An Alluring Indiscretion 
by Beduini and M. Taylor Harrison 
An X-Files story in thirteen chapters plus epilogue. 
Category:  S, A, MSR 
Rating:  NC-17 for extreme consensual heterosexual situations, 
disturbing images and adult language. 
Spoilers:  All over the place.  Up through "Field Trip."  Heavy on the 
"Milagro." 
Keywords:  Case File, Mulder/Scully Relationship 
Timeline:   Summertime, supposedly 1999.  We, like many others, are 
assuming that "Biogenesis" happens in the middle of November so it just 
doesn't count.   It makes it so much cleaner that way.  In case anybody 
wants to know, Beduini started this story way back in February, then 
went off to Italy with the family and left it sitting on the hard drive 
until after Milagro aired.  With Marty's help, an outline was bashed 
out, followed by a chapter by chapter summary.  This is the final 
result, finished late August 1999. 
Summary:  Um, Things you WON'T get in this story include; Slash, 
Scully/Skinner, Scully/Krycek, Death of one or more of our beloved 
heroes, Babyfic, Marriedfic, Rape, Alternate universe/Alternate 
Dimensions or anything like it.  Unless, of course, you consider MSR 
Alternate Universe.  You shouldn't be here if you do. 
Disclaimer:  The X-Files and its characters are the copyright of 
Twentieth Century Fox and Chris Carter.  Marty wants to add that Mulder 
and Scully belong strictly to each other.  Beduini wants to add that 
the characters NOT created by Chris Carter are ours.  We are in no way 
making any money off of this story.  It's just for fun. 
Archive:  Not without my permission! 
Beduini wants to thank her husband and her baby girl for putting up 
with her psychotic behavior and for eating all of those peanut butter 
and jelly sandwiches so she can work on this story.  She also wants to 
thank the Mouse for allowing her (albeit unknowingly) to write during 
working hours, thus keeping husband and child in peanut butter and 
jelly sandwiches. 
And a great big fat thanks to Marty for filling in the blanks and 
keeping things from getting too sloppy! 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER ONE 
How sweet I roam'd from field to field, 
And tasted all the summer's pride, 
'Till I the prince of love beheld, 
Who in the sunny beams did glide! 
He shew'd me lilies for my hair, 
And blushing roses for my brow; 
He led me through his gardens fair, 
Where all his golden pleasures grow. 
With sweet May dews my wings were wet, 
And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage; 
He caught me in his silken net, 
And shut me in his golden cage. 
He loves to sit and hear me sing, 
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; 
Then stretches out my golden wing, 
And mocks my loss of liberty. 
- William Blake, "Song" 
  
Situations such as these are always difficult. 
So thought Dana Scully as she blew a stray crimson lock of hair out of 
her eye.  It had been a long day and an even longer night that didn't 
promise to end soon.  She picked up her feet and rotated her ankles one 
at a time, followed by a quick twist of her neck. 
The owner of the "establishment" sat on an expensive puce sofa to her 
left, Scully catching her looking her over with an appraising eye when 
she thought she wasn't looking.  She had exhausted every possible line 
of questioning and the woman wouldn't talk, causing her to consider 
hauling her down to the Baltimore P.D. and having them book her for 
solicitation.  It would be a futile attempt, she knew, considering the 
woman's obvious clientele.  Still, she'd get some satisfaction out of 
it. 
Mulder had gone upstairs to question one of the working girls.  As he 
ascended the staircase, Scully looked up at him bemused.  She was 
thinking he pulled this assignment just so he could interview the 
girls. The look on his face was one of a boy entering a candy shop with 
a credit card and told her what he was thinking about the duty he 
pulled while she stayed downstairs to question "Madam Freezer Burn". 
But she really couldn't have been further from the truth.  He had the 
distinct impression when he entered the house that these women held all 
the answers they needed to solve this puzzle.  If only they would stop 
disappearing long enough for them to ask the questions of the right 
girl. 
This place was really amazing - like something out of one of those 
"Playboy After Dark" videos.  Tasteful - if your taste ran to sumptuous 
furnishings, dark wood and long-legged scantily clad beauties.  One of 
every flavor to choose from.  In the large vestibule at the top of the 
second floor landing, there was an arrangement of chaises, settees and 
club chairs.  The room was lit softly and there were flowers, lots of 
flowers.  The scent of roses and jasmine hung thick in the air.  You 
could hear the golden tones of Barry White coming from one of the rooms 
off the hallway. 
Reclining in the chairs was every fantasy Mulder had ever had at one 
time or another.  The tall blonde closest to him was wearing only the 
skimpiest of merry-widows as she swayed up to greet him.  He was glad 
Scully was downstairs to miss this particular interview.  He wasn't 
really in the mood to hear her chastise him about his video collection 
just now. 
Her body language was saying "hello" very loudly, but Mulder was 
maintaining his cool detached facade - at least for the moment.  This 
was pretty tempting stuff.  She was a vision in white, with little blue 
silk roses at each tantalizing intersection.  The investigator in him 
couldn't help but notice that the tattoo inscribed with a flourish atop 
her left breast read "Honeysuckle Rose."  Her shoulders were draped by 
a flimsy chiffon peignoir, covering nothing but the sheer hint of the 
garters holding up her stockings.  She was perched upon four-inch satin 
mules of the softest shade of baby blue decorated with maraboo which 
tickled her jungle red toenails. 
"Are you looking for someone special?"  The honey fairly dripped from 
her voice.  She couldn't have been real.  He felt he must have been 
thrown into another one of those virtual reality chambers when he 
wasn't paying attention...and someone had turned up the thermostat. 
But on the outside, you couldn't tell.  The consummate professional, 
the FBI Special Agent didn't have much patience for the 'working girl' 
profession.  Even though he had a fascination with women of this type, 
he felt that paying for it was below both him and them.   "Uh, uh, no, 
actually.  I'm looking for anyone who can give me information regarding 
the death of one of your associates.  Karen Darby...?  He flipped open 
his badge for her to see. 
Suddenly he was alone on an iceberg.  Honey's demeanor shifted from 'I 
want you, baby' to 'I want you to leave'. 
"I'm afraid I won't be able to help you.  Too bad, I love tall men with 
green eyes." 
"They're hazel, really.  I was hoping you could tell me about any 
possible connections between Miss Darby and an aid on Senator Harman's 
staff, Steven Hoyt."  He persisted with his questioning while he worked 
to suppress his breathing.  "Have you ever met Mr. Hoyt, or seen him 
here with Miss Darby?" 
"No, I'm sorry.  Our schedules are pretty tight here and I'm booked up 
solid most evenings.  Besides, I couldn't tell who's a senator's aid 
and who's not.  People don't really carry resumes around here.  I do 
have an opening right now though, if you're interested."  She sidled up 
to him, resting her hand across his heavily padded shoulder.  With her 
heels on, they were almost eye to eye.  He looked down and saw the 
tattoo pressed against the arm of his suit jacket. 
Pursing his lips, he watched her tattoo as it rode the swell of her 
breathing.  "I would have thought that the visit of someone on the 
senator's staff would be cause for some special treatment around here, 
no?" 
"Not really.  We try to treat all of our guests special.  Even though 
I'm on my own time right now I'd treat you very special if you wanted 
to find out first hand."  She gently twisted her golden ringlets around 
her finger and down his lapel as her other hand traced the lace atop 
the merry-widow. 
"I bet you would."  His eyes were beginning to glaze over and she knew 
it.  She took a step closer, if that was possible.  He could almost 
taste her toothpaste when he heard another woman clear her throat 
behind them.  Her voice was sultry, yet business-like.  He quickly 
remembered who he was, where he was and immediately became cognizant of 
the fact that Scully was very likely standing behind him with one 
eyebrow cocked and ready to fire.  He took a breath, stood a little 
taller, closed his eyes and turned. 
What he saw before him took his breath away. There she was, but it 
wasn't Scully.  She looked like Scully, and sounded like Scully - but 
she wasn't.  Same height, same cinnamon hair, similar hairstyle, only 
less severe.  She even had a little mole under her left nostril - but 
this one wasn't covered up by makeup.  In fact, she wore only the 
slightest hint of gold powder across her azure eyes.  Her lashes were 
the same color as her hair and, Jesus, she looked soft.  This woman was 
his fantasy-Scully. 
This fantasy-Scully was wearing a fine silk negligee - the color of 
aubergine, the thinnest spaghetti straps holding up the flimsy fabric 
as it draped across her ample breasts.  Her shoulders were dusted with 
gold.  In this light she glimmered like a jewel - one of those antique 
ones you see in the shops - extravagant, evocative of good living. 
Even with high heels, she appeared very petite next to the Amazon that 
still had hold of his shoulder. 
Sensing his distraction, Honey circled around him, brushing her hands 
across his shoulders all the while sighing in his ear, "I see Leslie is 
more your flavor." 
He barely noticed her departure.  There was nothing that could have 
torn his eyes away from the woman standing before him.  Except the 
voice of the woman heading up the stairs to fetch him down. 
"Mulder, what the hell is taking so long?" 
Mulder quickly came to his senses and headed for the stairs.  He 
brushed past the fantasy Scully and rushed to meet the real deal about 
to make the landing.  Tossing a quick look over his shoulder, he 
grabbed real Scully by the elbow and ushered her quickly down the 
stairs. 
"Nothing.  Dead-end.  Let's go, Scully." 
She stopped, looking at him.  "What happened?" 
Mulder's voice was louder, more forceful.  "Let's GO, Scully." 
His grip on her elbow was firm and his pace was quick, but there was an 
unmistakable gentleness to his actions.  She wasn't sure but she 
thought she saw Madam Freezer Burn smirk from her seat in the foyer as 
she was hurried out the door. 
  
  
She waited silently, staring out the passenger side window into the 
early morning darkness as they drove down the 95, giving Mulder time to 
offer his narrative on his interrogation of the witness before she had 
to pull it out of him.  His only offering was the occasional crack of a 
shell between his teeth as he grazed on sunflower seeds, or a twist of 
the air-conditioning vents to reap the maximum amount of cool air from 
the Bureau-issued sedan's straining compressor. 
Of course, it wasn't unusual for Mulder to keep information to himself, 
timing its release to what always seemed to be the worst possible 
moment.  She didn't like that herself, preferring to lay all of the 
cards out on the table where they can be seen.  Well, maybe she'd 
learned to hide a few up her sleeve after six years of being 
professionally joined at the hip with Fox Mulder.  But those few cards 
were of the emotional suite and weren't necessary when dealing with a 
case such as this. 
She turned her face toward him, taking a quick inventory by the 
dashboard light of his features and the expression he wore.  He 
appeared emotionless but that was another thing she'd gleaned from 
their six-year partnership - how to read Mulder's body language.  To 
the untrained eye he appeared relaxed and ambivalent but she could see 
an anxiety behind the cool façade.  How he managed to look so cool in 
the unbearable humidity was another matter.  She broke the silence, 
speaking in a soft, non-confrontational tone. 
"You gonna tell me what went on back there?" 
He cracked another shell before responding, fiddling with the vents 
again and blinking as his mind processed his reply.  "The witness I 
interviewed turned out to be of no help.  It seems she was...otherwise 
occupied...at the time the incident occurred.  She didn't know 
anything." 
Scully sighed silently and looked down at her hands, realizing that 
this was one of those times that Mulder was choosing to not share.  She 
squirmed against the car seat, sticky and warm in the unseasonably 
humid June air.  After all they had been through together it seemed 
that they were destined to keep revolving in circles, growing closer on 
the upswing and moving away on the downside.  The past year had been 
remarkable as far as their relationship goes - as close as they'd 
become the potential for an equally remarkable distancing was imminent. 
She sighed again, laying her head back against the headrest and closing 
her eyes against the frustration she felt rising within her. 
  
  
Mulder pulled the car up to the curb in front of Scully's Georgetown 
apartment and put the gearshift into "park" without cutting the engine. 
He turned in his seat toward his dozing partner, allowing his eyes to 
run over her face and torso a bit longer than he would have if she were 
awake.  Reaching over he tenderly slid the back of his fingers down the 
side of her cheek. 
"Scully.  Wake up, sleepyhead, you're home." 
Her eyes flew open and she sat up straight, a startled look on her face 
quickly transforming into the everyday Scully mask that she wore so 
well.  She blinked a few times with a swallow and a low hum.  "What 
time is it?" 
"Four a.m.  You've got time enough for a couple more hours of sleep 
before we're due in Skinner's office for an update." 
She tilted her head from side to side with a series of soft pops and 
took in a deep breath.  "Mmm-kay.  Are you gonna be alright driving 
home?" 
He grinned playfully.  "Is that an invitation to sleep over?" 
She let out a light snort, a brief smile crossing her face.  "If you 
find my sofa enticing, then I suppose it is."  She opened the door and 
stepped out onto the sidewalk, turning back to face him.  "Goodnight, 
Mulder." 
"See you in a few."  On cue his body betrayed him with a loud yawn 
which earned him a smile and a wave.  Hopefully that was the only thing 
she'd noticed about his traitorous body.  Mulder watched her disappear 
into the building before sliding the car into gear and pulling away. 
He groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat with a grimace.  It was 
getting harder and harder to stick to the rules and edicts of their 
partnership.  'Thou shall not make unwanted sexual advances on thy 
partner.' 
God, after spending the better part of the night interrogating the 
'employees' at Hansen House, discovering much to his delight and horror 
a Dana Scully lookalike that looked so much like Scully that it made 
his toes curl...and then the long, hot drive back from Baltimore...she 
had no idea what it did to him to have her wriggling around in her seat 
mere inches from him, sans jacket wearing that form fitting-black silk 
tee and slacks, smelling all warm and Scully and more delicious than a 
fresh cinnamon roll just out of the oven.  All the while she made those 
little Scully noises, breaths and hitches - and she's a loud breather 
(although it would mortify her if she ever heard him voice that fact 
aloud).  Her little breaths and sighs distracted him to no end as much 
as they comforted him after one of the particularly close brushes with 
danger that they experienced far too often.  He'd never realized how 
dependent he'd become on the little noises she made throughout the day. 
And then there was the matter of the cold air from the air-conditioning 
blowing across her chest as she slept...oh, no, no, no...mustn't think 
about that one if you plan to get any sleep tonight, he told himself. 
Being in love with your partner and making light hearted passes at her 
is one thing, not seriously doing anything about it to screw it up is 
quite another.  And it was the not being able to do anything about it 
that was getting to him.  He felt his innuendoes were becoming 
increasingly brazen and something was going to have to give to relieve 
the tension.  It was only a matter of time now before he lost complete 
control and did something really stupid. 
Mulder reached over the seat and grabbed his suit jacket off of the 
back seat, pulling his note pad out of the pocket.  He flipped through 
to the page of employee names. 
Leslie Martin.  Her makeup was different, so was her nose.  Her eyes 
were a similar shade of blue but lacked the Scully spark behind them. 
But her mouth, her physical appearance, the shade of her hair - it was 
downright spooky.  And considering her chosen profession, oh so 
tempting, even for a law enforcement agent who didn't personally 
approve of prostitution. 
As his higher self struggled to overcome the baser urges of his lower 
self, his cel phone trilled.  No doubt it was the true source of his 
internal debate.  "Hey Scully, you should be floating off in dreamland 
by now." 
There was a short pause, followed by Scully's soft alto chuckle.  "I 
thought you could use some company on your drive home." 
Higher Self high-fived Lower Self as his heart pumped a surge of warmth 
through his chest.  God, he loved her and her precious little 
considerate heart.  "You should have told me you wanted to come home 
with me before I dropped you off." 
There was a rustling noise and Scully breathed against the telephone, 
making herself comfortable before replying.  "Thanks, but I've slept on 
your sofa."  He was silent, biting back a less appropriate comment. 
"Mulder, where are you?" 
"Not far, actually.  It's amazing how quickly you can get around this 
town when the roads are all vacant." 
"Sure, if you want to drive around at four in the morning."  She 
paused, both of them silent for a moment.  "Mulder...what are we doing 
on this case?  It's a straightforward murder investigation involving a 
dead prostitute and a vague reference to a rather indiscreet aid of a 
United States senator.  I see no X-File here." 
Mulder slid a sunflower seed between his lips and sucked on the salty 
shell.  "I think there may be more here than meets the eye, Scully.  So 
does Skinner, apparently, which is why he assigned us to this case." 
"Can it be that this case happens to hit a little close to home for the 
Assistant Director?  Surely the memory of his involvement in a similar 
situation two years ago hasn't escaped him.  What's his connection to 
the Senator?" 
"I don't know but that's something I definitely plan to ask him."  His 
sentence was punctuated by the crack of the sunflower seed between his 
teeth.  She heard him turn off the engine and the door of the car open. 
"Are you there?" 
"Safe and sound."  There was a long pause of silence, just the two of 
them breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets when Scully moved. 
He climbed the stairs two at a time, avoiding the elevator lest he 
should lose his connection.  Reaching his door, he inserted the key in 
the lock.  "You still with me?" He asked tenderly. 
"Mmm, yes.  Barely.  Are you inside?"  Her voice was rough and sensual 
and he knew her choice of words was unintentional, but it affected him 
all the same. 
"Yeah." 
"Goodnight, Mulder." 
He laughed softly.  "What, you're not going to tuck me in?" 
"... too sleepy ..." was her reply. 
His response was whisper soft.  "Sweet dreams, Scully."  Mulder punched 
the end button on his cel phone and ran a hand through his hair with a 
sigh before dropping the phone down on the nightstand next to his bed. 
  
END CHAPTER ONE 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER TWO 
What ship puzzled at sea, cons for the true reckoning? 
Or coming in, to avoid the bars and follow the channel a 
     Perfect pilot needs? 
Here, sailor!  here, ship!  take aboard the most perfect pilot, 
Whom, in a little row boat, putting off and rowing, I hailing you 
     Offer. 
- Walt Whitman 
  
For all outward appearances, Walter Skinner was the picture of calm. 
He had assigned his best investigators to the case and although they 
managed to get into more trouble than any other pair of agents in the 
history of the FBI, he was confident that they would solve the case 
quickly and tactfully.  However, a United States senator was involved 
and Skinner was all too aware of both Mulder's and Scully's unpleasant 
experiences with members of congress in the past.  When it came to 
Mulder and Scully and the X-Files he always felt that he was sitting on 
a time bomb that could explode at any moment.  He'd been so very close 
to detonation several times in the past and this situation was 
potentially lethal.  The thought made the vein at his temple throb. 
"Agents, I don't have to tell you the extreme sensitivity surrounding 
this investigation.  Senator Harman is a respected member of Congress 
with a long-standing service record, including a tour in Vietnam that 
earned him a metal of distinction."  Skinner glanced from one agent to 
the other across the wide desk.  Scully sat stiffly on Mulder's right, 
the expression on her face as tight as Mulder's was laconic. 
Mulder spoke first.  "Sir, with all due respect, I don't understand why 
we've been assigned to this case.  Scully and I agree that this is a 
straightforward murder investigation that could be handled just as 
adeptly by Harper and DeLuca or Martinez and Cross." 
Skinner squinted from Mulder back to Scully again.  "I have my reasons 
for assigning this case to you, Agent Mulder.  Is there some problem 
with your involvement in it that I should know about?"  His eyes rested 
on Scully.  She wasn't known for keeping her opinion to herself when 
she felt strongly about something and he knew from previous experience 
that she had strong feelings about prostitution.  He also knew that 
regardless of her personal feelings, she was a consummate professional 
and knew how to distance herself from her work. 
Her eyes met his evenly, an eyebrow raised in question.  "The case 
doesn't fit the standard criteria for an X-File, Sir.  Is there 
something more here that *we* should know about?" 
Despite her diminutive size, Scully's icy blue glare and raised brow 
could have him gnashing his teeth together quicker than any agent in 
the Bureau, Mulder included.  The vein began throbbing again.  There 
had been a time before their trust in him had been compromised when 
Mulder and Scully would accept an assignment on good faith alone. 
Skinner leaned back in his chair and squeezed the bridge of his nose 
between his thumb and forefinger.  "That's what I want you to tell 
*me*, Agent."  He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before 
replacing the spectacles.  "Steven Hoyt killed himself in his cell last 
night after spending four hours with Baltimore detectives asserting his 
innocence." 
Scully glanced over at Mulder, who met her look before turning his eyes 
back to Skinner.  "Did he leave a note?"  Mulder asked. 
"No, but his girlfriend did."  Skinner handed a photocopy of the note 
to Mulder and a photograph to Scully, who visibly reacted as she looked 
over the photo of a deceased woman laying on a bed next to an empty 
pill bottle.  With her brow knitted, she handed it to Mulder, whose 
mouth opened slightly in surprise. 
"This woman is a dead ringer for Karen Darby." 
"Dead being the operative word here."  Scully replied, looking at the 
photocopied note Mulder had handed her in exchange.  "This note left by 
Lisa Lewis clearly implicates Senator Harman in the murder of Karen 
Darby." 
"She alleges that the Senator made unwanted advances toward her, and 
after she refused him he began boasting in explicit detail about his 
discovery of her "twin" - Karen Darby, and their meetings at Hansen 
House."  Mulder added. 
Scully continued to peruse the note.  "She claims Hoyt was innocent of 
having any involvement with Karen Darby and was framed to take the fall 
for the Senator." 
"And yet he chose to take his own life."  Mulder mused. 
"Or someone took it for him."  She looked up at him and their eyes 
locked. 
Skinner leaned back in his chair, confident that he'd achieved his goal 
in captivating the two agents in front of him.  Once they began 
wrapping their minds around a puzzle they wouldn't stop until they'd 
found the solution.  There would be no more argument about this 
assignment.  "Senator Harman is expecting you in his office at 10:30 
this morning." 
Both agents rose and shuffled out of the office, focused on the trail 
of evidence and the investigation laid before them.  Skinner let out a 
sigh as the door shut.  He hadn't needed to appeal to them on a more 
personal level, keeping to himself the fact that an acquaintance at 
Capitol Hill had called in a favor and asked him specifically to assign 
the case to Mulder and Scully.  He was certain that the usual 
government conspiracy they were constantly up against was not a factor 
here and took his acquaintance's explanation at face value - word had 
gotten around that Mulder and Scully were a formidable investigative 
team and only the best would do.  But that didn't stop the vein from 
throbbing in his temple, nor did it relax the muscles in his jaw enough 
for it to completely unclench.  If Mulder and Scully were to find out 
that he'd assigned this case as a personal favor to somebody outside of 
the Bureau, he feared the last shred of trust that they clung to would 
be lost irrevocably. 
  
  
Things were quiet in the car as Mulder and Scully traveled to their 
appointment to interview the Senator.  Mulder munched on sunflower 
seeds, tossing the spent shells out the driver's side window while 
Scully sat in her usual seat, studying the case file.  She had been 
engrossed in the file quite a while when she realized that their trip 
to Capitol Hill was taking an unusually long time.  When she looked up, 
she found that they were heading out of town. 
"Mulder, I thought you called and confirmed that we were meeting 
Senator Harman at his office on the Hill."  Scully seemed slightly 
annoyed at Mulder's seeming forgetfulness of their appointment with the 
Senator, but actually, she secretly wished they were off to any other 
location than a senator's office.  She didn't have much use for 
politicians. 
"We're meeting him at his office, Scully, but not on the Hill.  He 
wants to meet at his home office at his estate in Old Virginny." 
Mulder's attempt at a Southern gentleman's accent was just a trifle too 
sardonic to be anything short of amusing.  He glanced over to his 
partner for what he assumed would be that beautiful Mona Lisa smirk, 
but Scully claimed no reaction to his attempt at patrician humor. 
Disappointed, he settled back into the business of steering the car. 
"We should be getting there soon.  His aide said it wasn't too far from 
Fall's Church." 
Scully looked up from the case file and glanced out the passenger's 
window at the pastoral setting gliding by her view.  It was a beautiful 
day and she contemplated the beauty of what she saw.  Split rail fences 
draped with roses lined the roadway.  Thoroughbred horses grazing in 
verdant pastures paused to look up as the car passed.  Startled, they 
cantered off to another corner of the pasture, their peaceful 
environment invaded.  She thought once again about the turns her life 
had taken since she joined Mulder on the X-Files.  It must be nice to 
live out of the city at least part of the time.  It didn't seem like a 
country home was ever going to be in her future.  It used to be 
something she dreamed about as a young girl - land and horses 
represented the stability of a life so foreign to her nomadic military 
upbringing. 
As the car rounded the next curve, an opulent pair of gates burgeoned 
out of an enormous rose arbor at the foot of a long driveway lined with 
dogwood trees.  Scully couldn't help a little gasp as she took in the 
grandeur of it all. 
Mulder leaned into her and looked up at her from below heavy lidded 
eyes and asked in his most provocative voice, "Who says the Old South 
is dead, Scully?"  This time, he got the smirk. 
A short, slender black woman dressed in the traditional black and white 
maid's uniform met them at the portico of the great house and led them 
around the side of the house and into the garden.  The smell of roses 
preceded their arrival before they rounded the corner of the mansion 
and caught sight of the storybook vision.  The garden was filled mostly 
with roses of what seemed to be every possible variety.  Tree roses 
lined the walkways, luscious climbing roses clung to graceful arbors 
and fences.  In the distance, the corner of a greenhouse was visible 
beyond the main garden. 
The light was dazzling as it bounced off of statues and fountains as 
they passed along the garden walk, the bright light emphasizing the 
blues in Mulder's and Scully's suits and the copper of Scully's hair. 
Mulder donned his sunglasses to cut down on the glare and add an 
aloofness to his persona.  Scully just squinted, causing her demeanor 
to seem even more serious than before.  They walked with a relaxed but 
determined gait as they approached the rear of the garden where a 
gazebo came into view. 
Senator Robert Harman was standing with his back to them, speaking 
loudly into the telephone.  He was a tall man, about 185 lbs., strong 
build with broad shoulders, but that may have been from the shoulder 
pads of his suit.  His wavy hair was almost completely silver, but it 
was obvious it had been a medium brown in his younger days. 
"I don't want to hear any more of your excuses...I've hired you to 
take care of it, so take care of it!"  He snapped the clam shell of the 
phone closed to end the call just as Mulder and Scully approached.  As 
he turned and caught sight of them, he waived off the couple's escort. 
"Ah! Agent Mulder, is it?" 
Mulder nodded as he extended his hand in reply.  "Senator.  This is my 
partner, Special Agent Dana Scully."  Clearly distracted and failing to 
acknowledge Mulder's outstretched hand, the Senator turned his cool 
gaze and movie star smile toward Scully, his eyes finding and holding 
hers.  He was much younger looking in person, despite the premature 
gray of his hair.  According to his Congressional biography, he was 51, 
but up close he looked to be no older than early forties. 
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Scully.  Thank you both for meeting 
me out here away from Washington.  I apologize for the inconvenience, 
but it's difficult for me to get any peace in the city these days.  I 
come here whenever I can to work.  It comforts me to be near my roses." 
The genteel way he put his words bespoke of the bygone Southern era. 
When used properly, it was quite appealing and this man obviously knew 
how to use words to good effect.  He was quite charming. 
As Scully surveyed the magnificent garden, the Senator admired what he 
saw of her and leaned in to get a little closer.  "Do you like roses, 
Agent Scully?"  The Senator asked with a slight smile, looking deeply 
into her eyes again. 
"Yes, I'm very fond of roses, actually."  She offered him a polite, 
self-conscious smile. 
He studied her carefully, almost intimately.  "Yes, they suit you.  In 
particular, this variety."  Senator Harman gestured to her to join him 
at a blooming rose bush near the entrance to the gazebo.  "It's called 
a Sterling rose.  Note how the intense lavender color of the bud is 
almost bluish.  They're normally sold as long stem rosebuds, but I 
pride myself on developing large blossomed garden varieties."  He 
reached into his trouser pocket and extracted a small pocket knife. 
The Senator was tall - taller than Mulder.  So much so that Scully 
looked like a child standing before him.  Biting his lip, he gave the 
impression of shyness, belied by the flirtatious glint in his eye as he 
snipped the rose from the bush and handed it to her.  "Why Agent 
Scully, I was right.  In this light, this blossom brings out the blue 
of your eyes.  Bluer than the sea."  His eyes sparkled when he spoke to 
Scully with that soft, almost singsong Southern accent, his white teeth 
flashing when he talked. 
It was still early and Mulder was already annoyed.  This guy was 
wasting time with his banalities and Old Southern charm.  He didn't 
like the way the Senator leaned into Scully's personal space to meet 
her eye to eye.  To any other outside observer, it was seemingly 
harmless, but Mulder felt that the Senator's body language had more 
sexual overtones to it than just plain kindness would. 
Mulder moved in a little closer to his partner, just a little to the 
left and behind her shoulder so that he was in line to make direct eye 
contact.  Taking off his sunglasses for added effect, he spoke directly 
to reestablish command over the interview.  "Senator, we'd like to ask 
you a few questions about Steven Hoyt." 
Scully took in a silent breath of relief, audible to no one but Mulder. 
The Senator held his arm out in an invitation for the duo to join him 
on the gazebo benches.  He sat, shook his head, clasped his hands 
together and made ticking sounds to indicate his dismay before 
replying.  "Steven."  He said softly, a misty look on his face.  "He 
was a top notch aide, and an asset to my staff.  The assistance and 
support he's given me over the years have been invaluable.  My heart 
goes out to his family." 
"He'd been on your staff for almost seven years.  Were you very close, 
sir?"  Scully asked, sitting on the bench opposite the Senator.  Mulder 
remained standing, his knee slightly grazing Scully's hip.  Neither of 
them thought anything of it, but Harman's gaze was drawn to the place 
where they connected. 
The Senator's voice sounded as if it might break at any moment.  "I 
thought so.  I consider myself fortunate to have been able to call him 
a friend." 
"Were you aware of any involvement between Mr. Hoyt and a woman named 
Karen Darby?"  Mulder asked. 
"Karen Darby?  No, I don't believe I've ever heard the name."  The 
Senator turned his gaze to Scully as he replied, his face open. 
Scully raised a brow.  "Were you aware of any connections that Steven 
Hoyt might have had in Baltimore, Senator?" 
"Baltimore?"  He looked as if he were pondering the question for a 
moment.  "No, I don't believe so." 
"Could Mr. Hoyt have been representing your Office in Baltimore, sir?" 
Scully was intent on getting some kind of useful answer. 
"Absolutely not.  Baltimore is in Maryland.  My constituency is in 
Virginia.  What happened in Baltimore, agents?"  The Senator seemed 
completely ignorant of the direction this questioning was taking.  He 
kept his gaze intent on the beautiful redhead before him. 
Mulder was becoming annoyed that the man never looked past Scully for 
eye contact, his agitation beginning to creep into his voice.  He 
decided to turn up the heat just a bit.  "There is evidence suggesting 
that Steven Hoyt may have had some connection to a known house of 
prostitution in Baltimore.  Hansen House.  Have you ever heard of 
Hansen House, Senator?" 
As if sensing Mulder's irritation, the Senator looked direct into 
Mulder's eyes.  "I can't say that I have.  Things here in Virginia and 
in Washington keep me much too busy to get to Baltimore more than once 
or twice a year." 
"What about the girlfriend, Lisa Lewis? Did you know her?"  Mulder 
pushed. 
The Senator continued to look Mulder in the eye.  "We'd met a few 
times, a staff socials.  Nice girl." 
Scully also picked up on Mulder's tone.  "Were you aware, Senator, that 
Lisa Lewis was found dead at her apartment last night of an apparent 
suicide?" 
Senator Harman looked surprised.  "I hadn't heard that.  This is very 
disturbing news.  She must have been distraught over Steven's death." 
He shook his head and stood, turning his back to them as he stared out 
across the grassy pasture beyond the garden.  His shoulders were very 
tense under his suit coat. 
Mulder had had enough of this.  He knew he was dealing with a 
politician, but he sensed that the Senator's responses were too well- 
rehearsed to be honest.  He replaced his sunglasses, looked at the 
Senator a moment, then said, "Thank you for your time, Senator."  He 
reached down and cupped Scully's elbow, urging her off the bench, and 
turned to leave.  Scully's look of surprise at the sudden end of the 
interrogation caught the Senator's eye as he turned back toward them. 
>From his perspective, it looked as if she were disappointed to be 
leaving. 
"I'd like to help out in any way I can."  He replied, his voice 
dripping sincerity.  "I wouldn't want the memories of such vibrant 
young people to be sullied by this.  And of course, it wouldn't do well 
to have my constituents hear of these ugly matters as relating to my 
Senate seat either.  I'd prefer to keep this matter quiet." 
"It is a very ugly matter, whether or not we're speaking politically, 
Senator."  Mulder spoke matter-of-factly.  "Agent Scully and I are here 
to make sure that the investigation leads us to the truth." 
Scully glanced at Mulder, then offered the Senator a polite smile 
goodbye.  She remained quiet as they exited the garden, sensing the 
Senator's eyes on her retreating backside.  She finally spoke as Mulder 
opened the passenger door for her.  "I thought we came here for 
answers, Mulder."  They were standing close enough together that no one 
could overhear, but they kept their voices low out of practiced caution 
anyway.  "That was a pretty glowing recommendation for the Senator to 
give an aide suspected of committing murder." 
"Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?"  Mulder looked down into his 
partner's eyes and smirked, happy to have her all to himself once 
again.  "He's hiding something, Scully.  There's nothing of any value 
that he would have told us today.  He was only trying to find out what 
we knew so he could rally his political defenses.  We need to get a 
little deeper into just what kind of things Steven Hoyt assisted the 
Senator with.  Once we find that out, we'll find out who's behind these 
murders." 
"You mean murder/suicides, don't you?" 
"No, I don't think so.  I've got a feeling we're going to find out a 
lot more about the connection between these people to prove that Steven 
Hoyt and Lisa Lewis were murdered along with Karen Darby and that good 
ol' Senator Harman is connected somehow." 
Scully furrowed her brow and nodded as she got into the car, all the 
while looking up at her partner.  She had the distinct feeling there 
was more to it than that, but decided to withhold her comment until she 
had some hard evidence to use in the debate.  "So where to now?"  She 
smiled at him, already knowing the answer. 
Mulder crossed behind the car and sat in the driver's seat with a 
slight grin.  "I've got an overwhelming curiosity to see what the 
D.C.P.D. overlooked at Lisa Lewis' apartment." 
They drove off down the long drive, unaware that someone had been 
observing them and the body language of their private exchange with 
more than a passing interest from a terrace on the second floor above. 
  
  
Lisa Lewis' apartment was on the 1400 block of 21st Street N.W., a 
quick walk from one of Washington D.C.'s main hubs, Dupont Circle and 
just a few minutes from Scully's apartment.  It was a nice area to live 
in.  Trees lined the streets and the people who resided in the pleasant 
brown or white stone buildings led nice lives.  Mulder found a parking 
spot down the street and the partners casually walked over to the crime 
scene.  The day was still hot and humid, so Mulder left his jacket in 
the car and sauntered over to the crime scene in shirt sleeves, hands 
in pockets.  As usual, Scully looked cool and perfect. 
As they approached the building, they caught the eye of one of the D.C. 
police detectives assigned to the Lewis case.  The agents had known the 
detective for some time.  He was a good enough guy - a little caustic 
at times - but a good detective nonetheless. 
"Well, if it isn't Mr. and Mrs. Spooky."  He squinted at them.  "I knew 
the FBI had a special interest in this one, but I didn't know they 
considered it an X-File.  What brings you two here?" 
Nodding to the man, Mulder answered while surveying the area around the 
entrance to the building at the same time.  "Just here to keep you on 
your toes, McCracken.  The Bureau doesn't want you guys in blue to take 
all the glory on this one." 
"It's a simple suicide, Mulder.  She couldn't take the agony of losing 
her boyfriend, so she opted to take the Long Nap.  She said as much in 
the note that your boys made off with earlier this morning." 
Mulder squinted at him, nodding slightly.  "Well, we're gonna take a 
quick look around if it's all the same to you."  He placed his hand at 
the small of Scully's back and ushered her under the police tape and up 
the stairs to the door. 
Detective McCracken watched Scully as they ascended the stairs, 
enjoying the view.  "Damn lucky fella", he snuffed as he shook his head 
and found his attention drawn elsewhere down the street. 
Upon entering the Lewis apartment, Mulder appreciated that the windows 
had been opened allowing a cool breeze to enter.  Showing their badges 
just inside the door to the detectives already at work, Scully and 
Mulder split off to look for clues.  Scully headed for the bedroom, 
where the body had been found, the tape outline of the corpse in place 
diagonally atop the unmade bed.  The body had been removed some time 
before, but the coroner was still there wrapping up the evidence. 
Mulder had found Lewis' desk in the living room and was going through 
it, hoping to find anything that would help them.  It was obvious that 
the D.C.P.D. had done a thorough job in their investigation of this 
suicide - the papers had already been gone through.  Mulder waved at 
them as they indicated they were leaving, and continued to shuffle 
through the papers on the desk.  Nothing.  He sat back and looked 
around slowly. 
The woman had lived well.  Good furniture, crystal chandelier, 
expensive computer and stereo equipment, pictures framed in silver.  A 
long narrow table extended behind the sofa.  It was covered with 
personal mementos and framed photos. 
The light from the window glimmered off the silver frames, one in 
particular catching his eye.  It was a group photo.  From the police 
photos, Mulder could recognize Lisa Lewis and Steven Hoyt standing 
together in the picture, but another person in the image Mulder knew 
from personal experience. 
Senator Robert Harman. 
"Hey, Scully. Look at this."  Mulder was holding the picture up for his 
partner to see as she left the bedroom and joined him by the window. 
"It looks like it could be from one of those staff socials the Senator 
mentioned."  Scully commented, unimpressed with the magnitude of 
Mulder's discovery.  She questioned him with her look. 
"You're probably right.  Check this out."  He pointed at the image of 
Senator Harman.  The occasion looked like a boating party, everyone 
dressed in short pants, deck shoes and windbreakers.  Steven Hoyt and 
Lisa Lewis were prominent in the photo, but they were not Hoyt's arms 
wrapped around his girlfriend, they were the Senator's. 
"No sign of Mrs. Harman here.  Doesn't it look to you like the Senator 
knew Miss Lewis just a bit better than he let on, Scully?"  The look on 
Mulder's face confirmed his distaste for the Senator's reputation of 
being a lady's man. 
"I fail to see anything significant here, Mulder.  There could be a 
dozen reasons why he had his arms around her."  When Mulder was like 
this, she felt more than obliged to be the voice of reason. 
"But Scully, just think...you've got a dead woman attesting to her 
fiancé's innocence in the murder of a prostitute who looks JUST LIKE 
HER.  You've got her deathbed accusation that that fiancé was involved 
with the prostitute to protect a United States Senator from 
embarrassing press.  A senator who swears he barely knew either of 
these women, and this photo that certainly indicates he knew at least 
one of them well...you have to admit, it's worth investigating." 
Mulder turned the frame over in his hand and unhinged the back. 
Gratefully, the photographer's name and address had been stamped onto 
the back of the photo.  He patted his chest, realizing he'd left his 
notepad in his coat jacket in the car.  Instead, he grabbed a piece of 
blank paper out of the computer printer sitting on the desk and jotted 
down the information, then folded the paper and put it in his pants 
pocket. 
As Scully watched him write down the photographer's name, she noticed 
the printer.  "Mulder, wasn't Lisa Lewis's suicide note typed out and 
initialed rather than hand written?" 
He looked up, and immediately following her line of thinking, called 
one of the forensics team over.  "Send this printer over to Danny in 
the FBI Sci-Crime lab."  He threw Scully a gleam that said, 'nice 
catch' and reassembled the picture frame, putting it back on the table. 
"Well, while you follow up on that photo, I've found something else to 
investigate."  Between her fingers she held a plastic bag containing a 
pill bottle. 
"This is the medication that Lisa Lewis allegedly used to kill herself. 
The label on the bottle is lacking the proper pharmaceutical 
registration numbers - it came from an unlicensed source.  And the 
funny thing is, she has no other chemical medications in her medicine 
cabinet.  Everything in there is homeopathic, herbs and root powders. 
Not even aspirin.  It doesn't seem right to me that a woman who appears 
to be so committed to natural remedies would use a barbiturate to kill 
herself, let alone an illegally obtained one." 
"It looks like we've both got some leads to check out."  Mulder 
replied, leaning in close.  "Why don't we split up, we can cover more 
ground that way.  I'll give you a call later on this evening and we can 
discuss the details." 
  
