scully to tell him what her stakes actually were. She steadfastly refused, claiming that she hadn't made up her mind as of yet. Mulder knew she was just yanking his chain. But no matter how much he nagged her, she refused to be baited. Neither of them noticed the large sinkhole to their left on the dirt road. When they hit it, it shook both of the car's occupants, who were thankfully buckled in safely, so they weren't jarred too traumatically. The front left tire, however, was not so lucky. "You okay?" Mulder asked his beloved, reaching for her arm, giving it a squeeze. "I'm okay," she assured him, patting his hand. "You?" "I'm all right. Jesus, that must have been some big ass pothole! How did I not see that?" "Well, we did come in from a different way," she reminded him. "And it's pitch black out here. Plus, you were busy interrogating me." She gave him a smirk. He chose to ignore her last statement. "Yeah, well, I guess I'd better check it out, see the damage," he sighed. She nodded and exited the car along with him. The night was especially dark because of the clouds; they were half covering the full moon. Scully kept a hold of the car to keep her balance in the unfamiliar and darkened surroundings. She grabbed hold of Mulder's arm as she reached him. He had his flashlight out, shining it on the completely blown tire. "Damn," he muttered. "Isn't there a spare in the trunk?" she wondered. "It's a company car, so probably not, but I'll check." He worked his way carefully back to the trunk, opened it, swore loudly, and then slammed the trunk lid down. He worked his way back to her side. "Cheap ass FBI!" "I take it that's a 'no'," Scully surmised. "Of course," he grumbled. Handing her his flashlight, he retrieved his cellular phone, opened it and tried to phone for help, but he got no reception. "Fuck!" "Is it charged?" she asked him, knowing that he often forgot to do so. "Should be. I mean, unless you forgot." He gave her a smirk. "Ha-ha!" she retorted playfully. It was true. She usually did it for him. She checked her own phone and got the same results. "Nope. Just bad reception, probably because of our remote location and the weather." "Shit," he sighed. "Well, I think we'd better leave the love mobile behind and hoof it to the nearest residence..." He realized the nearest would be Carl McKenna's house. "Uh, make that the second nearest residence." She laughed. "Right. Hmm, about a quarter of a mile hike, I guess. Damn, wish I'd worn some hiking boots." "Hold onto me, honey. I won't let you fall." Scully smiled at his chivalrous nature, and took his proffered arm. "I love holding onto you. Thanks, Mulder." He could barely ascertain her beautiful smile in the darkness, but he knew it was there instinctively. "You're very welcome." Mulder sighed. Here he was, nearly blind in the darkness, with a blown tire and the possibility of a crazed killer lurking about. Still, he knew where he was headed, he had his beautiful lover beside him and as soon as the tow truck came to fix their problem, they could go home and sleep in all weekend... and by sleeping in, he meant they wouldn't always be sleeping. The very idea made him grin. "Doing all right?" she asked him, squeezing his arm. "Yeah, okay," he confirmed. "Could be worse, right? I mean, at least it's not raining!" No sooner had the words left his mouth that the heavens opened up and the rain came showering down upon them. Scully just laughed and shook her head. "Dammit! I knew I shouldn't have said anything," he grumbled. "No harm done, Mulder," Scully told him, trying to keep his spirits up. She didn't want him in a sour mood by the time they got home, because she had plans for him in their bed. "Besides," she added seductively, "I thought you liked me when I'm wet." "Jesus Christ!" Mulder exclaimed, as if he'd been stuck by lightning. "Say anything else along those lines, Dana, and I will throw you to the ground and take you right out here in the damn woods!" Scully was as turned on as he was. So she couldn't help it when she blurted out, "Gonna give me some wood out here in the woods, Agent Mulder?" He grew hard in an instant, so fast that it was painful. "That's it!" he cried, halting their pace and grabbing her up for a passionate kiss. "Technically, we're still on the job," she reminded him, although at this point, she couldn't have given a rat's ass. "Fuck work!" he panted into her ear before blowing in it. "Wouldn't you rather fuck me?" she asked demurely. "God, yes!" Mulder lowered Scully to the ground, but he made sure to do so gently and that she wasn't lying on any rocks or pointy twigs before doing so. Their clothing, their hair, their skin was saturated by the rain and became muddy with the moist dirt beneath them. Neither of them cared one little bit. Still kissing her, Mulder reached down to fumble with his belt buckle. He finally got it undone, then unzipped and unbuttoned his trousers. He went from that to ripping open her blouse, causing buttons to fly every which way in into the dark. Instead of trying to reach back and undo her bra, he simply hoisted it up so he had access to her beautiful breasts. From there, he nearly ravaged them, cupping them roughly, licking them, suckling on them. He was burning, on fire, and only the touch of his lover could satisfy this scorching ache. Lying down on top of her, he yanked her pants down and thrusted against her, as he devoured her mouth with his own, groaning in need. "Feel so good, Dana," he hissed against her ear. By this time, she was gripping him firmly about his manhood, pumping it with her doctor hand, moaning with anticipation. "So do you, lover," she told him, licking his neck and Adam's apple. He responded by squeezing her breast harder and then biting down on her shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood, but definitely hard enough to leave a mark. "Jesus, Mulder!" she cried out in surprise. It had hurt a little, but she had to admit she found his newfound animalistic passion to be a turn on, and she loved it. This just urged Mulder onward. He couldn't believe how excited he was right now. He was with the woman he loved, and they were out in the woods, where anyone could happen upon them, including a serial killer. Plus, they were still on duty. He didn't care. In fact, the taboo nature of their coupling was only serving to drive him wilder. He could not believe how he was feeling right now. He had dealt with this case, concerning a man who believes himself to be an animal during sex, so much so that he kills the woman he's with. Had Mulder been involved with this case for too long, or too deeply? Suddenly, he felt that he was a wild animal, preying on his woman's desire. Of course, he knew he would never harm the woman he loved. Scully was sacred to him, she was his everything. But right now, he couldn't help control his passions. He needed this. He needed to be rough. He needed to give in to those passions. He needed to over power her, dominate her... he needed to take her now! In a hormone-induced haze, Mulder slid back down her body, suckling and nipping until he landed, once again, at her creamy breasts, where his rough tongue licked from one to the other. She tried to keep a hold of his member, straining to her limits to pump him, but she ultimately had to let go. She was disappointed, but he was ready to move on anyway. Again surprised by his actions, but unable to stop himself, he bit her on her opposite shoulder. This one nearly did draw blood, and it would most certainly leave a bite impression as well as a bruise. She yelped. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but he did have to mark her. He needed to mark her. She was his, dammit, and he was merely letting her know that fact. He needed her to know; he wanted the whole world to know. "Oh, God, Mulder!" she had cried, and her hands moved up under his shirt, and she raked her nails into his back as hard as she could. He winced, knowing she had ripped into him, knowing that she definitely had drawn blood. It excited him even more. She wanted to mark him, too. It was certainly her right. He was hers, as much as she was his. The pain and the pleasure he was experiencing seemed to go hand in hand at the moment, blurring together in a big swirl of need and desire. It had become one to him right now, and he needed both- needed to give her both- in order to satisfy and to become satisfied. Mulder had never been so beastly with a woman before; he'd never hurt anyone in a sexual manner, never forced himself on anyone, never bitten anyone, at least not hard enough to hurt or leave a mark. But he seemed to realize, even as his body was overtaking the mind and pushing most rational thought to the wayside, that this was always a part of him, always there inside of him, swimming just beneath the surface. But it was a side of him that he had never let anyone see before. This was the first time he felt he could release these out-of-control impulses. He could only reason that- and that's with what little reasoning he had left- he was completely comfortable with and completely in love with Scully. He only hoped she would understand. If he lost her love, then he would probably give into another reckless impulse and kill himself. A wave of tenderness drifted through his frenzy, and he paused long enough to crawl back up Scully's body, and gaze lovingly into her true-blue eyes, which were wide in surprise and arousal. He hovered over, and he could see that she was trembling. So was he, but while his came from unbridled passion, he was not sure of her reasons. He knew that he would always feel reverence over their couplings and that, normally, he would be gentle with her, taking things slow and easy, making sure she was pampered and pleasured all at once. But now he realized that, every once in awhile, he would lose total control, and become the raging beast he was now. He would lose himself to the darker side of his passion. "I love you, Dana," he told her, panting wildly, as he grabbed her arms and held them on either side of her head. He wanted her to be powerless