  
Contrary to his usual pattern of running off and leaving his partner 
stranded, Mulder left Scully with the keys to the Bureau vehicle and 
went off up the street on foot to catch a taxi along Massachusetts 
Avenue.  On his route, he knew he would pass by the Phillips Memorial 
Gallery - home of the famous Renoir painting "The Boating Party."  A 
niggling sense of something undiscovered about the Senator compelled 
him inside for a few minutes to view it once again.  Perhaps a moment 
of inspired contemplation would help him gather his thoughts. 
As he had remembered, the light and pattern emanating from the painting 
was staggeringly beautiful, but it was the grouping of the figures in 
the painting that drew the agent's interest this time.  The legend on 
the wall next to the painting identified the mixed group of subjects. 
Many were friends of the artist, some were artists themselves, and some 
were the regulars who frequented the quasi cafe by the water. 
What intrigued Mulder was that the associations of the group were 
unclear.  It took a guide to determine the relationship the 
participants in the pose shared.  At least two of the people in the 
painting were married or romantically paired, yet the artist chose not 
to put them together in the pose.  Not that this understanding was 
necessary to the enjoyment of the painting, but that the additional 
knowledge served to enrich the viewer's appreciation of it.  Just like 
the people in the painting, there was something more to the 
relationships between Steven Hoyt, Lisa Lewis, Karen Darby and Senator 
Harman.  Like me and Scully, he thought to himself.  So many layers 
below the surface. 
After admiring the artists' detail and use of color up close, he sat on 
a bench in the center of the room, viewing the painting from a 
distance.  It was amazing how something could look so confusing up 
close and became clearer once you stepped back.  Stepping back wasn't 
one of Fox Mulder's fortes, but he had to admit that there were times 
when it was definitely advantageous. 
Mulder had been alone with the painting for some time but as he sat in 
contemplation another patron entered the room, evident by the sound of 
hard shoes hitting the hard floor.  It was getting late and the gallery 
would be closing shortly.  The other patron didn't move on to the next 
room and the next group of paintings, but stayed to the back of the 
room, silent except for the sound of breathing.  He knew that sound as 
well as his own. 
Scully. 
Turning to look at her, Mulder saw she was deeply concentrating on the 
same painting he had been staring at.  She had changed from her work 
clothes to more casual navy blue slacks and white t-shirt, looking more 
like an art history student than a doctor or an FBI agent.  Sensing his 
eyes on her, Scully met his gaze, offering a warm, Mona Lisa smile of 
amusement that they would both end up there.  He returned the look and 
patted the seat next to him. 
Scully sat down, her shoulder lightly brushing against his arm as they 
faced the painting together.  Like Mulder, she had needed some time to 
reflect on the day and the information they had gathered.  That she and 
Mulder would choose the same place and method was not surprising to 
her. 
They sat in silence for a few minutes, both looking at the painting. 
Finally, Mulder leaned back on his hands and looked over at her.  "Come 
here often?"  He asked. 
She looked to the side at him, her eyes studying him for a moment. 
"Sometimes.  Sometimes I go other places."  She looked at her hands a 
moment, pain passing over her face before she took a deep breath and 
looked back up at the painting. 
"What?"  Mulder asked, leaning forward so he could look directly into 
her face. 
She looked back down at her hands, took another breath then looked back 
at him.  "I was just remembering...after I found the Milagro charm, I 
was drawn to a painting that I'd recalled seeing in a church.  It was 
an image of Christ holding a burning heart in his hands.  It 
was...beautiful.  You had asked me to do an autopsy on the latest 
victim, but couldn't get the image of that painting out of my mind and 
I'd gone to see it instead.  I..." she paused a moment.  "That's where 
Padgett first spoke to me." 
Mulder's mouth opened slightly in surprise, and he looked at the Renoir 
a moment before looking back at her.  Scully hadn't discussed much of 
the Padgett case with him other than the facts as they related to the 
investigation, but he recalled a passage from Padgett's unfinished 
novel about her that described that very situation.  Mulder had been 
both fascinated and repulsed by Padgett's depiction of his partner, his 
words describing in intimate detail things about her that even Mulder 
didn't know but somehow felt were eerily close to the truth.  "I 
remember how frightened you were that he'd been able to get inside of 
your head."  He said evenly, trying to keep his own emotions about the 
case in check with the hope that she would continue to open up to him. 
Looking at the painting again, Scully replied softly.  "I couldn't 
believe it.  Even as I was reading his novel, it was like I was outside 
of myself looking in.  The reality of it didn't hit me until you found 
me on the floor of your apartment after nearly having my heart ripped 
out." 
Mulder watched her face, searching for signs of stress.  Although it 
had been an incredibly painful experience, she had learned to deal with 
it.  Better than he had, perhaps.  The memory of seeing his partner 
lying still in a pool of blood on the floor of his apartment was as 
fresh and tender as the memory of her sobbing in his arms as he held 
her close.  Reverting back to his familiar defense mechanism for 
painful situations, he smiled and quipped, "Put you off of art for a 
while, did it?" 
She smiled warmly back at him, holding his gaze.  "I don't think I ever 
thanked you for being there for me, Mulder." 
He placed a hand on her back and rubbed gently.  "You're my partner, 
Scully."  He was only stating a fact, but they both knew that the 
meaning went far beyond a working relationship. 
  
END CHAPTER TWO 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER THREE 
Twice or thrice had I loved thee, 
Before I knew thy face or name; 
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, 
Angels affect us oft, and worshipped be; 
- John Donne, Air and Angels 
  
Scully arrived at Headquarters before 8 a.m. and went straight to the 
Sci-Crime Lab to retrieve the results from the tests on the trace 
chemicals in the pill bottle recovered from Lisa Lewis' apartment. 
"Standard prescription pharmaceutical.  I'm still working on 
determining where the label came from though.  With no pharmaceutical 
registration marks, it gonna be tough."  Danny handed her the report 
and gestured to the bottle Scully was holding in the evidence bag. 
"Like the coroner said, the bottle was clean of fingerprints.  So I had 
Mancina check the childproof cap through spectral analysis to see if 
she could lift any traces at all.  Nothing.  Sorry.  Still, who opens a 
pill bottle and doesn't get any fingerprints on it?" 
"Someone with something to hide."  Scully replied, her eyes still 
scanning the report.  "I'll send over the forensic and autopsy reports 
for you to look at later on this afternoon.  I suspect the body will be 
clean as well." 
"Not the standard M.O. for someone trying to kill herself."  Danny 
commented. 
"No, its not."  Scully closed the report and smiled graciously. 
"Thanks, Danny." 
"Don't mention it."  He replied, sticking a pen in the pocket of his 
lab coat.  "Who knows, I may be asking for your help some day."  As if 
on cue, Agent Denise Mancina wobbled into view, unaware that she was 
being observed by the other two agents.  She kept a hand over her 
swollen belly and she was mumbling something under her breath.  Danny 
turned back toward Scully.  "Maybe even sooner rather than later."  He 
added. 
Mancina looked up and smiled.  "She's kick-boxing again.  Either that 
or she's the reincarnation of Fred Astaire." 
Scully smiled.  "Not long now, huh?" 
"Not soon enough."  Mancina replied. 
Scully offered her a parting smile, and with a nod in Danny's direction 
she headed for the elevator.  She punched the 'down' button and took a 
deep breath as the doors opened to reveal several of the ladies from 
the FBI clerical pool already inside.  Steeling herself, she stepped on 
board. 
She was acquainted with two of the passengers.  As women in a male- 
dominated field, most of the other female agents at the Bureau were as 
concerned as she was about proving themselves based on ability.  But 
some of the clerical staff - the two who happened to be sharing the 
elevator with her - were less than subtle about trying to sleep their 
way up the ladder to success. 
"Agent Scully."  One of the girls greeted her with false sincerity when 
the doors closed. 
Scully nodded politely, well aware that the girls were staring daggers 
at her back.  These two had their sights set on her partner.  'Over my 
dead body' she thought, even with the knowledge that unless they 
happened to answer to the names "Susie Slit" or "B.J. Slowly" in their 
off hours that their chances of Mulder even glancing their way were 
next to nil.  Mulder was unmarried and easily the most attractive male 
agent at the Bureau.  So naturally, everyone assumed that she had the 
inside track on getting into his pants.  'If they only knew.'  She 
thought to herself.  Seven years of partnership and not even one real 
kiss.  Lots of glances, touches, innuendo and a near-miss, but no kiss. 
She and Mulder cared deeply for each other, of that she had no doubts. 
But the nature of that caring was confusing - sometimes she felt 
maternal towards him, sometimes she felt as if she was a poor 
substitute for his missing little sister.  She was able to respond when 
she sensed his desperate need for her approval and at other times she 
thought he didn't even like her at all and was merely tolerating her 
presence.  Often it seemed she could hardly breathe for the unresolved 
sexual tension flowing between them.  The truth was, she just couldn't 
figure it out.  She had tried for years and still, it alluded her.  So 
she pushed it aside and tried to ignore it.  The way Mulder looked at 
her sometimes though, it wasn't always easy. 
The elevator stopped at the first floor and Mulder's groupies 
disembarked with a giggle and a "say hi to your foxy partner."  Scully 
released a sigh of relief, riding the rest of the way down to the 
basement in welcome solitude. 
  
  
As she opened the door to the office her olfactory sense was assaulted 
by the aroma of fresh flowers.  Amongst the files and stacks of paper 
in the middle of Mulder's desk sat an obscenely large arrangement of 
Sterling roses surrounded by dark lacy fern leaves in a stunning 
crystal vase.  The roses were every bit as beautiful as the roses in 
Senator Harman's garden and Scully caught her breath at the sight.  To 
see such a beautiful thing in the middle of Mulder's fire-trap of an 
office this early in the morning was a mild shock to the eye. 
Mulder had the same thought as he walked in behind her, only his eyes 
were on his partner.  "Breathtaking, isn't it?"  He asked mildly as he 
edged around her to plop himself down in the chair behind the desk.  He 
wove his fingers together and laid them in front of him on the desk, 
looking at her like an eager professor expecting a good book report. 
She looked at him with eyebrows raised, trying to gauge his reaction. 
There wasn't a card - were they sent to him?  They were certainly too 
elegant for the elevator sharks she rode down with.  Did *he* buy them? 
Her pulse sped up a bit at the last thought and she took a breath to 
slow it back down.  Mulder wasn't known for his extravagance with 
gifts, but then again, he possessed the ability to surprise her when 
she least expected it.  An impromptu baseball lesson not too long ago, 
she and Mulder gripping the bat, his body wrapped around hers as they 
swung at balls for a good hour came directly to mind.  Still, it wasn't 
likely she'd be receiving flowers from her partner unless she was in 
the hospital. 
"I've just seen the results from the pill bottle we recovered from Lisa 
Lewis' apartment."  She said coolly, expertly covering her less than 
professional train of thought. 
"What was it?"  He asked, a bit of dark lacy fern from the arrangement 
brushing against the side of his face.  He moved to the right, but not 
enough to thwart the fern. 
"A prescription drug called Norco, also known as Hydrocodone 
Bitartrate/Acitaminophen.  It's a painkiller approved by the FDA in 
February 1997 for the treatment of moderate to moderately severe pain." 
"Is it commonly prescribed?"  He moved from the fern again, but still 
not far enough. 
She crossed her arms, ignoring his battle with the fern.  "It's fairly 
common, yes.  I won't know how much she ingested, if she did ingest it, 
until the autopsy is performed.  And there was something else, Mulder. 
The bottle was completely free of prints." 
"Not even Lisa Lewis' prints were found on it?"  He asked vaguely, 
staring at the offending greenery. 
"No."  She gave up on the discussion and gestured at the enormously 
obvious object adorning his desk.  "Ok, Mulder, I'll bite.  What is 
this?"  She asked at last. 
"You tell me."  He looked at her evenly, his eyes intensely holding 
hers for a moment before he opened his top desk drawer and tossed a 
small envelope at her.  "It seems somebody is quite taken with you." 
She looked at him for a moment, still trying to read his expression, 
then opened the card: 
     'Beauty deserves to be surrounded by beauty' 
          - Robert 
Scully's brow furrowed.  Robert?  She wasn't acquainted with anyone 
named Robert.  Her heart began beating wildly at the thought of another 
secret admirer...it was too soon after the Padgett case she wasn't sure 
her heart or her sanity could handle it. 
Mulder must have sensed where her mind had drifted and rose to his 
feet, placing a hand on her shoulder.  "Scully?" 
She looked up at him, eyes wide. 
"Scully...Robert Harman.  *Senator* Harman.  The roses, remember?" 
She closed her eyes and bowed her head, shoulders visibly dropping with 
relief as she let out her breath.  Then she realized the magnitude 
behind the gesture.  "Oh!"  She looked up at him again and moaned, 
tilting her face to the ceiling and closing her eyes.  "Oh, God." 
"It seems I'm not the only one who appreciates your charms, Agent 
Scully.  New shampoo?"  He grinned, silently pleased with her less than 
enthusiastic response as she rolled her eyes and groaned.  Pulling a 
card-sized ecru envelope out of his inside jacket pocket, he placed it 
face up between the index fingers of his two hands and held it out to 
her.  "There's more." 
She eyed him warily as she took the envelope from him, noting the 
special seal reserved only for members of Congress embossed on the back 
flap.  Inside was an invitation to a private dinner at the Senator's 
residence the following Saturday evening - in her name only.  Scully's 
mouth dropped open as she read the invitation.  "I don't believe 
this..." 
Mulder was watching her closely, seriously taking in her reaction. 
"What?" 
"It's an invitation to dine privately with the Senator this Saturday." 
She raised her head and looked at him, asking with her eyes why she 
should be the recipient of such an obvious come-on.  He scanned her 
face, then biting his lip, looked away, his expression unreadable. 
"Maybe you should go.  You might be able to get a little more 
information out of him if he's in a more relaxed social setting." 
"Mulder, he's too smart to give away anything more than what he has 
already told us, and I don't feel comfortable with this.  There are 
more effective ways of getting information." 
He nodded, inwardly happy about the choice she'd made.  Mulder didn't 
like to share his partner with anybody, even if it was related to a 
case.  She picked up the telephone and dialed the RSVP number, sending 
her regrets.  Glancing at her watch, she grabbed her briefcase off of 
the nearby chair.  "I've made arrangements with the M.E. to sit in on 
the Lisa Lewis autopsy this morning."  She said over her shoulder, 
"I'll see you later, Mulder." 
"Call if you find anything interesting..." he called after her, 
flopping back down into his desk chair and scowling at the flowers as a 
bit of fern grazed his ear.  They really were very beautiful - and they 
really annoyed him. 
  
  
Melvin Frohike unlocked seven layers of deadbolts to be greeted with a 
pair of long, dark olive Hugo Boss trousers topped with an enormous 
bouquet of lavender roses. 
"You shouldn't have," he quipped, closing the door behind Mulder as the 
much-taller man strode into the room.  "What gives?" 
"These are Scully's."  He replied, setting the arrangement down on top 
of a flatbed scanner next to the computer monitor where Ringo Langly 
was working, inadvertently poking Langly in the nose with a fern leaf. 
"Ooooo, finally getting up the nerve, eh, Mulder?"  Frohike snickered, 
wagging his furry eyebrows at his friend. 
"They're not from me, they're from an admirer."  Mulder replied flatly. 
"Department of Defense?"  Langly asked, his pushing his black glasses 
up his nose, beady eyes watching Mulder over the top of the computer 
monitor. 
"No."  Mulder looked up.  "Why'd you ask?" 
Frohike shot Langly a look and Langly turned back to his computer 
screen.  "No reason."  Frohike mumbled.  "So you want us to do a 
background check on the guy who sent them?" 
Mulder shoved his hands in his pockets.  "In a manner of speaking, yes. 
They're from Senator Robert Harman." 
"Horny Harman."  Langly quipped, glancing over at Frohike.  "How 
unfortunate for Agent Scully." 
John Byers entered the room from the back with a computer motherboard 
in his hand, having completely missed the previous conversation.  "Nice 
flowers."  He commented politely, looking at the roses and then to 
Mulder, blanching at his scowl.  "Are they yours, Mulder?" 
"They're Scully's."  Langly replied.  "Mulder wants us to pull up some 
background on the Romeo who sent them to her." 
Byers raised his eyebrows, looking back at Mulder.  "Somebody at the 
D.O.D.?" 
Frohike cleared his throat loudly and Langly coughed "shuddup" into his 
hand while Mulder rolled his eyes in irritation.  "What is it with you 
guys and the Department of Defense?  And you call ME obsessive?" 
Frohike looked at Langly and then at Byers.  Unable to help himself, he 
grinned like the Cheshire Cat.  "That is a question you should be 
asking your delicious partner, my friend." 
Mulder scowled at him, not in the mood for riddles.  "Down, Fido.  I 
want you guys to see what you can find out about Senator Harman. 
Public records, news articles, whatever you can come up with." 
"I know he's coming up for re-election next year."  Byers offered. 
"Great.  I also want to know who's on his staff and who his financial 
supporters are.  I want every stone unturned." 
Frohike grinned lasciviously and rubbed the palms of his gloved hands 
together.  "Does that include 'unofficial' records?" 
"Everything."  Mulder turned to leave, speaking loudly as he walked 
toward the door.  "Oh, and you can keep the flowers.  A gift from 
Scully." 
That earned him a small, private smile from Byers as Frohike and Langly 
exchanged smirks behind his back. 
  
  
D.C. traffic at 5:00 p.m. was always the pits.  Mulder had always 
considered himself fortunate to be a field agent, frequently out of 
town, and not trapped into the 9 to 5 commuter grind as were so many of 
the other men his age.  Working in the field and setting his own hours 
had always been one of the perks of the job - it was rare when the 
current monster or gray space alien kept banker's hours.  When his cell 
phone rang, he was glad to have a diversion while he sat in the 
sweltering parking lot usually referred to as the Beltway. 
"Mulder."  He expected it to be Scully. 
"Mulder-man.  How's it hangin'?" A deep voice growled at him. 
Disappointed, but amused nonetheless, he responded, "Frohike, what are 
you doin' calling me?  You're supposed to be collecting data on the 
Senator." 
"Never fear, fearless leader.  We're on it.  I just wanted to tell you 
we're sending some encrypted data to your home PC this evening.  Be 
there to catch it, ok?" 
"Right, MEL-vin.  Thanks."  He heard the abusive protestations 
regarding the inappropriate use of his given name from the caller as he 
disconnected the line with a grin.  It felt good to give some back on 
that score once in awhile. 
The call ended just as he had broken free of the traffic and pulled up 
to the studio belonging to Ronald A. Dobbs, Photographer - the man who 
had taken the picture of Senator Harman and Lisa Lewis at the staff 
social. 
The studio was indistinguishable from any of the other buildings in the 
area.  Located in an old warehouse district of DC, the streets were 
pretty much deserted at this hour, aside from an occasional truck or 
car parked on the street and a few dumpsters lining the sides of the 
brick buildings near their fire exits.  In this heat, you could smell 
the dumpsters from a block away. 
Mulder approached the door of Dobbs' studio and rang the buzzer.  After 
a few moments, a voice answered. 
"Who is it?" 
"Sir, I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI.  I'd like to ask you a 
few questions regarding a photo you took of Senator Robert Harman some 
time ago at a staff get-together out at the Marina." 
"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, but I can't let you in just now.  I'm 
processing a large volume of film today, and I've got to keep the 
studio dark and dust-free.  Can you come back?" 
Mulder didn't feel like having to track after this guy again.  "I'm, 
I'm sorry to be bothering you, sir, but if you could just tell me 
something about the photo...do you remember the event?" 
"Oh yeah, how could I forget?  It kind of made my blood boil." 
Mulder could hear the clanking of steel canisters and clips in the 
background.  Obviously, the guy was on a speakerphone.  "What do you 
mean exactly?" 
"Well, the Senator's a married guy, right?  Has quite a nice wife, in 
my opinion.  Real class, you know?" 
"Yes, sir, but how does that relate to my question?"  It was beginning 
to frustrate him to have to talk through the speaker. 
"Well, the Senator just couldn't keep his hands to himself.  He admired 
one girl in particular at that party, and her boyfriend was right there 
watching.  Made me sick.  They just let it happen." 
"Let what happen, sir?" 
"Just because a guy's got some power, he's allowed to use whoever he 
wants and doesn't care who gets hurt by it." 
"Who was the girl, Mr. Dobbs?  Do you know the woman's name?"  Mulder 
was insistent. 
"I think I heard her boyfriend call her Lise, or something.  I'm not 
real sure.  I got out of there as soon as I could." 
"But not before you took this woman's picture with the Senator..." 
Mulder was trying to lead this guy to the point. 
"Oh no, he wasn't gonna let any of us leave until I took that picture. 
The girl wanted to get out of there, too.  She was only humoring him, 
from what I could tell." 
"And how would you know that, Sir?"  Mulder was humoring this guy a 
little himself. 
"Because as soon as I snapped that photo, she was out of the Senator's 
arms and back over to her boyfriend so fast, my head was spinning, 
that's how!" 
"And what did the Senator do then?" 
"He seemed a little pissed, if you ask me.  He just moved on to some 
other girl after that.  There were plenty of girls there willing to 
provide companionship to the Senator, if you know what I mean?  I felt 
mostly sorry for Mrs. Harman.  She doesn't deserve that kind of 
treatment."  From his tone, it was clear Mr. Dobbs was relishing the 
opportunity to share his opinion. 
"Where was Mrs. Harman during all of this?  Was she at the staff social 
as well?"  Mulder played along, assuming his best 'Joe Friday' persona 
for the photographer. 
"I had heard she was there, but I never saw her.  Maybe she stayed 
aboard the yacht.  I never went on board myself, there was no need.  Do 
you have any more questions...Mr. Mulder, is it?  I've got some film 
that needs to go into a rinse now." 
"Thank you, Sir, that'll be all for now.  I'm gonna leave one of my 
business cards here in your mailbox.  If you can think of anything else 
that might be useful concerning the events of that day, please contact 
me."  Mulder stuffed his card through the little vent in the mailbox 
door and heard the intercom microphone go off. 
As he turned back toward the street, he caught a glimpse of a figure 
rounding the corner at the end of the block.  Where that person had 
come from was strange - he was certain the street was vacant when he'd 
arrived. 
  
  
Scully rapped decisively on the door marked with a '42,' giving Mulder 
a raised eyebrow when he opened the door.  Stepping aside, he let her 
pass and shut the door behind her. 
Mulder noted how tired she looked and that she smelled faintly of 
Betadine solution, quickly deducing that she must have just finished 
with the Lewis autopsy at the D.C. Medical Examiner's office.  From 
behind, her shoulders looked drawn up and tight, but he resisted the 
urge to reach over and rub away her tension from standing at the 
autopsy table for so many hours.  She never wanted to appear needy or 
weak and although he wished she'd allow him to do more for her, he 
respected her resolve. 
"I wondered why you hadn't called with the autopsy results.  You just 
finished, huh?" 
Turning towards him, her arms swung heavily at her sides and her eyes 
were half lidded.  She twisted her head from side to side with a 
decisive crack and sighed.  "Mulder, we found no evidence to the 
contrary that Lisa Lewis committed a typical drug-induced suicide. 
There was enough Norco in her system to kill a man three times her 
size, and there were no signs of struggle - no abrasions, bruises or 
fractured bones, no fibers, no hair, no skin cells other than her own. 
Nothing.  The only odd thing was the presence of what appears to be a 
health food drink made from orange juice and banana with high levels of 
spirulina and algae, among other things.  She drank nearly one liter 
along with the medication." 
"Echk!  That's enough to kill a person right there.  That was it?" 
She signed again.  "We're still waiting for the lab to give us the 
entire list of ingredients from the drink."  She stared impassively at 
her partner, crossing her arms in front of her and waiting for the next 
leap in deduction; but none came.  "So Mulder, what was so important 
that you couldn't tell me over the telephone?" 
Mulder wrapped his hands around her arms just below the shoulder, 
giving her a subtle squeeze as he slid around her toward the front 
window, reeling the mini blinds against the illumination from the 
street lamp below until the room was dark.  Motioning her towards him, 
he slid into the desk chair in front of his computer, perched his 
glasses on his nose and began typing. 
"The Gunman sent this over a couple of hours ago.  I had them pull 
everything they could find on Senator Robert Harman.  It seems the 
handsome Senator has a weakness for the ladies.  The photographer I 
spoke with this afternoon corroborated that fact." 
Scully looked over his shoulder at the computer screen.  "That's hardly 
news, Mulder.  Even if we weren't investigating his involvement with a 
high-class house of prostitution, rumors of his infidelities have 
circulated around Washington for years.  It wasn't until the 
President's indiscretions became public that the Senator seemed to 
clean up his act." 
"But there's more."  Mulder clicked the mouse, the flashing screen 
playing off of his lenses.  Scully crouched down and leaned in closer, 
trying to get a clear view of the small type on the screen without her 
own glasses.  "Three young women, late twenties to mid-thirties, all 
alleged professional call-girls, all murdered.  Two in the Senator's 
home state and one in Houston, Texas.  Who do you suppose happened to 
be campaigning on behalf of his party's Texas incumbent in that very 
city on that very same day?" 
Scully's eyes quickly scanned the document.  "Mulder it says here that 
these women were all the victims of a serial murderer.  I remember that 
case - he was killed in a shootout with local law enforcement near his 
residence just outside of Houston." 
Mulder leaned against the back of his chair with a grin.  "Jim 
Coltrane, not to be confused with John 'Trane' Coltrane, brilliant jazz 
sax player.  No, this Coltrane was killed while resisting arrest.  His 
last words were spent professing his innocence."  Mulder turned his 
head to the side, their noses nearly bumping.  He looked into her eyes 
a moment and whispered, "You like sax, Scully?" 
Scully stared back at him, then gave him the required eye roll and 
stood up straight, choosing not to respond to his last comment.  It was 
all part of the familiar dance they went through on nearly every 
investigation, although Mulder's little jokes and flirtations always 
made her smile when she took them out and reflected on them in moments 
of private contemplation.  "Are you saying that Senator Harman killed 
those women and Coltrane was the cover up?  Mulder, you've got 
absolutely nothing here to prove that.  The fact that the Senator 
happened to be in the same city at the same time as the murders is 
circumstantial at best.  You've got a United States Senator with no 
murder weapon tying him to the victims and no clear motive." 
Mulder turned back to the screen, tapping his fingertips against his 
bottom lip.  "He's involved, Scully.  I may not have the evidence to 
prove it yet, but I'm sure he's involved." 
"I'm not so sure."  Scully leaned in again, reaching across him to hit 
the scroll down arrow on the keyboard, quickly perusing the rest of the 
document.  "One of the victims was attacked in her car."  She said 
absently, her eyes glazing over as she stared at the screen, recalling 
something from earlier that day. 
Mulder watched her, unaware that he'd been holding his breath as she 
leaned across him, her breast pushing against his upper arm.  "Uh, 
Scully?"  His mouth was dangerously close to her ear and he fought the 
urge to brush his lips against the shell. 
She replied with an odd, faraway expression.  "Hmmm?" 
"D-do you have a theory about the attack in the car?"  He asked 
nervously, trying to keep his brain from following in the direction his 
body wanted to move in from their brief but intimate contact. 
She stared at the screen a moment longer, then sat back, turning her 
full attention to him.  "What happened to the roses, Mulder?" 
He fidgeted, adjusting his breathing space.  "I, uh, sent them to be 
analyzed for trace materials." 
"You didn't leave one in my car at the medical examiners' by any 
chance?"  Her expression was unreadable. 
"No, why?"  He wished he'd thought of it, though. 
"It's just that...well, when I got into my car this evening, there was 
a long-stemmed Sterling rose lying across the seat.  I was sure I had 
punched the electronic lock on my key chain when I parked, but 
maybe..." 
she was cut off by the ringing of his telephone.  He reached over and 
picked up the receiver.  "Mulder." 
"Agent Mulder."  The voice was male, unrecognizable.  It had the same 
effect as a cold shower as far as getting Mulder's focus away from his 
partner and back on target. 
Mulder waited a beat.  "Yeah?" 
There were a few more beats of silence.  "Tell your pretty partner she 
should consider her refusals more carefully." 
Mulder motioned to Scully to listen in.  "Who is this?"  He asked as 
she leaned down, her head pressed lightly against his. 
"You seem fond of her.  You could lose a lot more than the X-Files if 
she doesn't learn how to cooperate."  The line disconnected and turned 
to dial tone before Mulder could ask another question. 
Scully was silent as Mulder threw the telephone down in disgust. 
"Fuck!"  He said, almost a whisper, his hands going in his hair. 
"What was that about?"  She asked quietly.  When he didn't reply, she 
leaned against the desk so that she was facing him.  "Mulder?  Who was 
he talking about?  Unless who cooperates?" 
Mulder crossed his arms and regarded her.  "You." 
"What?"  She looked at him in disbelief.  "Cooperate with what?" 
He looked down and chewed his lip a moment.  "Senator Harman's personal 
agenda would be my guess." 
She frowned with irritation.  "Just exactly what did the caller say?" 
"Basically, that if you continue to dismiss overtures made to you we 
could lose the X-Files, amongst other things." 
"What other things?"  Her words were clipped, an edge creeping into her 
voice.  She was getting very tired of being jerked around, having her 
work threatened and being played as somebody else's pawn, either to get 
at Mulder or to serve some other person's insidious purpose. 
Mulder looked up at her, a hint of anger in his eyes.  "Scully, we're 
investigating multiple murders."  He stated, flatly.  As tired as 
Scully was of being the target, Mulder was even more tired of watching 
it, his heart aching both out of the fear of losing her and out of 
empathy for the pain it caused her.  He still had nightmares from the 
Padgett case, only in his nightmares Scully is lying motionless in a 
pool of her own blood on his living room floor and she doesn't wake up. 
Maybe that was why he was taking this far more seriously than she was. 
"Five women are dead because of this man.  I'm not going to watch you 
become the sixth." 
"Mulder, there's no proof..." 
Mulder rose to his feet.  "Dammit, Scully, its Harman.  The roses at 
the office.  The invitation to dinner.  The rose in your car.  What 
more do you need?  It's you, Scully.  He.  Wants.  YOU." 
She was silent, staring at a spot on the opposite wall.  When she 
finally turned her eyes up at Mulder, they shone with the start of 
frustrated tears.  "Why?" was all she could ask. 
He regarded her with a familiar gentleness that gripped at her heart. 
"Scully," he started tenderly, but was unable to find the words. 
'Because you're the most beautiful person in the universe' wouldn't be 
a lie.  Instead, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her 
ear, his hand lingering at her shoulder.  They looked at each other a 
moment, then Mulder dropped his hand back to his side.  "I think we 
should talk to Skinner about getting some backup on this." 
Scully licked her lips and took his hand, speaking slowly and 
carefully.  "Mulder, why is it that when its you on the line we keep 
Skinner in the dark but when it's me you want to go by the book?  We 
don't have any proof that Harman made that phone call or put the rose 
in my car.  Any fingerprints that might have been left behind were 
effectively ruined when I opened the car door.  We don't even have any 
solid proof at this point that the Senator did, in fact, have anything 
to do with the deaths of Karen Darby, Steven Hoyt and Lisa Lewis." 
Mulder looked down at his large hand encased in her small hand, 
choosing his words carefully lest his anger should flare up again.  The 
truth was, he was a lot more willing to take chances with his own life 
than he was with hers.  "I received a threatening telephone call about 
you, Scully.  I have to take it seriously, just the same as you would 
if the call had been about me.  Proof or no proof, there are 
implications pointing to this case and as your partner, I think that 
Skinner needs to be made aware of that." He knew that appealing to her 
sense of equity would win her over.  He kept his voice even, but his 
eyes were pleading with her to accept his request. 
She held his gaze a moment, then sighed and released his hand.  "Okay, 
Mulder, we'll do it your way this time.  But only if you agree to stick 
to the facts in hand."  There was no sense in jumping to conclusions 
and raising a red flag just yet.  And no sense in bringing sex - the 
fact that she happened to be female - into the middle of this 
investigation.  She was every bit as competent as any other male agent, 
and the last thing she needed was to be coddled or given special 
treatment. 
Mulder nodded and looked again at their hands entwined.  'Facts in 
hand,' he thought.  Fact is, he loved her, and he'd had his fill of 
seeing her suffer.  There was no way in Hell he was about to allow her 
to be put into another situation like the Padgett case.  His concern 
for her safety was the only thing he could wrap his mind around, far 
outweighing the consequences of any displeasure she may have with him 
over what he planned on saying privately to the Assistant Director 
tomorrow morning. 
He looked back up into her bright blue eyes and saw her entreaty still 
unanswered.  "Sure, Scully.  Just the facts." 
Relief swept over her face as she heard the answer she sought.  She 
rubbed her thumb across the top of his hand, by way of thanks, then 
dropped it softly and changed the subject with the unexpected growl of 
her stomach. 
"So, do you have anything to eat in this place that hasn't expired or 
turned wild, Mulder?" 
  