against his need, his fire, if only for awhile. "I love you," he repeated, his hazel eyes now burning green in desire, "and I'm going to take you- right out here in the mud and the rain. I love you and I'm going to overpower you, and mark your beautiful body. I love you and I'm going to hurt you with my passion, and you will be mine!" Her chest heaving in excitement, Scully's labored breathing hitched at every exclamation he made. This was not the tender Mulder she was now accustomed to, but it was still the man she loved. This was a wild, somewhat frightening facet into the deepest regions of his soul, and he was sharing it with her. She welcomed the rough hands upon her tender flesh, the scorching lips upon her neck and face, the unbridled passion bestowed upon her. She wanted to be overpowered. She wanted to feel the pain and the pleasure that only this man could give to her. She wanted him to completely lose control, and hurt her, and love her, and then come, whimpering into her arms, turning back to his tender self. She wanted to witness and to experience his complete metamorphosis from lion back into lamb. "I love you, Mulder," she shuddered in expectation. "I love you, and you are going to take me in the mud and the rain. I love you and you are going to overpower me and mark me. I love you and you are going to hurt me and I want you to." "God!" he howled, and within the expanse of two seconds, he entered her roughly, with one, quick thrust. Scully, who was more than adequately ready for him, still felt the harsh sting of the swift and total connection and she whimpered in pain. "You okay, baby?" he had to ask before he could move a muscle inside of her. Her response was to thrust up hard against him, burying his shaft even deeper within her. It had burned, but she barely felt it, so alive she had become in her own out-of-control, animalistic impulses. "Just fuck me, Mulder," she commanded into his ear. "Fuck me hard! I need this, too!" He gladly did as he was told, and he began pounding into mercilessly at a pace that would have put a jackhammer to shame. His tall, lanky body smashed against her small, soft form so hard that he knew they would both be bruised by the time they finished. Much to his delight, though, Scully kept up with his insane, chaotic pace, matching him thrust for thrust, grunting and groaning as loudly and as wildly as he. "You are mine!" he proclaimed, biting down on her shoulder again, breaking the skin this time and tasting her blood on his tongue. He sucked the wound, licked it, and then raked his teeth across her jugular. "Mine!" "I am yours!" she gasped, loving this dangerous combination of pleasure and pain. She was so close to coming now. "Love you! Love you! Scully, love you so much!" Scully put her hands on his backside, urging harder, faster, more! "Love you, Mulder!" "Oh, God, Dana..." "Harder, baby, please!" Her orgasm hit her with the force of a Mack truck. "Fox! My Fox!" "Scully!" he screamed, ejaculating into her just as she surrendered to the rapture. It took several moments for them to calm down and for their breathing to regulate. "Damn, Scully," he panted, holding her tenderly in his arms, and peppering her face with baby soft kisses. "That was so..." "I know," she agreed, equally out of breath, clinging to his muscular form. "Jesus, Mulder, you were such a... such a..." "Animal!" someone shouted. "Yeah, exactly," she agreed, wincing over her battered body, and both shoulders that he had savagely bitten during their adventurous love play. "Um... Scully?" he said in alarm, getting a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with afterglow. He pulled up off her and out of her, and she stared up at him with disappointment and concern. "What's wrong?" "Scully," he whispered, pulling her up to stand beside him, then putting his privates back in his pants, before zipping, buttoning and buckling, "you know how you agreed that I was an 'animal' just a moment ago?" "Yes," she replied, not understanding. "Well, it wasn't me you were agreeing with, honey. Didn't you realize that was a woman's voice?" She rolled her eyes. "Your voice does not sound like a woman's." She thought he was trying to elicit a compliment from her. "Scully, just listen!" he sighed, and carefully turned her head towards where the noises were coming from. She did so. They could both hear sounds coming from a little ways away; grunts and groans, along with a woman screaming. "What is that?" she asked. "Get dressed, Dana," he advised quietly. "I don't think we're the only ones out here enjoying ourselves." "Ewww," she muttered, making a face. "What's so 'ewww' about it?" he asked in confusion. "I mean, we just-" "That's entirely different," she informed him matter-of- factly. She looked down to button her blouse, then realized that she couldn't. Mulder had torn all the buttons off of her shirt during a frenzy of amorous energy. She buttoned her jacket up instead. Mulder chuckled quietly. "How is it different?" "It just is," she told him, her voice trailing off. Walking as she buttoned up her slacks, Scully motioned Mulder to follow the sounds with her. "Got your gun?" she asked. "Yeah. You?" "Uh-huh." They both feared they'd find trouble at the other end of those sounds of passion. As they came to a clearing in the woods, just steps off the beaten path, Mulder and Scully found the source of all the commotion. The man they instantly recognized as Carl McKenna, one of the homeowners in the area, and the man that Mulder has suspected as the killer ever since meeting him, was currently straddling some young woman, a fetching redhead. McKenna was gripping the legs that she had wrapped around his waist, as he pounded mercilessly into her. She did not cry out for help. She did not appear to be frightened; rather, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. "Oh, God!" the woman screamed in pleasure. "Yes! You stallion! You wild animal!" McKenna did not respond in kind. He merely kept pumping into her, grunting like a beast. The rain had stopped by now and the clouds were dissipating. Mulder hardly noticed. Despite his best efforts not to, he could only watch the couple fornicating in the woods with horrified fascination. The man, McKenna, was absolutely brutal to his current "fuck buddy". It made Mulder cringe. Had he himself looked that way a moment ago while making love to Scully? Had he truly hurt her or brutalized her? He glanced back at her, noticed how she had averted her gaze from the graphic scene playing out before them. Bowing his head in shame, Mulder turned to walk away. He was surprised when Scully stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Mulder, that's McKenna," she whispered. He nodded, unable to look her in the eye. He wondered how she could ever make love to him again after the way he had treated her; just as McKenna was treating his date. "Mulder," she nudged him again, "We need to... I mean, shouldn't we stop this?" "Why, Scully?" he murmured sadly. "I know he's being an animal, but his lady friend appears to be a willing participant here." He stole a furtive glance at Scully, who was still preoccupied with the spectacle in the clearing on the forest floor. Will she ever let me touch her again, he wondered, swallowing the lump in his throat. If she truly finds McKenna to be so disgusting, then she has to feel that way about me, too... "She may be willing, Mulder," he heard her saying, "but he's got to be the killer. You were right about him. You were right all along. We can't let him hurt her." "Scully, he's already hurting her, and she seems okay with it," he argued, staring down at his shoes. "I don't believe she's in any pain right now, Mulder," she told him, trying ever so hard to ignore the screams of passion and ecstasy coming from the other couple. "But the point is, he will hurt her when they're finished. He's going to kill her. Come on, you know this. It's all in your profile." "You honestly believe he will kill her?" Mulder sighed wistfully, seemingly in a far away place. "Yes!" she groaned in exasperation. She didn't understand what had gotten into her partner, but she hoped he would snap out of it really soon. They had a job to do and she needed him focused and ready. "Mulder, he is the guy from your profile! Just look at the way he's behaving - grunting, growling, and snarling like an animal. He probably thinks he's turning into an animal as we speak. He's also participating in promiscuous behavior. He's our guy, Mulder. You said so yourself just a few days ago with complete surety. Why are you doubting yourself now?" He answered her question with one of his own. "Do you think I'm... that way?" he blurted out, seemingly having not heard anything that she'd said to him. "Huh?" "Did I... hurt you?" he asked, still unable to face her. "Was I that brutal and animalistic, too? Like... like him?" He gestured to McKenna and his date. "What? Mulder, no!" she promised. "Mulder, hey, honey, look at me. Look at me now, please." Reluctantly, and only after she took him by the arm and turned him round herself, did he do so. For the first time, she could see the shame, as well as the tears, filling his eyes. She could tell he was finding a parallel between McKenna's brutal- but thus far, consensual- sexcapades with the unnamed redhead to their own, wild tryst from before. She sighed. Couldn't he see just how different their situations were? Couldn't he tell that he had nothing in common with the sexual deviant fornicating in front of them? "Mulder," she set out to explain, "what we did, it's not the same as McKenna and that woman. Not by a long shot." "But how is it different?" he demanded to know. "He's pounding into that girl like there's no tomorrow! He's probably hurting her somehow." He paused and gently touched the spot on her shoulder where he'd drawn blood. She unconsciously winced, which in turn, made him blink back tears. "She's even a damn redhead, for crying out loud!" "But look at him, Mulder," she instructed him desperate for him to know the truth. "Look at him; look into his eyes." He did not