END CHAPTER THREE 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER FOUR 
go go go go now out of the nest it's time 
go go go now circus girl without a safety net 
here here now don't cry 
you raised your hand for the assignment 
tuck those ribbons under your helmet 
be a good soldier 
first my left foot then my right behind the other 
pantyhose running in the cold 
mother the car is here 
somebody leave the light on 
green limousine for the redhead 
dancing dancing girl 
and when i dance for him 
somebody leave the light on 
just in case i like the dancing 
i can remember where i come from 
 - Tori Amos, "Mother" 
  
Agents Mulder and Scully sat directly across from the Assistant 
Director, in opposite chairs from the ones that they had been seated 
in two days before.  Scully spoke for the both of them, her 
expression stoic, while Mulder wore his heart on his sleeve.  Or on 
his face, in this case.  He was sitting down but that didn't keep his 
body from its state of perpetual motion.  He flipped his tie, sat up, 
slouched down, crossed his legs - anything but sit still. 
"...although all evidence against the Senator at this time is 
circumstantial.  Based on the comments of the photographer, the lack 
of forensic evidence available at the crime scene, the autopsy I 
performed on Lisa Lewis and the lack of fingerprints on the 
medication bottle, foul play does seem to be the more plausible 
explanation."  Scully explained, her body perfectly still and erect. 
"The fact that both Lisa Lewis and Karen Darby died from narcotic 
overdose could merely be a coincidence.  The narcotics were different 
in each case.  But the profile Agent Mulder is developing indicates 
the killer is middle- to upper middle-class, someone obviously 
acquainted with Hoyt, Lewis and Darby.  He's fastidious.  He doesn't 
like to get his hands dirty, that's why he used narcotics to kill his 
victims.  The Senator definitely fits the profile." 
Skinner was leaning to his side, his arm resting on the arm of his 
chair.  "I thought Steven Hoyt died of strangulation." 
Scully looked over at Mulder, then back at Skinner.  "He did.  We 
haven't uncovered any evidence to suggest that his death was anything 
more than a suicide, despite the absence of a note." 
Skinner shifted in his chair.  "What did the Senator have to say when 
you went to see him?"  He didn't bother to look at Mulder for a 
response. 
Scully looked over at Mulder again.  He was letting her run this show. 
"He denied any knowledge of Karen Darby or Hansen House, of course.  He 
claimed to count Steven Hoyt among his friends and said he only knew 
Lisa Lewis in passing."  She returned her gaze to Skinner.  "Although 
he did seem genuinely surprised when told that Lewis was dead, his 
answers seemed more or less practiced." 
Skinner leaned back in his chair, his eyes holding hers.  "So you're 
saying you think he's lying?" 
"A lie of omission, at the very least."  She replied after a moment. 
Skinner let out a huff of air, closing his eyes.  "Alright, Agents. 
Is there anything else I should know about?" 
Mulder looked at Scully, who caught his look out of the corner of her 
eye.  She pursed her lips, her brow furrowed.  When she didn't 
respond soon enough, Mulder spoke up.  "Agent Scully received a very 
large, very elegant arrangement of flowers from the Senator 
yesterday, along with an invitation to dine with him privately."  He 
looked over at his partner, hoping to gauge her reaction as he 
proceeded.  "She declined."  He then re-addressed his commentary to 
the Assistant Director.  "I received an anonymous telephone call last 
night warning me that unless Scully cooperates, there could be serious 
repercussions." 
Skinner looked at Scully.  She was rigid, her eyes cast down on her 
hands clasped in her lap, an expression of irritation on her face. 
He grimaced.  "Cooperates with what?  What kind of repercussions?" 
"Among 'other things'...reassignment."  Mulder was obviously pissed 
off by the information he had to relay, his eyes dark as he met 
Skinner's eyes. 
"Reassignment by whom?"  Skinner didn't like his authority usurped, 
and his irritation was evident.  "What 'other things' are we talking 
about, Agent?"  Skinner peered at the agents over his spectacles, 
then rested his question on Agent Mulder.  With these two it could be 
any number of things. 
"They made a personal threat against Agent Scully."  Mulder's eyes 
were intensely focused on his Assistant Director.  "The message was 
very clear." 
Skinner kept silent, taking a deep breath as he leaned way back in 
his chair, tapping his pencil insistently on his desk as he regarded 
the two agents.  "Mulder, step outside a moment." 
Mulder looked at Scully.  When she didn't meet his gaze he stood, 
glanced at the Assistant Director, then walked out of the room, 
closing the door behind him. 
Skinner was silent, gathering his ammunition.  When he finally spoke, 
his voice was softer and quieter than before.  "Agent Scully, given 
that this is a murder investigation into the deaths of three people, 
I have to take a threat made against one of my agents in conjunction 
with this investigation very seriously.  This is not the first time 
you've been in a position like this and I know you are trained law 
enforcement officer capable of handling yourself.  You've got Mulder 
covering your back as well.  But there are a few things about this 
situation that concern me." 
Scully swallowed and looked up at him.  "Such as?"  She asked 
hoarsely, her eyebrow raised. 
"Timing, for one.  It's only been a few weeks since the Padgett case, 
not to mention the injury and trauma you sustained up on Brown 
Mountain in North Carolina.  I'm not convinced that this is the best 
thing for you to have to deal with right now." 
"I'm fine, Sir."  Scully replied firmly.  "Padgett is dead and the 
case is over.  This is a completely different situation.  As for 
Brown Mountain, I've been given a clean release, both by my physician 
and on my psych evaluation by Karen Kosoff." 
"I'm aware of that, Scully, but I also have Mulder to consider.  He's 
worried about you, it's written all over his face.  He may let that 
concern cloud his judgement when he needs to be thinking clearly. 
I'm sure I don't have to remind you that we're dealing with a very 
powerful member of Congress.  Senator Harman has friends in places 
that make the Friends of Bill look like prep school." 
Scully looked at him a moment before responding.  "So this is about 
Agent Mulder?" 
Skinner looked down at his desk, his lips pursed.  "This is about the 
both of you."  He looked back at her, silently holding her gaze. 
"What is it you're saying exactly?"  Her eyes were fixed on his. 
"That our concern for each others' well being is interfering with our 
ability to do our jobs?"  She paused.  "Are you splitting us up?" 
Skinner looked to the side, then back at her.  "You and Agent Mulder 
are an effective team.  No matter how happy it may make certain 
factions outside of the Bureau if you were reassigned to separate 
areas, splitting you up would be like shooting myself in the foot. 
But I think you need to step away from the current situation and give 
yourself some time to put the events of the past year, the past few 
months in particular, behind you."  With the hurt look he saw in her 
eyes, he found he was unable to hold her gaze any longer.  Pulling a 
piece of paper out from under a stack on his desk, he handed it to 
her.  "There's something else.  I received a request from the Sci- 
Crime Lab today.  Agent Mancina will be going out on maternity leave 
any day and they haven't hired a replacement for Ludwig so they're 
extremely short staffed at the moment.  Your name was on the top of 
their request list for temporary help within the Bureau until more 
permanent arrangements can be made." 
Scully took the paper, looked it over then looked back up at him. 
She knew Danny had done her a huge favor by analyzing the chemicals 
in the pill bottle so quickly, seeing as they were short-staffed. 
She also knew just by looking at her yesterday that Mancina wouldn't 
go full term on her pregnancy.  Still, it all seemed just a little 
too convenient.  "Do I have any say in the matter?"  She asked 
pointedly. 
She could be goddamned obstinate when she wanted to.  The Assistant 
Director gritted his teeth and continued.  "You can help out in the 
lab until the Harman case wraps up, or you can sit at home on leave 
without pay.  It's up to you, Agent." 
Scully sat quietly, her shoulders lifting and falling gently with 
each breath.  She took in a deep breath, held it, then let it out 
slowly.  "What about Mulder?"  She asked. 
He softened, understanding the feeling behind the question.  "I'll 
personally keep an eye out for him and help out with the 
investigation as much as I can.  Under the circumstances, I'm sure 
he'll be spending a lot more time in the Sci-Crime Lab than usual." 
Scully chose not to respond to the somewhat scurrilous assumption he 
made in his last statement.  She stood, took in a deep breath, and 
said, "Is that all?"  She didn't look at him, neither did she bother 
to hide her irritation from him. 
Skinner stood as well.  "I know how you feel about this, Dana. 
Believe me, this is in no way a reflection on your abilities as an 
agent."  He paused.  "Take the rest of the day to do whatever you 
need to do.  I'll let Danny know he can expect you in the lab 
tomorrow morning." 
Scully looked up at him then, her expression slightly softer, and 
turned and walked over to the door.  Skinner was right behind her, 
holding the door as she went out into the waiting room.  His 
assistant was not at her desk and Mulder was standing in the middle 
of the room, a look of apprehension on his face as they exited the 
office.  He and Scully looked at each other, and although her back 
was turned to him, Skinner was sure that Mulder had seen the full 
force of her displeasure with that one brief look. 
Before they could speak, Skinner broke the silence.  "Mulder, a 
word." 
Scully turned and shared one more look with Mulder, then Mulder 
stepped past Skinner into the office, the door shutting behind them 
to leave Scully alone on the outside. 
  
  
She had gathered up all of her information on the Harman case and 
left it in a neat stack on Mulder's desk with a post-it note labeled, 
"Harman" on top.  She gathered up some personal items, turned off her 
cel phone and left the Hoover building, deciding to spend the rest of 
the day alone to silently contemplate the most recent turn of events. 
Skinner had said that taking her off of the case was in no way a 
reflection on her abilities as an agent, but she felt as if it were. 
If she had done something to indicate that she wasn't up to par 
emotionally or physically then it was the same as an error in 
judgement or reaction in her own estimation.  The bottom line was, 
she'd been through everything that Mulder had, and yet she was the 
one getting pulled off of the case.  She tried to keep a tight reign 
on her attitude, but she was a little more than tired of having to 
work twice as hard to prove that she was equal and up to the task. 
Circumstances as they were, she could understand the reasons Skinner 
gave her for his decision, but a small part of her deep down took it 
as another slap in the face by the system that she constantly fought 
for and was denied approval. 
There was also Mulder.  She felt she was letting him down as well. 
She wouldn't be there to cover him, to pull him back when he became 
too obsessed and ask the right questions to keep him grounded to the 
facts.  A more private part of her self mourned the loss of the day- 
to-day contact.  He was such a large part of her life and already she 
felt detached from him.  They were still friends, of course, but for 
the remainder of this case, at least, they were no longer partners. 
It was ironic, really.  When she was assigned to work with Mulder on 
the X-Files she tried to prove herself on merit, holding herself to 
the highest standards of conduct.  Still, it was generally assumed by 
those who only knew her in passing, knew just bits and pieces of her 
history with Mulder, that they were sleeping together.  The funny 
thing was, if she were sexually involved with Mulder, at least she knew 
she'd be seeing him regularly.  If she were honest with herself...if 
what everyone already assumed was really true...she wouldn't have as 
strong a reaction to Skinner pulling her off of the investigation and 
throwing her into the lab.  At least in that scenario the terrible 
emptiness she felt from the reassignment and separation from her 
partner wouldn't consume her as it was doing now. 
  
  
Mulder looked for Scully when he finally left Skinner's office, but 
she wasn't anywhere to be found within the Hoover Building.  After 
trying her cel phone and getting her voice mail, he went down to the 
garage and checked the usual area for her car, but it was obvious 
that she'd already left.  She'd already removed the few personal 
effects that she kept in a spare drawer in his basement office.  A 
comb.  A lipstick, shade watermelon blush.  A toothbrush and 
toothpaste.  A nail file and clear nail polish (she claimed was to 
stop runs in her nylons but he was suspicious of that).  An extra 
pair of pantyhose, size A, nude sheer-to-waist.  Mulder had the 
contents of the drawer memorized, the presence of those few items a 
constant reminder of her place in the basement with him whenever he 
felt alone or lost out of her physical presence.  Once, alone in the 
office late one night, he'd even gone so far as to dab the lipstick 
on his lower lip and lick it off with his tongue, followed by the 
toothpaste, wondering if she would taste the same. 
The removal of those few small items hidden away in an out of the way 
drawer now made the entire office seem hollow and cold.  But she had 
left behind the extra black jacket she always kept hanging on the 
back of the door - that was probably just an oversight due to the 
sticky, warm climate.  Or maybe, just maybe, she'd left it behind as 
a message to him; I'm coming back.  It was proof that she had been 
there, that she belonged there, and it smelled like her, so its 
discovery was a small victory as he stood behind the closed door, his 
nose pressed into the dark fabric, his guilt assaulting him.  It was 
a partner's responsibility to look out for the other one.  This was 
only temporary.  And it was for her own good, he reminded himself. 
Besides, she never had to know that he was the one behind it. 
  
  
It was no surprise that she ended up at the Tidal Basin, sitting alone 
near the Jefferson Memorial on a bench shared many times with Mulder 
in the past.  It was a place they used to meet when they were 
reassigned and separated the first time the X-Files had been closed 
down.  Today it was less than peaceful, though.  Several large tour 
buses brought hoards of tourists, yellow, red and blue bandanas tied 
around their necks, braving the sweltering humidity to see the 
historical Jefferson Monument.  People laughed and called to each 
other enthusiastically, enjoying the sights and each other, snapping 
photographs while oblivious to her solitary musing. 
The simplicity of the bandanas intrigued her.  A plain, bright- 
colored scrap of cloth tied around the neck as a beacon for all of 
the others who belonged.  Married couples wore wedding rings.  Did 
she have anything so obvious?  She didn't belong to any groups and 
she wasn't married.  But there was Mulder.  They had matching ID 
tags.  They had his and hers cel phones.  But those were generic FBI 
accoutrements.  No, except for gunshot wounds and battle scars, they 
wore their markers internally.  Sometimes she'd look into the mirror 
and see a look staring back at her that she'd never seen in another 
human being. 
Except in Mulder. 
It occurred to her then that she hadn't even spoken with Mulder that 
day except for their brief moment in Skinner's office.  He'd been out 
of his office all morning, up until their meeting.  Reaching into her 
pocket she powered on her cel phone and checked her voicemail, 
smiling as Mulder's concerned voice asked her to phone him as soon as 
she received the message. 
  
  
Mulder was in his bathroom shaving when the knock came on the door, 
and he didn't hear it over the running water until the second, or 
maybe the third time.  Maneuvering over the difficult chin area, he 
shouted "IT'S OPEN" loudly and rinsed the razor, peeking his head out 
the door to see the tiny redhead standing in his living room. 
"Sorry 'bout that, I'll be out in a second."  He called.  "I thought 
we agreed I would come to your place."  He wiped his face and stepped 
bare-chested out of the bathroom. 
She was looking out the window, her back to him.  When she turned 
around he froze, a look of disbelief on his face.  Perfectly coiffed 
page-boy, tailored black skirt suit, three-inch heels, tiny gold 
cross...he had to do a double take to make sure he wasn't 
experiencing problems with his vision. 
Leslie Martin. 
Mulder stared at her, his mouth opening and closing several times 
before he finally managed to ask, "What is this?" 
She looked at him appraisingly from head to toe, her eyes lingering 
over his bare chest in a way he only dreamed that Scully would do. 
She finally looked into his eyes and took several steps closer. 
"I've been asked to give you a message," she said. 
"By whom?"  He asked, his eyes taking in the subtle differences 
between the woman standing in front of him and his partner of nearly 
seven years.  Dressed like that, the physical differences were hardly 
perceptible. 
"Drop the investigation."  She said, stepping even closer, her hand 
coming up to touch his chest. 
He took a deep breath and grabbed her by the wrist.  "Who sent you 
here?"  He asked.  "Who told you to dress like that?" 
She wrenched her arm away from him and took a step back.  "You don't 
get it, do you?"  She asked, continuing to back away.  "These people 
will bury you."  Her eyes held a glimmer of fear and she turned, 
running out the front door. 
Mulder followed her into the hallway.  "Wait!" He called as she 
punched the elevator button.  "Who?  Tell me who sent you!" 
She looked at him once more, shaking her head as the elevator doors 
opened.  "Tell her to cooperate."  She said, backing into the 
carriage.  "Tell her."  She said one last time as the doors closed. 
Mulder stood in the hallway with his hands on his hips, staring at 
the closed elevator. 
  
  
When Mulder arrived at Scully's apartment it was just after ten p.m., 
having spent several hours on phone calls back and forth with Frohike 
trying to get information on Leslie Martin.  He'd showered earlier, but 
by the time he got to Scully's he was already feeling sticky and damp. 
She looked cool in the late evening humidity, casually dressed in soft 
chinos and a crisp white button down blouse.  There was one floor 
lamp illuminated in the corner of the living room, and the television 
was on low.  Scully didn't watch much television, being more of a 
book person, so he raised an eyebrow at her in question. 
"I guess I wanted the company."  She said simply, reaching over the 
back of the sofa to grab the remote and shut it off.  She turned back 
to face him and he looked her over, assuring himself that she was the 
real deal and noticing again, like every other time he'd seen her in 
casual clothing, how young she looks when she's not wearing one of 
her standard work suits. 
"How are you doing?"  He asked, sensing something was up but seeing 
no visible signs of stress other than the television. 
"Fine."  She said automatically.  She drew in a breath, then let it 
out slowly.  She wanted to talk, had wanted to talk since she left 
the Tidal Basin.  Looking up at him, she said, "No, not fine, 
actually.  I'm having a little trouble accepting this."  She said 
honestly, searching his face as if the answer would be there. 
"That's...understandable."  He replied, wearing concern across his 
brow.  "It wasn't done to punish you." 
She watched him a moment longer.  She had expected Mulder to be 
angry, like she was.  His acceptance wasn't something she had 
anticipated.  "You agree with him."  She stated. 
He took a deep breath.  "I want to get this over with so you and I 
can get back to investigating X-Files." 
She stood firm.  "But you agree, nonetheless." 
He bit his lower lip, steeling himself against the hurt in her face. 
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he bent down closer.  "You know I 
would rather have you working next to me than anyone else in the 
world, Scully.  I know this is hard for you.  It's tearing me up, 
too.  But it's only temporary." 
She stood close in front of him, staring directly at his chest but 
not seeing it.  The pose was similar to Leslie Martin earlier that 
evening, but the effect it had on him was quite different.  He could 
feel her warm breath through his t-shirt as it escaped her lips.  He 
raised one hand from her shoulder and smoothed the hair down at the 
back of her neck. 
Scully looked up into his eyes.  "Then why do I feel like I've 
failed, Mulder?  I've let you down." 
He closed his eyes to her heartbreaking words and the pain in her 
eyes, feeling the guilt over his role in the whole scenario even more 
sharply.  "Never."  He whispered, pulling her into an embrace. 
They had been here before, holding on to each other, slightly 
rocking back and forth.  They both needed the connection, the 
reassurance that their partnership was still intact.  Scully buried 
her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the clean scent of him. 
She could feel his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, and after a 
moment she pulled back a little, her hands resting on his chest. 
Mulder placed a chaste kiss against her forehead and she closed her 
eyes, not moving as she relished the tenderness of the gesture. 
After a moment she looked up into his eyes, seeing the conviction of 
his last statement as he looked back at her.  He bent down and kissed 
her cheek, closer to the side of her mouth.  When he moved to 
do it again on the other side, she turned her face slightly and met his 
mouth full-on, her fingers flexing against his chest as their lips 
pressed together softly.  He pulled back slightly, his lips barely 
hovering over hers tentatively.  Her breathing was shallow, soft puffs 
of warm air caressing his face.  Funny, he thought, because he couldn't 
breathe at all. 
They stood that way for a long moment, the tension thick between them 
until Scully whispered in wonder, "Jesus, Mulder." 
His lips came down on hers then, sliding over and around, between and 
back over as he pulled her closer, claiming her, a hand coming up to 
cradle the back of her head while his fingers wove through her soft 
strands of hair.  She slid into him, her arms wrapping around his 
neck and her lips responding to his with equal enthusiasm.  Shifting 
angles, short, passionate nips.  The need for air came too quickly 
and he held her tightly, his face buried in her hair, her warm breath 
panting against his ear as his heart pounded through his chest. 
She loosened her embrace and took a step back, her hands slowly 
sliding down his arms to catch his hands.  She watched as their 
fingers entwined, a pleased smile on her face.  She took a deep 
breath, her eyebrows raising and falling briefly. 
"What?"  He asked softly, placing a kiss on her forehead with a grin. 
Her smile grew wider and she blushed like a schoolgirl.  With a 
slight shake of her head, she said, "It's just...unexpected.  Not 
completely surprising, but the timing is unexpected nonetheless." 
Her voice was husky and she kept her eyes on their hands, avoiding 
his eyes. 
Mulder was charmed at her apparent shyness.  He leaned down, turning 
his head to the side to see her face better.  "Didn't you ever..." he 
started to ask but stopped, chuckling softly.  "Scratch that." 
She looked up at him then, her eyes wide and shining.  "Of course." 
She said honestly. 
He grinned at her, letting out a breath he didn't realized he had 
been holding.  "Scully," he said, her name sounding both seductive 
and adoring as it left his lips.  He drew in a deep breath.  "So..." 
The word hung in the air, his fingers tracing circles on her wrists 
as they both waited for the other to say something or make the next 
move.  Finally, she grasped his fingers and tugged on his arms, 
pulling him over to the sofa.  "Let's sit down.  I want to tell you 
something." 
He followed, more than willingly.  "Are you going to tell me how hot 
you've been for my body since the day we met?"  He whispered as he 
leaned over and stole a kiss on the descent.  She responded with a soft 
moan and emboldened by her obvious interest in making their 
relationship much more personal, his tongue swiped across her lips, 
making them shine in the soft light when he pulled back. 
She licked her lips and grinned at the action.  "Shut up, Mulder. 
I'm serious." 
"So am I" he replied, leaning in for another kiss.  His tongue was more 
insistent until it found hers and they both whimpered their approval 
while the urgency increased.  She moved her head to the side to break 
the kiss, resting her forehead against his cheek and panting in short 
breaths.  "Really, Mulder.  I want to finish discussing what happened 
today with Skinner." 
Mulder took in a deep breath, looking down at their entwined hands as 
their fingers moved against each others' in playful caresses.  He was 
still feeling some guilt over her removal from the case, but in the 
large scheme of things it seemed much less important in light of recent 
developments between them.  He thought he had a little insight on how 
he could make it up to her, though.  "We'll definitely have to see each 
other more in our off hours until the case is over."  He leaned over 
and placed a kiss on the side of her neck, nuzzling her ear with his 
nose. 
She tilted her head and smiled as Mulder licked her neck.  Had she 
not been pondering that exact scenario that very afternoon?  "We can 
work on that idea later."  Gently pushing his face away from her neck 
she gave him a stern look, and then caressed his cheek.  "Although 
the outcome of the meeting was not what I had hoped for, Mulder, I 
appreciate you sticking to the facts with Skinner.  I know it was 
hard for you to hold back your theories about Harman's involvement in 
the Coltrane murders.  Thank you." 
Her eyes were wide and warm and she looked so incredibly soft that he 
once again pushed back the guilt over her words of praise.  He slid his 
hand behind her head, holding her in place as his mouth slowly covered 
hers.  His kiss was slow and deep, her eyes closing and her hand coming 
up to his waist as he gently laid her back into the cushions of the 
sofa.  His fingers caressed her face, sliding down the front of her 
throat and over her breast, his thumb circling the firm nipple before 
he broke their kiss. 
"God, Scully."  He whispered, his lips traveling down her neck to her 
collarbone.  "If you want me to stop tell me now, otherwise..." he 
sucked on the skin over her collarbone, his hands moving back up to 
unbutton her blouse. 
She rolled her head back, giving him better access to her neck. 
"What makes you think I have any intention of stopping?"  She asked 
breathlessly, a coquettish smile forming at his sharp intake of air. 
He watched with wide-eyed surprise as she pushed him off of her, and 
sliding a leg over his thighs, straddled them, holding his gaze with a 
look that left no doubt as to her intent as her mouth came down on his. 
His hands parted her shirt and slid inside, around her waist and up her 
back before traveling back down to rest on her bottom, pressing her 
into his arousal while their tongues tangled against one another, 
establishing a rhythm.  "Sculllleeee" he whispered when her lips moved 
down his chin, placing open-mouthed kisses under his jaw in-between 
soft bites of tender flesh, which sent electrical jolts directly to his 
inflamed groin. 
"Mmmmmmm?"  She replied, her eyes half-lidded as her lips grazed a 
line up his neck.  She hummed, fascinated with a spot her lips found 
just behind his ear as she flicked her tongue out for a taste, 
chuckling softly as he swallowed hard.  Her hands slid down his 
chest, the backs of her fingers grazing up and down over the soft 
cotton covering his tight nipples.  She looked into his eyes, her eyes 
black with arousal.  He saw a flicker, as if an idea was forming.  "You 
know, Mulder, I could still help you out with the case." 
His hands slid around to her front and covered her breasts, gently 
kneading.  "Danny has way too much work for you in the lab.  Besides, I 
have other things planned for you in our free time."  He slid a little 
further down the sofa so that she was positioned directly on top of his 
erection, her softness pressing firmly into his hardness. 
"When did you speak with Danny?"  She asked, her lips grazing up his 
temple and over his forehead as she began to grind against him 
slowly. 
"Jesus!" Mulder hissed, engrossed in the motion of their lower 
bodies, unable to resist the soft skin of her throat just within 
reach of his mouth.  It had been way too long since he'd been with a 
woman this way.  As much as he'd wanted to physically express his 
love with Scully he hadn't allowed himself much in the way of sexual 
fantasy where she was concerned, so he hadn't expected her to be so 
enthusiastic - so fuckable.  His conscience to come clean with his 
duplicity was losing the battle against his libido, and he was just 
about to pick her up and carry her in to the bedroom to find out how 
many sexual fantasies she would be willing to fulfill. 
But she pulled back gently, her fingers tracing lines down either side 
of his jaw.  "Tell me."  She said with a soft smile, looking directly 
into his eyes. 
He took a deep breath as he stared into her adoring, aroused, 
bottomless blues.  "What?"  He asked, breathless. 
Her fingers continued to caress his face.  "Before our meeting with 
Skinner I couldn't find you.  Where were you this morning?" 
He was silent a moment longer and she stiffened at his refusal to 
answer, seeing hesitance in his eyes. 
"Mulder..." she said more sternly, her voice carrying a tone of 
warning. 
"I was with Danny."  He said at last, watching the colors change in her 
eyes as she processed the information, running through the probable 
scenarios and hitting the jackpot.  She slid off of his lap and stood 
in front of him, crossing her arms in front of her. 
"It was your idea."  She said flatly. 
He was hesitant.  "Not entirely.  Danny really does need your help." 
She took a deep breath, eyes flashing in anger.  "But you initiated 
it." 
He looked back at her defensively.  "Come on, Scully, we both 
remember all too well what happened with Padgett.  The Senator is way 
over the line, here." 
"Yes, and this is an entirely different situation.  I could have 
handled this, Mulder." 
His voice wavered with raw emotion.  "Are you sure?  Because I was 
there when you read the card that came with those flowers.  I saw the 
fear in your eyes, Scully.  The same fear I saw last night in my 
apartment after I received that telephone call."  He rose to his 
feet, towering over her. 
His subconscious attempt to gain the upper hand by flaunting his size 
only made her more inflamed.  "I went through the same training that 
you went through, Mulder.  I.  Can.  Deal.  With.  It."  She was 
nearly shouting at him, her face flushed with anger. 
He closed his eyes briefly, clenching his teeth, then looked back 
down at her, his eyes pleading her to understand.  "You're a great 
agent, Scully.  But we're not talking about ability.  We're talking 
about your safety." 
"My safety is always going to be an issue of the job, Mulder.  Just 
like you."  Her words were spoken through clenched teeth, the audible 
sound of her tension seething underneath as she growled at him.  "You 
can't make decisions about my safety.  Decisions about MY safety are 
MY decisions to make." 
"You're my partner, Scully.  Your safety is MY responsibility, too." 
"That seems to be a one-sided rule in this partnership, Mulder."  Her 
words were sharp, cutting right through to the heart of the matter. 
He didn't reply.  She had a point - he was constantly ignoring her 
warnings and getting himself into dangerous situations, keeping 
information from her.  For him to bring up Leslie Martin now would 
only make her angrier for not being told about the doppelganger when 
they left Hansen House.  She would take it to Skinner and then they'd 
have no choice but to bring her back into the investigation, setting 
her up as bait. 
They both stood in the middle of her living room, breathing heavily 
as they looked at the floor, stealing an occasional glance at the 
other.  Finally, Scully moved toward the door. 
"It's late."  She said, not meeting his gaze when he looked over at 
her. 
"Scully..." her name whispered as a plea, he moved toward her, 
reaching out to take her into his arms but stopping when she finally 
looked at him. 
She was angry and hurt and she was retreating inside herself, 
shutting him out.  He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. 
Looking over at her one more time, her arms crossed defensively and 
eyebrows arched, he let out a sigh and opened the door. 
"Scully..." he tried again, but she cut him off. 
"Goodnight, Mulder."  Her tone was final. 
"Fine."  He said sharply, stepping out into the hallway.  When he 
turned to look at her one last time, all he saw was the white of the 
door as it closed. 
Turning the deadbolt, she slid on the chain lest he use his key to 
re-enter uninvited, and let loose a loud breath accompanied by a long 
string of expletives worthy of a sailor's daughter.  She hadn't been 
that angry - or that turned on, which only made it worse - in a very 
long time.  She covered her face with her hands, trying to calm 
herself down but to no avail.  Stomping into the bathroom for a cold 
shower, she swore out loud and slammed the door behind her. 
Mulder stood in the hallway with his forehead pressed against her 
door, the wood cool underneath his skin.  He traced a finger along 
the grain, listening to her muttering and stomping her little feet 
inside with a fury borne of red-headed origin.  He closed his eyes as 
"sonofabitch!" stood out clearly amongst her muffled protestations. 
He shouldn't have told her.  If he'd just kept his mouth shut, he'd 
been in there right now.  In HER.  God, he was so close.  His groin 
throbbed in response and he groaned.  "What an idiot.  What a FUCK- 
ing idiot."  He slowly peeled himself away from the door, his head 
rolling back until his face pointed toward the ceiling.  He looked 
back at the door one last time, sighed with resignation and turned, 
trudging down the hallway. 
  
END CHAPTER FOUR 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER FIVE 
In the wee small hours of the morning, 
while the whole wide world is fast asleep, 
you lie awake and think about the girl 
and never ever think of counting sheep. 
When your lonely heart has learned its lesson 
you'd be her's if only she would call. 
In the wee small hours of the morning, 
that's the time you miss her most of all. 
- sung by Frank Sinatra 
  
The night was dark and ominous, the pressure building to an 
interminable level as the threatening thunderstorm continued to build. 
The air was so heavy it hung on the skin like a wet towel.  Mulder 
sprawled spread-eagle on his sticky leather sofa, clad only in pajama 
bottoms and an undershirt, staring at his own ceiling.  It was already 
3:18 - there was no way he would sleep this night. 
Scully. 
Something always happened. What was it about them?  They were so close 
in almost every way, except the physical.  And just when it appeared 
they were beginning to achieve real physical intimacy, something 
happened.  Something ALWAYS happened. 
But tonight was different because she threw him out.  She'd been mad at 
him before.  They'd had plenty of arguments in the past, about a case 
or their quest for the truth about what happened to Samantha - or at 
least about their diametrically opposing methods for reaching their 
investigative goals.  Tonight, however, wasn't about work or their 
quest.  Tonight had been personal. 
DEEPLY personal. 
Since the very first day they met, they'd been developing a method of 
communication so unique that even they couldn't put it into words. 
Their values and morals had been in synch from the start.  It was the 
basis for their friendship, and it was the basis from which the rest of 
their communication grew.  It grew stronger with time.  Often, there 
was a healthy agreement to disagree, but the foundation of respect was 
always there.  It didn't take long to recognize that theirs was a 
balanced partnership. 
An EQUAL partnership. 
At times they were so in tune to each other's thoughts that only a 
look, a shrug or a raised eyebrow could speak volumes.  They were 
comfortable in close proximity.  They had developed an appreciation of 
each other's habits and body language.  It became one of their 
strongest assets as a team - non-verbal communication was sometimes 
their only avenue.  On a stakeout or just before an arrest, silence was 
definitely a virtue.  It mattered to their very survival. 
But when it came to the personal aspects of their partnership, 
sometimes it just didn't make sense.  Scully had even said as much back 
on that rock in Heuvelman's Lake when they were looking for "Big Blue". 
She had compared him to Captain Ahab in that he was always obsessively 
searching - for his sister, for the so-called truth, for little gray 
space aliens, whatever.  Inwardly, he realized that, yeah, he didn't 
always make sense.  It seemed he always had to be moving forward on 
something in order to justify moving at all. 
Regardless of his single-mindedness, she was there for him.  She had 
always been there for him, when he needed solace, when he needed care, 
when he needed to reach out to someone.  What was it she saw in him 
that made her stay?  She always seemed to know what he needed. 
Hell, he always needed HER. 
Something happened to them in that underground mushroom cave in North 
Carolina that altered everything.  Whether it was the mutual terror and 
anxiety of almost being eaten alive by the giant fungus, or the 
chemical influences it had on them during its slow ingestion and 
digestion of them, or their shared hallucinations - something between 
them intensified.  Now it was like they had a psychic link, a 
connection so strong that each felt the other's presence before they 
entered a room, knew when the other was needed.  Knew when the other 
was afraid or sad.  It wasn't like they could read the other's thoughts 
or anticipate each other's actions.  It was more of a cognizance, a 
heightened awareness of each other. 
Tonight had been the first real foray into establishing a physical 
connection to match their mental connection.  And what a connection it 
would have been.  He had no idea that Scully would be such a willing 
participant.  Well, he had hoped, had thought that maybe...but it was 
even more than that.  There was a completion, a closure, a joy and a 
finality to it.  If they had been able to finish what they'd started 
tonight, they would have been entering into a whole new plateau in 
their relationship - a good one.  One with a tangible future beyond the 
X-Files and the Bureau. 
But then he screwed up, and now he was feeling woefully alone.  To make 
matters worse, he was left with the phantom memory of her touch, and 
way she tasted when they kissed... 
He had allowed this case, this stupid case, to become personal.  It had 
gone from a simple murder investigation to an issue about Scully and 
saving her life.  How did he let that happen?  He had screwed it up by 
not coming clean with all the details like he should have.  He didn't 
tell her about the amazing likeness to that hooker, Leslie Martin.  Now 
there were threats against her safety if he didn't take an active role 
in insuring that Senator Harman had a "date" with his partner.  Well, 
he'd be damned if that was going to happen.  He was going to have to 
resolve this case quickly. 
He had let his opportunities slide before things heated up last summer 
and they were thrown into global conspiracy and frozen ice flows.  This 
time it would be different.  As soon as this case was over, he was 
going to finish what they started on Scully's living room sofa. 
Lightening flashed, a clap of thunder boomed very close by and Mulder 
could smell the ozone.  He rolled over on his side, buried his nose in 
the Indian print pillow, and felt the pressure changes as the storm 
wore on... 
  
  
...The camera equipment was set up next to the chair by the wall with 
fiber optic cable running up the wall through his heating vent.  He had 
left Scully on the couch, boots off, dozing lightly as she watched the 
monitor down her nose through half-lidded eyes.  He was making coffee 
to keep them both awake while they waited.  Waited for Padgett's next 
move. 
The whistle from the tea kettle was beginning to sound more like a 
shriek by the time he made it into the kitchen to turn off the stove. 
As he twisted the knob, shutting off the burner, he simultaneously 
reached for two cups from the shelf above.  Even though he hurried to 
return to the living room, he felt as if he were moving in slow motion. 
The instant coffee was "high octane" so they could better endure the 
long night ahead.  Stakeouts were always tedious, but knowing that your 
own bed was just in the next room made it more difficult to focus.  He 
would have preferred that he and Scully were there just to go over 
notes from a case or play Scrabble.  To have the suspect in the next 
apartment was unsettling.  Everything about this case was unsettling. 
The sooner they ended it, the better. 
When they moved the coffee table over to one side to make way for the 
surveillance equipment, Scully had teased him that this was probably 
the only time he'd seen what was under the table since he'd moved in. 
Since it was only a few stray sunflower seeds and a ten year old book 
of matches, he wasn't really bothered.  It could have been anything 
from stray bullet casings to that phone number he'd misplaced for 
Fiona's Dial-a-Date. 
As he rounded the corner from his kitchen, mugs in hand, it was all 
wrong.  Scully was gone.  Suddenly the coffee was gone from his hands 
as he searched from room to room - frantically looking for Scully, 
calling her name.  Returning to the foyer, he called her name - 
screamed her name.  She was nowhere. 
Then suddenly a light flashed - like a camera flash.  Men in heavy 
coats were brushing past him as they converged on a form covered with a 
white shroud in the middle of his Navajo rug.  He knew who it was.  He 
heard the men talking to him, but couldn't understand them as he knelt 
down beside the body.  He had to see her.  He lifted the shroud - it 
was Scully.  She was covered in blood, her still-beating heart torn out 
and lying on the floor next to her.  He felt the pain in his chest as 
if his heart had been torn out as well. 
Horror-stricken, he took her by the shoulders and began to shake her - 
trying to wake her.  He clutched her to his chest, soaking his own 
clothing with her blood, and he held her against him, rocking them both 
as he sobbed.  Suddenly - another flash - followed by a gunshot... 
  
  
...Thunder.  Mulder awakened with a jolt, shaken and sweating, tears 
covering his face.  The smothering hot sofa was sticky with his sweat, 
damp where his tears had fallen on the leather.  The storm outside was 
raging fiercely. 
He got up and walked to the window, peering through the Venetian blinds 
as the rain fell in sheets into huge puddles on the street below. 
There was no sense in trying to get any more sleep.  It wouldn't 
change things - and would probably only make them worse. Normally after 
a nightmare like this, he would call Scully for some innocuous reason - 
if only to hear her voice.  She knew why he called, but they never 
spoke of it.  The nightmares sometimes threatened her, too.  They 
always had each other to get by them, though. 
But not tonight.  He would not be a welcome intrusion tonight. 
His only hope was to get working on the case again immediately.  Keep 
Scully out of harm's way long enough to solve the murders, and get 
Senator Harman out of his and Scully's lives. 
Mulder checked his watch - 4:05 am.  He scruffed his hands through his 
hair and across his face and shuffled into the bathroom to take a 
shower. 
  