want to, but Mulder did as she asked. What he saw surprised him, disgusted him. What he saw in those cold, green eyes was a kind of animalistic passion, as one would expect, but it was passion only for its own sake. It was devoid of any love, affection, and fondness. Deep down, they had a lifeless look to them that seemed to be void of all human emotion. All that he could detect was a primal need, something any beast could display during mating season. There was no humanity, no warmth; nothing else. "Mulder," she told him, "when we made love, I looked into your eyes and I could see your very soul. I saw the love you hold for me there. This man, he has no soul. Just listen to him now." Again, he did so. McKenna did not so much as utter an intelligible syllable during the heated exchange between he and the woman he was with. Just as Scully had pointed out to him a moment ago, he could hear McKenna grunting, growling, and groaning. But he never complimented his lady friend on her technique. He never told her she was beautiful, or sexy, or lovable. He did not call her 'darling' or 'sweetheart'. He did not speak words of love to her. Mulder recalled with perfect clarity that he had told Dana how beautiful she was. He called her loving names. He complimented her technique. He told her how much he loved her. Scully saw the realization hit. She took it one step further, doing her best to eradicate any more doubts. "Now, look at his hands, Mulder. Look at how he merely grips her waist, to steady himself as he thrusts. Look at his mouth. It never touches her." Again, Mulder watched. It was true. McKenna's only physical contact with the woman- aside from where they were joined- was to roughly grip her hips, so that he didn't fall over as he continually thrust inside of her. He did not caress her form, feel the silkiness of her skin beneath his fingers. He did not touch her breasts, or her face. He made no move to kiss her, anywhere on her body or face. He remembered how he had marked Scully. It had been a primitive act of wanting her- and anyone who might happen to see her shoulder- to know that she was his and that he loved her. He remembered how his hands and lips had left a scorching trail of desire and passion all across the small expanse of her exquisite form. His hands and his mouth were everywhere on her, because he could not seem to get enough of her, because he... loved her. His tears renewed, he glanced gratefully over at his beloved, the full moon illuminating her lovely face. "Oh, Scully, I..." "Do you see now, Mulder?" she asked him, touching his cheek with delicate fingertips. "Do you understand that you are nothing like him?" As usual, Dana was right. He was nothing like the soulless creature beyond the trees. He was a loving partner, a tender, caring lover, who just happened to get a little... over zealous once in awhile. "Thanks, Scully," he whispered. "Love you." "I love you," she began and then her eyes went as wide as saucers. "Oh, my God! Mulder! He has weapons! Where the hell did he get those?" Mulder turned back and noticed that at the ends of McKenna's hands were sporting gloves with knives attached to them. "Like Wolverine," he murmured. McKenna's date had screamed in climax, and was longing to cease the frenetic pace, but he kept pumping into her. He seemed insatiable. He showed no signs of slowing down, much less stopping. The knives were piercing the woman's delicate skin and she began to cry. "More like Freddy Krueger!" Scully surmised. "Where did he...?" "I don't know..." "Carl," the man's date was protesting desperately. "God, you're hurting me! Stop it, dammit! Get off of me!" McKenna howled- actually howled up at the moon. The young redhead looked up to watch his face, which was contorting unnaturally. She screamed as he began transforming... "Go!" Mulder yelled, and he and Scully burst through the trees, guns at the ready. "Get off of her, McKenna!" Scully shouted in an authoritative voice. "And drop your weapons!" McKenna did not obey. He arched in pain, his back beginning to pulsate, growing larger and hairier. "What the fuck!" Mulder exclaimed in horror and surprise. Scully's eyes reflected Mulder's sentiment. "I said get off of her now, McKenna!" she commanded again. McKenna cried out, as if in agony. His whole body began to tremble, going through some sort of sickening metamorphosis. The girl beneath him screamed harder, begging for help. In a fit of rage, McKenna slashed at her chest with his claws. Scully shot him in the leg before he could do any more damage, and he fell over, howling like the animal he was rapidly becoming. The young woman ran to Scully, sobbing in pain and fear. Up close now, Scully could see the girl couldn't have been more than twenty. Aware of the shivering, naked form clinging to her side, Scully was about to remove her coat, then remembered that she couldn't, as she had no buttons left on her blouse to keep it shut. She called to Mulder, who was unable to take his eyes off of McKenna, for his. He absently removed it and handed it to the nude woman, who quickly put it on and hugged Scully, crying against her shoulder. All of them watched in disgust as the McKenna wolf sought out the used condom that had slipped off of him during his transformation, then ate it. "Hmm," Mulder said in frank amazement, "well, that's... handy." Another mystery regarding missing evidence had been solved. "Jesus, Mulder," Scully gulped, trying to comfort the sniveling victim, but also equally fascinated and horrified by the monstrosity in front of them. She kept her gun trained on the wounded wolf like creature McKenna was still turning into. "What the hell... I mean, what is that...?" "It's McKenna," Mulder replied, still in shock himself. "Scully, I guess my profile really was wrong. McKenna doesn't think he can perform lycanthropy. He actually does have the ability!" "But- but that's impossible!" Scully squeaked, watching McKenna's ears grow to a point and become covered in fur, along with his face. She recoiled in horror, watching the sinewy muscles flex beneath the furry body. She noticed that the claws and the teeth were much longer than the average wolf, but other than that, he did indeed, resemble one. There was absolutely no trace of humanity left to recognize. The creature began to lick at the leg wound from Scully's bullet. "Scully," Mulder sighed, amazed by her skepticism, "what did you just see?" "Yeah, but... but it just can't be..." "I want to go home, please, miss," the young victim piped up, gripping Scully's forearm like a vice. "Please, take me home now!" Scully turned to the girl, her doctor instincts and her natural compassion shining through. "What's your name, honey?" she asked, pushing the long, red tresses back out of the girl's eyes. "Amy... M-m-myres," was the reply, and she sobbed, hugging onto Scully so tightly it began to hurt, especially since she was already bruised from her earlier activities with Mulder. "I'm sorry I was bad. I... I don't even really know this guy. I just met him at a party tonight. I... just want to go home. I want to see my mom." She rested her head on Scully's shoulder, sobbing and trembling. "Mulder," Scully surmised, reaching out for a quick examination of the girl, "she's going into shock. She needs a hospital." "But what about...?" and he gestured towards the creature McKenna had become. "Cuff him?" Scully suggested. "Cuff him? How? Scully, he's a dog!" "Leash him?" she shrugged, and he grinned. "Maybe I should lure him into custody with a Milk Bone," he joked and she rolled her eyes at him. "Please," Amy begged again, taking both agents by the hand and squeezing tightly. "I want to get out of here!" As their attention was distracted, neither agent noticed that the McKenna wolf stood on all fours, a new surge of raw power taking hold of him. He howled at the moon again and then charged the trio standing in the clearing. "Mulder!" "Anyone got a silver bullet?" Mulder exclaimed, before knocking both women to the ground, all three of them narrowly missing the attack. The wolf knocked itself into a tree, and it wobbled for a moment, seemingly disoriented. "Scully, get the kid out of here!" Mulder ordered, pulling both women to their feet and giving them a shove back in the direction of the trail. "Mulder, I can't leave you," she began, her eyes wide in terror. "Go! There's no choice!" he commanded. Realizing he was right and that their first priority- besides putting McKenna into custody, if that were even possible at this point- would be to get Amy to safety, then call for an ambulance. She nodded in defeat, tears threatening to fall down her silken cheeks. There was no time for a long, mushy goodbye, but she did tell him she loved him, uncaring of how unprofessional it might have been to say so in front of the victim. This was the man she had planned to spend the rest of her life with. Now, she knew, there was a good chance that might never come to be. She did not want to, but she could not get the horrible images of the first four victims in the crime scene photos out of her head. Grabbing Amy's hand, Scully yanked the barefoot woman back to their vehicle. "Come on," she urged, knowing that the poor girl had no shoes and had just been attacked, but needing her to propel herself forward in the fastest speed possible. "I'm trying," Amy vowed, doing her best to keep up with Scully. Realizing that the weather had cleared, Scully retrieved her cellular phone from her coat pocket and tried to call for back up. To her eternal relief, it worked! The dispatcher promised to send an ambulance, but was surprised by Scully's request of a shot of animal tranquilizer and a large kennel. She asked if there was a dangerous animal present. "Uh, you could say that," Scully murmured, still in shock over what she had witnessed tonight. The dispatcher promised that help was on the way... * * * Mulder raced through the trees and bushes, trying to lead the McKenna wolf in the opposite direction that Scully and Amy had gone. He had already lost his flashlight, tripping while trying to turn it on, and he was going by the light of the full moon and his own gut instincts. After banging his knee against a tree trunk, he gathered that his gut instincts weren't all they were cracked up to be. He sighed. So much for his years spent camping in the woods with his dad as an Indian Guide. Running as fast as his long, powerful legs could carry him, Mulder didn't kid himself that he could out run the animal chasing him. No human could out run- or out last, for that matter- a wolf. He'd already almost gotten grabbed a couple of times, but for the luck of a well placed twig, or his own deft training in the art of deflecting an attack from behind, recalled with frightening clarity from his Academy days. One of the few things he had going for him was the fact that the McKenna-wolf was still hobbling a little on the injured leg, where Scully had shot him. It kept the animal going a little slower than it should have, and also kept it a little off-balance. Otherwise, Mulder had little doubt in his mind that he would be dead by now. He was beginning to realize that his survival depended largely on whose energy would peter out first. Mulder was a runner and swimmer, but he was now beyond winded, and he kept tripping on all of the foliage and rocks he could not see on the earth below him. His shins and toes were in pain from constantly knocking into things. His calves and chest ached from the continual running, not daring to stop. Mulder had kept his gun out and would, every so often, shoot back behind him, with the hope that he might actually hit the wolf again, maybe somewhere that might incapacitate him much more than the leg injury had. Unfortunately, without being to stop and aim, Mulder hit nothing but trees. "Shit!" he gasped. By his calculations, he only had a couple of bullets left in his ammunition cartridge. He decided to save them. Perhaps, if worse came to worse, he could get off a close range shot, putting a bullet right between McKenna's yellow, wolf eyes. If he somehow missed, or it proved ineffective, he could always use his very last bullet on himself. He would rather die quickly and painlessly than get ripped to shreds like all of McKenna's previous victims. Mulder's one, big regret, of course, would be leaving behind his beloved Scully. He loved her more than he could say, and the thought of not being with her made him feel so sick inside. If he was going to die, he wished it could have been in her arms. But that was not to be. Had she been here with him, she would undoubtedly suffer the same horrifying fate. He would rather die a thousand deaths alone than risk her precious life by having her close to him right now. Literally feeling the wolf at his back, Mulder knew the end was near, save for his one chance: the last two bullets that gave him a ray of hope in a desperate situation. McKenna knocked him down to the ground. Mulder struggled against him, but was still pinned to the ground, facing a cruel, snarling animal ready to strike. He recalled folklore tales of people being bitten by werewolves and becoming monsters themselves. He gasped. Would that happen to him? Would his fate be not to die, but to live with this curse? This would be a curse that would endanger anyone near him on a full moon- and no one was near him more than his darling Scully! Frankly, he'd rather die than ever face the possibility of killing the woman he loved. Doing his best to reach his gun hand, while using the other to keep pushing against the heavy beast weighing down on his chest, Mulder fired off a shot. Because of the constant struggling, Mulder missed his aim, but succeeded in giving the wolf a superficial neck wound. Before he could even attempt to fire his weapon one last time, McKenna knocked it from his hands with a mighty paw, and it went scattering off into the darkness. A thought occurred to Mulder as he watched in horrified fascination, while the McKenna wolf paused to scratch in annoyance at this new neck wound. None of the previous victims found had any bite marks whatsoever, only fatal claw marks. So, Mulder reasoned, McKenna must have some cognitive thought in this state. He was smart enough not to turn anyone else into a wolf. He probably didn't want any competition in these woods... Of course, he also doesn't want any victims left alive to accuse him of turning them into werewolves either. No, the wolf was simply killing his victims in a brutal manner, he was not out to create an army of more creatures of the night. Mulder didn't know whether to be relieved or not over such a revelation. On the one hand, he didn't have to worry about becoming a werewolf himself. On the other hand, he was about to die. Neither prospect really appealed to him in the slightest. He moved at the last second to avoid the sharp claws, but still got scratched on the shoulder. Thankfully, it wasn't a deep cut, but he still winced, and he turned to see McKenna's wolf face in his. The animal's breath held the smell of death and decay. It nearly made Mulder gag. "Fuck you, Carl!" he roared, poking the wolf in the eye with his finger. Again, the wolf howled and backed off, giving Mulder a chance to stand, but not much else. Before he could take two steps, McKenna was on him once more. McKenna held up a claw and was about to slash across Mulder's frightened face, when a gun went off behind them, startling them both. They turned to see Scully standing about fifteen feet away from them, the gun still smoking in her hand. She had fired a warning shot into the air, in the hopes that she could reason with the creature instead of having to kill him. She was trembling slightly, as it started to lightly drizzle again. Her face betrayed her fear and worry over Mulder's predicament, but her flame blue eyes flashed anger and hatred over the animal who had put him there. "Get off him, McKenna! Do it now!" "Scully..." Mulder warned. He was ecstatic to see his beloved, but the one thing he didn't want to see was Scully getting torn to shreds by this monster. McKenna surprisingly did as he was told, getting off of Mulder and moving away from him. "Stay there!" Scully commanded. "Mulder? Are you all right?" she asked in concern. "I'm okay, but you need- shit! Scully, look out!" Mulder shouted in alarm as the McKenna wolf suddenly began to advance upon her. She was scared, but kept her cool. Taking the proper stance, Scully began firing into McKenna's furry body. She had nearly a full clip of ammunition in her gun and she kept up a steady stream of fire, accurately hitting her mark each time. It wasn't terribly difficult, as McKenna was fast approaching from directly ahead. Each bullet that ripped through his body caused him to jerk backwards a little and whimper, but it did not stop him. Mulder began running after the creature, realizing that Scully would be out of ammunition very soon. And once she did, he knew McKenna would kill her. Mulder loved Scully, and he loved her sense of duty and loyalty. He also appreciated the love and devotion she obviously felt for him. But he cursed that loyalty and devotion now. Her sense of duty and her love for him was probably going to be the death of her... literally. Just as both agents knew would happen, Scully exhausted her ammunition clip. She stared at McKenna, who was now only about two feet in front of her, slowly lowering her gun. It was chilling but she actually felt that the wolf, which appeared to be pure animal, seemed to comprehend her situation. If it had been possible for it to smile, it certainly would have. Scully held up her arms in defense of the attack she knew was coming. At that moment, the McKenna wolf leapt at her. "Nooo!!!!" Mulder shouted, tripping over a fallen branch as he witnessed McKenna jump on his beloved, pinning her to the forest floor. For one helpless, horrifying moment, he froze, unable to do anything but watch the wolf raise his long claws over Scully's chest. Recalling his inability to do anything during his sister's abduction so many years ago, Mulder was bound and determined not to repeat that mistake with Scully's life on the line. Reaching for a stone to throw, or something hard and sharp like a stick, he inadvertently found his own gun on the ground. It had one bullet left. Realizing that McKenna wasn't dying from his bullet wounds, but was still affected by them, Mulder's plan was to tackle the wolf and shoot directly into his heart. That way, while McKenna was recovering, he and Scully would hopefully get the chance to escape. Scully, while small, was a very strong young woman and she was fighting valiantly against the big, bad wolf on top of her, but she was no match for the angry canine, who appeared to be even stronger than the average wolf. He was scratching up her face and chest pretty badly. Mulder rushed over, the rain making the earth beneath his feet slippery. "I'm going to kill you, McKenna, you fucker!