  
Ever since he ruined his marriage due to the cruelties of the job and 
the mysteries of the old woman creature - the succubus, Mulder had 
called it - that plagued his nightmares, Walter Skinner had been coming 
into work extremely early.  He was never alone at the Bureau, though. 
There was always some agent slunk down in his or her office pouring 
over evidence, struggling to put the pieces of their case together, 
abandoning or feeling abandoned by their own lives. 
By nature, investigators sleep little.  Cases take on lives of their 
own.  They drive the investigator to solve their riddles.  The amount 
of time and personal energy required to solve a case often takes on 
monumental proportions and it wears thin in a marriage, especially with 
a spouse who doesn't work in law enforcement.  The ugliness and 
violence that plague many an investigation are often too traumatic to 
share with a spouse - fragments of an agent's life that he or she find 
difficult to share with anyone who isn't on the inside, the divorce 
rate running high. 
Skinner never felt he had the right to burden Sharon with the heinous, 
awful things he had witnessed.  It was too late before he realized he 
distanced himself from any comfort she could offer him to survive the 
ugliness himself. 
As he made his way through the semi-darkened hallway leading to the 
elevator, he sensed a quiet movement approaching him from another 
hallway.  He turned to see his new "partner", Agent Mulder, padding up 
the hall toward the elevator, shaking the rain from his lightweight 
raincoat.  When they made eye contact, each knew the other's monster. 
The Assistant Director was actually pleased to see a kindred spirit at 
this hour of the morning.  "Well, look what the storm blew in.  The 
rain break through your window, Agent Mulder?" 
"No, sir, I have enough tape residue on my windows to prevent that from 
happening.  Actually, I woke up thinking about this case, and wanted to 
get some more background on the victims.  The facts regarding Steven 
Hoyt's supposed suicide and his fiancé's death don't make a lot of 
sense." 
"What facts are those?"  Skinner asked as they fell into step on their 
way toward the elevator.  He had promised Scully he would keep her 
partner on track - now was as good a time as any to get started.  As 
they rode the elevator down to the basement, Skinner urged him to 
elaborate. 
"Hoyt's fiancé, Lisa Lewis, seemed to be a devout health nut.  Our 
search of her apartment confirmed that she used homeopathic remedies, 
organic laundry detergent, cleansers, etc.  It doesn't track that she'd 
ingest a strong chemical barbiturate to kill herself." 
"Maybe she wanted to get the job done and threw her beliefs out the 
window at the last minute." 
"I don't think so.  She seemed to be obsessed with it.  Too obsessed to 
change her beliefs at the final moment.  Besides, her suicide note 
didn't indicate any change in philosophy prior to her death.  You'd 
think she'd mention a resolve to go out in a blaze of chemicals, so to 
speak." 
"Did forensics come up with anything on the note?" 
"It's been sent down to Henderson for handwriting analysis, but the 
note was written on a computer and printed out.  Lewis only used a pen 
to sign her initials, so there's not much to go on." 
"Any signs of a struggle?" 
Mulder shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, feeling it come 
back damp. 
The Assistant Director looked at Mulder over his glasses.  "You're 
right, that's not much to go on.  Where do you intend to go with this?" 
Mulder responded with an uncharacteristic variation to his voice.  "I 
don't know.  I was hoping to forage around in the paperwork this 
morning to see if I could come up with something more substantial." 
The elevator doors opened to the basement and he stepped off, Skinner 
choosing to stay in the car to ride back up to his own office.  Mulder 
looked at him with focused determination.  "I want to get this case 
over with." 
Skinner nodded silently, understanding perfectly that he was only a 
temporary surrogate.  Agent Mulder wanted his partner back, the quicker 
the better. 
  
  
Mulder flipped the pages of the file over and started at the top one 
more time.  He'd been sifting through the pages since early that 
morning, and it was nearly lunchtime.  There had to be something in 
there that would give him a clue to follow.  He leaned back in his desk 
chair, sticking a sunflower seed between this teeth and propping his 
feet up on his desk. 
Steven Hoyt was a fundraiser for Senator Harman.  He met Lisa Lewis six 
years ago at a conference on Zero Population Growth in Philadelphia, 
where she worked as a lobbyist.  She eventually moved to DC to be 
nearer to Steven and to work more closely with Congress on the Zero 
Population Growth problem. 
Mulder pulled the spent shells out of his mouth and tossed them into 
the trash can, and sat up straight in his chair, picking up the phone 
and punching at the keypad. 
"Lone Gunmen."  Frohike answered after two rings. 
"It's me."  Mulder said, tucking the phone in between his ear and 
shoulder as he leaned back again.  "Did you come up with any more 
information on Steven Hoyt or Lisa Lewis?" 
"Nada."  Frohike replied.  "There was one interesting little tidbit I 
came across, however." 
Mulder stuck another seed in his mouth.  "What?"  He asked with a crack 
of the shell. 
"Just before the Monica Lewinsky issue got really hot, Harman was 
rumored to be having an affair with the Director of Guest Relations for 
the Ambassador Hotel, one Stephanie Curtis.  They met through Curtis' 
boyfriend, Donald Mathers.  Mathers was the Senator's Staff Assistant. 
They'd been dating nearly ten years, but broke up just after the story 
hit the tabloids." 
Mulder removed the shell and licked his lips.  "Yeah, I remember that. 
Blonde, right?  What happened to her?" 
He could hear Frohike typing in the background.  "She lost her job at 
the Ambassador and moved to Seattle to be near her family.  She's 
currently employed as a sales rep at the Seattle Convention and 
Visitors Bureau." 
"That's it?"  Mulder asked, slightly put out that Frohike didn't 
deliver anything better.  His kung fu was usually better that that. 
"What about Mathers?" 
"He resigned from the Senator's staff and took a position with a local 
public relations firm." 
Mulder sighed, closing the file.  "Alright.  Did you come up with 
anything on Leslie Martin?" 
Frohike chuckled.  "I got her DMV records.  You dog." 
Mulder blinked.  "What?"  He asked innocently. 
"Five foot two, blue eyes, red hair...she's Dana-licious, Scully- 
umptious." 
"Put your pants back on, will you?"  Mulder growled.  "You got anything 
useful?  Like where she's from?"  He stuck another seed in his mouth. 
"San Francisco, but I'm still working on that.  I'm also working on her 
bank records.  There's some pretty sophisticated encryption there but I 
should have that info for you this afternoon." 
"Email her DMV records to me, and call me when you get anything else." 
He started to put the received down. 
"Hey, Mulder..." 
Mulder moved the receiver back up to his ear.  "Yeah?" 
His voice was somber.  "Just because she's got the looks doesn't mean 
she could hold a candle to that partner of yours." 
Mulder spit out another shell with irritation.  "I'm hanging up now." 
Putting the receiving down, he stood, sucking on his lower lip, and 
stared at the file on his desk, hands on his hips.  The answer was 
there - it had to be.  He just wasn't looking in the right place. 
  
  
Agent Mancina sat at the head of the table, surrounded by balloons and 
wrapping paper, holding her belly and laughing as her it changed shape, 
the large mound moving to the right, then flattening out a bit. 
"What WAS that?"  Danny asked, grinning in wonder.  The entire table 
was captivated by the movement. 
"I think it was her little fanny."  Mancina replied with a chuckle. 
"Tight quarters in there, eh, little one?"  She said to her belly with 
a smile, rubbing it softly. 
Scully sat at her right, smiling and enjoying the floor show.  Mancina 
had made out like a bandit - receiving blankets, crib sheets, onesies, 
draw string sleepers, booties, stuffed animals, bottle warmers - she'd 
already had two other babies shower given by friends and family and 
they'd taken care of all of the larger stuff.  Danny had planned the 
shower ahead of time for the day before, but considerately moved it 
back one day to coincide with Scully's first day in the lab so that she 
could be a part of the celebration. 
The baby items were a stark contrast to the rock and roll memorabilia 
on the walls of the Hard Rock Café.  Mancina was a closet Aerosmith fan 
and as a gag Danny had a bakery make a cake shaped like a baby buggy 
with Steven Tyler's face inside, mouth open wide and tongue sticking 
out.  When the waitress brought out the cake, nearly all of the Café's 
wait staff followed behind to watch with amusement. 
Mancina laughed so hard, she nearly fell out of her chair. 
"I'm gonna pee my pants!"  She wailed hysterically as the entire 
restaurant paused to watch, every face wearing a grin.  It was 
infectious. 
Scully raised her head and looked toward the entrance, a frown passing 
over her face as her shoulders stiffened.  Not seeing anything, her 
brow furrowed a moment unnoticed before she checked herself and 
replaced it once again with a smile.  Mancina was examining the cake in 
detail, and looked up just in time to see Mulder walk in, a genuine 
grin on his face as he observed her in her delight. 
"Hey, Mulder!  Sit down and have some cake!"  She pointed at the pastry 
and Mulder laughed out loud, biting his lip to keep from making the 
comment that immediately came to mind. 
"You're gonna EAT that thing?"  He asked, his eyes shining with mirth. 
He'd glanced at Scully, but she was purposely avoiding meeting his 
eyes.  There was a little yellow and pink two-piece outfit sitting on 
the edge of the table that suddenly caught her attention.  He couldn't 
control the rate of his pulse, however, although his educated mind told 
him it was the 'fight or flight' reaction causing the increase in 
adrenaline in his blood. 
"You bet your cute little ass I am!"  Mancina beamed, reaching for a 
knife.  "Take a seat, I'll give you the tongue." 
Mulder held up his hands.  "Charming offer, but I'm gonna have to 
pass."  He pointed over at the take-out counter.  "I've already 
arranged for my pick-up."  Grinning, he headed toward the counter as 
Mancina plunged the knife into the cake. 
Scully pasted a smile on her face and watched Mancina dig into the 
cake, cutting hefty pieces to pass out to her coworkers.  As a piece 
was placed in front of her, she shook her head slightly and held up her 
hand.  "Just a small one, please." 
Mancina tossed her a look out the corner of her eye.  "You look 
terrific, Dana.  Eat the goddamn cake." 
Scully smiled sweetly.  "Thank you, Denise.  I'd like to keep it that 
way.  I'm not eating for two, so cut accordingly." 
Mancina smiled.  "I should have delegated the cutting to you, since 
you've got so much experience."  She stuck a finger in her mouth, and 
handed Scully a small slice. 
Mulder passed by the table again, giving Mancina a pat on the shoulder. 
"Sure you don't want any cake?  I'll have it wrapped to go so the rain 
doesn't melt it before you can eat it."  Mancina smiled up at him. 
"No thanks, I'm not eating for two."  He grinned, patting his stomach. 
Mancina looked from him to Scully, her eyes wide.  "Jesus, you two ARE 
spooky, aren't you?" 
Mulder and Scully's eyes met and froze, the familiar tension swelling 
between them.  Scully broke the connection, suddenly looking away. 
Mulder forced a quick, polite smile towards Mancina and mumbled 'see 
you later,' heading toward the exit with long strides.  Mancina looked 
at Scully with embarrassment. 
"Jeez, Dana, I'm sorry.  I stuck my foot in good, didn't I?" 
Scully put her hand on Mancina's arm and gave her a polite smile. 
"It's okay, Denise.  Mulder's just a little sensitive about his 
nickname."  She gave her arm a gentle squeeze.  "He'll get over it." 
Scully glanced up to see Mulder disappear around a corner. 
We'll get over it, she thought to herself. 
  
  
It took some time before all the locks mere meticulously unlocked 
allowing Mulder entrance to the "Inner Sanctum."  When he entered, he 
was sure he could smell brownies baking, but didn't dare ask.  "Where's 
Larry and Curly this afternoon?  Out selling bugged Girl Scout cookies 
to the Young Republicans?" 
"Ha ha, very funny, Mulder.  You slay me."  Frohike's delivery was 
nothing less than acerbic.  "Do you wanna know what I found out, or 
what?" His stubby little hands had trouble reaching the uppermost lock 
on the door, so he had to jump a little to reach it.  Mulder let him, 
watching with abject amusement. 
The stocky little man finished his security check and turned to a PC on 
the table nearest the door.  Mulder sat, opened his lunch and took out 
a large hamburger, taking a less-than-healthy bite out of it before 
pushing the gooseneck lamp back a bit so he could get close to the 
computer screen. 
"Jesus, Mulder.  You're going to give yourself a coronary one of these 
days."  Frohike watched him with disgust. 
"Read."  Mulder commanded around a mouthful of burger, motioning to the 
screen. 
Frohike began his report as if he were reading it off the screen before 
them, but when Mulder looked his way, he noticed that the little gnome 
had committed it all to heart. 
"Leslie Martin left a promising job without reason.  Worked for 
Brackett & Weller Investments for a few years as an investment 
counselor in San Francisco.  Seemed to be really successful, had a 
noteworthy client list.  No family, few friends.  Worked long hours but 
the job was very lucrative.  I guess not lucrative enough, because she 
just up and quit in May of '98.  She moved to the DC area immediately 
thereafter.  She rented an apartment in Gaithersburg and now seems to 
spend most of her time there.  She doesn't spend much time at Hansen 
House, anyway.  She's only there once or twice a week." 
Frohike reached out and tapped a key on the keyboard. 
"Her banking records show that since she moved to the DC area, she's 
been making $25,000 deposits once a month.  Which is funny, because so 
was Karen Darby.  New trend in prostitution?  A draw against 
commission?"  Frohike looked at Mulder with a sick grin.  "Some piece 
of ass, huh?" 
Mulder rolled his eyes and took another bite of burger. 
"Karen Darby was a high school teacher in Cheyenne, Wyoming.  Pillar of 
the community.  Tragedy hit when she lost all of her immediate family 
in a freak fire at their homestead.  Folks say she just kinda snapped. 
A few weeks later, she left town.  The next time I can pick her up, 
she's in a Baltimore whorehouse.  Dead." 
Mulder swallowed and pulled out his cel phone.  Looking at the screen, 
he punched in a number and let it ring a few times.  A woman answered, 
and he said, "Leslie Martin, please."  He could hear the line being 
transferred.  When he heard her voice, he sat up.  "It's Fox Mulder.  I 
want to see you." 
"What the Hell are you doing?"  Frohike hissed at him.  Mulder covered 
the mouthpeice of the phone and glared at him.  Frohike stood with his 
mouth open as he watched Mulder pull out a notepad and write down the 
name of a hotel and 4 p.m.  "I understand that.  Alright.  No, it's not 
a problem."  Mulder finished and tucked his phone back into his pocket. 
"The Willard?"  Frohike asked.  "I guess with 25 grand a month, you can 
afford certain privileges." 
Mulder didn't reply, picking up his burger and taking another bite as 
he studied the information on the monitor. 
  
  
The taxi pulled up to the front entrance of the Hotel and the doorman 
opened the passenger door with a flourish, welcoming the tall man to 
the Willard has he unfolded his long frame from the back seat.  Mulder 
hadn't wanted to have this meeting on any records at the Bureau, so he 
elected not to use a fleet vehicle.  As he stood at the entrance to the 
lobby, a flood of anxiety washed over him, making him feel even warmer 
than the muggy afternoon had already done. 
He was hoping that this woman would unravel the mystery surrounding the 
uncanny resemblance of the women at Hansen House to the women 
romantically linked to Senator Harman.  He also hoped she would have 
the answer to why and how Scully would be tied into this case. 
As he passed through the extravagant lobby, the stories of scandal and 
controversy rang in his ears.  The Willard had been the host to 
countless politicians and lobbyists over the years, visiting on 
official and not so official business.  The hotels proximity to the 
White House and its location at the heart of Washington politics placed 
it at the focal point of much unrecorded history.  Mulder wondered just 
how deep this political connection to the Senate ran.  He wouldn't have 
been surprised to hear that certain Presidents through the years had 
running accounts on the books.  Nothing much really surprised him 
anymore when it came to politics and the government.  He could safely 
say that he'd just about seen it all by now. 
This thing with the Scully lookalike was a shocker though.  It really 
came out of left field.  He owed it to her to get to the bottom of it. 
Seeing her earlier that day only served to strengthen his resolve. 
The elevator stopped on the tenth floor and Mulder stepped out into 
what appeared to be one of the concierge levels of the hotel, set aside 
for special guests with special needs, whether for services or just 
plain privacy.  A dark suited man - possibly Secret Service? - met him 
at a small desk stationed just to the right of the elevator, blocking 
further passage down the hallway. 
"May I help you, sir?"  The man asked. 
"I'm here to see Miss Martin."  Mulder stated. 
"Yes sir.  Mr. Mulder, is it?" 
Mulder wondered just how much this guy knew as he was directed to room 
1013 on the right. 
Mulder tapped on the door and it opened to reveal Leslie Martin, 
dressed in a lavender chiffon negligee edged in plum colored satin. 
She seemed to be a little more than drunk and was holding an old- 
fashioned glass filled with what appeared to be Alka-Seltzer. 
She didn't look too much like Scully, her hair styled with a part on 
the side and the ends curled up at the tips more like a diminutive 
Ginger from Gilligan's Island.  She stepped aside to let him enter. 
"So, Mr. Mulder, how about a drink?"  She said, stepping over to a 
small bar to pour him a glass of what appeared to be Scotch. 
"Is that what you're having?"  He asked, gesturing to the glass in her 
hand.  It was evident that she'd been at it a long time. 
"No, my last client gave me an upset stomach."  She handed him the 
scotch nervously and clinked her glass against his.  "Cheers."  She 
said flatly. 
Mulder surveyed the room.  It was very elegant, seemingly custom- 
designed, and no doubt very expensive.  "Spend much time here?"  He 
asked with a smirk. 
"A fair amount."  She replied, the liquid in her glass threatening to 
spill over the sides as she waved her hand around while she spoke. 
"It's retained for clients such as yourself who can't make it out of DC 
to get to Baltimore.  It's a pretty full day when Congress is in 
session, but I don't have to tell you that, do I?" 
Mulder watched her, his eyes running down her figure and back up again. 
"Who owns Hansen House?"  He asked, and she shrugged.  "Who runs it?" 
She seemed skittish, or perhaps it was the alcohol.  He couldn't tell. 
"You've seen who runs it.  Your partner spoke with her the day you 
visited." 
Mulder nodded, still studying her.  "Is Senator Harman a client of 
yours?" 
She smiled at him.  "I can't divulge that information.  Think of it as 
Doctor/Patient confidentiality.  You understand."  She stepped closer 
to him, placing her palm on his abdomen and running it slowly up his 
chest.  "Nice suit." 
He looked down at her.  "Was Steven Hoyt a client?"  He asked, 
nonplussed.  She stepped even closer, pressing her body against his 
lightly, and Mulder swallowed involuntarily, firing questions at her. 
"Did you know Steven Hoyt, Leslie?" 
"Was Karen Darby paid to look like Lisa Lewis?" 
"Was she physically altered with plastic surgery to enhance the 
resemblance?" 
She looked up at him, then tilted her head to the side, shaking her 
head drunkenly. 
"Are you being paid to look like Scully?" 
She laughed. "You want her?  I can give you her."  She stumbled 
slightly as she walked over to a large antique bureau, picking up a 
comb and brushing her hair so that the ends flipped under.  She picked 
up a small necklace and fastened it around her neck, then dabbed a 
concealer stick under her eyes and over the mole above her upper lip. 
A fresh coat of lipstick in a different shade completed the illusion 
and she turned to face him. 
Mulder drew in a breath as he looked at her, and she laughed. 
"This is what you came here for, isn't it?"  She crossed her arms, 
tilted her head back and gazed at him under half-lidded eyes, the 
expression so Scully that Mulder moved across the room to her, grabbing 
her by the wrists. 
"Who hired you?!"  He asked, his voice raised. 
She twisted, trying to free her wrists from his grip.  "Let go!"  She 
said, her voice close to a whisper. 
"I want answers, dammit!"  Mulder hissed, leaning his face down to 
hers. 
She saw the frustration in his face and laughed again.  "To drive a 
wedge between the two of you." 
"Who?"  Mulder asked, still holding tightly.  "For what purpose?" 
"Timing, Mr. Mulder.  Timing is everything." 
Mulder's grip loosened, his face becoming slack.  "I don't understand. 
Is it colonization?" 
She looked at him like he'd just spoken in a foreign language. 
"Someone fancies your partner nearly as much as you do.  Do you think 
your little tete-a-tete went unnoticed?  You two are very close, I'd 
say.  Not as close as you'd like to be, obviously."  She slid her hand 
down the front of his trousers, giving his flaccid cock a gentle 
squeeze, then stepping back.  "Will this help get you in the mood?" 
She crossed over to a closet and opened the doors, pulling out a 
tailored black suit.  "I'll even let you take it off of me." 
Mulder's anger erupted.  "Who the HELL do you think you are?"  He 
growled, lunging forward. 
The concierge had heard the occasional raised voice coming from room 
1013 since Mr. Mulder entered.  To be able to hear as much in the 
hallway when the rooms were supposedly soundproofed spoke volumes about 
how loud the argument had been.  He was glad when it was over so that 
he didn't have to knock on the door and ask them to keep it down.  Ms. 
Martin was usually a quiet guest compared to some of the others, and 
he'd hate to have to embarrass himself by asking her to be a little 
more considerate of the other guests. 
After a moment he heard a loud thud, like furniture was being moved or 
something really heavy had hit the floor or the wall.  If they were 
doing any damage to the furniture, he would have to make a note and 
charge it back to Mr. Mulder.  Hell, it wouldn't be the first time 
something like that had happened.  But there was only the one sound, 
and room 1013 once again was quiet. 
  
END CHAPTER FIVE 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER SIX 
Others because you did not keep 
That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine; 
Yet always when I look death in the face, 
When I clamber to the heights of sleep, 
Or when I grow excited with wine, 
Suddenly I meet your face. 
- W. B. Yeats, "A Deep-sworn Vow" 
  
"What is it."  Skinner punched the intercom button with irritation. 
"Sir, Agent Scully isn't in the lab.  Danny said she returned with them 
after lunch but he doesn't know where she is now or what time she will 
return."  His assistant's voice was apologetic. 
He let out a short breath.  "Did you try her on her cel?" 
"Yes, but she's either out of a service area or has it turned off. 
I left a message on her voice mail." 
Sonofa..." Skinner took a deep breath.  "Thanks, Kim."  He said, 
turning off the intercom.  First Mulder, now Scully.  How surprising. 
Where the two of them had run off to was anyone's guess at this point, 
but he vowed he'd have Mulder's ass in a sling if he'd skipped out in 
the middle of an investigation because somebody reported seeing strange 
lights in the sky.  He'd do the same to Scully if she went with him. 
The intercom buzzed again, and Skinner sighed.  "Yes?"  He said, 
mustering all of the patience he had.  After all, it wasn't her fault 
that Mulder and Scully were unreachable. 
"Sir, a Detective McCracken with the D.C.P.D. is on the line.  He says 
its regarding Agents Mulder and Scully." 
Skinner closed his eyes and sighed.  D.C.P.D.  Of course.  "Ok, put him 
through." 
"Skinner."  He growled into the telephone when it rang in on his 
extension. 
"Assistant Director Skinner, this is Detective McCracken with the 
D.C.P.D.  I've got a situation down here at the Willard that you Bureau 
guys might want to handle.  It involves Agents Mulder and Scully 
and...well, you might want to get down here right away." 
"What kind of situation are we talking about, Detective?"  Skinner 
asked. 
"You might want to see for yourself, Sir."  McCracken replied with 
hesitation. 
Skinner sighed again in defeat.  Of all of the agents under his 
supervision, Mulder was a one-in-a-lifetime talent, but at the moment 
he was nothing more than a pain in his ass.  "Alright, I'll be right 
down." 
  
  
Skinner noted the two squad cars and ambulance in front of the Willard 
Inter-Continental as he pushed inside, showing his credentials to a 
uniformed officer near the check-in desk and asking for Detective 
McCracken.  He was directed to the tenth floor, and he maneuvered 
toward the elevators through the curious spectators that had gathered 
in the opulent lobby. 
Up on the tenth floor, he noticed an unmanned hospitality desk and down 
the hall to the right an older man he assumed was Detective McCracken 
was standing with another younger, greener looking detective just 
outside of a room.  He looked up as Skinner approached, sensing who he 
was by his demeanor. 
"What's going on, Detective?"  Skinner asked, flashing his I.D. at the 
man. 
"Assistant Director Skinner."  McCracken offered his hand, shaking 
hands quickly before nodding toward the room.  "He won't say a word and 
he won't let go of her.  I figured you'd have better luck, seeing how 
it's one of your own.  We've got to get a statement from him and..." he 
paused, "...so on." 
Skinner looked toward the doorway just as a paramedic stepped out, his 
hands smeared up to the elbow in blood.  He shook his head at the 
Detective and Skinner's eyes widened as he looked back at McCracken. 
The detective's face was grave, even for one who had probably seen a 
lot in his long tenure.  It sent a chill through him that he'd known 
intimately since he was eighteen years old, fighting for his country in 
Vietnam. 
Death. 
He shuddering involuntarily and stepped toward the door. 
The first thing in his line of vision was the bed, the bottom corner 
shoved against the wall and the decorative comforter rumpled, pulled 
off on one side.  Another paramedic stood near some emergency medical 
equipment toward the back of the room with a look of uncertainty on his 
face, watching the man on the floor in the middle of the room. 
Mulder sat in profile, his face contorted into a mask of extreme pain 
and grief as he sobbed silently.  In his arms he cradled a petite 
redhead, her still, ghostly white form covered in blood.  There was a 
trail of blood leading in from the bathroom, saturating the woman's 
dark business suit, pooled underneath the woman's body and smeared over 
Mulder's face, arms, shirt and trousers. 
Skinner sucked in a deep breath and bent at the waist, grabbing his 
knees.  "Oh sweet Jesus..." he whispered, his eyes closed.  McCracken 
had stepped in behind him, his eyes on the couple in the middle of the 
room.  "What happened here?"  Skinner asked softly, his face displaying 
his shock and disbelief. 
"Don't know."  McCracken said.  "A 911 call came in from Agent Mulder 
at this location at 4:32 p.m. stating that a woman had been murdered. 
We found them this way.  He was rocking back and forth, whispering 
something like 'wake up' over and over but we couldn't get anything 
else out of him.  After a while, he just stopped talking altogether. 
He won't let go of her, though." 
At that moment, Mulder looked up.  His pallid cheeks were wet with 
tears and his eyes were black from shock.  "She won't wake up."  He 
said hoarsely to the Assistant Director, swallowing hard.  He turned 
his face back toward the woman in his arms and tightened his hold on 
her. 
Skinner walked over and crouched down next to him.  "What happened to 
her?"  He asked gently, more than familiar with trauma-induced 
dissociative disorder from his tour of duty in Vietnam.  He looked down 
at the lifeless body of Dana Scully, something in her face seeming 
different but he couldn't say what.  Perhaps it was the mask of death. 
He turned his head away and closed his eyes, giving himself a moment to 
bury his personal feelings before they got the better of him. 
The air changed as another person entered the room, the stillness 
punctured by an audibly quick intake of breath.  Skinner looked up over 
his shoulder to see Agent Scully standing just inside the doorway, her 
face drained of color but very much alive and struggling to gain 
control over her emotions as she took in the sight before her.  He let 
out an involuntary sigh of relief. 
McCracken and the paramedic were both looking at her with a little more 
than disbelief, and the other detective and paramedic had stepped 
inside the room behind her, both curious about this new player in the 
scenario who bore a shocking resemblance to the victim.  McCracken's 
face softened as if some of his tension had been relieved and he nodded 
at her in acknowledgement. 
Scully's questioning gaze left the detective and locked with Skinner's 
shocked and confused gaze, and he turned back to look once more at the 
woman in Mulder's arms before standing and facing the agent. 
She crossed the room and stood close to him as he told her in a low 
voice, "he's unresponsive.  The detectives have been unable to get a 
statement from him.  Judging by his reaction, I think he believes 
that's you."  He looked back over at Mulder a moment, his jaw clenched. 
"Agent Scully, what the hell is going on?" 
She looked up at him, then over at Mulder, who hadn't noticed her enter 
the room.  She couldn't hide the distress and the horror she felt as 
she looked at her partner cradling the body of a woman who could have 
passed as her identical twin, his face twisted from unbearable grief. 
"I don't know."  She told Skinner honestly, then stepped close to 
Mulder and crouched down, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. 
"Mulder."  She said soft and throaty, with no response. 
She took a deep breath.  "Mulder, it's me." 
His breathing changed, his nostrils flaring as he turned his head and 
looked at her, his eyes dark and wild.  He blinked several times and 
the wildness seemed to abate. "Scully?"  He asked, his eyes boring into 
hers intimately, looking for and finding evidence of her soul inside 
the pale blue orbs. 
She held his gaze, and gave him a quasi-smile, her hand tightening on 
his shoulder.  "Yeah." 
His expression changed to something that could be described as relief, 
and she ran the back of her fingers over his temple tenderly.  He 
looked back down at the woman in his arms, and he began to tremble, his 
face crumpling.  "God, Scully..." he sobbed, the tears starting anew. 
Scully gently pulled Mulder's head down to her shoulder, wrapping an 
arm around his shoulders and stroking his hair with her free hand. 
"Shhhhhhh, I know, Mulder.  I know." 
No one in the room watching the drama unfold before them could have a 
flicker of doubt about what the two players center stage meant to each 
other.  Skinner looked to the other occupants of the room, feeling like 
a voyeur.  "Let's give them a minute."  He said quietly, efficiently 
ushering them out into the hallway. 
  
  
Scully stepped wearily into the hallway, drained of all emotion and 
energy but somehow able to take a breath and straighten her shoulders 
before speaking to the Assistant Director.  "He's asking for you, Sir." 
She said, her eyes telling him that both she and Mulder had both 
recovered some measure of control. 
Skinner looked at her with respect, highly aware of the personal 
strength it took to deal with the situation.  There had been some 
intense whispering coming from the room just moments before.  He nodded 
and stepped toward the door, turning again when he saw she was headed 
off down the hallway.  "Agent Scully..." 
She turned back toward him, her eyebrows raised in question. 
"Don't go anywhere."  He told her, then stepped inside. 
Mulder was standing off to the side now shifting his weight from foot 
to foot, his hands on his hips as he stared at the woman on the floor. 
When he looked up at Skinner his eyes were dark with anger.  "I don't 
want Scully involved in this."  He said, giving a quick nod toward the 
body. 
Skinner looked down at her a moment, marveling again at her strong 
resemblance to the agent.  He glanced at the bed and sensed with dread 
that Mulder was involved personally as well as professionally in this 
one.  "Just tell me what happened." 
  
  
In the hallway, Scully leaned back against the wall, her eyes closing 
as the weariness washed over her.  Detective McCracken hovered nearby, 
an ear focused on the room trying to hear what was being said between 
Mulder and Skinner while he kept one eye on the red-headed agent in the 
hallway. 
"You ok?"  He asked her, his eyes kind and sincere. 
"Yeah."  She said, a brief smile passing across her face without 
reaching her eyes. 
"How about letting Markowitz buy you a cup of coffee while you wait." 
He said warmly, nodding toward the uniformed officer standing nearby. 
Scully took a deep breath.  Mulder had made it clear that he didn't 
want her here but she was forced to wait on Skinner's orders.  A cup of 
coffee sounded like the way to go.  She nodded and looked at McCracken 
with gratitude before glancing at Markowitz and heading down the 
hallway toward the hospitality area.  McCracken watched her with warmth 
and respect, shaking his head at the physical similarities between the 
two women, then joined Mulder and Skinner in the room. 
  
  
There was a coffee pot tucked into an unobtrusive spot in the 
hospitality area near the elevators.  Markowitz handed Scully a 
styrofoam cup and sat across from her in one of two rich, berry-colored 
chairs.  Markowitz was a nice but ordinary guy, married with a small 
son and liked to talk, which suited Scully just fine since it was all 
she could do to sip her coffee and nod once in a while.  She sensed 
that he was nervous, maybe from the scene in the hotel room, or the 
overtly elegant hotel, or perhaps from her presence.  Regardless of the 
reason, it only served to make him that much more talkative.  He was 
engaging, though, enough to keep her mind from dwelling on Mulder 
- for the time being. 
The Coroner arrived, wheeling a stretcher down the hallway, the 
pristine décor none the worse for the wear.  Markowitz's topics of 
conversation had run out and they both sat quietly, Scully's beverage 
turning cold as her thoughts turned inward.  She wondered about the 
rumpled bed, the woman's identity, and what Mulder was doing in a hotel 
room with her, dressed just like his partner right down to her little 
gold cross. 
After about ninety minutes Mulder strode down the hallway, his skin 
scrubbed clean but the blood dried into dark rufescent stains on his 
shirt and trousers. 
"Mulder!"  Scully called, jumping up to following him as he passed her 
by.  He didn't slow at her voice, and she had to grab his arm to get 
him to stop at all.  "Dammit, Mulder!"  She hissed, trying not to cause 
a scene as Markowitz wisely studied the inside of his long-emptied cup. 
Mulder was on edge, shifting from one foot to the other as he clenched 
his teeth together.  He looked at her but his eyes held a warning; 
Don't ask.  She dropped his arm and with a deep, ragged breath, took a 
small step back. 
"What is going on?"  She asked, crossing her arms in front of her. 
He ran a hand through his hair.  "Not now, Scully."  He said shortly, 
his body language screaming flight as he leaned over and punched the 
call button for the elevator. 
She drew in another deep breath, rose to her full five-foot-three-plus- 
heels height and stuck her chin out.  "You look terrible, Mulder.  When 
was the last time you slept?  Or ate something, for that matter?" 
His shoulders slumped a moment, and she briefly thought that he was 
going to open up and tell her as he closed his eyes.  "I'm fine."  His 
voice came out close to a whisper.  But just as quickly as it had 
turned, his expression turned back and he stiffened when he saw Skinner 
approaching. 
She looked at him a moment, her blue eyes wide as they searched his 
hazel eyes for an answer.  Not finding any, she nodded, the pain 
evident in her face as she took another step back.  The elevator doors 
opened and Mulder looked her over from head to foot and then stepped 
into the carriage.  He turned and faced her, a haunted look in his eyes 
as the doors shut between them without another word being spoken. 
Skinner watched Mulder retreat and took in Scully's expression as he 
approached.  He stopped in front of her, facing her profile as she 
stared at the closed elevator doors. 
"How does he seem to you?"  He asked, his voice low for privacy. 
Scully took a deep breath through her nose, her chest rising and 
falling as she continued to stare at the doors.  "He says he's fine." 
She said, turning toward him.  Her eyes seemed a bit watery and she 
held her mouth in a thin line. 
Skinner sighed.  "He says you aren't involved in this.  What brought 
you here, Agent?" 
Scully looked him in the eye.  "I had a message to call you.  Your 
assistant told me you were here with Mulder so I came here." 
"You have no idea what Mulder was doing here with that woman?" 
She stiffened, pulling her chin up higher.  "No Sir."  She paused. 
"Is he being held accountable for her death?" 
Skinner put his hands on his hips, looking down at the ground.  "It 
doesn't look good at the moment.  Mulder was the last person with her 
when she died.  They've recovered his and her fingerprints from one of 
the glasses in the room, and there appears to have been a struggle 
before she collapsed." 
Scully's eyes dimmed but she maintained her stance.  "I'd like to 
participate in the autopsy, or at least be allowed to observe.  I can 
make sure that Mulder's best interests are represented." 
He drew in a breath, glancing over and noticing Markowitz for the first 
time.  "What do you think killed her?"  He asked, his tone becoming 
softer.  He was still trying to get a grip on the situation, his 
emotions reeling from the initial impact of the scene. 
She took in a deep breath.  "I can't say for certain of course..." 
Skinner nodded his head to the side, an impatient look on his face. 
He knew her opinion would be qualified with a disclaimer. 
She took in his look, let out a breath and paused.  "Based on what I 
observed of the body, she clearly vomited the blood.  I would guess the 
cause of death to be asphyxia, brought on by the ingestion of a toxic 
alkali." 
"You're saying you believe she was poisoned?" 
"That would be my guess, yes."  She paused, considering.  "This doesn't 
match the MO from the other murders that you and Mulder are 
investigating.  It's too messy.  Alkalis basically eat away at the 
stomach and burn the larynx.  If this is your killer, he's either 
gotten sloppy or didn't have enough time to kill her cleanly." 
Skinner glanced at her, his teeth clenched.  Although Mulder requested 
that she be excluded from the investigation, with her medical knowledge 
and forensic expertise Scully was an asset Mulder couldn't afford to 
push away.  Neither could he, for that matter.  She'd saved his ass a 
couple of times and he'd been damn lucky she was around to do it. 
"Alright.  Let me know what turns up." 
  
  
Scully played diener to the D.C. Medical Examiner's prosector, 
assisting with the procedure as more than an observer, both taking 
direction and operating independently based on her extensive 
experience.  As with any field of expertise, the number of Pathologists 
in the D.C. area was relatively small and Scully had come in contact 
with this M.E. several times over the past few years.  If the M.E. felt 
any uneasiness over the eerie resemblance between the victim and his 
temporary diener, he didn't let it affect his work. 
They moved through the external examination, Scully's heart skipping a 
beat as they swabbed the rectal and vaginal areas for evidence of 
semen.  She forced back the unbidden image of the tousled bed, 
reminding herself to stay detached, knowing that any emotional 
involvement on her part would compromise Mulder's chances as well as 
her ability to do a thorough job.  They dissected the body, keeping 
detailed notes and gathering identical samples of stomach contents, 
body fluids and tissues to run through both the police Serologist and 
the FBI lab.  Scully would run as many of tests as she could herself, 
since she was now assigned to the lab and could dedicate as much time 
as she could spare. 
The majority of the gross exam completed, the M.E. left to finish up 
his notes, trusting her to sew up the body and clean up, alone to her 
task.  It was something she could practically do in her sleep, making 
it that much harder to stay focused on the tediousness of her work. 
Although it wouldn't be the official report, she would be writing her 
own report on the autopsy, of course.  Forensics would tell much about 
the victim, whose name she now knew was Leslie Martin.  She, of course, 
could list the many and varied differences between herself and the 
victim who so closely resembled her, from the lack of muscle tone in 
her calves to the lack of scarring on her abdomen.  Although 
everything about the body had been noted and recorded, Scully spent 
extra time going over the victim's physical appearance, looking for any 
clues she might have overlooked. 
Skinner had allowed her to see the preliminary forensic report from the 
crime scene.  There had been a struggle, and they had collected traces 
of hair, semen and saliva from the sheets on the bed.  Mulder's 
fingerprints were on a glass containing four ounces of Scotch Whiskey, 
as were the victim's.  The victim's fingerprints were also on another 
glass that contained seltzer residue and several of the bottles of 
alcohol in the room's bar.  No one else had been on the floor at the 
time of the incident, and the hotel had no records of a concierge or 
hospitality clerk on duty at the time. 
She now knew that the victim had been employed at Hansen House.  It 
was yet another one of those things that Mulder had kept from her, 
perhaps out of his chivalrous need to protect her, or for other reasons 
known only to himself.  It was just one of many questions that now 
plagued her as she stitched the body back together. 
There had been implants.  Not of the microchip variety, but of the 
silicon kind.  She wasn't Pamela Anderson by any stretch of the 
imagination, and Scully imaged that she must have possessed next to 
nothing prior to the surgery.  Still, with the implants she had more 
than Scully currently possessed, with or without her wonderbra.  There 
was also evidence of collagen injections to make her lips fuller.  Both 
procedures were hardly surprising given the woman's chosen profession, 
but take them away, along with the makeup, hair style, clothing and 
jewelry, and the victim looked no more like her than her own sister 
had.  For whatever reason she had yet to discover, Leslie Martin had 
gone to a lot of trouble to make herself look like what she deemed to 
be just plain old Dana Scully. 
Scully sighed and rotated her head, groaning at the protesting pops 
from her neck.  Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and let it 
out, her shoulders lifting and falling with the action.  Even with air- 
conditioning the air was stifling and heavy with humidity from the 
ongoing rain that had been pelting the city for the last several days. 
She couldn't stop thinking about Mulder.  She'd neither seen nor spoken 
with him since the day at the hotel, and she felt disconnected, like a 
boat adrift at sea.  He was always a part of her day-to-day life and 
she'd spent more than a large part of that time thinking about him, but 
she had been better at controlling her emotions then. 
Things were different now...had been different since the night they'd 
rather carelessly come close to consummating their relationship on her 
living room sofa.  Their flirtation with physical intimacy had been 
entered into hastily, she had decided later on that same evening.  She 
claimed responsibility for the indiscretion - she had initiated it. 
They had been circling each other, sizing each other up for years, and 
on that particular night her defenses had been down.  She needed 
something familiar to hold on to and she needed assurance from Mulder 
that her reassignment was only a temporary one.  That didn't mean that 
they were prepared for what they had been about to embark upon. 
Their relationship was intense to the extreme.  But it was centered 
around work - she didn't know a whole lot about Fox Mulder the man. 
Not as much as she should have known, working so closely with him for 
over six years.  She knew his character and she was fairly certain she 
knew his heart, but there was just as much she didn't know.  Personal 
things, little things about his past, just like he didn't know hers. 
Not that she wouldn't like to share, of course, but it seemed like they 
never had the time or the opportunity to discuss those issues.  It 
probably wasn't advisable, considering how closely they had to work 
together.  Sometimes, in order to maintain a close working 
relationship, there needed to be a distance in the personal 
relationship to maintain balance. 
Still, in the big picture, who else was there for either of them but 
each other?  She wondered...if they tried, could they really make both 
a professional and a personal relationship work without compromising 
one or the other? 
Mulder was obsessive and she'd already experienced his obsessing first 
hand.  His behind-the-scenes manipulation to have her removed from the 
Harman case in a misguided effort to keep her out of harm's way was 
only the most recent example.  In a more personal situation, how far 
would Fox Mulder go to protect her? 
She already knew the answer to that question.  Mulder would stop at 
nothing to ensure her safety - it was an integral part of his 
character.  The one thing that would change, the thing that she was 
most reluctant to give up, was her independence.  She had always been 
self-sufficient, and needed a certain amount of time alone to regroup 
and collect her thoughts; shore up her battlements; refocus.  It was 
something that had inevitably become an issue in the few relationships 
she had been in, although it was years ago.  She was accused of being 
conditional, aloof, not completely invested in the relationship because 
she needed to keep a part of herself to herself.  But she could no more 
change that part of her character any more than she could change 
Mulder's obsessing. 
The floodgates had been opened and the part of herself that had been 
too-long denied the physical touch and sensation of another human being 
reveled in the brief touch and feel of Mulder.  Her partner.  Her 
friend.  Bad timing aside, the emotional and physical had collided that 
night and she was lost, up the proverbial creek without a paddle.  The 
one blessing in it all, or perhaps the most unfortunate thing was that 
they didn't have sex. 
The question was, which opinion did she prefer? 
At some point during her self-absorption she had set about her tasks, 
and had just gotten the victim's body cleaned and dressed when her cel 
phone trilled. 
"Scully."  She barked into the phone after struggling with her latex 
gloves. 
There was a burst of static, then the connection was gone.  Scully 
looked at the phone then punched "end."  It was the third time in as 
many days that she'd received such a call.  She considered calling 
Mulder to see if he had been trying to reach her, then dismissed the 
idea.  If Mulder wanted to speak with her, he would have. 
It had been three days, and she missed him. 
Scully sighed, made a mental note to take the phone in for servicing 
and checked her watch.  It had been three hours since they started the 
autopsy, and more than nine hours since she'd had breakfast.  Her 
stomach growled in response and she finished tidying up the autopsy bay 
so she could grab a very late lunch or early dinner and return to the 
lab to start running the tests. 
  
END CHAPTER SIX 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER SEVEN 
Thou canst not every day give me thy heart; 
If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it. 
Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart, 
It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it. 
But we will have a way more liberal 
Than changing hearts, to join them; so we shall 
  Be one, and one another's all. 
- John Donne, Lovers' Infiniteness 
  
Mulder was becoming increasingly angered from the lack of any concrete 
evidence linking Senator Harman to the deaths of Karen Darby, Steven 
Hoyt, Lisa Lewis...and now Leslie Martin.  Following Martin's alleged 
homicide nearly a week before, the pressure was on to wrap up the case, 
and he'd yet to discover the break he needed.  He spoke to Skinner 
about taking a quick trip to Houston to investigate the possible 
connection between Harman and the Coltrane murders, but Skinner had 
emphatically refused, telling him that there wasn't enough to warrant 
reopening the investigation.  Besides that, they were expecting the 
first of the toxicology results to come in confirming the preliminary 
autopsy report on Leslie Martin and the D.C.P.D. wanted Mulder around 
in case they turned up anything else from the investigation. 
He'd been sidelined for nearly two days, fuming as Skinner refused to 
allow him to move ahead with the investigation until he spoke with the 
Bureau's psychologist to make sure he was 'mentally fit' to return to 
the job.  It was a load of crap - after all, he had a degree in 
psychology from Oxford, for chrissake.  He more than anyone would 
know if there was anything to be concerned about. 
The session with Karen Kosoff, the bureau psychologist, began 
routinely enough.  She asked him to rate from one to ten his appetite, 
sleeping patterns, ability to focus on tasks, his irritability.  When 
asked if there had been any significant changes in his relationships, 
he hesitated.  What had happened with Scully had certainly been a 
change, but it really wasn't something he wanted to discuss.  Karen 
picked up on his hesitancy, though, and asked him point blank if there 
had been any recent changes in his relationship with his partner.  When 
he sat dumbly and stared, blinking at her, she changed tactics.  She 
knew about the relationships between partners, and she'd had sessions 
with Agent Scully on more than one occasion. 
"She's a very strong person."  Karen stated, pausing to give Mulder a 
chance to respond.  He didn't, so she continued.  "I read in your files 
about the investigation you both worked on involving the removal of the 
victims hearts, and that your partner had nearly been a victim herself. 
You found her, didn't you?" 
"Yes."  He nearly whispered. 
"She had lost some blood, is that right?" 
Mulder hesitated.  "There was blood."  He replied carefully. 
"She was unconscious when you found her?"  She asked. 
"She...appeared to be."  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 
"She wasn't injured, though."  She posed the statement more like a 
question. 
"No."  Mulder replied. 
Karen paused, taking a breath and looking down at her notes.  "The 
incident the other day, at the hotel.  The victim bore a striking 
resemblance to your partner." 
Mulder stood, walking over to a bookshelf. 
She watched him with concern.  "Did it remind you of the previous 
investigation?"  Her voice was soothing, her words sounding more like 
affirmations than questions. 
"Yes."  He answered truthfully.  "I had been...re-living the incident 
in my apartment through nightmares since the day it happened.  Only the 
outcome was different." 
She nodded with understanding.  "In your nightmare your partner isn't 
revived." 
Mulder swallowed.  "No." 
"So during the incident in the hotel, your subconscious reminded you of 
the nightmare when you saw the blood on the victim lying before you." 
Mulder offered her a wry smile that had nothing to do with joy or 
mirth.  "I wigged out, yes.  Isn't that why I'm here?" 
Karen offered him a kind smile.  "Do you trust your partner, Fox?" 
Mulder's eyes grew dark.  "Of course I do.  What's that got to do with 
it?" 
"Do you trust yourself?" 
His mouth fell open and he stared at her, realization washing over him. 
"You think I blame myself for the attack on Scully?" 
She met his gaze.  "Have you asked yourself why you were having the 
same recurring nightmare?" 
He snapped his mouth shut, not replying. 
Karen looked down at her notes again.  "You said earlier you hadn't 
been sleeping.  How much sleep did you get the night before the 
incident at the hotel?" 
Mulder closed his eyes, recalling the scene with Scully and the 
subsequent night on his sticky leather sofa.  "I didn't sleep that 
night." 
She nodded.  "Sleep depravation can strongly affect our judgement. 
Combined with your ongoing nightmare and the similarity of the incident 
to the nightmare it's hardly surprising that you reacted the way you 
did.  Are you still experiencing the nightmares?" 
"I haven't since the incident, no." 
"You were with the victim when she became ill, and yet you couldn't 
prevent her death - just like you were powerless to prevent the attack 
on your partner.  Have you discussed your concerns with your partner? 
She may be able to add some perspective to the situation that you might 
not have anticipated." 
Mulder considered her words for a moment, but said nothing.  He looked 
past her out the window, then down to his hands which were fidgeting in 
his lap. 
To Dr. Kosoff, the pain and conflict were obvious in his face. 
"Sometimes we have to accept that things happen that are out of our 
control, despite our best intentions." 
Mulder had always known she was a damned good psychologist, and a 
patient woman. He took a deep breath, and looked at her, smiling 
slightly to acknowledge to her that she'd hit the nail on the head. 
This had been his underlying problem ever since Samantha's abduction. 
He had worked on it while he was at Oxford as part of the introspective 
analysis which was required of him during his studies.  But he never 
realized fully how he had been applying those same anxieties to his 
relationship with Scully of late. 
They talked together for another 40 minutes before they resolved to 
break for the time being.  Karen felt confident enough to release him 
back to active duty, although she expressed her desire to continue 
their conversation in the future.  Mulder flippantly replied to her 
request, indicating that he never knew if he would be around from one 
day to the next.  But inwardly, he hoped they would continue also.  He 
left the session with the signed release, and a lot to think about. 
  
  
He and Skinner had been interviewing neighbors of the victims to see if 
they could shed any additional light on their respective deaths, 
identify any visitors around the time of death, or provide first-hand 
accounts of any possible connection to the killer.  So far, no one had 
noticed anything out of the ordinary, or could identify any unusual 
occurrences or visitors.  Karen Darby and Leslie Martin were without 
any close family or personal acquaintances as they were relatively new 
to the city, so they focused on Lisa Lewis and Steven Hoyt.  That 
afternoon they found themselves on their way to speak with Carrie 
Lewis, Lisa Lewis' sister, in Crystal City. 
Carrie Lewis lived in the Crystal Tower, a very elegant hi-rise with a 
24-hour doorman and a price to match.  The doorman had notified her 
that they were on their way up, and she was waiting for them in the 
open doorway when they stepped off of the elevator onto her floor. 
She was in her late thirties, attractive, and well-dressed, with dark 
brown hair and eyes that bore a strong resemblance to her younger 
sister.  Despite her well-maintained appearance, Mulder could see the 
dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and the haunted look she wore. 
It was similar to the look Scully wore following the death of her 
sister, Melissa. 
Mulder held up his badge.  "Miss Lewis, I'm Special Agent Mulder with 
the Federal Bureau of Investigation, this is Assistant Director 
Skinner.  We're here to talk with you about your sister, Lisa." 
"Come in."  She said, stepping aside so that they could enter the 
apartment. 
She worked as an attorney with a well-respected litigation firm in D.C. 
and from the looks of it, was paid very well.  Her apartment appeared 
as if it had been modeled in the pages of Architectural Digest, with 
sparse furnishings and not a thing out of place except for a box with a 
few items laid out on the coffee table. 
"The DC Police just gave me permission to take a few things from 
Lise's apartment this afternoon," she said gesturing toward the coffee 
table, "I've been going through them..." her voice trailed off.  "I'm 
sorry.  I'm not taking this well." 
Mulder nodded at her, placing his hand on her arm.  "We understand that 
and we're doing everything in our power to get to the bottom of this. 
We appreciate you taking the time to speak with us." 
Carrie looked up at him and smiled weakly, then at Skinner.  "It wasn't 
suicide, Agent Mulder.  Lise didn't believe in taking aspirin, let 
alone a prescription strength painkiller.  Somebody put that medicine 
in her." 
"Can you think of anyone who would want to do that?"  Mulder asked. 
Carrie shook her head.  "She didn't have many friends, just me, Steven, 
and a couple of girls she worked with.  It wasn't because she wasn't 
friendly, but she was so busy with work that she just didn't have much 
time for the few of us who were already close to her, let alone anyone 
else." 
Skinner's face was subdued.  "You were close, then." 
Carrie looked at him.  "She was my baby sister." 
Skinner looked at Mulder, then back at her.  "What can you tell us 
about Steven Hoyt?" 
Carrie took a breath, thinking.  "Steven was good for Lise.  He was as 
dedicated to his work as she was to hers, but when they were together 
they were happy.  They had been discussing engagement.  They had 
everything in their lives mapped out down to the smallest detail, 
including when they would become engaged.  It was like a five-year plan 
for life, only they never got that far.  Death didn't fit into that 
plan." 
Mulder's face was sympathetic.  "Carrie, did Lisa ever mention anyone 
named Karen Darby?" 
Carrie thought a moment.  "No, I don't think so.  Like I said, she only 
had a few friends at work and I don't remember hearing her speak about 
anyone named Karen." 
"What about Hansen House.  Did you ever hear her mention a place called 
Hansen House?"  Mulder prodded. 
Carrie looked from Mulder, to Skinner, and back to Mulder.  "Not that I 
recall.  What is it, some sort of historical site?" 
Mulder glanced over at Skinner and gave her a wry, but embarrassed 
grin.  "Not exactly."  He looked over at the coffee table where Carrie 
had unpacked a few of Lisa's belongings.  He recognized the photograph 
in the silver frame of the boating party and he picked it up.  There 
was something about that photo that had prodded at the back of his 
mind, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it, even after he'd 
spoken with the photographer. 
"Carrie, do you know anything about this photograph?" He asked, holding 
it up for her to see. 
"That was taken last summer down at the Corinthian Yacht Club.  Senator 
Harman takes his staff out on his boat a couple of times a year. 
Steven took Lise along."  She ran a finger over her sister's image. 
"The Senator had been flirting with her and some of the other girls the 
entire day.  She wasn't thrilled, but she put up with it for Steven's 
sake.  So many Congressmen and career politicians are like that...it 
doesn't excuse the behavior, but it tends to make you more accepting, 
somehow." 
Skinner looked at the floor as Mulder studied the photograph.  "Can you 
identify the other people?"  He asked, angling the photograph back 
toward her. 
She studied it a moment.  "That's Lisa, and the Senator, of course. 
Steven, Stephanie Curtis and Donald Mathers." 
Mulder studied the photo a bit longer.  Of course, now that she'd 
mentioned it, he did recognize Stephanie Curtis from the tabloids. 
Curtis was directly on the Senator's left, while Mathers was on the 
other side of Steven Hoyt to the right.  Mathers was looking at Curtis, 
or perhaps at the Senator. 
At that moment his cel phone rang, and he looked up apologetically at 
Carrie as he reached into his pocket. 
"Mulder." 
"It's me."  Scully let out a breath as Mulder looked up at Skinner, 
moving to the far corner of the room for privacy. 
"What is it?"  He asked, immediately concerned.  They hadn't spoken 
since the day at the hotel and it wasn't likely she was calling to 
chat. 
She took another breath.  "I've just finished the toxicology reports 
from the autopsy I performed on Leslie Martin."  Her voice was as 
professional as it could get. 
Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, 
arching his back into it.  "What did you find?" 
"She ingested sodium hydroxide, mixed with the alcohol in the glass 
recovered from the hotel room.  There was alcohol in her bloodstream, 
as well as in her stomach.  Quite a bit, in fact.  Two point three." 
She paused, drawing a deep breath, her voice thinner as she continued. 
"Serology has determined the blood type of her last sexual partner 
based on the semen collected from the body and the hotel sheets."  She 
paused.  "I've begun the D.N.A. testing to see if we can determine the 
identity of that person...unless you want me to hold off on that a 
little longer to buy some time." 
Mulder was silent for an uncomfortable amount of time.  "What is it 
you're saying?"  He asked finally, his voice sharp and lethal. 
The silence stretched from Scully's end as she fought back the tears 
threatening to spill.  "Based on the preliminary typing, both appear to 
match your blood type, Mulder." 
"Dammit, Scully!"  Mulder hissed into the phone, causing both Skinner 
and Carrie to look at him with surprise.  He glanced at them, then 
crossed the room in six long strides and left the apartment.  "Am I 
going to be officially charged for a murder I didn't commit based on 
that?"  He asked, his voice lowered as he passed a curious resident 
just stepping off of the elevator. 
"They're building a case based on the information at hand.  It was 
enough to request a P.C.R. test against your D.N.A."  She paused, 
drawing a shaky breath.  "Did you have sex with her, Mulder?"  She 
hated the emotion and the accusation already in her voice. 
Mulder's defenses went up and his battlements came out at the 
accusation. He hissed into the phone.  "The woman was murdered and I'm 
the last person to see her alive. I was in the hotel room with her, 
covered in her blood.  Whether or not I had sex with her is irrelevant 
at this point.  She died, but I didn't kill her." 
He could hear her shallow breathing on the other end, hating himself 
for not telling her the truth to begin with.  "For what its worth, I 
know you aren't responsible for her death."  She said, keeping her 
voice even. 
"Your faith in me overwhelms me, Scully."  He snapped caustically. 
She was silent, and he clenched his eyes and teeth together, instantly 
regretting his words. 
"I'll let you know the results from the P.C.R. test."  She said 
quietly, disconnecting the call. 
  
  
Scully let the phone hang limply in her hand, leaning her forehead 
against the back of her wrist.  The tears she fought against won the 
battle and one victorious drop rolled down her cheek before she swiped 
it away with her fingertips. 
"Dana?"  She heard behind her, and her shoulders straightened. 
"Yeah."  She replied, turning away from her computer monitor to see 
Danny standing with uncertainty in the doorway beneath the harsh 
fluorescent overhead light of her small office.  "Sorry, Danny."  She 
gave him a small smile.  "What can I do for you?" 
He took a cautious step forward.  "You okay?" 
She let out a self-conscious laugh.  "Yeah, I'm...fine."  She took in 
a deep breath and looked up at him.  "Did you need me for something?" 
He smiled amicably.  "I just wanted to give you an update.  Mancina's 
contractions are seven minutes apart now." 
She smiled genuinely.  "Is she heading off to the hospital?" 
"She's determined not to go until she gets to the five minute mark. 
She's out walking around her block." 
Scully laughed, sniffing back the residual tears.  "Stubborn." 
"That she is."  Danny looked at her a moment longer.  "You know, Dana, 
you've really been a big help to us here." 
She raised her eyebrows.  "Thank you, Danny." 
"We could use you on a permanent basis.  I know it's not as exciting as 
working out in the field, but it does have its own merits." 
"Danny..." 
He held up a hand to stop her.  "We need to hire someone anyway, but 
I'm giving you the first option.  You don't have to give me an answer 
right now.  Just think about it." 
Her mouth was set in a straight line as she looked at him and she 
nodded.  "Thanks, Danny.  I appreciate the offer." 
He nodded back in understanding, seeing her refusal in her eyes. 
"Yeah.  Well, we can always use talent." 
He offered her a weak smile and turned, leaving her to her privacy. 
She breathed deeply and let it out shakily, looking down at the cel 
phone still clutched in her hand.  Pushing the antennae in and tucking 
the phone back into her pocket, she wiped the salty residue from her 
cheeks and turned back to her monitor. 
  
  
Skinner found Mulder down on the street, leaning against the Bureau- 
issue Ford Crown Victoria.  He was clearly agitated, evident by the way 
his legs twitched as he bit into a seed with a vengeance. 
The Assistant Director looked him over, moving to lean against the car 
next to him.  "Agent Scully call you with the autopsy results?"  He 
asked the agent, already aware that Scully had called him. 
Mulder gave him a look that told him exactly what he thought of Skinner 
giving Scully the go ahead to participate in the autopsy.  Skinner 
crossed his arms and looked down the street before looking back at him. 
"Look, it's none of my business, Agent Mulder, but I'd like to offer 
you a little personal advice."  Skinner said as he leaned in slightly, 
his voice lowered for private conversation. 
"Do I have a choice?"  Mulder asked flippantly, sucking on a seed as 
his body continued to twitch. 
Skinner looked at him like a father would look at a petulant child. 
"I've been watching you and Scully dance around each other for years. 
If one of you is in even the smallest amount of trouble the other one 
starts bouncing off of the walls." 
"She's my PARTNER."  Mulder stated, emphasizing the last word as if it 
would explain everything. 
"I know about the relationship between partners, Mulder.  I didn't just 
crawl out from under a rock.  You and I both know you and Scully go far 
beyond that." 
Mulder snapped his mouth shut, focusing on a spot down the street in 
the other direction.  "You know nothing." 
"And yet you end up in a hotel room with a prostitute who happens to 
look like her twin."  Skinner continued, undaunted. 
Mulder turned and glared at him.  "I went there for information." 
"You thought she was Scully.  You flashed back on the Padgett case, 
didn't you?" 
Mulder was silent, looking back down the street. 
"Is that why you set it up with Danny for her to help out in the lab?" 
Mulder turned again, surprised.  "Wh..." 
"I know a lot more about what goes on than you give me credit for, 
Agent Mulder."  He smirked.  "I also know it was your problem with the 
Padgett case at the center of the issue, not Scully's safety." 
Mulder sneered, removing a shell and dropping it on the ground.  "I was 
under the impression that doctor-patient confidentiality applied to 
Bureau psychologists as well as private practice." 
Skinner's eyes narrowed.  "It does.  I was a pretty good investigator 
before I moved up into management and my ass got soft, Agent." 
Mulder swallowed, his eyes closing briefly. The anger was momentarily 
replaced by a twinge of guilt.  "It was my problem."  He said, his 
voice rough. 
Skinner nodded, breathing in and out of his nose for a moment before 
responding.  "So what are you going to do about it to make it up to 
her?" 
Mulder looked up at him, his eyes flashing darkly as the anger 
returned.  "Flowers, candy...perfume?"  He replied sarcastically, 
closing his eyes again. 
Skinner shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and looked at him for a 
moment.  For such a talent, Mulder could be such a pathetic son of a 
bitch.  "Don't be an ass." 
Mulder opened his eyes and looked Skinner directly in the eye. 
Skinner chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded.  Pathetic. 
"She'd do anything for you, you know." 
Mulder wore an indistinguishable look in his eye.  It wasn't anger and 
it wasn't guilt.  Longing?  "It's complicated." 
"Of course it is.  It's also very simple."  He huffed, looking to the 
right for a moment before turning back to his subject.  "I don't know 
what happened between the two of you.  You only get so many chances, 
and you don't make a connection like that more than once or twice in a 
lifetime.  I had a similar chance once and I blew it.  Life is short, 
Mulder.  Don't piss it away." 
Mulder looked up as Skinner walked around to the driver's side of the 
vehicle and unlocked the door.  Their eyes met briefly and Mulder 
climbed in on the passenger side.  Skinner didn't know if he'd gotten 
through to him or not, but he was willing to give it another try if the 
subject ever came up again. 
  
  
Scully answered her cel phone on the third ring. 
"Hey Scully."  Mulder said, keeping his voice even but in an amicable 
way. 
She was silent for a moment.  "Hey." 
Mulder shuffled his feet on the rug in his apartment, pacing in 
circles.  "So I was thinking, it's been a long time since I've had 
dinner with Scully.  I thought maybe if she didn't have plans 
tonight she wouldn't mind spending a few hours with a real horse's ass 
recently masquerading as her partner." 
"That depends.  Would it be the horse's ass or my partner that I'd be 
dining with?" 
He swallowed.  "Uh, let me check."  He pulled out his wallet.  "His 
Mastercard says Fox Mulder.  Isn't that your partner's name?" 
"Yeah.  Yeah, it is.  So, Mulder, is this Mastercard what you'll be 
using to pay for my dinner?" 
He grinned.  "As long as you don't order the most expensive item on the 
menu." 
"And is this Bobby's Beef-O-Rama we're talking about, or a sit-down, 
white tablecloth, order from a nice menu restaurant without any ghosts, 
aliens or shadow government conspirators?" 
"A real class joint with no paranormal activity within my control.  And 
no discussing cases, past or present."  His voice was hopeful.  "Just 
you and me." 
There was a long pause.  "You mean, like a date?"  She sounded dubious. 
He grinned over her obvious attempt to make him work.  "I prefer to 
think of it as a don't ask, don't tell private meeting between two 
federal employees, complete with chintz floral knee cushions for 
groveling and ass-kissing." 
"I may be available for ass-kissing, if you're driving."  Her voice 
betrayed the smile on her face. 
"Seven-thirty?"  He asked, sounding both relieved and happy. 
"Seven-thirty.  And Mulder..." 
"Yeah?" 
"When you bring me flowers, they'd better not be Sterling roses." 
He grinned as he flipped his phone off.   He knew they had some serious 
talking to do, but that didn't diminish the connection he felt with 
her.  Perhaps that cognizance hadn't disappeared altogether, but had 
simply been stretched very thin, and like an elastic band was now 
returning to its original shape. 
  
  
Mulder was waiting for her outside of her apartment when she got home 
from work, leaning against the wall and cracking seeds between his 
teeth.  She smiled inwardly at the sight of him and his unflappable 
ability to appear completely at ease regardless of the turmoil 
constantly swirling around his head.  He was wearing a suit that looked 
too fresh to have been worked in, his lack of five o'clock shadow the 
obvious proof of the fact.  And he'd recently gotten a haircut.  She 
was reminded that even though it had only been a little more than a 
week, she'd missed him even more than she thought possible considering 
how mad she'd been over his manipulation to have her removed from the 
Harman investigation.  He looked up at her as she approached, a slight 
twitch of his lips betrayed by the full-blown smile that lit his eyes. 
"I'm sorry, Mulder.  I hope you haven't been waiting long."  She said 
sincerely, stopping in front of him and shifting her portfolio from one 
shoulder to another to dig for her keys. 
"Long enough to consider letting myself in."  He quipped, his eyes 
serious.  He was fighting the urge to wrap his arms around her and 
greet her with a warm hug.  Instead, he held out his left hand to offer 
her the required bouquet.  She gave him a look in response to the quip, 
her eyes resting on his barely a moment before she spied the bouquet. 
Even though she'd expected one she was surprised. 
Long-stemmed chocolate chip cookies. 
She grinned and let out a little laugh.  "Mulder..." 
He grinned in response as she brushed past him, his eyes on her as she 
turned the key in the lock and preceded him into the dim apartment. 
She felt a faint humming like a low voltage electrical charge in the 
pit of her stomach.  "Do you want some tea to go along with those 
cookies?"  She asked, nodding at the bouquet in his hand. 
"Whatever you're having."  He replied from behind her, handing her the 
cookies with a flourish.  They'd had the desired effect and he was 
feeling encouraged. 
She dropped her briefcase in a chair and laid the bouquet on the 
kitchen table, breaking off a piece of cookie and popping it in her 
mouth as she walked over to the stove, picked up the kettle and carried 
it over to the sink. 
Mulder had planted himself against the wall between the kitchen and the 
living room, watching her go through what he was sure was probably a 
daily ritual.  Scully liked her small comforts and in that way she was 
a creature of habit.  It was her way of attempting to live a normal 
life.  Compared to his, hers WAS normal. 
She felt him watching, recognizing the look he wore.  Feeling her 
cheeks grow warm, she fought against the heat, reminding herself that 
this was just an ordinary night in Mulder's presence just like any of 
the other nights that they had shared in each others' presence in their 
long partnership.  Had what they been doing with each other the last 
time they were alone in her apartment changed that?  Their eyes locked 
for a moment, then she looked away. 
"Long day in the lab?"  He asked conversationally, noticing her flushed 
cheeks.  Picking up on her fight against her attraction to him, he 
smiled inwardly.  Somehow, he knew she knew that he knew. 
"A lot of backlog."  She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and moved back 
over to the stove, placing the kettle down on a burner and turning the 
fire on underneath.  "I want to take a quick shower before we go, 
so...make yourself comfortable, Mulder."  She gestured toward the sofa. 
"I'll bring the tea in when its ready, 'k?"  She gave him a half-smile, 
trying to sound more casual than she felt. 
Nodding, but opting not to comment, Mulder wandered into the living 
room and sat down on the sofa, switching on the television and flipping 
through the channels, pausing from time to time to check out a score or 
a headline.  130 channels and nothing to watch.  As he made his third 
pass through he felt Scully slide onto the sofa next to him, smelling 
of English Breakfast tea and that undeniable clean Scully scent.  She 
was wearing a simple but stunning dark red dress that bared her arms 
and a significant amount of her upper back and deep red lipstick.  He 
knew he'd never seen THAT dress before. 
"So what's happening with Senator Harman?"  Scully said with a slight 
but inviting smile, handing him his tea.  Her hair looked soft and full 
from the humidity of the shower and she avoided looking him directly in 
the eye. 
Eyes wide, he looked her over quickly, but less subtly than he might 
have a week ago.  Then he took a quick sip of tea, swallowing the too- 
hot liquid quickly.  "I thought we agreed we weren't going to discuss 
work." 
Scully pursed her lips, the telltale crease forming in the middle of 
her brow as she glanced sideways at him.  "You agreed, Mulder.  Did 
Lisa Lewis' sister give you anything more to go on?" 
Mulder shrugged.  "Mmm, good tea, Scully."  He said, giving her a 
sarcastic smile in response.  "Is that a new TV?"  He asked with 
mock surprise, changing the subject. 
She looked over at the television, understanding that he was not going 
to discuss business with her...at least, not yet.  "Yeah."  She replied 
absently. 
They sat in silence for a moment, both staring at the television and 
sipping their tea, suddenly awkward.  Since they weren't going to 
discuss the investigation and having spent little time working together 
lately they had a warped sense of continuity.  Small everyday things, 
like a haircut a new television purchase had happened, both consciously 
aware that life goes on independently of each other. 
Their close physical proximity on the sofa was growing into an 
uncomfortable awareness and Mulder's leg began to twitch.  He stood 
before his leg began bouncing uncontrollably.  "Hey, are you getting 
hungry?  Our reservation is for eight." 
She looked up at him with a slight frown, still pondering the issue of 
passing time.  "Um, sure."  Her eyebrows raised as if in question, he 
followed her as she silently stood and made her way toward the door. 
  