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Mulder!" he heard someone shout out to him. Turning briefly, he caught sight of Agent Jerry Lamana, racing into the clearing, his eyes wide in terror and uncertainty. Jerry fired off a shot into the wolf's back. It flinched, giving Scully the moment she needed to roll out from under him. The clouds had drifted over the moon, partially covering it. Lamana ran to Scully, helping her to stand and holding the smaller agent protectively against his side. "Get him, Mulder!" Noticing that McKenna had lost much of his wolf like qualities, Mulder nodded and aimed his weapon. McKenna was now standing upright, even though his face was still that of an animal. With a perverse smile, Mulder called out to him. "Oh, Carl..." he sing songed. When the creature turned to look at him, he pulled his trigger, hitting the beast right between the eyes. The clouds completely encompassed the moon. The creature fell to the earth. He did not move again. As quickly as possible, Mulder raced over to where Jerry held his injured lover, and took Scully into his arms, holding her close, resting his chin on her head and sobbing. She cried quietly against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. Jerry stood vigil beside the couple, a hand still setting on Scully's shoulder. "Jesus! What the fuck was that?" He noticed that the dead form on the ground now looked completely human and riddled with bullets. "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed in shock and dismay. "That's a man! Mulder, I know what I saw when I got here! I didn't shoot any man! It was a wolf before! But how...?" Mulder's teary eyes glanced up once at his friend before closing them against the pain and despair of the night's events. He said nothing, simply continued to hold Scully close. From a distance and closing in on their location, they could hear shouts of confusion and concern, as a number of the police force, as well as Mulder's FBI team, and two animal control officers, toting dog catching equipment began to emerge from the darkened forest. Rikers and Thompson saw Agents Mulder, Scully and Lamana all huddled together and they made a beeline to them. They both noticed the body of Carl McKenna, lying dead and shot to hell nearby. His nude body glistened with his blood as the moon began to peek out from the clouds. It had stopped raining again. Unable to get over how many bullet holes the naked man sported, Rikers muttered, "This guy looks like Swiss cheese! What the fuck did you all do to him?" "He was advancing," Mulder choked out, hugging Scully tighter to him. "Wouldn't go down. He... let's just say he wasn't himself at the time." "PCP?" Rikers wondered. He'd heard of people doing some crazy shit under the influence of powerful narcotics. This wouldn't be the first time some asshole thought he was immortal while taking the angel dust. "PCP, nothing," Jerry piped up, his eyes still wide with disbelief over what he had witnessed. "He wasn't even human! The guy was an animal! He was a literal fucking wolf!" Thompson snickered. "Speaking of hitting the PCP, Jer... Sure, he was a wolf, and I'm a Black Panther." "Fuck you, Thom!" Jerry spat back. "I know what I saw! Damn monster was attacking Dana!" Any mention of Dana and any danger she had been up against had perked Thompson's interest considerably and wiped the smirk right off of his face. In its place was a frown of concern and anger at Mulder for even allowing such a thing to happen. He noticed that up until now, Scully had been silent and hidden inward, keeping her form pressed against Mulder, not looking at anyone. Gently, but deftly, Thompson took a hold of her shoulder, turning her around, then saw her wince. Blood had saturated through her blouse and jacket from Mulder's love bite, as well as from a few lucky swipes that McKenna had gotten in. Thompson also noticed cuts and bruises all over her face and torso. Both her blouse and coat were torn to shreds, and her chest was exposed. Scully couldn't look Thompson in the eyes as much as she tried. A wave of tenderness swept over Thompson, which seemed to be happening more frequently whenever Agent Scully was near. He couldn't believe that Mulder wouldn't have given her his jacket, then noticed that Mulder wasn't wearing one. But Jerry could have offered his. Giving both men a dirty look, Thompson removed his FBI jacket and gently wrapped it about Scully's injured shoulders, making sure to avert his eyes. He wouldn't look at Scully's nudity. He instead gazed at her scratched up face, reaching out to touch her cheek, exhibiting nothing but compassion and concern for the young woman. Lamana and Rikers were frankly stunned. This was the same man who wrote dirty limericks on the bathroom stalls about every female agent he had ever screwed... or wanted to. This was the same man who kept dirty magazines in his desk at work. This was the same man who went to a strip club every year for his birthday and treated himself to a lap dance. And this was the same man who was currently gazing into a woman's eyes with nothing but love and respect in his intent. Despite the miraculous moment unfolding before him, Mulder's first instincts were to pounce because someone else was touching and gazing at his woman. The enlightened male would always harbor some of his dormant caveman attributes when it came the woman he loved. He simply couldn't help it. Thankfully, Scully was instinctive enough to sense Mulder's growing need to attack, but she nipped it in the bud with a stern hand placed on his forearm, urging him to grow the hell up, at least for the sake of the moment. Reluctantly, he held back. "You all right, kid?" Thompson asked, his voice hitching in his throat. "Did that... that fucker hurt you bad?" Scully finally braved up enough to look back into Thompson's eyes. She, too, was surprised by all of the feeling she found there. She actually recognized love in his eyes. She could only hope that it was entirely of the big brotherly sort, because any amorous intentions would be left unrequited as she was hopelessly in love with Mulder already anyway. "I'm... okay, Thom," she began, her voice sounding a little shaky. "I got... roughed up a bit by the perp, but Mulder got him just in time." As if fighting off a werewolf wasn't surprise enough for one evening, Thompson did his part to ensure the surprises kept coming, by leaning down and kissing her forehead. Again, Scully had to squeeze Mulder's arm till her fingers went white, so sure she was that he wanted to pounce. "Glad you're okay, Dana," he murmured, then walked away, shivering slightly in the cool air of the stormy night. Rikers followed him, still shocked as hell over Thompson's tender display, wondering who this guy was and what had he done with his partner? The three agents watched Thompson and Rikers disappear into the darkness. Jerry was stunned, Mulder looked slightly peeved, and Scully got to thinking of something rather important. She touched Lamana's arm. "Oh, my God! Jerry, the victim! A girl named Amy-" "Myres. Yeah, the medics found her just where you said she'd be. She's all right. Probably at the hospital by now." Mulder and Scully both sighed in relief over the news, looking and smiling at each other. They hoped the kid had learned her lesson and stayed away from lycanthropic pretty, rich boys from now on. "Speaking of medics, looks like you might need some patching up there, Dana," Jerry said pointedly. He gestured at her face and torso, which were covered in tears and scratches. "I'm fine," she started to say. "Scully, please, let them take a look at you," Mulder pleaded, trying to sound reasonable and not like a scared shitless boyfriend. Realizing how stubborn she was being and that both men weren't trying to boss her around or think she wasn't tough enough for the job- after all, it was she who had tussled with a damn werewolf and lived to tell the tale- but they were just concerned for her, so she finally nodded. Mulder was going to escort her, but Detective Jordan arrived on the scene, and wanted to talk to him. Scully said she would be all right, and went on her own to where the medics were still standing. There were two men and a woman. Knowing that she had just barely managed to thwart one of Mulder's Neanderthal explosions with Thompson moments before, she decided not to put him- or herself- through any more tonight and wisely approached the female medic. Mulder did notice this, and he silently thanked her. That woman was literally a dream come true to him. While Scully was being administered to, Detective Jordan walked with Mulder and Lamana to where McKenna's lifeless body lay in the mud. "Gentlemen," he began, "you want to tell me what happened here?" Lamana cleared his throat. "I swear, this, this guy... he wasn't a guy! He was a ... a wolf!" "You mean as in lycanthropy?" Jordan asked, and both men seemed surprised to hear him use the term. "What? You don't think cops know how to use big words? Besides, I read it in Mulder's profile." The two agents smiled at him. "Maybe I should explain, sir," Mulder offered, "and start from the beginning." "A very good place to start," Jordan agreed, sounding a little too like Julie Andrews. Stifling a chuckle, Mulder began. "Well, tonight-" he paused, glanced down at his watch and saw that it was nearly one in the morning. "Uh, last night, Scully and I were on stakeout duty. We knew that McKenna was our guy. It was just a matter of catching him in the act..." * * * One hour later... "So... a wolf, huh?" Jordan asked again, finding it all unfathomable. "Lycanthropy," Jerry added smartly. They looked over at the body. While they had been talking, it had been photographed and studied carefully by other police officers and everyone from Mulder's team. Dr. Cindy Moran had even been called to the scene for a pre-autopsy look- see. She had seemed more than slightly peeved to have been called out of bed in the middle of the night to do something she could have easily taken care of the morning at Quantico. "He's dead," she had grumbled dully at Mulder's anxious face. "But, what about-" he began. "Well, I couldn't be sure, of course, without an autopsy," she'd gone on sarcastically, "but if I had to take a guess, I'd say it was all the fucking bullets penetrating his body that did him in." And with that, she flounced off and made a beeline for her car. "Thanks, Cindy," Mulder called in a pissed off tone. "That was quick and... pointless..." He sighed. Why couldn't every pathologist be as thorough and as conscientious as Scully? By this time, the medics were unfolding the body bag and taking Carl McKenna's body away. "I don't care what Patterson says," Mulder groused. "I want Scully doing the autopsy!" "I second," Jerry agreed. "Yeah, I third that," Jordan added. "I don't know why you even assigned that other one, Agent Mulder, but... oh yeah, Patterson." "Patterson," Mulder and Jerry agreed knowingly. "What about Patterson?" someone asked from behind them, and all the men turned to see a freshly bandaged Agent Scully, a warm blanket wrapped around her small shoulders for some extra warmth. "What'd I miss, guys?" She noticed that McKenna's body was gone. She was disappointed. She had wanted to examine it. Mulder's eyes lit up and he smiled up