END CHAPTER SEVEN 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER EIGHT 
Time and tide 
nothing and no one can stop us now 
for better, for worse 
this time I'm sure it's gonna last 
gonna last forever 
we've got time 
baby, there's no rush 
gonna be a better day for us 
hang on and I will wait for you 
our love will always stay as good as new 
- Basia, Time and Tide 
  
The weeklong rain showers had helped to cool things down, the draught 
worn-soil temporarily saturated with moisture, leaving large shiny 
puddles in respite.  Mulder cracked his window and breathed in the 
fresh smell of wet pavement as he pulled up in front of a small, 
elegant Italian restaurant with a brick facade and potted trees dressed 
with small  white lights that reflected off of the glistening pavement. 
Scully looked over at him as a valet ran around to the driver's side of 
the car.  "Have you ever eaten here before, Mulder?"  She asked, a hint 
of amusement in her voice. 
"No, but my good buddy, Walter, told me they have great calamari."  He 
flashed her a grin as he slid out of his seat, taking the ticket from 
the valet as another valet opened the door and helped Scully out of the 
passenger side.  He jogged around the front of the car, placing his 
hand on her back to escort her inside. 
The restaurant was dimly lit, most of the ambient light coming from 
more small sparkling lights on potted ficus trees in the corners and 
soft glowing candles on the tables.  Each table was draped with crisp 
white tablecloths and the waiters wore starched white shirts with black 
pants, vests, black bow ties and long white aprons.  The music was old 
jazz - Sinatra and Rosemary Clooney crooning gently in the background 
to the sound of silverware scraping against china and soft 
conversation. 
Scully raised an eyebrow as the maitre'd lead her to a small table in 
the back corner near one of the ficus trees, Mulder following directly 
behind.  Skinner had suggested that Mulder bring her here?  It raised 
the question as to what exactly Skinner thought was going on between 
them. 
She wished she knew herself. 
Mulder watched her closely as she navigated between the tables, noting 
how the environment seemed to shift around her, the patrons watching 
her with admiration as she passed, keeping her the moving center of the 
room.  She truly was beautiful, but he was biased on that subject.  She 
packed a powerful presence in that petite frame and she knew she was 
intelligent, she even knew she was attractive, yet she had no idea just 
how attractive she was when you considered the whole package.  For him, 
her lack of total self-awareness was part of her collective charm. 
He sucked in a breath and blew it back out, wondering if he was in a 
little over his head.  He hadn't been on a date in years and this 
wasn't just a date, it was Scully.  He had everything to gain if he did 
this right. 
They were seated and handed menus, and Mulder ordered two glasses of 
Chardonnay from the bar.  Behind her menu Scully drew in a nervous 
breath.  The air between them was still slightly awkward; it had been 
since they left her apartment.  They were both relieved to have 
something to divert their attention to, the waiter giving them ample 
time to peruse the menu before returning to take their order.  Mulder 
asked for a calamari appetizer out of respect for Skinner's 
recommendation, and the linguine pescatore for himself.  Scully opted 
for the chicken piccata with vegetables on the side. 
When the waiter had left they looked at each other once again. 
Scully broke the silence first.  From his choice in restaurants and his 
behavior it was clear that Mulder wanted to set things right between 
them.  She hoped that they would be able to do so. 
"I'm sorry I tried to ignore you at Agent Mancina's luncheon the other 
day, Mulder.  I was...still angry with you, and there were so many 
people there from Forensics..." 
He shook his head.  "It's okay, Scully.  There were things I wanted to 
say to you, too."  His eyes wandered over her face as she spoke and he 
could see that she wanted to work things out as much as he did.  He 
took a deep breath and dove in.  "You look good.  Great, actually." 
She looked back at him a minute before replying.  "So do you, Mulder. 
Better than the last time I saw you." 
He cleared his throat, sitting straighter in his chair.  "About 
that...I'm, uh, sorry for my behavior at the hotel.  I know you were 
looking out for my best interests and despite my bizarre way of showing 
it, I do appreciate the effort." 
She nodded slightly, looking into his eyes and reading his sincerity. 
"Apology accepted."  She looked down at her wine glass a moment, her 
breathing shallow.  "Mulder..." his name stretched slowly, taking a 
deep breath before continuing, "why didn't you tell me about Leslie 
Martin the night we were at Hansen House?" 
He chewed on his lip, looking at his own wine glass before looking up 
at her.  "I don't have a good reason for that.  Would you believe me if 
I said that I didn't think it was significant at the time?" 
She kept her gaze on him.  "What about after we found out about the 
Lisa Lewis and Karen Darby connection?  After I received the flowers 
and the invitation from Senator Harman?" 
Mulder fidgeted a bit.  "I didn't make that connection until the day we 
met with Skinner and he reassigned you to the lab."  He paused. 
"Leslie Martin came to see me just as I was getting ready to come to 
your apartment.  She was dressed just like you.  I thought she WAS you 
for a minute.  She told me to tell you to cooperate, that we didn't 
know the kind of people we were dealing with.  She was frightened for 
her own safety, I think.  With just cause, obviously." 
Scully looked down again.  He had been at her apartment that same 
evening but still hadn't mentioned the woman or her visit.  She felt 
her stomach sinking, the familiar let down that occurred whenever 
Mulder dropped one of his omissions on her.  She knew he thought he was 
protecting her by not telling her, but it didn't stop the sting of the 
truth as it continued to slap her in the face.  "But you didn't tell 
me, Mulder." 
Mulder could see her hurt at his confession and he closed his eyes, 
letting out a breath before looking back at her.  "Scully..." 
She licked her lips and met his gaze.  "Mulder, I know why you feel 
like you have to keep things from me, but..." she paused a moment, 
thinking.  "I can't continue to work with you like this.  Not if I have 
to wonder if you're telling me everything or if you're keeping things 
from me because you're worried about my safety or whether I can handle 
the truth." 
His eyes became dark and fixed on her at her words, his mouth opening 
in surprise.  "What are you saying?  You would leave?" 
"No.  Not leave.  I'm as invested in the work as you are.  But if we 
are no longer able to operate as a team, then we need to look into 
other ways of getting the work done, separately." 
"Scully," he said softly, "that's not what I want.  Look, I admit that 
my judgement in this case was way off.  I never should have manipulated 
the situation to get you removed from the investigation.  But when it 
comes to you and your safety, I have to trust my instincts.  Ninety 
percent of the time I've been right." 
"What about the other ten percent, Mulder?  Do I get relegated back to 
the lab?  That's not my definition of a partnership." 
He snapped his mouth closed.  "Alright."  He licked his lips.  "Look. 
I am sorry that I went to Danny and asked him to recruit you into the 
lab.  It was my problem with the Padgett case that left me feeling 
vulnerable about my ability to protect you, and I overcompensated by 
trying to tuck you away where you couldn't get hurt.  It had nothing to 
do with your ability as an agent.  You're a great agent, and there's no 
one, NO ONE, that I would trust more working beside me."  He reached 
across the table and grabbed her hand, his eyes intense and his voice 
full of passion.  "We're a team, Scully.  You and I.  Nothing can 
change that.  Not Skinner or Cancerman or Senator Harman or anyone 
else." 
At that moment the waiter reappeared with their appetizer, and they 
reluctantly pulled their hands away, the power of Mulder's intensity 
still hanging in the air.  Scully was left feeling a little out of 
sorts and she reached out for her water glass, taking a sip and forcing 
her breathing back down to normal.  She glanced around the restaurant, 
looking at the faces of the other patrons enjoying their food and their 
companions.  In the background, Barbra Streisand was wailing about 
people who need people. 
Wasn't that the whole point? 
She looked at Mulder sipping his wine.  His face was slightly flushed 
and their eyes met as he put his glass back down on the table. 
"You could have told me you were having difficulty with the Padgett 
case, Mulder."  She said softly.  "I didn't know.  If I did, we could 
have dealt with it together." 
"You had enough to deal with on your own."  He reached over and grabbed 
his wine glass again.  "I thought I could handle it." 
She nodded, watching his face.  "So what changed your mind?" 
He sighed and sat back, looking into the glass.  "Seeing you, or what 
I thought was you, lying on the floor of that hotel room covered in 
blood.  I knew it was Leslie Martin, I had been speaking with her, but 
at some point something snapped.  For weeks I had been reliving the 
moment I found you on the floor in my apartment, only in the replayed 
version, you didn't wake up."  He took a sip of wine, then looked at 
her sorrowfully. 
Her eyes were full of empathy.  "Mulder..." she said gently, "you were 
under a great deal of stress." 
He took a deep breath.  "Skinner sent me to Psych Services."  He 
stated.  "He wouldn't let me continue with the investigation until I 
spoke with someone about it." 
Scully took a breath and let it out slowly.  "You spoke with Karen 
Kosoff?" 
He nodded.  "Psychologist heal thyself."  He grinned wryly.  "I thought 
I didn't need to speak to anyone, let alone a professional.  But she 
helped me to see through a few things."  He let out a soft laugh.  "She 
also focused my attention on some behavioral patterns that were 
damaging the significant relationships in my life." 
Scully forced back the smile that was playing on her lips.  He'd been 
through quite a lot in the last week and he really was trying very hard 
to make it all come out right. 
"Such as?"  She prompted. 
"Trying to handle everything myself, for one thing.  Not that I can 
change overnight, but I should be able to recognize it better when I'm 
doing it now."  He smiled at the smile she was no longer able to 
conceal.  "She thinks quite highly of you, you know." 
She raised her eyebrow in response.  "You spoke about me with Karen?" 
He laughed.  "Of course.  You're my partner.  What, you didn't talk 
about me when you went to see her?" 
She smiled demurely.  "Maybe...in passing."  She looked up at him in 
embarrassment, a slight flush coloring her cheeks as she reached for 
her own wine glass.  "How did you know I'd seen her, Mulder?  I've 
never mentioned it." 
He shrugged.  "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Scully, you 
can't tell me everything, I understand that.  I'd like it if you 
trusted me with everything, but it's more important that you have 
someone to talk to when you need to." 
She took in a deep breath and a sip of wine.  "I'd like to be able to 
tell you everything, Mulder." 
He paused, watching her closely.  "But..." 
She raised her eyes to his a moment, then looked back into her glass, 
shaking her head. 
He watched her face.  "What?" 
She sighed.  "Sometimes, Mulder..." she looked up at him, then paused. 
"You're not always available." 
His face wore an expression of hurt and acceptance.  "When?"  He asked. 
She looked at him, but didn't respond.  "When, Scully?  Tell me." 
She watched his face, knowing he would accept a certain amount of 
undeserved guilt over any admission she gave.  "Forget it, Mulder. 
It's not important." 
His eyes narrowed in assessment.  "The Pudovkin case." 
She raised her eyebrows but didn't look at him, taking another sip of 
her wine.  Leave it to Mulder to start big.  She wasn't about to touch 
that one. 
He paused, watching her.  "Ruskin Dam."  He said with conviction, his 
voice faltering. 
Her eyes were wide and she swallowed back the lump sitting in her 
throat.  "Mulder..." she paused briefly, "it's really not important. 
Let's just eat, ok?"  She glanced up at him briefly, then reached for 
the calamari. 
Mulder sat back in his chair, watching her the way he watched a suspect 
during an interrogation.  "Talk to me, Scully." 
She put the calamari back down on the table and rested her hands in her 
lap, her face turned down toward her hands.  She began speaking without 
looking up.  "Mulder, there are a lot of things we should say to each 
other, a lot of things we probably should have said long ago.  I don't 
think we're prepared to have this conversation right now."  She turned 
her face up to look at him.  "Not without getting into subjects that 
are currently closed for discussion." 
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and considered her 
words carefully, knowing exactly to what she had been referring.  She 
was right, among other things, Diana Fowley and her involvement in his 
past was a subject he wasn't ready to discuss with her.  There was 
still a great deal of tension between them over that subject, and it 
would take more than just a reconciliatory dinner to get through.  He 
sat up straight, nodding slightly, then reached across the table and 
wrapped his fingers around hers.  "Then let's just say we'll work 
toward it." 
She looked down at the table where their hands were tentatively but 
powerfully connected, then back at his face, nodding.  "Small steps." 
"Small steps."  They smiled briefly at each other, then he reluctantly 
let go of her hand and reached for the appetizer, serving her first 
before helping himself. 
  
  
They made it through dinner chatting comfortably about less important 
things; summer blockbusters and office politics, baseball, tennis and 
women's soccer.  After dinner they drove back to Scully's apartment. 
She didn't offer and he didn't ask to come in, it was already assumed 
that he would.  Things felt right, like they'd come back to the same 
page, he realized as he strolled past her through the open doorway and 
stopped in the middle of the room, staring without seeing at something 
outside of the window. 
"Do you want anything?  Coffee?"  She asked, cracking the windows and 
the blinds to let the cool evening air into the stuffy room. 
He didn't reply and she looked over her shoulder at him, realizing that 
he was lost in thought, so she moved over to sit on the sofa and wait. 
After a moment, he looked over at her.  "There's something I want to 
tell you, Scully."  His voice was low and serious. 
She looked up at him, her brow furrowing as concern covered her face. 
"What is it?"  She asked softly, her voice coming out higher in pitch 
than usual.  She never knew what to expect, she only hoped that 
whatever it was, it wouldn't leave her feeling lost and alone again. 
He looked at her intensely, his desire for her to believe him pouring 
off of him in waves.  "I didn't meet with Leslie Martin to have sex 
with her." 
"Mulder..." she paused, holding his gaze and licking her lips again. 
"Whatever your reasons..." she paused once more and took a breath to 
start again, then let it out.  "Mulder, it's none of my business.  I 
shouldn't have asked you what I asked this afternoon."  She closed her 
eyes, then looked back up at him.  "I'm sorry." 
He chewed on his bottom lip, watching her face.  "You know, Scully, I'm 
not much different than any other guy.  I do have the same 
temptations."  After a moment he drew in a deep breath, fixing on her 
with wide, open eyes.  "I'll be the first one to admit I haven't 
exactly been a saint." 
She looked to the side, suddenly unable to look at him as tension 
coursed through her.  She swallowed, waiting for him to continue. 
He looked her over, sensing her discomfort.  "Still, you of all people 
should know that I wouldn't resort to something like that." 
She met his gaze and regarded him for a moment before dropping her 
eyes.  "Do I, Mulder?"  Her voice was nearly a whisper.  "Your 
fascination with adult entertainment aside, there are a lot of things 
about your personal life that I don't know." 
"You know the most important things."  He continued to stare at her 
with a focused intensity that made it difficult for her to reciprocate. 
Her pulse was racing and she couldn't remember a time when the tension 
had been this thick between them, even when they were arguing over a 
case.  He stepped up to the sofa and placed a finger under her chin, 
tilting her face up toward his.  Their eyes met and he brushed his 
knuckles against her cheek.  "However attractive I might have found 
her, she wasn't you, Scully."  His eyes were warm and his voice soft. 
"And you do have the right to ask.  You've had that right for a long 
time." 
Scully stared back at him, her hand coming up to grip his wrist 
tightly.  He stepped closer, gently pulling her to her feet.  With his 
free hand he reached out to draw his index finger over her lips, 
dipping into the indentation just below her nose, over her full upper 
lip and down to her lower lip, caressing gently.  Her breathing had 
become shallow and her eyes never left his as she tightened her hold on 
his wrist. 
Mulder watched her for a sign to stop, or at least to slow down.  "Is 
this okay?"  He asked softly. 
She gave him a slight nod, and he cupped her face between his hands, 
bending his face to hers as she rose up on tiptoe to meet him.  Their 
lips touched softly, lightly grazing against each other, then pulling 
apart. 
His hands slid down her shoulders, caressing her bare arms.  "I 
don't want to ignore this anymore, Scully."  He whispered, his eyes on 
hers. 
She let go of his wrist and slid her arms up his chest, linking her 
hands behind his neck. Her breathing labored, she moved to kiss him 
again and he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly 
against him, deepening the kiss. 
When they broke for air her hands slid back down his chest to clutch 
little handfuls of shirt.  His hands moved sensually up and down her 
back and over her bottom, pressing her body firmly into his.  "We 
should talk about this."  She rasped breathlessly as she laid her 
forehead against his chest. 
He nuzzled his nose against her temple.  "Okay.  You first." 
She drew in a shaky, cleansing breath and let go of his shirt.  "I 
can't do this with your hands on my ass, Mulder."  He let go with a 
grin and she stepped back, reclaiming her objectivity.  Glancing up at 
him, she couldn't help but smile in response to the glint in his eyes. 
She took in another breath.  "We seem to be in agreement about where 
this is heading.  The question now is, what are we going to do about 
it?" 
"I think that's obvious."  He replied with a slightly sarcastic smirk, 
his eyes shining brightly as he reached out and slid his fingers down 
her cheek once more. 
She closed her eyes to the sensation, a soft hum escaping her lips. 
"Mulder..." she whispered.  "You know it's not that simple."  She 
looked up at him. 
He drew his fingers into her hair, combing gently.  "That pent-up on- 
the-job tension won't bother us so much anymore."  Looking down, he saw 
her staring up at him without humor. 
"That might not be such a bad thing.  We'd probably get more 
accomplished that way."  She stated clinically. 
He grinned self-consciously, and she snickered softly despite herself. 
Placing a kiss against her temple, his voice grew serious.  "If you 
really think about it, Scully...it will change very little, and then 
only the small stuff." 
She was silent, her eyes closing as she reveled in the feel of his 
hands in her hair.  She wanted this - him - so very much.  That he 
wanted her in that way was still amazing to her, in spite of the fact 
that she'd had several days to dwell on it.  Contrary to her usual 
pragmatic behavior, she just wanted to take a leap of faith, live for 
the moment and trust that it would all work itself out later.  If only 
she could allow herself that simple pleasure. 
Mulder slid his fingertips down her back to lightly caress the skin 
exposed through the thin straps of her dress, feeling the goose bumps 
rising on her as she drew in a shaky breath.  He grinned at her 
reaction, leaning in, his lips brushing her ear as he continued 
intimately,  "C'mon, Scully...we're already friends." 
She caught her breath.  "Mmmm hmmm..." she replied with a shiver. 
"We know each other well enough to recognize the times when we'll need 
to focus on the work."  He placed a kiss on her forehead, "and the 
times when one or the other of us needs a little private space..." he 
placed soft kisses on her cheeks, running his lips lightly down her 
jawbone. 
"We have that now, Mulder."  She stated, pointing out the obvious. 
He raised his head just slightly and looked at her under hooded 
eyelids.  She gazed back at him, her eyes shining in an unspoken 
challenge. 
"But I want so much more, Scully."  His mouth hovered over hers, 
teasing, until she let out an impatient little sigh.  He pressed a 
gentle kiss to her lips briefly before slanting his head and covering 
her mouth with his, his tongue pushing between her teeth while he 
gathered her in his arms, pulling her close.  Just as she was melting 
into the kiss he broke it, grinning with wet lips.  "We'll have to work 
at finding a balance, of course, considering we have six years of 
catching up to do." 
She looked up at him with eyebrows raised.  He knew exactly what he was 
doing and what her concerns would be, which shouldn't really be 
surprising, considering his formidable talent for getting inside 
people's heads.  After six years together, how could he not know a 
thing or two about the machinations of Dana Scully's mind? 
His hands were resting loosely on her hips and she laid her hands on 
his forearms, squeezing gently as she looked down.  "I want you to stay 
here tonight, Mulder..." when she looked up, he was beaming at her. 
"Scully, I know you've been hot for my body since the day we met..." 
She flashed him a reproachful look.  "I'm not finished." 
He closed his eyes.  "I hear a big 'but' coming.  Don't tell me you're 
throwing me out again." 
She gave him her no nonsense look that he knew was just covering her 
amusement.  "I want you to stay here tonight because I don't want to 
feel that there is pressure to end this evening any particular way." 
Mulder looked relieved and he nodded with understanding.  "I'm going to 
leave that completely up to you, Scully.  Whatever you want." 
Her eyebrows arched briefly and she looked a bit surprised.  "Mulder, 
you've got just as much input into this as I do." 
He looked at her with intensity.  "You KNOW what I want."  His voice 
was nearly a growl it was so low. 
She closed her eyes and smiled before drawing a breath and looking up 
at him.  There was a light flush covering her face and she said, "Well, 
without forcing the issue, let's try talking things out and see where 
that takes us." 
Mulder sat down on the sofa and looked at her with a smile as he 
loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button and cuffs of his shirt. 
"Mind if I at least get comfortable?" 
She gave him a smile as she slid off her shoes and sat down next to 
him, tucking her legs up under her.  Mulder's arm wrapped around her 
shoulders and she was both surprised and pleased by the action as he 
let out a long, satisfied sigh of contentment.  She looked up at him 
with amusement and he grinned back at her. 
"So tell me...the day we met, what WAS your first impression?"  He 
asked casually, as if the question had suddenly popped into his head. 
She smiled to herself.  "You're not serious." 
"You thought that?"  He asked, acting surprised, his mouth falling 
slightly open. 
"No, I mean about this topic of conversation."  She wore her skeptical 
look. 
"Answer the question, Scully." 
She sighed, and glanced at him sideways.  "I thought you were...cute." 
"You did not."  He feigned humility, enjoying the topic way too much to 
hide his grin. 
"I did."  She burrowed into his side, resting her hand on his chest, 
just over his heart.  His hand came up to cover hers, holding it in 
place.  She closed her eyes, soaking in the forgotten sensations of 
physical intimacy - he was tracing light patterns up and down her arm 
with his fingertips, leaving her skin tingling. 
"Aren't you going to ask?"  He asked her after a long moment, his 
breath ruffling through the hair at her crown. 
"I'm not sure I want to know."  She replied, eyes still closed, before 
tilting her face up and looking at him.  "You didn't like anyone 
invading your turf." 
"I questioned your assignment to the X-Files, but that didn't mean I 
wasn't excited to have someone with your credentials to help me out." 
He moved his hand from hers and cupped her cheek, caressing with his 
thumb as he grinned at the memory.  "Although you were such a 
smartass..." 
She sat up again. 
"ME?"  Her voice was sharp. 
She glared at him as he continued, "...so fresh, and so very pretty." 
He watched the moisture rise in her eyes and he continued, his voice 
whisper-soft.  "I've always thought you were beautiful, Scully.  Even 
more so as I got to know the person inside." 
She looked down and swallowed back the lump in her throat.  He could be 
so damned sweet when he wanted to, saying just the right thing.  Of 
course, she knew that on occasion he found her somewhat attractive - 
she'd have been blind to miss the stolen glances and off-handed remarks 
accumulated over the years.  She was sure he'd noticed the same from 
her.  Still, it was nice to have it acknowledged, even if it was 
conveniently timed. 
She grinned and looked back up at him.  "Nice try, Mulder, but you're 
still not getting me to admit that I was hot for your body." 
He laid his head back against the sofa and sighed in mock defeat, then 
lifted it up and smiled at her.  "Really, Scully.  You need to learn 
how to take a compliment when it's offered to you."  She rolled her 
eyes and he continued.  "You see!  Repeat after me..." 
"Mulder..." 
"Just go with it, Scully.  Go on...now I'm going to give you a 
compliment."  He looked into her eyes and said, "Scully, you're 
beautiful.  All you need to say is, 'thank you, Mulder.'" 
"Mulder..." she sat up straight, pulling her face back to look at him 
fully. 
"...thank you, Mulder.  Go on, say it." 
Her voice was flat as she glared at him.  "Thank you, Mulder." 
He shook his head.  "Let's try it again.  Scully, the evening sky weeps 
with jealousy over the color of your eyes." 
She let out a short laugh.  "Come on..." 
"Scully!  This isn't a joke." 
"The sky weeps, Mulder?" 
He rolled his eyes in exasperation.  "Will you just stop?  Just stop! 
I'm not giving up until you take this seriously." 
She sighed.  "Oh, alright." 
He chewed his lower lip, seriously studying her.  "Thank you, Mulder." 
She let out another impatient little sigh, picking uncomfortably at a 
thread on the sofa cushion.  "Thank you, Mulder."  She mumbled. 
"Alright."  He turned his face and leaned in closer to hers, his voice 
dropping to a near whisper.  "Scully, you light up my life." 
She looked up, half expecting to see him smirking at her.  But his face 
was serious and his eyes were warm as he gazed at her tenderly.  A 
breeze blew through the open window and caressed his hair. 
"Thank you, Mulder."  She replied softly but audibly, reaching out and 
placing her hand against his cheek. 
"You know, Scully..." he looked down, then back into her eyes.  "You 
give me hope to carry on."  She blinked at him and he continued, "You 
light up my days and fill my nights with song."  A spark flickered in 
his eyes, and she rolled hers, pushing against his chest with her 
hands. 
"Mulder!  You can be such a jerk."  She laughed and he grinned, taking 
her hands in his. 
"It's true, you know."  He turned her hands over and kissed each 
upturned palm. 
She sat back against the sofa wearing a smug grin, then looked sideways 
at him.  "Uh huh." 
He was looking at her expectantly. 
"I'm not singing it back to you, Mulder." 
"But you're so good at it."  He said seductively, leaning in closer to 
nuzzle her ear. 
She gave him her most threatening look and he grinned, wrapping his 
arms around her, gently pulling her with him as he laid back 
horizontally across the cushions. 
She struggled briefly to find a comfortable position, tucking one arm 
between the cushions at the back of the sofa and wrapping the other 
over his abdomen. 
"You're the ONLY ONE I'd sing for, Mulder."  She said through her 
exertion as she shifted once more, laying her cheek against his chest 
at last. 
"You know what I like."  He said warmly.  "Although..." 
She waited for him to continue, and when he didn't she raised her head 
and looked at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  "What?" 
His eyes were solemn.  "I wish you'd be a little more forthcoming." 
He watched her eyes as they changed from clear to clouded, blue to 
gray.  She knew he wasn't talking about her singing. 
"We discussed this earlier, Mulder." 
"No, Scully, that was about personal problems and other issues.  I'm 
talking about emotional accessibility."  His fingers were playing with 
the hair at the nape of her neck.  "I'm talking about you putting a 
wall around your emotions to keep me out." 
She tried to sit up, but Mulder's arms held her against him.  Instead, 
she looked away, across the room.  "That's not to keep you out, Mulder. 
It's to keep me in." 
He raised his head and watched her face, the stoic expression and the 
distance in her eyes.  "You don't have to hide from me, Scully.  I know 
you think you've got to be a good soldier and pretend it doesn't get to 
you, but you don't have to pretend for my sake." 
"I've got to deal with my emotions in my own way and on my own time, 
Mulder.  I've got a job to do.  You know that, you're a part of that 
job." 
He lowered his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. 
"What about right now?" 
She looked down at him, admiring the way his eyelashes rested against 
his cheeks.  Such a handsome face, she thought, running her fingertips 
along the side of his face.  "Right now it's just you and I.  I don't 
have anything to hide." 
He opened his eyes and looked at her for a long moment, his eyes 
burning a deep emerald green.  "Padgett said you're in love." 
She held his gaze, fighting the years of habit and the urge to look 
away.  "I am." 
He was fighting the urge to pull her to her feet and over to the 
window, shouting it out gleefully to anybody in Georgetown that might 
listen.  Instead, he swallowed and held her gaze.  "Were you ever going 
to tell me?" 
She closed her eyes, then looked down.  "Probably not." 
With those two words he felt his heart shatter, closing his own eyes 
against the emotion.  He didn't want her to see it - she had merely 
been honest.  Wasn't that what he was asking her for? 
Scully laid her chin down on his chest and looked up at him.  "I've 
been waging an internal battle with it for years, Mulder.  I believed 
that there wasn't room for those feelings...that they would get in the 
way of the work.  I'd reached a place where I thought I could live with 
it." 
He couldn't fault her for that, either.  He'd tried to do the same 
thing, only she was obviously better at it than he was.  "Didn't you 
ever wonder..." he looked down at her, his eyes shining dark and green. 
"...if maybe I might have felt the same way?" 
"I thought...maybe.  Sometimes."  She laid her cheek against his chest 
again, facing away from him.  "Other times I thought...no.  Or maybe it 
was the nature of it that I found confusing.  To be perfectly 
honest..." she looked at him again, "the nature of my own feelings 
haven't always been clear." 
He held her gaze and they looked at each other silently, sharing the 
question on both of their minds.  Could they manage both a working and 
a personal partnership? 
"I want to try this."  Mulder said at last, his eyes full of the desire 
to succeed and his voice breaking with emotion. 
Her gaze softened and she allowed him to see all of the love and 
respect she felt for him in her eyes.  "So do I."  She replied, then 
gently laid her cheek back against his chest. 
They were silent for a while, sinking into each other, each listening 
to the other breathe and growing drowsy from the wine and the heat and 
the warmth of the company.  Mulder's voice was soft and rough when he 
finally spoke. 
"Whatever happens, promise me you'll never leave."  He said, drawing in 
a shaky breath. 
Her voice was throaty and low.  "If I were going to leave I'd have done 
it a long time ago." 
"Just...promise." 
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.  It was impossible for 
anyone to make such a promise, and yet, she believed herself to be 
answering truthfully when she whispered, "I promise." 
Mulder let out a long, slow breath as if he'd been holding it, and she 
felt him relax underneath her.  Within minutes she dozed off, content 
and wrapped securely within her partner's arms. 
  
END CHAPTER EIGHT 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER NINE 
And now good morrow to our waking souls, 
Which watch not one another out of fear; 
For love all love of their sights controls, 
And makes one little room an everywhere. 
- John Donne, The Good-Morrow 
  
It was a strange sensation for Mulder, waking up to sunlight streaming 
across his face; his partner tucked tightly between his chest and the 
back of the sofa.  He blinked a few times and looked down at her 
upturned face, her soft, even breath escaping parted lips and eyelids 
fluttering. 
The strangeness lay in the fact that for the first time in a very long 
time he'd slept through the entire night, uninterrupted.  The bonus was 
the sight of Scully completely relaxed and uninhibited laying in his 
arms.  The only thing that would have made it better was if they'd both 
been naked.  His body didn't care, though, and he reminded himself that 
he was going to let her set the pace for the progression of physical 
intimacy.  He carefully extracted himself before he was too tempted to 
act on his primal urge, padding off to the bathroom with a yawn. 
He scrounged up a new toothbrush and a fresh razor refill in Scully's 
well-stocked bathroom cabinet, taking a quick shower and giving himself 
a shave before returning to the living room to wake Scully for work. 
His internal clock rarely failed him, and as if on cue, he heard the 
clock radio click on in her bedroom. 
Scully was on her stomach on the couch, one arm still tucked between 
the cushions and the other arm stretched up over her head.  The hem of 
her dress had ridden up and bunched around her waist, exposing a hint 
of lacy white bikini briefs and a fair amount of well-toned porcelain 
ass and thigh.  The side of her face was mashed into the cushion and he 
grinned, tugging her dress down and squatting next to her.  He tucked 
her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with the back of his 
fingers, her eyes fluttering opened and resting on his face. 
"Rise and shine."  He said with a smile. 
She looked like a twelve-year-old that had played dress up and fallen 
asleep in her mother's cocktail dress as she pulled her arm out from 
between the cushions and sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. 
"What time is it?" 
"Six.  Your alarm just went off."  He gently brushed away another stray 
strand of hair from her face. 
She stretched and groaned softly, then looked back at him.  "You've 
already showered and shaved."  She commented.  "You want some coffee?" 
He shook his head.  "I'm gonna go home and grab a clean suit.  How 
'bout I meet you at work with coffee and bagels?  My treat." 
She smiled.  "Gee, and I didn't even have to put out." 
He grinned, leaning in and kissing the side of her mouth.  "Let's not 
ruin my reputation by spreading that around, alright?" 
She smiled and brushed a hand against his smooth cheek.  "Your office 
or mine?" 
"Mine. There are too many watchful eyes near yours and I may have the 
uncontrollable urge to grab you, you never know."  She smiled, knowing 
he was kidding, and looked up at him quietly for a long moment.  He 
stood, holding a hand out to help her up.  As she rose to her feet, he 
pulled her into his arms in a warm hug.  "Sorry I fell asleep in the 
middle of our talk." 
She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, feeling warm and 
fuzzy and not fully awake.  "Mmmm...I thought I was the one who fell 
asleep." 
After a long moment, he planted a kiss on the top of her head and 
pulled away.  "I promise we'll talk more later, okay?"  He stepped 
around the sofa to grab his suit jacket as she nodded her reply. 
They smiled at each other, Scully watching him close the door behind 
him before padding off to the shower with a yawn. 
  
  
Mulder balanced one cup of coffee on top of the other, a brown paper 
bag between his teeth as he unlocked the door to his basement office. 
He nearly stepped on a large manila envelope shoved underneath the 
door, and caught the coffee before it tumbled out of his hands when he 
sidestepped the envelope. 
"Shit!"  He muttered, the bag falling to the floor.  Luckily, the 
contents didn't tumble out of the bag.  He sat the coffee down on his 
desk and went back to retrieve the bag and the envelope.  He jostled it 
gently, determining that the contents included photographs and a 
videocassette.  Other than the words 'Agent Mulder' laser printed in 
Courier New typeface across the front of the envelope, there were no 
markings on the outside to identify the source. 
Sitting in his chair he opened the envelope cautiously, taking care not 
to disturb the contents too much in case he needed to have them 
analyzed.  History taught him to be wary of envelopes without return 
addresses slid underneath doors. 
The photos were 8x10, black and white glossy, taken with a 35mm camera 
with a telephoto lens.  They were too close to have been taken with a 
standard lens without the subject knowing about it. 
The first one was taken in the Italian restaurant, he and Scully 
smiling and holding hands across the table.  He grinned at the image. 
They looked like a couple.  Tangible proof that last night really 
happened.  Even Scully couldn't deny that. 
The next photo - Leaving the restaurant, standing on the curb waiting 
for the valet, his hand on the small of her back.  They still looked 
like a couple. 
He flipped to the next photo - Entering Scully's building, his hand on 
her back again.  His unease was growing, then he got to the next one... 
...thin black lines equally spaced running horizontally across the 
image - Venetian blinds.  They were in Scully's living room, standing 
very close and gazing intensely at each other.  Their height difference 
was noticeably evident from that angle - It had obviously been taken 
through the window of her apartment. 
The last photo was of Scully's living room in daylight.  The two of 
them were asleep, wrapped together on the sofa, legs entwined.  That 
one couldn't have been taken more than two hours ago, he reasoned. 
He grabbed the telephone and punched the number for security, anxious 
to learn who had left the envelope.  The security officer had just come 
on duty and didn't remember receiving any envelopes, but promised he 
would check with the officer on duty before him. 
Mulder slammed the receiver down on the phone and swore, "Goddammit!" 
Looking at the images once again, he dropped his forehead to the desk 
and tucked his face in the crook of his arm.  It seemed like they were 
never going to be able to catch a break.  He looked at the unmarked 
videotape with dread, then slipped it into the VCR on the A.V. cart 
behind him and punched 'play.' 
There was no sound, only grainy, black and white art-house style 
footage of the two of them in Scully's apartment.  His hands were on 
her face, and they leaned in to kiss, pulling away quickly and looking 
at each other.  Her arms went around his neck and they kissed again, 
more passionately, and his arms wrapped around her and pulled her 
against him, giving the illusion that he was trying to devour her. To 
his horror he was aroused by the image on the screen, seeing with his 
own eyes the passion that he'd felt the night before. 
That was obviously something he had no intention of sharing with Karen 
Kossoff the next time he spoke with her. 
The phone on his desk ran and he punched the 'stop' button on the VCR, 
reaching over and grabbed the receiver. 
"Mulder." 
"Did you get the package?"  The voice was male, but indistinguishable. 
He sat back in his chair, a look of annoyance on his face.  "I'm much 
more photogenic in color." 
"You didn't take my advice." 
"I don't take advice from strangers.  My mother taught me that a long 
time ago."  He said sarcastically, looking up to see Scully standing in 
the doorway, a look of concern on her face.  He nodded once and she 
nodded back, pulling out her cel phone and stepping into the hallway 
and speaking softly into her phone to have the switchboard operator 
start a trace on the call. 
The voice continued.  "It would be a shame for her to end up like the 
others." 
Mulder tamped down his anger.  "That would be a very, very big 
mistake."  He said, his voice low and dangerous. 
"You have the power to stop it." 
"Oh, believe me, I will."  He looked up at Scully, catching her eye. 
There was a burst of static on the other end of Mulder's phone, and 
then silence.  She snapped the mouthpiece shut on her phone and tucked 
it back into her pocket, looking irritated. 
"Not enough time."  She said with a sigh as she walked over to his 
desk.  "Was it the same voice from the last time?" 
Mulder bit the inside of his cheek.  "I think so."  He looked up at 
her, then down at the pictures on the desk.  "This one came with visual 
aid."  He picked the pictures up and held them out to her. 
When she looked at him she saw the exasperation in his eyes.  She 
stepped up to the desk and took the pictures from his hand, flipping 
through them, pausing once or twice.  She looked a little sick.  Her 
expression mirrored his own when she looked up again.  "What did he 
say?" 
"He said I have the power to stop it."  Mulder stood, walking around 
the desk.  "There's more." 
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.  Looking up, they saw 
Skinner standing in the doorway holding up a manila envelope.  "I 
assume you got the same thing I did?" 
Mulder and Scully exchanged a look, Scully looking down and Mulder 
turning toward Skinner.  "You can't tell from the picture, but we 
really enjoyed the calamari."  He quipped. 
Skinner entered the office.  "Maybe you can explain to me why I found 
these shoved under my door this morning?"  He tossed the envelope on 
top of Mulder's desk.  To Mulder's relief, there didn't appear to be a 
videocassette in Skinner's package. 
Mulder and Scully exchanged another look.  "There's been another 
anonymous call in conjunction with those."  Mulder said.  "I think 
whoever it is, he's trying to throw us off balance by threatening 
Scully's safety or by trying to drive a wedge between us." 
"For what purpose?"  Skinner asked, his eyes narrowing. 
"I think he's trying to buy himself some time."  Mulder replied. 
"Leslie Martin told me 'timing is everything.'  There must be some 
event or time frame that he's trying to hit.  I haven't been able to 
pinpoint what, exactly." 
Skinner crossed his arms in front of his chest.  "Frankly, I can't 
figure out what any of this has to do with a United States Senator and 
the deaths of two prostitutes and two yuppie workaholics." 
Mulder sucked on his lower lip and looked at Scully.  "I don't think 
Senator Harman is our man." 
Scully looked up at him at the same time as Skinner.  "Mulder..." she 
started, but he interrupted her. 
"No, Scully, he no longer fits the profile.  If Lisa Lewis wouldn't 
accept the Senator's advances so he found a prostitute who looked just 
like her as her note indicated, why kill them?  These weren't crimes of 
passion.  They were calculated, planned ahead of time." 
"Maybe he killed them because he couldn't control them."  Scully 
replied. 
Mulder shook his head.  "I don't think so.  Carrie Lewis told us that 
Lisa told her that the Senator had been coming on to all of the girls 
at the yacht club the day that boating party photo was taken.  When one 
girl didn't warm up to his advances he moved on to another one." 
Scully watched his face, scrutinizing.  "You think the Senator is being 
set up."  She surmised, looking to Skinner and then back to Mulder. 
"Even if someone were trying to discredit him, why murder?  If he's 
that much of a philanderer then they could have easily found someone to 
tell their story to the tabloids." 
Mulder grinned.  "The President admitted to having sexual relations 
with an intern in the White House and he's still there."  His face 
clouded over.  "I wonder if that had anything to do with the 'timing' 
Leslie Martin had been referring to?" 
It was clear to the Assistant Director his two agents were back in sync 
as a working team.  There was presently no need for him to hang around 
and watch, although it was a good show.  "You may be on to something." 
Skinner said.  "I'd like to stay and find out, but I'm late for O.P.R." 
He turned to leave.  "Agents..." They looked up, and he hesitated. 
"...I don't know what whoever sent that package was trying to 
accomplish by sending those to me."  He gestured toward the envelope 
still lying on Mulder's desk.  "The Bureau's official policy is there 
is no policy forbidding agents from becoming personally involved. 
Still, I'd take those home and keep them there." 
There was a hint of a smile on his lips as he turned and walked out the 
door, and Mulder grinned at Scully. 
Her forehead wore the familiar crease that appeared whenever she was 
concerned or deep in thought.  "Mulder, if Senator Harman isn't 
involved, then why did he send me those flowers and an invitation to 
dinner?" 
Mulder looked at her warmly for a long moment before replying.  "I 
didn't say he isn't involved, Scully, I just don't think he's the one 
behind the murders." 
"Well, maybe I should talk to him again." 
Mulder leaned back against his desk, crossing his legs at the ankles 
and his arms in front of him.  "Think you can handle old Horny Harman's 
Southern charms?" 
She crossed her arms in response and assessed him coolly.  "Why not? 
I've had plenty of practice fielding the odd remark and flying innuendo 
over the past seven years." 
He grinned and reached out to take hold of her hand.  "You've thrown a 
few out there yourself as I recall."  She smiled and they looked at 
each other, feeling the warmth envelope them.  After a moment, Mulder 
dropped her hand and stood straight.  "Hold off for now on visiting the 
Senator...maybe we can go together, schedules permitting." 
She took a deep breath and stood straight.  "I'd better get up to the 
lab."  Her voice was softer and higher than usual, betraying her desire 
to stay. 
"Hang on a minute, Scully."  She looked up at him with curiosity and he 
stepped back around the desk, his face troubled.  "There's something 
you need to see."  He punched the 'play' button on the VCR and the 
image of the two of them returned. 
She saw herself and her partner in black and white, thin vertical lines 
running across the picture.  Mulder's hands were on her ass and they 
were staring at each other, speaking but without the accompanying 
sound.  He reached up and caressed her face, and then his hands went 
into her hair.  Scully turned and looked at Mulder with wide eyes as he 
hit the 'stop' button once more. 
Mulder was biting his lower lip, watching her.  "I never thought I'd 
say this, but it's a good thing we didn't do anything besides talk and 
sleep last night.  I may have received this as a Triple X video of the 
month selection if we had." 
She drew in a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly. 
"Other than the sick feeling I have over knowing that such an intimate 
moment was not only witnessed, but recorded..." she paused, looking up 
at him, "...it gives me the creeps to think that it happened in my own 
apartment." 
Mulder stepped up to her, placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned 
close, his voice dropping to the low, intimate tone he'd used the night 
before.  "I would feel better if you came to stay with me, in my 
apartment, until we catch whoever is doing this."  She was about to 
decline when he placed the tips of his fingers over her mouth, 
silencing her.  "I know you can take care of yourself, Scully. 
Just...humor me.  Consider it your part of the therapy on Fox Mulder's 
new twelve-step mental health program.  Unless you tell me otherwise I 
won't maul you in the middle of the night, Scouts honor."  He held up 
two fingers as an oath. 
She looked into his eyes and nodded slightly.  "Alright Mulder, I'll 
stay with you tonight.  But only if you let me help you out with the 
case while I'm there.  I need to be doing more on this than starring in 
somebody's twisted idea of entertainment or sitting in the lab proving 
your innocence in the Martin investigation." 
He smiled.  "For which I am again indebted to you and to your science." 
She returned his smile and moved to leave. 
"Scully..." 
She stopped at looked at him, an eyebrow raised in question.  He was 
holding up the paper bag and one of the coffee cups from his desk. 
"...breakfast?" 
She accepted the small offering with a smile of gratitude, taking a sip 
from the cup and closing her eyes in satisfaction, then giving him a 
pleased look.  He grinned at her as she backed out the door and 
disappeared into the hallway, remembering something Ginger Rogers once 
said... 
'I did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in heels.' 
He would have bet his life that Fred didn't fully appreciate his 
partner for all that she went through for him.  He, however, would not 
make that mistake and planned on doing whatever he could to make sure 
Scully knew it. 
  
  
Scully had the P.C.R. results from the Leslie Martin case by mid- 
morning.  Although it didn't reveal the identity of the last man she 
would ever have sex with, it did prove that that man was not Mulder. 
She had let out a sigh of relief, knowing that the results would go a 
long way toward convincing the DCPD of Mulder's innocence in the 
murder.  She knew from the M.E.'s report and her own notes that Leslie 
Martin must have ingested a highly concentrated amount of sodium 
hydroxide several hours prior to the time of death from the damage done 
to her esophagus.  Detective McCracken and the D.C.P.D. had done a 
thorough search of her apartment and had discovered drain cleaner 
containing sodium hydroxide, but there was no evidence of other 
chemicals that indicated that the poisonous chemical had come from that 
source.  Without a note or proof that her death had been the victim's 
own hand they couldn't call it suicide.  As for the source of the 
sodium hydroxide, it was also found in aquarium products and Mulder 
owned a few fish, but that wasn't enough to charge him with the murder, 
either.  The plain truth was, there just wasn't any motive on Mulder's 
part other than to interrogate her on the Harman case, so it wasn't 
likely that he would remain a suspect for long. 
She had figured out a way to prove his innocence, anyway.  Security 
cameras in the hotel lobby recorded with time and date stamp every 
person who entered and exited the building.  She had called up hotel 
security and requested all of the videos from the day Leslie Martin was 
murdered, and they agreed to send them over to FBI Headquarters before 
the end of the working day.  She was certain that Mulder hadn't been 
with her more than twenty minutes, half an hour tops.  She was also 
certain that whoever she had had intercourse with that day would be on 
the tapes as well.  All she had to do now was figure out his 
identity...and quite possibly she'd find the killer of Karen Darby, 
Lisa Lewis and perhaps even Steven Hoyt as well. 
  
  
Mulder grinned at the sight of the woman in the white lab coat.  She 
always appeared so capable sitting behind a microscope.  As she slid 
the paper under the lens one more time, her placed a hand atop her 
shoulder. 
She immediately knew it was Mulder, and she smiled.  As she turned to 
look up at him smiling back at her, she was drawn into those green eyes 
that she loved so much.  "Why Agent Mulder, what brings you to my part 
of the world today?  As if I didn't already know.  You've come to whisk 
me away to that romantic lunch you always promise, but never deliver 
on, right?" 
"Sorry, Henderson.  I've got a lot of stops to make today, and lunch, 
unfortunately, isn't one of them.  We'll keep that raincheck open 
though, ok?"  He gave her arm a little squeeze and stepped around her 
work table to sit across from her and in front of the other lens of her 
microscope. 
Mulder liked working with Agent Henderson.  She was quick witted and 
one of the few agents around who didn't consider him "spooky," so of 
course, he enjoyed playing with her.  She would definitely earn that 
lunch if she could determine if the initials on Lisa Lewis' suicide 
note were genuine. 
He peered into the viewfinder, not entirely sure what he would be 
seeing.  "What do you have for me?" 
"Well, it's not a lot to go on. The person who wrote this was left- 
handed. But you probably already knew that." She looked over the 
eyepiece to see if he was really listening, then she continued 
playfully.  "But I think I've got it narrowed down to points indicating 
that it was written by a man in his mid-forties, using a Mont Blanc 
fountain pen with a mother-of-pearl barrel and that he had a complex 
about his teddy bear when he was young." 
Mulder looked up from the microscope and blinked once slowly.  And 
waited. 
"Ok, so I don't know anything about the teddy bear.  But it was written 
by a male, I'd say early to mid-forties and it was written with a Mont 
Blanc fountain pen, with or without the mother-of-pearl barrel. 
Distinctive ink." 
"Can you tell me anything about the paper the note was printed on? 
It's computer paper, I know, but is there anything special about it?" 
With so little to go on, Mulder felt like they were grasping at straws. 
"Nothing really special in and of itself.  But from what I read on the 
ME's report about the evidence collected at the scene, and what I saw 
of the evidence that they brought in, the paper that was in the paper 
tray of her computer's printer doesn't match this.  Besides, when Danny 
tried to get the printer to print a sample we could compare to this, he 
discovered that the printer was broken, and it had old toner dried into 
the jets.  It looked like it was out of commission for quite some 
time." 
"Anything else?" 
"Just that the guy who wrote this could be considered a little 'anal' 
in my book.  Even as he tried to duplicate the victim's handwriting, 
his attempt at it couldn't hide an overwhelming tightness and rigidity 
to his script." 
"Well...I don't suppose this sample indicates where I might find him, 
does it?" 
"You might want to try that little bar down the street.  I hear they 
have the best martinis in town.  I could go with you to do some 
extensive testing." 
Mulder flashed her a grin and touched her shoulder briefly as he turned 
to leave.  "Thanks, Henderson.  I owe you." 
"What else is new?"  She shot back with a smile as he opened the door, 
a look of gratitude on his face as he grinned at her once more before 
stepping into the hallway. 
  
  
It was already mid-afternoon when security called and notified her that 
a package had arrived for her from the Willard Intercontinental. 
Scully finished the blood typing she was working on for the V.C.S. and 
headed down to the reception area. Mulder was standing in the lobby 
with one of the secretaries she'd encountered on the elevator a week or 
so ago, his arms crossed and a blank look on his face.  The woman sent 
out enough body language to clue even the casual observer into the fact 
that she was practically begging for him to take her home and fuck her 
senseless. 
There were at least twelve videos in the box - more than she had 
expected.  It would take the better part of a day to go through it all. 
She sighed as she signed for it and tucked it under one arm, glancing 
at Mulder once more before heading back to the elevator.  Mulder caught 
her eye over the secretary's shoulder as she punched the call button. 
Without taking his eyes off of Scully, he mumbled something and walked 
away from the woman in mid-sentence.  She turned to see the object of 
her affection taking the box of videos from his partner's arms and 
gently guiding her into the elevator with a soft touch to the small of 
her back. 
Scully saw the enraged look on the woman's face just before the 
elevator doors shut between them.  Turning to Mulder, she smiled. 
"Investigating a new lead, Mulder?" 
He grinned at her.  "Jealous?" 
She looked him over.  "Should I be?"  She already knew the answer to 
the question, but she wanted to hear what he had to say. 
"I have a videotape in my office that answers that question if you 
really need reminding." 
Her face clouded over.  "Did you find out anything more about the 
person who left that for you?" 
"No, I was just checking with the security guard to see if he'd heard 
back from the guard who was on duty with the package was delivered.  He 
said it was dropped off by a Caucasian male at the same time as 
Skinner's package, but he couldn't remember much about his appearance. 
The guard did say he was the one who slipped it under my door when his 
shift ended." 
The elevator doors opened to the third floor and they stepped out 
together. 
"What's in the box?"  Mulder asked as they entered her office, setting 
the box down on her desk. 
She answered over her shoulder as she walked behind the desk.  "Proof 
of your innocence."  Her voice was just a trifle smug. 
Mulder reacted with a surprised expression and a glimmer of delight in 
his countenance for his partner's brilliant proclamation.  Scully 
looked up at Mulder and rewarded him with a huge smile. 
At that moment there was a knock on the door and Danny poked his head 
in.  "Sorry for the interruption..." they both gave him a polite smile 
and he continued, "A.D. Skinner called next door looking for you, Agent 
Mulder." 
At that moment, Mulder's cel phone trilled.  He threw Scully a look of 
apology and pulled the phone out of his pocket, sliding past Danny out 
the door. 
Scully looked at Danny.  "Any news?" 
Danny shook his head.  "The contractions are still inconsistent.  Her 
doctor won't let her come in until she's had them five to seven minutes 
apart for at least an hour." 
Scully closed her eyes and sighed with a soft smile.  "How's she 
holding up?" 
Danny grinned.  "She said she's ready to rip it out with her bare 
hands.  She asked if you have any experience performing a C-section on 
a living person and if there might be an open autopsy bay you could 
use." 
Scully chuckled.  "I can only imagine what her doctor is going through, 
then." 
"Quite frankly, I'm more concerned about her poor husband."  He offered 
a parting smile and left her alone to peruse twenty-four hours worth of 
security video. 
  
  
Assistant Director Skinner's call was to confirm a time when they could 
go over to Leslie Martin's apartment in Gaithersburg to search for any 
leads.  Mulder gave Skinner the update from Henderson about the 
handwriting analysis on Lisa Lewis' forged suicide note, and agreed to 
meet with his surrogate partner just after 7:00 p.m. when his afternoon 
O.P.R. meetings were finished. 
Phoning Scully later than afternoon, Mulder suggested she head over to 
his apartment whenever she was ready as he'd most likely be late.  She 
let out a small sigh of resignation then told him about the D.C.P.D.'s 
continuing search for suspects in Leslie Martin's death. 
"You've been taken off the list, Mulder."  She said, a smile coming 
into her voice.  "The security video from the hotel confirms you 
arrived at 4:06 p.m.  I've had a copy made and sent it over to 
Detective McCracken.  He said that they weren't seriously considering 
you as a suspect, anyway, but the proof on the video confirmed your 
innocence." 
Mulder let out a long-held breath.  "What about the D.N.A. on her last 
customer?  Any ideas?" 
"Trying to find a match is going to be a lengthy process with no clear 
suspects to compare the results to.  I'm going to go through the rest 
of the security video this evening and see if anything or anyone stands 
out." 
"Frohike sent background files on several of the key players to my home 
computer.  Take a look at them when you get there, they may give you a 
little more to go on."  They were silent a moment.  "Scully, I'm sorry 
about going off with Skinner and leaving you on your own tonight.  I 
know I promised..." 
"Mulder, it's okay.  It's my work too, remember?"  She sighed.  "I just 
wish I were going with you." 
"So do I."  He said seriously.  "Do me a favor?  Call Detective 
McCracken back and tell him that the handwriting analysis on Lisa 
Lewis' suicide note came back as a fake and let him know that we're 
officially including it in our investigation into the murders of Karen 
Darby and Leslie Martin.  Not that what we've been doing these last few 
weeks hasn't been official, but they'll probably want to open an 
investigation of their own." 
  
  
By the time Mulder and Skinner arrived in Gaithersburg, it had already 
been another long day for the FBI. 
Leslie's townhouse was part of a multi-unit complex fronted by a large 
man-made lagoon.  It was in one of the trendy new "communities" that 
were springing up around the country to entice baby boomers and young 
professionals who didn't want to live in urban high-rises anymore. All 
the townhouses faced the lagoon with views of the water and birds and 
the little sailboats or kayaks which were attached to each dock.  By 
the time Mulder and Assistant Director Skinner arrived there, the sun 
was setting picturesquely on the horizon. 
Skinner looked around the area as Mulder opened the door with the keys 
the homeowner's association had given them.  "Betcha fifty dollars none 
of these nice middle- class neighbors know what Leslie Martin really 
did for a living."  He commented. 
"I wonder what the C.C.& R.'s say about high class call girls."  Mulder 
grimaced slightly as he turned the key in the final lock and popped 
open the door. 
As they stepped into the foyer and looked around, there was nothing to 
immediately indicate anything of the oldest profession.  There were 
signs that the Gaithersburg and D.C. police had thoroughly searched the 
condo for clues to her murder.  But it was still apparent, even after 
the search, that Leslie Martin had made a home for herself, apart from 
her profession.  So much like Scully, Mulder thought. 
The large, open floor plan was arranged to take best advantage of the 
view off the deck.  It was very comfortable with a quiet mix of taupes 
and ivories on the furniture and walls.  One wall was covered with 
shelves of books: novels and poetry, mostly, disheveled by the police 
investigators.  As the two men looked around, they both got the feeling 
that this had been a private sanctuary.  They immediately saw the 
differences between Leslie Martin and Scully, but they recognized the 
similarities as well.  As a result, they moved through the apartment 
with a different sensibility than they might normally have on an 
investigation.  Somehow it felt as if they were prying. 
As they worked their way around the room, Mulder remarked, "Have you 
noticed there are no photographs anywhere?" 
"You'd think she'd have some of friends, if not family."  Skinner 
started up the staircase to the loft above. 
"Like this life was hers alone - to be alone."  As Mulder followed his 
boss up the stairs, he reflected on what kind of life Scully had been 
living since she joined him as his partner.  How often does she find 
herself all alone in her apartment, wrapped up in a book or a case 
file? 
The loft up the stairs was Leslie Martin's bedroom and dressing room. 
A king-sized bed was placed in the center of the room with small 
skylights running along one side of the ceiling to let in morning 
light.  Skinner spotted the desk, computer and filing cabinet at the 
Southern end of the room and began his search there.  She was a 
meticulous record keeper.  All receipts neatly catalogued.  All banking 
records immaculate. But nothing out of the ordinary stood out as he 
looked through it all. 
"There's a make-up kit in here that would make Tammy Faye Baker 
jealous."  Mulder commented as he stepped out of the bathroom.  "Did 
you check the closet?" 
"No, I'm still going through the papers here.  She was quite a 
bookkeeper.  Didn't you say she was an investment counselor in San 
Francisco?"  Mulder nodded.  "You could take some lessons from this 
woman's record keeping skills."  The Assistant Director didn't look up 
as he spoke, his message getting through without eye contact. 
Mulder rolled his eyes and opened the walk-in closet door.  "Jesus, 
look at this." 
At that, the Assistant Director did look up to see Mulder flick the 
switch to turn on the revolving clothes rack inside the massive closet. 
It ran like a professional dry cleaner's rack, full of clothes.  It was 
clear where Miss Martin's tastes ranged, for as neutral as her 
surroundings were, it was evident that she liked colorful clothes. 
Mulder and Skinner stood at the closet door in awe as a rainbow of 
fabric rolled by. 
"My, my, every woman's dream.  My wife would have killed for a closet 
like this."  Skinner commented. 
"I'd kill for a closet like this."  Mulder stopped the procession when 
something caught his eye.  He sent the rack into reverse a few feet and 
saw a black suit still wrapped in plastic, slightly set apart from the 
rest of the clothes. 
"A sore thumb."  Mulder commented, pulling the suit out of the closet. 
"That looks more like something Agent Scully would wear." 
"Yeah, I'd have to say it's damned close to her style.  Look at the cut 
of the jacket."  Mulder held it out for Skinner as he pulled at the hem 
to make it hang better on the hanger. 
"Don't they call this a 'duster'?"  He pulled on the hem again to allow 
him to look at the cut of the fabric more acutely. 
"No, 'dusters' are longer than this, I think this is called a 'three- 
quarter length', or something.  Scully claims it makes her look taller. 
See how it goes down to about mid-thigh?"  He held the small jacket, 
still on the hanger, up to his torso and smoothed it down to give 
Skinner a better look. 
Suddenly, the two men looked at each other awkwardly.  Mulder pulled 
the outfit away from his chest and held it up for inspection at a 
distance. 
"She must have just bought this to use in her impersonation of Scully. 
The tag is still on it.  Loffredo of Milan is the store name.  I'll run 
a check on it in the morning."  Mulder turned to see that Skinner had 
returned to the desk across the room.  He held up a business card with 
the store name printed on the front and an address on the back. 
"The store's in Georgetown."  Skinner crossed the room again to compare 
the logo on the card to the tag attached to the suit. 
Mulder looked solemn.  "Scully lives in Georgetown."  He walked over to 
the file cabinet they'd gone through earlier and pulled open a drawer. 
"I'm sure the immaculate Ms. Martin would have kept a receipt.  That 
should tell us when she bought it or if someone else bought it for 
her." 
Skinner, knowing that they may be in for a long haul, picked up on 
Mulder's apprehension.  "We'll book this suit into evidence in the 
morning, along with the receipt, if we can find it.  In the meantime, 
let's see if we can come up with any records that might indicate who 
was encouraging her to emulate Agent Scully." 
  
END CHAPTER NINE 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER TEN 
This is a man 
Who needs a woman 
I'm not afraid to say what I feel 
I'll never be unfaithful 
I've been wrong and lived the lonely nights 
Silence is loud 
Without her whispers 
My body craves her touch 
Such are my prayers 
Every break of dawn 
To open my eyes 
And see her by my side 
- Zucchero, 'Feels Like A Woman' 
  
Spending the evening alone in Mulder's apartment wasn't any better than 
spending the evening alone in her own - there was less to do, Scully 
thought as she peered out the window for what must have been the 
thirtieth time.  Mulder must have asked Frohike to keep an eye on the 
place, or perhaps on her, because she'd seen his van circle the block 
more than once.  She knew that if anyone were watching her or Mulder's 
apartment, the paranoid little troll would pick up on it. 
She wandered back to the computer, clicking the mouse randomly over the 
icons onscreen.  It was past eleven and she'd already perused all of 
the background files on everyone involved in the Harman case.  She 
couldn't handle looking at any more surveillance video.  She was bored, 
and she wanted Mulder to come home.  She wanted someone to talk to, but 
more than that she wanted to pick up where they had left off the night 
before. 
Onscreen the 'My Documents' folder opened to a window displaying a slew 
of sub-folders, one entitled 'Scully' catching her eye.  She knew she 
probably shouldn't, but with nothing better to do, she clicked on the 
folder and perused the contents. 
There were several .jpg files, all with numeric labels.  She clicked on 
the one with the smallest number and a window opened with a picture of 
her taken at the Lone Gunmen's, very early in their partnership.  She 
was sitting on a desk with a look of amusement on her face.  She 
wondered when that had been taken.  The next image she clicked on was 
from the same visit to the Gunmen.  She was still sitting on the desk 
and wearing the same suit, only her expression was solemn. 
She closed the image and looked at the rest of the contents of the 
folder.  There were files entitled 'Correspondence' that contained some 
of the more personal emails they had exchanged over the years, and 
another one entitled 'Commendations' that listed every piece of 
positive reinforcement she'd received for her work in the past six and 
a half years.  She raised her eyebrows at this and smiled. 
There was a folder, nearly 12 megabytes, entitled 'Cancer Research.' 
Every one of the X-Files she'd personally been involved in were there. 
She clicked on the folder entitled 'Jerse' and icons popped up 
cataloging one of her most regretted indiscretions.  A .jpg from the 
Philadelphia PD of her tattoo.  The police file from her assault. 
Another .jpg with a note on top from Frohike, 'This is the slimebag - 
He looks too much like you to be a mere coincidence...' attached to an 
image of Ed Jerse. 
God.  Had she been that obvious? 
She was growing uneasy, her emotions churning within her and not quite 
certain how she should feel about her obvious violation of Mulder's 
trust.  She closed out the file and stared at the screen, swallowing. 
Her hand shook as she moved the mouse to the file entitled 'Desire,' 
unable to stop herself from clicking on the icon and viewing the 
contents. 
A cyberkiss postcard addressed but unsent to Dscully@fbi.gov... 
A .jpg of Gustav Klimt's 'The Kiss'... 
William Butler Yeats' poem 'When You Are Old'... 
Lyrics to several different songs containing the words 'blue eyes' in 
the title... 
The complete illustrated love teachings of the Kama Sutra, with 
asteriks next to the 'Lataveshta,' 'Avalambitaka' and 'Jihva- 
bhramanaka' verses...she'd discovered the Kama Sutra in college, but in 
this context the images conjured now made her cheeks flush pink. 
Lyrics to 'With or Without You' from U2's 'The Joshua Tree'... 
A .jpg of Robert Doisneau's Le Baiser de l'Hotel de Ville... 
There seemed to be endless files and links, some recent and some dating 
back nearly seven years.  She closed the folder and stared at the 
screen.  Every icon could be directly tied to an event or a moment in 
her life.  Photographs, documents, emails - he had kept an electronic 
record of her, down to her living will and instructions on how to water 
her plants.  That he had kept these things touched her, but the fact 
that he had been gathering these things for years and that they went 
far beyond their working relationship brought tears to her eyes. 
Mulder loved her. 
Not only did he love her, he desired her, and he respected her and he 
was proud of her, both as an agent and as a person. 
She knew this on some fundamental level.  But this was proof. 
Irrefutable proof and the reality of it hit her full-force.  She had 
never been really clear about the nature of his feelings for her.  How 
long had they been silently pushing their feelings aside, squandering 
them away in some private, secluded place? 
Scully closed out all of the files and stepped away from the computer, 
wiping the tears off of her cheeks with her hands.  She didn't want 
Mulder to come home and find her crying over his private collection of 
electronic memorabilia on his partner.  Glancing at the clock on the 
computer screen she picked up the telephone and dialed his cel, hearing 
him answer on the third ring. 
"It's me."  She exhaled, pausing a moment before continuing.  "Are you 
still in Gaithersburg?" 
He sighed.  "Yeah, it looks like we'll be here a while.  Is everything 
okay?" 
She paused.  "Yeah.  Everything is fine.  It's just..." 
"What?" 
She paused again, poking at a spot on the floor with her big toe. 
"Nothing.  It's nothing." 
Mulder shifted, trying to gain a little more privacy for his call. 
"Scully?" 
She let out a long sigh.  "It's...too quiet here without you, Mulder." 
He was silent but she knew he was grinning anyway.  "Why don't you 
invite Frohike up?" 
She snorted her reply and he laughed. 
"We've still got quite a few credit card receipts to go through.  I'll 
be there as soon as I can, Scully, I promise." 
"Yeah, okay." She listened to him breath a moment.  "Mulder?" 
"Still here." 
"I..." she stopped herself, feeling a little foolish for being so 
needy.  "I'm fine."  She said with conviction. 
There was a smile in his voice as he replied.  "I know."  He knew what 
she really meant.  "Me too, Scully." 
She smiled.  Hanging up the phone, she stepped back over to the window 
and wrapped her arms around her middle.  She hoped that when Mulder 
said 'soon' it meant before breakfast. 
  
  
Mulder rubbed his eyes and blearily searched for his apartment key.  He 
located it as silently as possible and slid the key softly into the 
lock, turning it gently.  Part of him hoped that Scully was sleeping 
and hadn't waited up for him.  The other part of him hoped that she 
had. 
He gently closed the door behind him and quietly turned the deadbolt, 
tossing his tie and coat jacket across a chair as his eyes scanned the 
apartment for her.  As he approached the living room he saw her, 
wearing silk pajamas the color of aubergine as she lay on her back 
across his leather sofa, the desk lamp casting shadows across her face 
as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. 
Careful not to wake her with his shadow, Mulder stepped up to the sofa 
and let his eyes run down her petite frame, smiling when they reached 
her well-manicured bare feet.  It seemed that he'd spent more time with 
her asleep than awake over the past few weeks.  As his eyes made their 
return they caught the hint of angry red against alabaster peeking out 
beneath the flipped up hem of her pajama top.  Kneeling, he gently 
pushed the fabric up and revealed her smooth abdomen and the fresh scar 
near her belly button. 
Mulder gasped softly.  This was where she had been shot.  This was 
where she had been injured in the line of duty while assigned to 
another case and another partner.  This was where he almost lost her 
once again. 
Before Brown Mountain, before Padgett, this was where his own heart 
nearly stopped beating.  The scar was star-shaped and puckered, raised 
but not quite keloid.  It was smaller, thank God, than the one on his 
shoulder.  He knew if he turned her over on her stomach there would be 
a corresponding scar on her lower back, no doubt near the tattoo that 
marked the time she had decided that she was no longer going to put her 
life on hold for him. 
It was history.  They'd been through seven years of cases and 
misunderstandings and near-misses but she was here with him now.  She 
was here and she wasn't going anywhere.  That which didn't destroy them 
made them stronger, and she was tough as nails...she was also soft and 
pliable, her skin stretching and returning to form under the gentle 
path of his fingertips as he traced the bone at the bottom of her 
ribcage.  He watched her soft, flat belly gently rise and fall like the 
tide. 
He leaned over, pressing his lips to her cool skin.  He let his lips 
glide softly down the smooth expanse, feeling the soft line of peach 
fuzz tickle his nose as it grazed lightly along her abdomen.  Pressing 
a kiss to the small swell below her navel, he flicked his tongue out 
for a taste.  She tasted both cool and warm, salty and sweet. 
Mulder laid his cheek against her skin, looking up at her face.  She 
was deep into sleep, her face completely slack without the usual mask 
of worry and caution.  Her lips were slightly parted and her breathing 
was slow and easy, uninterrupted by nightmares or other horrors.  She 
was safe and content, at least for the moment.  He closed his eyes and 
let out a long, silent sigh, weary with fatigue and too many nights of 
his own harrowing nightmares.  He wanted to curl up on the sofa beside 
her and sleep through the night like a child the way he'd done the 
night before, but the desire not to wake her was stronger, so he 
remained on the floor on his knees, his face pressed into her abdomen. 
Scully shifted slightly and the cadence of her breathing changed, 
barely noticeable but enough for him to open his eyes and look at her 
face.  She was watching him, looking down through heavy lids. 
His hand found hers at the edge of the sofa and he entwined their 
fingers lightly. 
"You look tired."  She said, her voice high and airy. 
He closed his eyes briefly, then looked back up at her.  "Remind me of 
that the next time Walter calls and wants to play." 
The hand that wasn't entwined with his found its way into his hair. 
"Did you find anything?" 
He let out a soft sigh at her touch.  "Yeah, it may be something.  Can 
we talk about it in the morning?  I just want to go to bed." 
She watched him a moment, her hand running gently through his silky 
brown strands.  "You want me to sleep out here so you can stretch out 
under the air conditioner?" 
"I want you stretched out next to me under the air conditioner, unless 
you're more comfortable out here." 
"No."  She pulled herself into a sitting position and took a deep 
breath, looking him over.  "When was the last time you had more than 
one full night of sleep in succession, Mulder?" 
He stood, helping her to her feet as well.  "What year is it?" Was his 
reply as he shuffled into the bedroom behind her. 
  
  
He didn't know what he had expected.  It was one thing to wake up in 
Scully's living room, on Scully's sofa, with Scully tucked tightly 
between him and the sofa back.  But waking up with her in his bed was 
an entirely different situation. 
Although they had fallen asleep in each other's arms, they weren't 
spooned together, curled up like little baby cats.  He didn't awake, as 
he'd imagined, to the delicious sensation of his morning erection 
pressed into her tight round bottom.  She was on her stomach, her arm 
hanging off the edge and one small foot stuck out from underneath the 
flat sheet that was bunched up tightly in her fist and held very 
closely to her chest.  He was on the other side of the bed, his upper 
torso exposed to the cold air blasting from the window unit, the far 
edge of the sheet stretched diagonally across his body and barely 
covering his usual morning erection. 
And lots of space in between them.  Lots and lots of space. 
He'd never figured Scully for a cover hog, but there you had it. 
They'd both spent too many years sleeping alone to change after one 
night. 
He considered waking her to see if she might be willing to help him 
relieve his morning condition, but then thought better of it.  She'd 
yet to give him the green light on the sexual intimacy and besides, the 
way she was coveting the bedcovers made him suspect that she might wake 
with violent impulses if he wasn't careful.  So when she suddenly 
rolled over and looked at him, her eyes wide and clear and looking 
straight through to his very soul he caught his breath with surprise. 
"I wanna kiss you," she said with a smile, her voice the same clean 
alto he knew and loved, "but I need to brush my teeth first. 
"Meet me back here in two minutes."  He said with a grin, both 
scampering out of the bed.  Mulder made a quick pit stop while she 
rummaged through her overnight bag, then took his toothbrush and 
toothpaste to the kitchen sink to give her a moment of privacy.  He 
beat her back to the bed and he climbed in, straightening the sheet and 
tucking his arms back behind his head to wait. 
Scully emerged from the bathroom with her hair combed, her teeth 
brushed and her face washed, looking every bit as immaculate as she 
always did.  As she approached the bed she grinned, her smile bright 
and slightly mischievous and he dared to hope that perhaps this was it, 
finally, as she crawled over the covers toward him.  She planted one 
hand on either side of his chest and leaned down, still grinning as she 
kissed him.  He was cool, responding only with his lips for about 
fifteen seconds, then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her 
down against his chest, exploring her mouth with his own while she did 
the same. 
Their kisses tasted of toothpaste and mint, both still feeling the ease 
and playfulness in their encounter, and with growing certainty that 
she wouldn't put on the brakes he deftly rolled her over, one leg 
tucked between hers and his weight resting on his elbows.  She smiled 
and her fingers started exploring his body - the cut of his arms, the 
smooth skin on his back, the ridges of his ribs.  He took that as a 
good sign and did the same, his hands roaming freely over her compact 
frame. 
They went on that way for a long time, kissing and exploring, the mood 
growing serious and their breathing growing more shallow until his 
fingers found the buttons on her pajama top and began to loosen them 
from their snares.  At the last button she glanced down with a raised 
eyebrow as he parted the two halves of fabric. 
Mulder raised himself up to rest on one elbow as he looked into her 
face, silently asking for her permission to move ahead.  She knew what 
he was asking and a small smile of encouragement from her was all it 
took for him to take what he wanted, giving her pleasure at the same 
time.  His lips moved over her upper torso, alternating between gentle 
kisses and not-so-gentle nips to her neck, shoulders, breasts, 
clavicle...she responded with her hands and her lips, stroking and 
tasting his neck and chest, biceps and shoulders. 
They were deliberately slow, enjoying the spirit of the discovery but 
impatient enough to push the momentum forward.  They spoke only with 
darkened eyes, watching responses and acknowledging pleasure as they 
removed the rest of their garments, until he was hovering over her on 
outstretched arms, his hips cradled between her thighs and looking into 
her face while undulating lightly against her.  She reached between 
them to touch the hardness of him that she felt brushing against her 
mons, stroking lightly.  He drew in a shaky breath and they both looked 
down to watch her small hand glide against his fully engorged penis, 
then looked back at each other, their eyes locking.  It was understood 
between them that the time had arrived, and she gently pressed his tip 
into her moist center.   She closed her eyes as he completed the 
joining of their bodies, panting softly while he groaned in ecstasy. 
It would not last long, he knew, moving as slow as he could manage for 
a man who had not done this with another person in a very, very long 
time.  He watched the emotions play out on her face and he leaned down 
to plant a kiss against her parted lips. 
"Can you come this way?"  He asked, prepared to change positions if she 
needed to. 
Her eyes glittered as she replied with a nod and a warm throaty, "yeah" 
before her eyes closed again and she began to move against him in 
counter rhythm.  All thought gave way to the sensations that surrounded 
them in a thick fog of need.  To experience the act after so many long 
years of denial, sharing it with the one person in the world you wanted 
to be sharing it with all along was more than either of them could 
mentally process. 
All they could do was feel. 
He tried to wait for her but it was no use - it had been too long for 
him to have such control the first time out.  Luckily, she seemed on 
the edge herself and he was quick to react.  As his retreating body 
left hers damp and cold under the air conditioning she had barely 
gasped out half of his name in frustration before he assaulted her 
center with everything that he had.  Lips, tongue, teeth, fingers, 
thumbs...until her back arched away from the mattress and she clutched 
fistfuls of sheet, crying out his name with a whimper.  He slowed his 
ministrations and gently pulled away, then crawled up the mattress and 
flopped down on his stomach next to her, breathing hard with a grin of 
smug satisfaction as he watched her slowly melt back into the bed, her 
face peaceful and serene. 
After a moment she opened her eyes and turned toward him, reaching out 
a hand to caress his cheek.  He leaned over for a slow, sensual kiss 
that tasted like the two of them and when he finally pulled back to 
look at her he saw a smile glittering in her eyes. 
"I love you."  He said soberly, his eyes shining back at hers. 
"I love you, too."  She replied deeply and softly.  Their eyes held, 
seeing each other in the morning stillness for what seemed like the 
first time without any emotional walls or roadblocks. 
They'd had just a moment to enjoy their new intimacy before Mulder's 
alarm clock switched on with a loud click, blaring Buddy and David into 
the afterglow and effectively shattering the moment.  Scully rolled 
onto her back and closed her eyes, groaning while Mulder slammed his 
hand against the intruding appliance and the room was silent once 
again. 
He fell back against the mattress and closed his eyes, groaning.  After 
a moment he looked at her and said in monotone, "time to make the 
donuts." 
  
  
They'd never get to work on time, she pointed out, if they shared the 
shower, so she went first while he made coffee.  She could hear him 
whistling when she stepped onto the bath mat and wrapped a towel around 
herself, and had to chase him out of the bathroom a minute later when 
he brought in her coffee and wouldn't leave her towel alone. 
For Mulder, it was fascinating to watch Scully become Special Agent 
Scully.  When she allowed him back into the bathroom, she had already 
blow-dried her hair into its familiar shape and applied the small 
amount of makeup and lipstick she wore during the day.  When he stepped 
out of the bathroom showered and shaved she had donned her black 
slacks, blouse and jacket and was padding barefoot around the bed 
straightening the covers and plumping the pillows.  He dropped his 
towel and dug through his closet in the buff to taunt her, but other 
than catching her looking at his bare ass while she sipped her coffee, 
she refrained from making any commentary. 
"There's something in the car I want you to take a look at."  Mulder 
said as he fastened the buttons on his shirt cuffs.  "We found it in 
Leslie Martin's apartment last night." 
"What is it?"  Scully asked as she took another sip of her coffee. 
"Emmanuel Ungaro." 
  
  
There was a gleam in her eyes as she examined the piece of evidence. 
The texture and feel of the silk was unlike anything she had or could 
ever afford, for that matter.  The tag on the suit indicated that it 
cost more than her monthly salary. 
"Since the tag is still on it, we're assuming that it's still fairly 
new."  Mulder said, his eyes soaking in the reverent way she touched 
the fabric.  "Other than that tag, we were unable to find anything else 
indicating when or how she purchased the suit.  She had receipts down 
to the hair-dryer she bought last September, but not even her credit 
card statements listed a purchase in that amount from Loffredo of 
Milan."  Mulder closed the trunk of his car and touched his hand to the 
small of Scully's back, encouraging her to get into the car.  "It's a 
long-shot, I know, but it is so far removed from anything else she had 
in her closet it seemed like a good bet that she bought that suit with 
the intention of impersonating you." 
"A suit like this is way beyond my budget, I'm afraid."  She said 
almost wistfully, holding on to the suit as she sat in the passenger 
seat. "Mulder, I'm not certain, but I think this is a 'one-of.'"  She 
said, her eyes still shining. 
"A 'one-of?'  As in, the only one?" 
"I think so, yeah.  The tailoring is exquisite."  She flipped the cuff 
inside out and examined the lining. 
Mulder crossed in front of the car and got in the driver's side, 
pulling his seatbelt across his lap and fastening it. 
"Mulder, maybe I could take this in to the boutique where it was 
purchased and see if I can get any information, or maybe even a copy of 
the receipt."  She was looking at him hopefully.  The truth was, she 
was anxious to get out of the lab and do a little legwork. 
He bit his lip as he looked at her.  "Pretending to be Leslie Martin, 
you mean?" 
"Why not?  I look enough like her." 
He let out a short laugh.  "The whole point was for her to look like 
you." 
She looked at him a moment.  "Well, regardless, the worst that could 
happen is they wouldn't be able to help me." 
He nodded, starting the car and backing out of the parking space.  "If 
it is a one of a kind, then they shouldn't have too much trouble 
remembering it.  We'll run over there at lunchtime unless you've got 
plans." 
There was a hint of a smile as she replied.  "You're the one with the 
car." 
  
  
She met him in the basement at quarter to twelve wearing a huge grin. 
"Agent Mancina gave birth to a healthy, nine pound seven ounce baby boy 
named Tyler Joseph Mancina at five forty-seven a.m. this morning.  Both 
mother and baby are doing just fine." 
Mulder grinned.  "I thought she was having a girl." 
"So did she.  I sent her a bouquet from the both of us." 
Mulder leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, admiring her 
openly and grinning at her natural assumption (rightly so) to include 
him in her well-wishes to Agent Mancina.  "Thanks, Honey." 
She closed her mouth, but her amusement remained in her eyes.  "So are 
we going or not?" 
He stood and grabbed his keys off of his desk.  "Yes, Dear." 
She followed him out the door and stood behind him with her arms 
crossed as he turned the key  "Mulder..." 
He knew he was pushing it, but couldn't help himself.  "What is it, 
Pumpkin?" 
"...shut up or I kill you now." 
He chuckled and they headed for the garage in silence. 
  