seeing her. When she came to his side and let him put his arms around her, his smile only widened. Normally, she was a little more reserved when it came to public affection, particularly while on the job, but this circumstance seemed different. Besides, Mulder looked like he needed a hug even more than she did, probably to assure himself that she was truly all right. "How are you feeling, Scully?" he asked, kissing the top of her head. "Doing fine," she promised, leaning back against his chest. It was true, she was okay, but she was sore as hell and very, very tired. "Glad to hear it, Agent Scully," Jordan put in, with a friendly smile and a nod. "Me, too, Dana," Lamana added, and he looked nearly as relieved and happy as Mulder did to see that she was all right. He remembered with frightening clarity what she had been up against just over an hour before. The woman had fought off a fucking werewolf! The fact that she was alive at all was a miracle. The fact that she was standing upright and nursing only some bruising and scratches was a testament to her kick-ass character. "Thanks, guys," she replied, seemingly catching all of the contagious smiles going around and she showed some teeth herself. Another police officer approached Detective Jordan, let him know that all the evidence had been collected and the body was being taken to Quantico. Everything was done. It was time to pack up and go. Jordan nodded at the officer, then sighed in frank relief. It wasn't as if he didn't like the people on the FBI team, but it had been a really long night and he was anxious to go home and crawl in bed with the wife, hold her tight. "Guess that's my cue to head out." "You do believe us, don't you, detective?" Mulder asked with a worried expression. The police detective sighed again, this time wearily, glanced away once, before looking back at the trio. "Well, Agent Mulder, it's a pretty unbelievable story. It sounds crazy... like a horror film, or something..." Mulder nodded sadly, realizing he couldn't expect anyone to believe this, especially in light of the lack of evidence. He only hoped they might find something with the autopsy, although what, he couldn't fathom. "Then again," Jordan went on, "I figure, why the hell would you guys lie about something like that? I'm not inclined to disagree with three such credible eye witnesses." He turned and shook hands with Lamana, then Mulder, and finally Scully. He held Scully's hand the longest, his admiration for her strength and courage larger than ever now. He thought about introducing her to his wife, who he felt was another super woman. He was sure the two of them could be friends. He decided to tell his wife about her, see if she wanted to meet her, leave it at that. "You three take care of yourselves. If ever I need FBI assistance, I'll definitely call on all of you." "Thank you, Detective Jordan," Scully spoke for the group. "Should we ever need police assistance, you'll be the first one we'll call on, too." He said goodbye once more and then left the scene. "Well, congratulations, Scully," Mulder said, leaning down to kiss her ear. "For what?" she asked in confusion. "For just surviving our first X-File," he told her. Her eyes grew wide. "That's an X-File, huh?" "Yup." "Oh, Mulder, our dry cleaning bills are going to be a bitch, you know that?" she blurted, glancing down at her torn and soiled clothing and causing him to chuckle. She was such a trooper! "It's too bad that we're not already on the X-Files," Mulder sighed. "It would have been a lot easier to hand in a report. I'm scared shitless to meet with Patterson tomorrow..." "Well, hey now," Lamana interjected, "Jordan believed us. Maybe there's hope that Patterson-" "Jerry," Mulder said. Both he and Scully eyed their friend doubtfully. "Yeah, you're right," Jerry chuckled. "We're all screwed! Well, I'll see you guys bright and early tomorrow morning in the A.D.'s office. If we're lucky, we may still have our jobs by the end of the day." "I'm really sorry, Jer," Mulder said with regret. Jerry was right. With Patterson calling the shots, all their futures at the FBI were on shaky ground. "Not your fault, man," Jerry told him. "Ain't nobody's fault, except maybe for that asshole, McKenna!" "I don't think Patterson will see it that way," Mulder sighed sadly. "Well, if Patterson does give us any trouble, we could just go over his head," Scully suggested. "I mean, there's Blevins... oh, and when we transfer to the X-Files we'll have a new A.D. Do you know who ours is yet, Mulder?" Mulder shrugged. "Supposed to be some guy named 'Skinner'. Never heard of him till Blevins said he would be our A.D. But who knows if we can trust him? He might end up being an even bigger asshole than Patterson!" "Oh, come on, Mulder," Jerry agreed with Scully. "Give the guy a chance. Besides, I don't think anyone could be a bigger asshole than Patterson." The three of them shared a chuckle. "Hey, listen, Jer, would you mind giving us a ride home? Our car has a flat and-" "Been fixed," Jerry assured him. "But you both look pretty beat. Wouldn't mind taking you home." "Nah, we'll be all right," Mulder said, relieved that he wouldn't have to ask his friend for anything else tonight. "Where you parked?" "Right next to you. Come on, it's a bit of a walk and I'm getting tired." "Yeah, me, too," Scully yawned. The three agents trekked the half-hour back to their vehicles, still arguing about what to do in case Patterson tried to fire them... or worse. They reached their cars and then Mulder and Scully went their own way and Jerry went off on his. * * * Mulder and Scully, along with the rest of their team, were due in Patterson's office at 9:00 a.m. sharp! By the time they had returned home, it was nearly 3:00 a.m. and the two of them jumped in for a quick shower together. Mulder then fell to his knees, hugging Scully about the waist and sobbing against her abdomen, having seen all of the bruises and cuts she'd sustained from McKenna's attack, as well as their own love making before that. Scully ran her fingers through his wet hair, assuring him she was all right. She also told him not to regret their exciting encounter in the woods. She asked him if the marks on his back where she had scratched him hurt at all. He begrudgingly admitted that they stung slightly, especially under the hot spray of the water. She then asked him if he felt ashamed or angry that she had marked him. He vehemently denied any such feeling. He assured her that he was actually turned on by it, even proud, because it meant that he was hers. She then reiterated the fact that she felt the same way over her own love bites. As crazy as it sounded to Mulder, he finally dropped it, because he could tell that she was actually being truthful. They washed each others bruised bodies, and he shampooed her hair- she was too short to do his- then dried off and climbed into bed for a fitful rest that unfortunately would not last long enough. Their alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. They were both glad they'd showered earlier. They had just enough time to get dress and eat a quick breakfast of tea and toast. Then it was back to Quantico. Mulder had wanted to get there early. He still had a report to write up and turn into Patterson. He also wanted to do a little additional research, too, hoping to enhance a report that would otherwise be a little on the flimsy side. He and Scully, on separate computers, went to work and got back to each other a half-hour later, each with a fascinating piece of the puzzle to share. He was preparing to type up the report, but Scully insisted on doing it herself, reasoning with Mulder that, "we're short on time and let's face it. I'm a faster and better typist." Mulder playfully stuck his tongue out at her, but conceded her point. They wrote the report together, and she typed it up as they went along. They finished with just enough time to carry it down to the A. D.'s office. Mulder and Scully arrived precisely on time. Patterson had the feeling that if his punctual girlfriend hadn't been with him, Mulder would have been late as usual. Joining them in the meeting were Agents Lamana, Stiles, Rikers and Thompson, as well as Dr. Cindy Moran. Patterson had Detective Jordan's deposition on his desk, as well as the statement of the only living victim of Carl McKenna, one Miss Amy Myres. He had read her statement, as well as Jordan's report. He was not looking forward to reading Mulder's. Patterson noticed that as soon as the two agents had entered the room, they were met by everyone there- except for Cindy Moran- with affection and respect, almost... reverence. The petite Agent Scully- who, if Patterson had to be honest with himself, was, indeed a very poised and lovely young lady, in spite of all the cuts and bruises adorning her pretty face- seemed to garner the most admiration. He had to smile, if only inwardly. If this young woman could not only put up with Agent Mulder on a regular basis, but also keep him in line, she might actually deserve some of that admiration. As it was though, Patterson was pissed off at both of them, so he quickly assumed his grumpy, disapproving demeanor once again. He ignored all the smiles and concern every other agent openly displayed for Mulder and Scully, and asked, "Your report, Agent Mulder?" He was secretly hoping that Mulder wouldn't have it ready, so he'd have another excuse to bitch at him. To his surprise, it was Agent Scully who produced the document he sought. She handed it to the A.D. "Sir, since Agent Mulder and I worked together as partners on this case, we decided to both write up this report. This is my conclusion, as well as his." How irritatingly loyal, Patterson mused as he snatched the report from her small hand. "Duly noted, Dr. Scully." He glanced down at the neatly typed report. "You must have also typed it, I see." "Sir?" she asked in confusion. "There's no typos or food particles on it." He glanced at Mulder. "What a good little secretary your girlfriend is, Agent Mulder." Cindy smirked. "She's not a secretary!" every other man in the room insisted. Patterson looked surprised. Cindy Moran looked perturbed. Scully was monumentally stunned and embarrassed. "Next time, leave your cheering section at home, Agent Scully," Patterson muttered. "Um, yes, sir..." she said, her complexion beet red. She gave each of the men a stern gaze and was rewarded with five nearly identical sheepish grins. "What's all this?" Patterson asked, looking over the report and finding much more than he had bargained for. "Just some things that we found out and felt were important to the case, sir," Mulder elaborated. "Uh, for instance, Carl McKenna was in Romania on vacation seven months ago. He was brought into a hospital there during his stay, and treated for extensive injuries that were later determined to be animal bites- namely that of a canine. He claimed to have no memory of the attack. He soon returned to the U.S. and that's when all of these brutal crimes started happening!" "Agent Mulder," Patterson began. "Oh!" Scully piped up. "And last month, when there were no attacks here, Carl McKenna was vacationing in Paris. Guess what the French police found in a park just a few blocks from his hotel?" "What?" Cindy asked, in spite of herself. "The body of a young woman, that's what," Scully informed them all. "Torn to shreds, with signs of recent sexual activity, and she had latex residue in her-" "We get the picture, Agent Scully," Patterson interrupted her, not needing her to paint a picture. He sighed. This day was not going the way he had envisioned last night at all. "Damn, should have stuck with her own kind," Rikers surmised sympathetically. "Nah," Thompson disagreed. "French men are a bunch of faggy pansies. That poor girl probably just wanted to try some American meat, a big, manly all-American male. You know, like the kind Scully likes!" He smiled affectionately at her. Lamana, Stiles and Rikers couldn't help but to chuckle. Even Mulder almost laughed. Scully blushed harder and hid her face in her hand. Patterson rolled his eyes. "That's enough history on Carl McKenna, agents," he said sternly to Mulder and Scully. "And Thompson, Agent Scully's sexual preferences have absolutely no bearing on this case whatsoever, am I making myself clear?" "As crystal, sir," Thompson replied with a smile. "Listen, sir," Jerry decided to take a turn, anxious to tell the man what he had seen, "in my report, I corroborate about McKenna being a wolf... I- I mean, able to perform lycanthropy, and-" "I've read your report, Agent Lamana," Patterson snapped. "I don't need the audio version!" "Sorry, sir." "Dr. Moran," Patterson said, hoping beyond hope that someone in this room would speak some reason to him, "I understand that you performed an autopsy on Mr. McKenna early this morning?" "Yes, sir, I did," Cindy confirmed, much to the disappointment of Mulder and Jerry, who had really wanted Scully to preside over the post-mortem proceedings. "And did you find any evidence that substantiates this claim of him being a damn wolf?" "No sir," she began, and the A.D. smiled. "...well, except for one strange anomaly..." Patterson actually groaned out loud. Could his morning get any more shitty? "And what would that anomaly be, Dr. Moran?" he forced himself to ask. "Well," Cindy stated, not really wanting to help Mulder or Scully out in the slightest, but unable to find a way to lie without losing her job, "Carl McKenna had sustained a total of twenty-six bullet wounds, several coming from Agent Mulder's weapon, but the most coming from Agent Scully's. All but one of them- a leg wound- had traces of... canine fur jutting inwardly into the wounds, as if... as if..." "As if he had fur on him when he was shot," Patterson finished dully. He could not believe the way this meeting was shaping up! Cindy nodded and shrugged. "I can't think of another reason for it to be there," she admitted sheepishly. Patterson sighed and rolled his eyes. "Did everyone else hand in their reports?" he asked wearily, sounding like an overwhelmed school teacher. He was given several verbal and visual affirmations. He nodded. "Fine. Why don't you all go on back to work now. I'll call you if I have any further questions." Everyone sighed in frank relief. It seemed as though they had all been rather nervous about this meeting and were so anxious for it to end. They all raced for the door. Mulder and Scully did the same, but ended up at the back of the line, much to their disdain. No one wanted out of Patterson's office more than they did. "Not you two," Patterson muttered, gesturing at Mulder and Scully. Both of them froze for a moment, glancing at each other in confusion and panic. Reluctantly, they both returned to stand in front of the A.D.'s desk. "Yes, sir?" Mulder dared to ask. "You know, your story sounds like it's full of shit, Mulder," Patterson grumbled at him, not bothering to hide his irritation. Scully started to protest, but the A.D. continued. "Fortunately for you, your entire team- as well as Detective Jordan and the fucking victim, for Christ's sakes- are all corroborating your report." Mulder smiled. "It is the truth, sir." "Well, whatever. I just wanted to give you your walking papers out of the VCS, discharging you to your new department." Both Mulder and Scully beamed, looking so joyful and exuberant it nearly made Patterson sick. "Thank you, sir!" Mulder said brightly, taking the paper from his ex-boss. "No, Mulder, thank you. I no longer have to deal with the biggest pain-in-the-ass of the FBI any longer. You're somebody else's problem now. Let him tear his hair out over your crazy ideas and bizarre theories." "I'm sure he will, sir," Mulder grinned, unaware that his new A.D. was already bald. "You're to report to him this coming Monday," the A.D. told him. "Not here, but to the Hoover building. Agent Scully, just be sure to report to your own supervisor today for your release papers." "Yes, sir," Scully mimicked Mulder. Patterson gave them both a nod of dismissal, and the two agents turned to go. Mulder looked back once. "And sir?" Patterson glanced up at his former agent. "If you should ever need my assistance in the VCS..." "I'll shoot myself," Patterson finished, then surprised them both by smiling. Mulder smiled back. "Yes, sir!" Putting a hand on the small of Scully's back, he walked out of the A.D.'s office for what he hoped would be the last time. * * * Monday morning Hoover Building Basement 8:42 a.m. Mulder and Scully walked into their new "office", each carrying a box full of files. They had spent the weekend celebrating solving their last difficult case, as well as their move to the new department. Friday night, everyone from work had taken them out for dinner and drinks. Saturday night, the Lone Gunmen invited them over for Chinese takeout night. (Personally, Mulder thought that Frohike just wanted the chance to cozy up with Scully, but he made sure to never leave them alone in the same room together, much to Melvin's chagrin.) And they had their usual early Sunday dinner with Scully's parents. Mulder actually had the most fun there. Her mother absolutely adored him and her father had warmed up to him pretty fast as well, and they argued about sports and he enjoyed listening to stories about Dana from her childhood- which she hated, but he loved it! But after all the celebrations had finished, both agents were anxious and excited to begin this new chapter in their careers and their lives together. This was where they needed to be, Mulder was sure of it. He knew that someday they would find his sister, or at least, what had happened to her. He had a gut feeling about it. And Scully was where she needed to be, she was sure of it. Mulder was her life, both at home and at work, and yet still, she couldn't get enough of him. She knew that he needed her, and she would be there to fulfill that need in each and every way presented. Mulder set his box down in a corner, then took the one that Scully was holding and set it on top of his own box. He surveyed the large but cluttered space and realized that it would probably take at least a couple of weeks for them to get the place up and running. They had been moving stuff in for nearly two hours and there was so much to put away and find a place for. He didn't mind though. He was just thrilled to be here. This was truly a dream come true for him, especially in light of who his beautiful partner was down here. Scully would be with him always. That made everything just right. "Well, this is it, Scully!" he exclaimed, setting some files on top of the large, second-hand desk that would serve as a work area to them both. "Home sweet home! What do you think?" "We're in a basement, Mulder," she replied with a smirk. "I don't even think we get heating and cooling down here." She removed the files from the desk that he had just unpacked and put them back in the box from whence they came. He chuckled. "Well... we got a window... somewhere, way up there," he said, gesturing towards the ceiling in the room. He noticed an old, dilapidated oscillating fan in the corner that looked to be as old as J. Edgar himself. He grabbed it up in triumph and set it on the desktop. "Look! A fan! See, we're all set." Scully rolled her eyes and took the fan off of the desk and returned it to the place Mulder had found it. "We have plenty of space," he went on optimistically. He opened a box, found some of his office supplies and began to unload it onto their desk. "And we don't have to share a bathroom with anyone except each other. And we're used to that at home, anyway, right?" Immediately, Scully began grabbing up all of the pens, pencils, paperclips and note pads and started shoving them into a desk drawer. "I'm not going to have to train you how to put the toilet seat down here at work, too, am I?" she teased good- naturedly. "I'll be good," he promised. He watched as Scully finished sticking the office supplies away. "Scully? What are you doing?" "Just keeping things tidy," she replied vaguely. "But we could put up a table over there," he went on, going back to his excited master plan, gesturing to the far side of the room. "It could be a place to look over evidence." "Good idea," she murmured absently. He watched as she went to the door, looked outside, then shut and locked it. Mulder was confused, but he continued concentrating on unpacking. He took some pictures and a wall clock out of another box and set them on the desk. Scully removed her suit jacket, hanging it over a chair, picked up all the pictures and the clock and set them on top of some boxes in the corner. Then she approached his side of the desk. "Uh, Scully?" "Yes?" "Are you all right?" he asked. "What do you mean?" she replied innocently. "Well, I put files on the desk, you put them back. I put the fan on the desk, you put it back. I put some pencils on the desk, you shove them in a drawer. I put the clock and some pictures on the desk and you move them. I'm... sensing a pattern here," he chuckled. Mulder was met with a ravishing smile on his beloved's face. She stood on tiptoe in front of him, pulled him into her arms and kissed him passionately. Mulder being Mulder, quickly caught up and responded in kind. "Mmm," he said, once their lips had parted. "That was tasty. What's the occasion, my love?" "Celebration," she informed him matter of factly. "Don't you recall our game of 'gross-out' last week in the car?" "Yeah, but..." his voice trailed off, clearly not understanding. She gestured to the desk. "I thought we were supposed to christen this thing properly." "Scully, that was my wager. I lost the game, remember?" "Yeah, I remember. But didn't I tell you? That was my wager, too." She offered him another ravishing smile, this time with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Damn, I love you," he groaned, lowering her gently onto the desk. He pulled up her skirt and was completely surprised, delighted and turned on to find she was wearing thigh high stockings and no underwear. "Jesus, you are prepared, aren't you, Scully?" "I don't mess around when it comes to sex on a desk, Mulder," she growled seductively. "Now, how's about dropping those drawers and pleasuring me?" "Yes, ma'am!" he eagerly agreed, doing as she asked and revealing his already hardened manhood. Climbing up on the desk, he slowly sank into her, enjoying the feel of her tight, wet warmth, as well as her arms encircling his neck. He leaned in for a kiss. "I love you so much, Dana," he whispered reverently, stroking her porcelain fine cheek. "I love you," she gasped as he began to move within her. He was all about slow and tender this time and the feeling was exquisite. "God, Mulder... did... I ever... tell you..." "Tell me what, angel?" he murmured, gazing deeply into her eyes, just as he buried himself deeply within her. "I... had a... dream once..." she began, then groaned in appreciation as he nipped at her throat. "Scully, are you going to quote Martin Luther King to me while we make love?" he teased her playfully. She had to laugh. "No, I... I mean, I dreamed... about you once... before... before we ever met..." She moaned in his ear. Mulder's breath hitched in his throat. Considering their current activity, Scully didn't take any special notice of it. "What... what did you dream about me?" he asked, slowing his ministrations slightly. "Oh, yeah, right there," she sighed happily. "I... I dreamed about our first time..." "You mean in front of the fire place?" he exclaimed and she nodded. "Your fantasy?" She nodded again, this time accompanied by a very enthusiastic, "Oh, Mulder..." "But how come..." he sighed back at her, "... you never... oh, God!... Told me?" "I'd actually forgotten about it... until... just before we... our first time..." "Scully, you feel so good!" he cried in jubilation, and he momentarily ceased the questioning in favor of the moment. "God, baby. Love you... I'm gonna... I can't..." "Me, too," she told him, understanding his incoherent pleading completely. "Harder, love, please..." They simultaneously quickened their pace. They had been going slow, even having a conversation just moments earlier, but the thrill of having a tete-a-tete on their desk in their new office at work in the middle of the day excited them too much for either of them to last very long. Within minutes, they came crashing together, calling out each other's names, and clinging to one another with their first breath afterwards. Mulder then rested his head upon her still heaving chest, trying, in vain, to suck on her breast through her blouse and bra. "Mulder, stop, honey," she chuckled, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. He gave up trying to suckle her and settled for nuzzling in between her breasts with his nose. He detected a whiff of perfume, along with her natural scent, which was more pronounced after a sweaty bout of lovemaking. Smiling, Mulder leaned up to lick her neck, loving the salty-sweet taste of her. She laughed again, then urged him off of her, as lying on a hard surface was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. They re-adjusted their clothing accordingly then, after making sure no one was lurking in the basement outside their office, they ventured down the hallway to the restroom to freshen up and clean themselves off. While they were in there, Mulder told her of his own miraculous encounters with a dream lover over the last year or so. He told her that he had met her in his dreams as well, and that he knew her as his wife, long before he knew her as Agent Dana Scully from the FBI. He told her that he had been in love with her from the first moment he saw her in the waking world because he had known her for so long and already been in love with her in the dream world. He also admitted that she was literally a dream come true to him and that he loved her with all of his heart and always would. He watched her as she primped in front of the mirror, smoothing down her hair and clothing. He was afraid that she might think him crazy, although he knew her well enough to know that she would never leave him or stop loving him; he knew that would never change. Mulder was surprised that she had not laughed at him, or accused him of making it up, especially in light of the fact that she herself had admitted to a prophetic dream moments before. Instead, she stared back at him in the mirror, smiling lovingly at him and said, "Well, that certainly explains a lot..." With a sigh of relief, Mulder smiled back at her, a weight lifted from his chest. Finally, he had told her the truth about their entwined destinies. And not only did she not call him crazy, but she actually believed him and all was right with the world... * * * Mulder and his beautiful wife were making love in their bed after a long day at work. He stared up adoringly at her as she straddled him, gazing down at him, equally adoringly. "I love you, Mulder," she murmured, the fine sheen of perspiration covering her lovely form giving her an ethereal glow from the incoming moonlight. "Love you, Dana Scully-Mulder," he reciprocated, reaching up to cup her breasts as she gently rocked above him. "God, you're so perfect!" "Not perfect," she corrected him, "just perfect for you." "Ye-yeah..." he agreed. "Perfect for me..." "And you are perfect... for me, darling," she avowed, leaning down to kiss his lips. Mulder lay back, enjoying watching her rise and fall above him for a few minutes, content to let her do all the work. He smiled lovingly at her. "You are gorgeous, Scully..." Unable to hold back any longer, he gripped her hips and started thrusting up into her, grinding into her cervix, causing a plethora of pleasurable sensations for them both. "Already to that point, are we, love?" she asked him, her eyebrow arched seductively. That look always did him in, and he sped up his pace considerably, pushing her over the edge. Watching her climax caused him to soon follow. He pulled her down on top of him, their bodies still heaving from the sweet surrender. Mulder held her tightly against him, as they calmed and quieted. Running his fingers through her soft, red tresses, Mulder sighed in contentment. Life was so beautiful. He never would have believed that a guy like him would have been deserving of such a wonderful woman. He never would have guessed that marital bliss was an attainable goal. He didn't think that life could get any better than this, and he told her so. "Actually, Mulder, it could," she replied, smiling sweetly at him, then kissing his lips. "How?" "We're going to have a baby..." He gasped! ~ ~ ~ April 14, 1994 Georgetown Mulder/Scully-Mulder residence 2:36 a.m. Mulder awoke from his dream with a gasp. It took him a moment to clear his head. It had been quite awhile since "dream lover Scully" had visited him that he was slightly confused. He felt the presence of his beautiful wife of one year lying beside him. She was deep in slumber, one arm draped across his chest, her hair half covering her face, and she was drooling all over her pillow. The sight brought tears to his eyes, so much love he felt for her. Turning and wrapping his arms around her, Mulder held her close and kissed her forehead. She stirred, but did not wake, instead instinctively snuggled deeper into his embrace. Recalling an important detail from his dream, Mulder's eyes twinkled in wonder and he rested a hand over Scully's flat stomach. He didn't know when, but he knew that it would happen someday... Scully was going to have a baby- his baby. He had no reason to doubt this future event. After all, his dream lover had never been wrong before. Mulder tried not to think of the future too much. He tried not to wonder if he would become the father of a girl or a boy, or perhaps both, with twins. He tried not to speculate on the fact that his wife seemed to get sexier every damn year that he knew her without showing any signs of stopping. He tried not to imagine that their work on the X-Files might someday find his sister, bring her back home and into his new loving family. He merely held Scully tenderly in his arms as she continued to slumber peacefully, and he easily fell back asleep, dreaming about campouts, baseball games and tea parties... The End 06/06/10