  
Loffredo of Milan was the kind of boutique no one ever felt quite 
comfortable in.  The décor was stark, almost industrial, with 
relatively few racks of clothes amongst hard leather club chairs and 
steel sidetables.  Most of the clothing was black or dark gray, which 
meant Scully would undoubtedly see something she liked, Mulder thought 
as he pulled off his sunglasses and looked around.  They had agreed to 
go in separately and pretend they didn't know each other on the chance 
that they may get more information that way. 
The clerk was on him within seconds.  "Can I help you find something?" 
She asked cheerfully, running her eyes down his torso in a not-so- 
subtle way. 
"I'm looking for something for my wife."  He replied, flashing her a 
smile.  She was pretty - tall and slender with short blonde hair.  She 
wore a short black skirt and a fitted black blouse and high chunky 
heels that accentuated her long legs. 
The girl smiled and looked into his eyes.  "Evening wear or something 
more casual?" 
"Something she could wear out to dinner or to the office."  Mulder's 
eyes ran down her long legs and then back up to her face.  "Maybe 
something like what you're wearing." 
The girl stepped closer and licked her bottom lip.  "Do you know her 
size?" 
Scully entered the boutique carrying the suit and Mulder turned to look 
at her as if he were merely admiring a beautiful woman.  He let his 
eyes linger longer than was polite and without looking back at the 
clerk, said, "about her size." 
Still wearing her sunglasses, Scully pretended to ignore Mulder and 
looked around, turning to face the clerk.  The girl offered her an icy 
but polite smile and said, "Someone will be with you in just a moment." 
She turned back to Mulder and touched his arm, smiling brightly again. 
"If you'd like to have a seat, I'll see what I can find for you."  She 
crossed the room and disappeared into the back. 
Mulder leaned back and grinned flirtatiously at Scully.  Just because 
he was working didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun.  She gave him 
a raised eyebrow and her 'get serious' expression and turned away just 
as another, older woman appeared from the door the other girl had 
stepped through. 
"May I help you?"  She asked in a pleasant tone, looking at Scully. 
"Yes."  Scully held up the suit.  "I would like to have this altered." 
The woman took it from her and held it up.  "Oh yes, Emmanuel Ungaro. 
Do you have the receipt with you?" 
Scully smiled apologetically.  "Unfortunately, no.  I've looked 
everywhere for it but I can't seem to find it." 
The woman looked back at the suit, then at Scully.  "I remember you, 
you've been in here before."  She smiled.  "I'll just look up the sku 
number in the computer and see if I can print out another receipt for 
you." 
Scully smiled.  "That would be great."  She followed the woman over to 
the counter and watched as she ran the scanner over the tag on the 
suit. 
The other clerk reappeared carrying an armful of outfits.  She slinked 
over to Mulder and held the first one up.  "Is this what you had in 
mind?" 
Mulder sat up and the girl stepped closer until she was standing 
directly between his spread feet.  Mulder touched the fabric of the 
skirt she held out to him and rubbed it between his thumb and 
forefinger.  "Nice."  He said, looking up at her. 
"Versace."  She said seductively. 
Scully couldn't hear more than hushed tones of conversation and only 
saw a glimpse of the spectacle out of the corner of her eye, but didn't 
turn her head to look. 
"What else do you have?"  Mulder asked, leaning back again. 
The girl pulled another skirt and jacket from behind the first one and 
held it out for him to see.  "Armani."  She purred.  "I could model it 
for you if you'd like." 
The printer on the counter began printing the receipt that Scully had 
requested and Mulder looked over at her.  "Thanks, but I wonder if the 
redhead at the counter would mind trying it on so that I could see how 
it might look on my wife." 
When he looked back up at the girl she was frowning.  "Do you want me 
to ask her?" 
He looked back over at Scully and sucked in his lower lip.  After a 
moment he looked back at the clerk.  "Please." 
The woman behind the counter pulled the receipt out of the printer and 
smiled at Scully.  "We'll need to have you try it on so we can get the 
correct measurements."  She smiled, holding out her hand for Scully to 
follow her to the back. 
As she turned the girl stepped up beside her.  "Excuse me, but the 
gentleman man over there would like to know if you would try this on." 
Scully was glad she still had her sunglasses on as she spun around and 
looked at Mulder, her mouth falling open.  She silently asked, 'Mulder, 
what are you doing?' which he didn't see but he knew anyway as she 
looked into his dark eyes. 
"Excuse me?"  She said to the clerk. 
The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other impatiently. 
"He says you're the same size as his wife.  He wants to know if you'll 
try it on so he can see if it will fit." 
Scully looked over at Mulder a moment and saw the challenge in his 
eyes.  He expected her to decline.  She knew she wouldn't be able to 
afford these clothes on her own salary, so what the Hell.  They had 
gotten a receipt they came for so she might as well enjoy the 
experience.  Besides, she may be able to ask a few questions if it 
appeared that she was actually shopping.  Looking at the beautiful suit 
in the girl's hand, she smiled widely.  "Sure.  But I need to have my 
own suit altered first if the gentleman doesn't mind waiting." 
The girl looked at Mulder and he smiled.  "No problem." 
With a frown the girl handed the suit to Scully and stepped behind the 
counter as Scully followed the older woman into the back. 
She'd tried the suit on in the bathroom at FBI Headquarters and knew 
the skirt was too long and the jacket could be better fitted around the 
waistline.  The woman was quick and efficient and took Scully's 
measurements, then pinned off the excess fabric in minutes, helping 
Scully out of the suit so that she wouldn't get pricked by one of the 
straight pins. 
The outfit Mulder had chosen fit like a glove.  She admired her image 
in the full-length mirror as the woman arranged the Ungaro suit on a 
hanger, pinning the receipt to the front and setting it aside for the 
tailor to make the adjustments that afternoon.  She smiled at Scully in 
the mirror and stepped out of the dressing room. 
Scully ran her hand over the sleeve, feeling the Italian crepe under 
her fingertips.  She let out a soft sigh. 
"It's obscene how good you look." 
Mulder was standing just inside the door, his hands in his pockets. 
She turned and looked at him.  "Mulder, what are you..." she hissed, 
catching herself just as the young clerk entered without knocking, a 
scowl on her face and two more suits in hand. 
"The only thing we have in dark red in a size two is a Krizia."  She 
hung the garments on a peg next to the mirror, then turned and looked 
at Scully, crossing her arms.  "That looks really good on you."  She 
said, begrudgingly. 
Mulder stepped closer to Scully and walked around her completely, his 
eyes on the Armani and the smooth expanse of creamy leg exposed by it. 
Scully avoided meeting his eyes, wishing she still had her sunglasses 
on as he stopped behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror. 
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet, holding out a 
credit card to the clerk.  "I'll take it." 
Scully stared wide-eyed at him in the mirror, looking away quickly as 
the clerk took the credit card. 
"I'm sure your wife will like it."  The girl said.  "You'll have to 
come out and sign the receipt.  We use an electronic pen at the 
register." 
She stepped out of the dressing room and Mulder grinned at Scully, his 
hands on his hips. 
"What are you doing?"  Scully whispered.  "You'll never get the Bureau 
to sign off on that." 
"No."  Mulder said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a sunflower 
seed and popping it between his teeth.  "That's why I'm paying for it." 
"Mulder, I'm not gonna let you throw your money away on a suit that 
will probably end up covered in God knows what or snagged on some fence 
post." 
He pressed against her from behind, encircling her waist with his arms. 
He laid his chin on top of her head and gazed at her in the mirror, his 
eyes warm and soft.  "You can wear it the next time I take you out to 
dinner." 
She closed her eyes a moment, then opened them and gazed back at him, 
touched by his generosity but determined not to accept it.  "Mulder..." 
There was another knock on the door and he had just enough time to pull 
away before the young clerk stepped inside again. 
"I just need your signature, Mr. Mulder." 
Scully was looking at the floor and out of the corner of his eye Mulder 
saw her stiffen, as if a switch had suddenly been flicked on.  She 
quickly walked over to the Ungaro that had been collected from Leslie 
Martin and pulled off the newly printed receipt, her mouth falling open 
as she stared at it. 
Mulder realized the same thing she had, and heedless of the clerk, 
walked over to her and peered over her shoulder at the receipt. 
Scully looked up at him, her breathing suddenly shallow. 
"We've got him, Mulder." 
  
END CHAPTER TEN 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER ELEVEN 
Bawitdabadabangdadangdiggidiggidiggisetdaboogisetupjumpdaboogi 
- Kid Rock 
  
Skinner pushed through the glass door into the stark interior of the 
boutique, his eyes squinting until they adjusted to the dim interior 
lighting.  Scully was standing off to the side near one of the racks of 
clothes, her cel phone up to her ear.  Who could blame her for staying 
inside - the afternoon heat on the street was stifling.  Mulder was 
talking to two clerks at the counter.  Both clerks, a pretty blonde 
woman and an attractive more sophisticated woman, looked nervous. 
"Is there anything else you can remember about him?"  Mulder was asking 
the older clerk, taking notes as she spoke. 
The woman replied while nervously twisting the rings on her fingers, 
"No, I've told you everything I can remember." 
Mulder looked up at Skinner as he approached.  "D.C.P.D. sent out a 
squad car to bring him in for questioning but he didn't show up for 
work today and wasn't at his apartment.  I've phoned in a search 
warrant to Judge Farquart.  It should be ready within the hour." 
Skinner said.  "You're sure he's our guy?" 
Mulder turned to him and nodded.  "We've got his signature and American 
Express card number on the receipt for the suit we found in Leslie 
Martin's apartment last night, in addition to a receipt for a suit that 
matches the description of the one she was wearing when she died.  He 
purchased one other outfit in a size six that I'm betting we'll find in 
Karen Darby's closet." 
Skinner let out a huff of air and looked over at Scully, who was 
looking at her cel phone with irritation, shaking it gently.  "Anything 
else?" 
"Scully's getting his complete background information sent to her via 
email.  What we know of him so far indicates that he was jealous 
over the affair between the Senator and his girlfriend, Stephanie 
Curtis.  Maybe jealous enough to frame the Senator for murder." 
Scully stepped up to them and sighed.  "I lost service during my 
conversation with Byers, but what little he did tell me seems to point 
us in the same direction.  It seems that Donald Mathers now works for 
Senator Harman's chief political opponent in the next election.  He's 
sending all of the information over to my work address via email as we 
speak." 
Skinner looked from Scully back to Mulder.  "Let's hope our search of 
his apartment turns up the evidence we need to prosecute this guy." 
Mulder dug in his trousers pocket and pulled out his car keys, handing 
them over to Scully.  She accepted them silently into her upturned 
palm, and their eyes met briefly.  An apology was exchanged once again 
for her official removal from the investigation.  She gave him a slight 
smile of forgiveness and looked up at Skinner briefly, then headed out 
the door. 
They were at the car when Mulder told Skinner he forgot something and 
jogged back into the store.  From the street, Skinner could see him 
speak to the clerks, sign something, hand over a business card and 
offer a smile before jogging back out, leaving the clerks to stare 
after him.  Mulder was grinning but his expression became laconic when 
he caught Skinner glaring at him. 
  
  
She understood the reasons why she was sitting in the lab watching the 
centrifuge spin blood samples around instead of collecting evidence 
against Donald Mathers for the murders of four innocent people.  She 
even forgave Mulder for maneuvering her into this position with the 
misguided intent to protect her.  That didn't mean she was in the least 
bit happy about it. 
Byers had emailed the background information on Mathers as he had 
promised, and although it provided more than enough material for an 
accurate profile, it didn't do much toward helping them get the 
evidence they would need to prosecute.  With any luck, Mulder was 
getting it from Mathers' apartment. 
Still, it annoyed her to no end not to be part of the team gathering 
evidence at Mathers' apartment.  Nevermind that it wasn't her case 
anymore - it was Mulder's and Skinner's case.  But she had a stake in 
it, too, and she wanted to be actively involved, doing more than 
sitting on her butt in the lab watching blood separate.  If she'd 
wanted to do that, she wouldn't have joined the FBI in the first place. 
And then she realized how she might contribute to the investigation. 
She had spoken with Mulder about going to see the Senator again the day 
before, and now that they'd established that Mathers was most likely 
operating out of jealousy and a desire to get revenge on the Senator, a 
return visit to the Senator seemed to be in order. 
She picked up the phone and asked for directory assistance, then for 
Senator Harman's office.  She jotted the number down, hung up, redialed 
and spoke directly with the Senator's receptionist. 
"This is Dana Scully.  Is the Senator available?" 
"Hold on a moment, Ms. Scully, I'll check." 
She didn't really expect the Senator to be in, and she wasn't sure he'd 
be available to take her call if he were, so she was surprised when a 
moment later his sing-song Southern voice rang in her ear.  "Agent 
Scully.  To what do I owe the pleasure?" 
"Senator Harman."  She replied, taking a deep breath, "I realize this 
is short notice, but I was hoping I might be able to meet with you 
today." 
He paused a moment.  "I'm about to leave here within the hour, I'm 
afraid."  He replied.  "Would you be willing to meet me at my home 
office this evening?  Say, seven o'clock?" 
Scully let out a breath and thought a moment.  Mulder would more than 
likely be tied up with gathering evidence and they hadn't discussed 
spending the evening together, although she assumed that he assumed as 
much.  "Yes, that would be fine."  She told the Senator. 
"I'll look forward to it, Miss Scully."  He replied pleasantly, and 
hung up the phone. 
Through the glass windows, she saw Danny walking up the hallway and 
enter the lab, a case file in his hand.  "How's it going this 
afternoon, Dana?" 
She sighed and looked over at him.  "I'm processing the blood samples 
brought in by Agent DeLuca.  The P.C.R. test on the Sydney case is 
nearly complete." 
Danny shoved a pen into the pocket of his lab coat and walked over to 
her.  "I heard there was a break in the case Mulder and Skinner are 
working on." 
She gave him a slight smile.  "They've got a strong lead on the 
perpetrator." 
He leaned back against the counter.  "I guess once Mulder wraps the 
case up you'll be heading back down to the basement, hmm?" 
She took in a breath and checked the centrifuge, then looked back at 
him.  "Have you hired a permanent replacement?" 
Danny shook his head.  "No, not yet.  Look, Dana, I know your 
assignment was supposed to be until we hired someone, but I know your 
heart is with the X-Files.  I can't in good conscience keep you here 
when I know you'd be happier out in the field with Mulder." 
She dropped her face and studied her hands, smiling.  "Is it that 
obvious?" 
He smiled.  "Do you mean does everyone around here see it?  Yeah.  But 
you've never been anything but professional, and you do great work. 
Besides that, we've enjoyed having you around." 
She looked up at him, her face showing her gratitude.  "I have enjoyed 
the change of pace.  And I have to admit, I've enjoyed being in a less 
isolated environment..." 
"But..." 
"But, my place is with the X-Files." 
He grinned.  This was hardly news.  Looking down at his wristwatch, he 
said,  "Well...we're all going over to see the baby this evening after 
work if you'd like to join us." 
She sat back, her disappointment showing on her face.  "I'd love to, 
but I've already made plans for this evening.  Send Agent Mancina my 
regrets?" 
"Will do."  He tapped on the counter and offered her a parting smile. 
She smiled in response and with a sigh, turned back to the centrifuge 
once again. 
  
  
She was halfway to Falls Church when she realized that she hadn't left 
word for Mulder where she had gone.  If he assumed that she would be 
staying at his apartment again that evening, even though she expected 
that he'd be late like the night before, she knew he'd want to know if 
she weren't going to be there.  Besides that, she had his car. 
Scully took out her cel phone and dialed his cel number.  After four 
rings she heard his voice, but there was static and she realized that 
it was his voice mail. 
"It's me."  She said, "You may be expecting me to go straight to 
your apartment and stay there, Mulder, but I'm on my way to Falls 
Church to speak with Senator Harman about Donald Mathers.  I think 
Senator Harman may have some answers as to why Mathers chose to murder 
those people and then try to make it look like the Senator was 
involved." 
There was a loud burst of static and she pulled the phone away from her 
ear, then put moved it back when she heard the sound cease.  She looked 
at the phone, only to see a blank display screen.  She punched the 
power button a few times, but to no avail.  Silently cursing herself 
for waiting too long to have it looked at, she tossed it onto the 
passenger seat of the car. 
  
  
By the time Skinner had gotten the full story on Mathers from Mulder on 
their way his apartment at the Watergate, there were two D.C.P.D. 
patrol cars waiting for them at the complex to act as backup. 
Detective McCracken was among those waiting. 
"Good to see you again, Agent Mulder.  I was worried we'd lost you a 
while back."  McCracken nodded to A.D. Skinner in greeting and returned 
his attention back to the charismatic, but 'difficult to peg' Special 
Agent. 
Mulder motioned for the patrol officers to gather round as he 
responded.  "I take a lickin', but I keep on tickin', McCracken, just 
like a Timex.  I appreciate the thought, though."  Mulder looked beyond 
McCracken's line of sight as he addressed the whole group.  "Okay, the 
suspect is Donald Mathers, mid-forties, 5' 10", dark hair, brown eyes, 
gold wire-rimmed glasses.  He is to be approached with caution.  His 
M.O. doesn't indicate he'll be carrying a weapon, but be cautious just 
in case.  Detective McCracken can fill you in on the details." 
As Mulder and Skinner moved toward the front entrance of the Watergate 
complex, McCracken stepped forward to finish the briefing.  Before the 
two men walked through the front doors, the other uniformed officers 
were moving into their positions.  The two agents took the elevator to 
the 5th floor with McCracken not far behind them. 
The apartment was down the hall past a large bank of windows that 
looked out over the Tidal Basin.  Mulder stepped to the right of the 
door, allowing coverage from both sides.  McCracken stood behind 
Skinner, out of the line of any possible fire, if they had pegged their 
suspect incorrectly.  The men drew their weapons and had them at the 
ready above the shoulder.  Skinner knocked on the door. 
Nothing.  No response. 
Skinner shouted out so he could be heard through the door with 
authority.  "Donald Mathers! FBI! We'd like to ask you a few 
questions." Again, no response. "We have a search warrant!" 
Silence. 
Skinner looked over at Mulder, who was ready to try opening the door. 
They made eye contact then he nodded for Mulder to proceed.  He tried 
the doorknob. 
Locked. 
Mulder reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out a small package 
from which he removed a small, delicate and highly unorthodox lock 
pick.  Deftly, he slid the pick into the door's lock and twisted, 
feeling the tumblers move into alignment.  He gave the doorknob a 
little turn and the door popped open, just as a black cat sprung from 
the opening, startling the men in the hallway for a flash of a second. 
"Guess we let the cat out of the bag," Mulder quipped to no one in 
particular as the men steeled themselves, then rushed through the door. 
Two uniformed officers entered right behind them.  Each man spread out 
into a different direction as they began to search the premises for 
their suspect.  It was obvious he wasn't home. 
Mulder holstered his gun, and moved through the apartment to the 
bedroom.  It was nothing fancy: a rumpled bed, a dresser, a mirror, a 
chair with some shirts and ties thrown across the back. On the 
nightstand next to the bed, Mulder spotted two envelopes with an 
invoice attached. 
Quickly pulling on a pair of latex gloves, he picked up the envelopes 
and noted that the larger of the two was stiff from an inserted piece 
of cardboard.  Paper-clipped to the smaller envelope was a professional 
photographer's receipt for black and white photo processing: Ronald A. 
Dobbs, Photographer.  This was the same photographer that took the 
photo at the yacht club of Senator Harman and Lisa Lewis.  He made a 
mental note to pull him in for further questioning. 
Mulder looked inside the envelope with the cardboard, but it was empty. 
He struck paydirt, however, when he looked into the second.  It 
contained the  negatives of Scully and him at dinner; waiting for the 
car; in her apartment.  There were also negatives of what appeared to 
be Scully alone.  Portraits, actually.  He bet if he had them printed, 
they'd prove to be portraits of Leslie Martin made to look like Scully. 
Probably photos to guide them in their efforts to impersonate his 
partner and the woman he loved.  He quickly looked around to see if any 
of the D.C. investigators or Skinner saw him as he separated the 
portraits out from the surveillance photos, folded the envelope as 
small as possible and place it in his inside jacket pocket.  Better 
that these stayed out of the evidence bag unless they became crucial to 
the case, he thought.  He bagged the negatives of the portraits and 
moved on. 
Poking through the rest of the belongings in the bedroom, nothing stuck 
out as pertinent to the case, so he continued into the adjoining 
bathroom.  Things were pretty typical there, too.  Mulder rummaged 
through the suspect's toiletries, then turned to the medicine cabinet. 
On the third shelf next to the expensive aftershave stood an array of 
pill bottles of various sizes.  One of the larger ones had a label 
identical to the type found on the bottle in Lisa Lewis' apartment at 
the time of her death.  The bottle had no registered pharmaceutical 
markings and no doctor's name or numbers.  The label was largely empty 
except for the marker scrawl that read 'Norco.' 
The bottle appeared to be more than half empty. 
Mulder bagged the evidence and turned to leave the bathroom, just as 
Skinner entered the bedroom to find him.  "Did you turn up anything? 
I've got an officer bagging receipts and other papers from the desk. 
We should be able to turn up something that connects him to the 
purchase of that suit." 
Skinner appeared slightly excited, enervated by the search and the 
feeling of being out on the street again, if only for a short time. 
"I'm sure Scully will be able to link the pills in this bottle to the 
drugs found in Lisa Lewis' system at the time of her death.  He's 
definitely our man, Sir, but I don't think this guy is an experienced 
felon.  I think this is a crime of..." 
"Sir?"  One of the uniformed officers stood in the doorway holding a 
bag that contained a can bearing a striking resemblance to crystal 
Drano.  "Sir, I noticed this in the bottom of the suspect's coat closet 
and thought it seemed out of place.  I checked the label.  According to 
our briefing, it contains the same concentrated chemical as the one 
used in the death of the last victim." 
Skinner looked over at Mulder and was able to catch the sickened 
anguish in his eyes as he imagined what it must be like to die in this 
way.  He stepped forward to receive the second evidence bag.  "Good 
work, officer.  See to it that this gets put into evidence with the 
other items we're collecting." 
"Yes, sir."  The patrolman exited the bedroom, but before Mulder and 
Skinner could return to their conversation, he reappeared at the door. 
"Sir, Detective McCracken says you both should come out to the living 
room.  He's found something." 
Detective McCracken had just removed the object from the floor of the 
hall closet.  He had to tug a little to get it past some of the other 
items in the closet, so he was a little out of breath.  He held a small 
aluminum suitcase in his hands - the kind that photographers carried 
expensive camera equipment in, or that guns were stored in.  He opened 
the case to find the foam rubber cutouts carved into the exact shape of 
a .38 revolver.  He knew this because the gun was missing. 
The two FBI men exchanged looks with McCracken, but said nothing.  The 
discovery was self-explanatory.  The suspect had taken the next 
dangerous step.  He was armed and could be anywhere in the DC Area. 
Mulder surveyed the room one more time as they stood there in the 
center with the new evidence in hand.  His eye caught on the other 
items McCracken had pulled from the floor of the closet, and he moved 
to take a look at them.  His foot caught on a strap sticking out from 
the dark closet, and he leaned down to pick it up, pulling out a video 
camera case with the camera still inside.  No doubt the same camera 
used to videotape them at Scully's apartment the night before... 
Mulder's heartbeat increased and he suddenly had the strong impulse to 
get going.  Putting two and two together, he realized that Mathers was 
packing heat and he may try to make good on his threats. 
He had to get to Scully.  He had to find this guy, and find him now. 
His gaze sought out A.D. Skinner's returning look.  Skinner knew 
Mulder had to move.  He hadn't yet made all the same connections Mulder 
had, but he trusted him enough to know that look meant... 
'Don't hold me back.' 
"I'll take care of the arrest warrant."  Skinner pulled out his cel 
phone and began barking orders.  "Detective, put out an A.P.B. on 
Donald Mathers.  Subject is believed armed and dangerous, and should be 
approached with caution." 
The Assistant Director was empowering his partner to take off, and 
Mulder knew it.  He nodded in acknowledgment and gratitude and headed 
for the door as Skinner finished up in the apartment, pulling out his 
own cel phone as he slipped into the hallway. 
Scully's cel phone rang through on his end four times, then her voice 
mail picked up.  Mulder muttered "damn!" under this breath and spoke 
after the sound of the tone.  "Scully, it's me.  Listen, we've got 
enough on Mathers to arrest him - Skinner has called in the warrant. 
He's armed, Scully, and I think he may be coming after you.  If you're 
still at work, stay there.  If not, meet me at my apartment.  I'm on my 
way there right now." 
He stepped out of the Watergate lobby into the evening dusk, and with 
single-minded urgency, strode over to the curb and hailed a cab.  He 
looked down at his phone and noticed the message indicator was on, 
telling him he had a message waiting for him.  Retrieving the message, 
the electronic voice told him was from that afternoon, but all he could 
make out of the recorded message was static.  Scully's voice cut in on 
several difference syllables in between the static, but he couldn't 
make out any specific word, let alone her message. 
When they pulled up in front of his building, Mulder noticed Scully's 
car was in the same position it had been in that morning.  He looked up 
at the window, hoping that by sheer force of will she'd appear.  Before 
the taxi could come to a complete stop in the passenger zone in front 
of Mulder's building, he had paid the driver and jumped out.  He was up 
the steps and through the entrance before the car could pull away from 
the curb. 
  
  
The last rays of the sunset were still glowing in the sky when Scully 
turned onto the long driveway leading to Senator Harman's estate.  She 
hadn't noticed when she and Mulder had been there in the daylight, but 
now with dusk descending she could see clear lights sparkling in the 
dogwood trees, making it appear almost like something out of a fairy- 
tale. 
She parked Mulder's car in front of the house and was met at the door 
of the main house by the Senator himself. 
"Agent Scully.  Nice to see you again."  He drawled, holding his hand 
out as a sign for her to enter the house. 
Scully felt she had stepped into the pages of a Ralph Lauren catalog. 
The foyer was circular, with a large intricately carved round walnut 
table in the center topped by a huge bouquet of roses, no doubt from 
the Senator's own garden.  There were two paintings opposite each other 
depicting fox hunting scenes.  The floor was white marble. 
The Senator directed her through a doorway on the left, which turned 
out to be a hallway leading to a large room filled with books.  There 
was a comfortable but expensive looking saddle leather sofa with a 
burgundy and dark green horse blanket draped along the back, and 
directly opposite sat two large tapestry wing back chairs covered in a 
colorful fox-hunt motif print.  One large corner of the room was a 
dedicated bar carved out of walnut and boasting an enormous variety of 
full liquor bottles, crystal glasses and a few brass accessories, 
including a beer tap. 
"Agent Mulder wasn't able to join us?"  The Senator asked, leading her 
to one of the wingback chairs. 
"I'm afraid not." Scully replied as she took her seat.  "Thank you for 
seeing me on such short notice, Senator." 
The Senator nodded pleasantly, sitting on the sofa opposite her.  "I 
imagine this has something to do with the investigation you and your 
partner are working on.  Have you been able to find what you've been 
looking for?" 
Scully hesitated a moment.  "Actually, we may have a break in the case. 
That's why I'm here."  She sat up straighter in her chair and licked 
her lips quickly.  "Senator, what can you tell me about Donald 
Mathers?" 
"Donald Mathers?"  The Senator said, surprised.  "Donald was my staff 
assistant until about a year ago.  He took a position with a public 
relations firm in DC." 
Scully nodded, shifting in the chair.  She proceeded discreetly. 
"Senator, is there any truth to the rumor that Donald Mathers left your 
employment over an indiscretion involving his girlfriend at the time, 
Stephanie Curtis?" 
The Senator's eyes closed a moment, and he dropped his chin slightly. 
Then he looked back at Scully with a look of regret.  "I believe my 
indiscretion fed the media for several months when it became public 
knowledge." 
Scully watched him, trying to maintain a sympathetic demeanor.  "So 
you're saying the rumors were true?" 
He looked at her a moment, stood, and crossed the room to the bar. 
"Would you like a drink, Agent Scully?" 
"No thank you."  She replied, watching him and waiting for a reply. 
He poured himself a short glass of something that looked like it might 
be Scotch, took a sip and returned to the sofa.  "Donald was in love 
with Stephanie.  The kind of love that becomes almost obsessive.  She 
didn't return the sentiment and he blamed me for it.  I admit I didn't 
handle the situation in the most appropriate way, and I've paid a price 
for it.  My hope for Donald is that he's been able to put it behind him 
like I have." 
Scully drew in a breath.  "Senator, I believe that Donald Mathers still 
blames you.  I believe he's murdered at least three, possibly four 
people with the intent of framing you to take the fall." 
The Senator was visibly affected by the statement, but before he could 
reply a tall, attractive dark haired woman who appeared to be in her 
middle to late forties entered the room. 
"Rob, is something the matter?"  She asked, her face showing her 
concern. 
The Senator looked up, his face becoming more relaxed as his eyes met 
hers.  "Diane, I'd like you to meet Special Agent Scully from the FBI." 
The woman turned toward her and Scully stood, holding out her hand. 
They shook hands and the woman smiled.  "Agent Scully, it's nice to 
finally meet you.  I'm sorry you and your partner weren't able to 
accept my invitation to dinner last month." 
Scully looked surprised a moment, then smiled.  "No, we were tied up 
with a case.  But thank you for thinking of us, Mrs. Harman."  She 
didn't mention that the invitation had been in her name only.  It was 
probably just a secretarial error. 
Mrs. Harman was dressed casually in slacks and a soft blue blouse, 
accenting her blue eyes.  She wore her hair in a style similar to 
Scully's, only a bit longer, and there was an elegance about her that 
spoke of society and old money. 
"It was my hope, by inviting you and your partner to dinner, Agent 
Scully, that we might be able to discuss the case you spoke with my 
husband about, involving the deaths of Steven Hoyt and his friend, Lisa 
Lewis." 
Scully let out her breath and nodded.  "That is why I'm here.  I 
believe our suspect may have been trying to frame the Senator for those 
deaths." 
Senator Harman looked at his wife, taking the hand she had placed on 
his knee in between his two hands.  "Diane, the FBI suspects that 
Donald Mathers is involved in Steven's and Lisa's deaths." 
Mrs. Harman looked shocked. "Donald?"  She glanced from her husband to 
Scully and back.  "I can't believe it.  Donald is a nice, soft-spoken 
man.  He and Steven were friends." 
Scully closed her eyes a moment, then looked back at the couple.  "Have 
you had any contact with him in the last year?" 
They were both silent for a moment, scanning their memories for the 
answer.  Neither came up with an answer other than a slight shake of 
the head. 
"Senator," Scully continued, "When you last spoke with Donald Mathers, 
did he give you any indication that he harbored a grudge toward you?" 
The Senator blew out a puff of air and glanced sideways at his wife. 
"Donald said some things in the heat of the moment.  He was upset.  No 
one took his words to mean anything more than angry ranting." 
"What did he say?"  Scully coaxed, her voice gentle. 
The Senator and his wife exchanged a look, and Mrs. Harman replied. 
"We were hosting a fundraising dinner that Steven had coordinated. 
Donald hadn't been himself all evening.  Some of the men had stepped 
out onto the terrace to enjoy the box of cigars that one of the guests 
had brought Robert as a gift.  Donald began berating Robert, speaking 
in a manner that was objectionable and highly inappropriate in mixed 
company, let alone to one's employer and friend.  I won't repeat his 
entire speech, but at the end he told Robert, 'You'll go down.'"  Mrs. 
Harman's eyes met Scully's.  "Agent Scully, is Robert in any danger?" 
Her voice was calm, but her eyes showed her fear. 
Scully paused.  "I don't believe he is, but I would suggest that you 
both exercise a little caution until we talk with him.  Agent Mulder is 
trying to reach him now for questioning.  It appears that his intention 
is to publicly and/or politically ruin the Senator's reputation." 
Mrs. Harman looked at her husband and gave his hand a squeeze.  He gave 
her a reassuring look that only came from years of silent 
communication. 
"Agent Scully," he said, "Diane and I are both grateful to you for 
sharing this information with us.  We'll give you and the Bureau our 
full cooperation in any way necessary to help you close this 
investigation and bring Donald Mathers to justice." 
Scully stood to leave, feeling the Harman's anxiety over the turn of 
events as they bade her farewell.  "Thank you, Senator...Mrs. Harman. 
Agent Mulder or I will be in touch as soon as we hear anything." 
  
  
Scully was not waiting inside his apartment as he'd hoped, and there 
was no sign that she'd been there since they left for work together 
that morning.  Mulder rubbed a hand over his chin and sat on the sofa, 
his apprehension growing.  Picking up his telephone he dialed her 
apartment, but after several rings her answering machine picked up. 
"Hey Scully, it's me."  He paused in case she might be screening her 
calls.  "Scully, if you're there, pick up.  It's urgent."  He paused 
again.  "Alright, when you get this message call me."  He paused, his 
voice becoming softer.  "Call me, okay?" 
He hung up and dropped the handset on the coffee table, running both of 
his hands through his hair and hooking them together behind his head. 
Leaning back, he looked up at the ceiling. 
Something didn't feel right. 
He couldn't bring himself to even entertain the thought that the one 
sexual encounter between them had changed anything.  When she left him 
at the boutique that afternoon, things were fine.  They hadn't actually 
confirmed plans for that evening, but he knew she wouldn't be avoiding 
him, either.  He picked up the phone again and dialed the Bureau Crime 
Lab on the off chance that she might still be there. 
Agent Ross picked up the phone. 
"It's Agent Mulder."  He said, "is Agent Scully around?" 
Agent Ross paused.  "I haven't seen her since around six.  She might 
have gone with Danny and some of the others over to the hospital to see 
Agent Mancina and the baby." 
Mulder's tension eased a little.  "Do you know which hospital?" 
"Uh, yeah.  Georgetown." 
Mulder muttered his thanks and dialed information for the number to 
Georgetown Medical Center, then asked for Obstetrics and Agent 
Mancina's room. 
"Hello?"  Agent Mancina answered with a chuckle.  The sound of 
chattering and cooing could be heard in the background. 
"Hey, Mancina, it's Mulder." 
"Hey, gorgeous!  Thanks for the flowers." 
Mulder forced himself through the pleasantries.  "You're welcome.  How 
are you and the little guy?" 
The sound of a newborn wailing could be heard in the background.  "Oh, 
we're just great.  You hear that?  He's gonna be a rock singer." 
"Great."  He forced a laugh.  "Hey, is Scully there by any chance?" 
"Lost your partner again, Mulder?"  Mancina's voice was a bit muffled 
as she asked if anyone had seen Dana.  Someone replied and she came 
back on the line.  "Danny said Scully had something to do this evening 
so she wasn't able to join us." 
Mulder let out a breath of frustration.  "Alright, thanks.  Did she 
happen to mention where she was going?" 
Mancina asked the room if Dana had mentioned to anyone where she might 
be going, then said, "No, sorry.  Is everything okay?" 
"Yeah, fine.  I just need to speak with her, that's all."  Mulder said. 
"Thanks, Mancina.  Can't wait to see the little guy." 
She said goodbye and he disconnected the phone again and tossed it on 
the coffee table.  Standing, he paced the floor like a caged tiger.  He 
stopped in the middle of the room and stared at the phone, sucking on 
his lower lip.  Then he grabbed the handset and dialed. 
"Lone Gunmen."  Frohike answered. 
"It's Mulder.  Is Scully there?" 
Frohike chuckled.  "Wouldn't YOU like to know?" 
"Cut the bullshit, Frohike.  I need to talk to her." 
Frohike heard the tension in Mulder's voice and his voice became 
concerned.  "Hey, ease off, G-Man, she's not here.  What's going on?" 
Mulder signed, plopping down into the chair behind him.  "I got this 
cryptic message on my cel that was about 95 percent static, and she's 
not answering her cel.  I've tried her apartment and work but the most 
I could find out was she told somebody that she had something to do 
this evening." 
"Maybe she has a date."  Frohike's weak joke was met with stony 
silence.  "Did you try her mother?" 
"No, I don't want to worry her unless I absolutely have to.  He glanced 
over at his desk and saw Scully's car keys on top of a stack of files. 
"Listen, if you hear from her, tell her to call me on my cel, alright? 
I'm gonna go over to her apartment and see if she's been there." 
"Does this have anything to do with that A.P.B. the Bureau put out on 
Donald Mathers this afternoon?" 
"How did-" Mulder stopped, remembering that the Gunmen scanned all of 
the police channels in the DC Metropolitan area.  "Christ, I hope not." 
He swallowed.  "Listen, do me a favor."  He paused, his voice tight. 
"Call the local hospitals and find out if anyone matching her 
description has been admitted in the last couple of hours." 
Frohike was somber.  "Sure thing.  Don't worry, man, she's probably out 
at the mall or something." 
Mulder rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.  "Yeah, probably. 
Let me know if you hear anything." 
"Yeah, okay." 
Mulder tossed the phone back down on the coffee table and blinked 
bleary-eyed at the clock on his desk.  There was a gnawing in his gut 
that told him that something was wrong, and the longer he went without 
hearing from Scully, the worse the feeling became. 
  
  
Scully left the Harman's estate with a completely different opinion of 
the Senator than the one she arrived there with.  Despite his affection 
for attractive younger women, the Senator seemed to love his wife 
deeply.  To the observer, it looked like a love that went far beyond 
the physical distractions of sex.  It came from years of knowing and 
loving someone. 
It was similar to the love that she and Mulder shared, or at least, she 
liked to think that they were like that.  They had a deep-rooted bond 
from years of working side-by-side against enormous odds and in life- 
threatening situations.  The sex was new but the emotions were very 
old. 
She drove through the darkness, deep in thought, oblivious to the 
countryside and the glittering stars above.  A few cars passed in the 
opposite direction but she paid them no attention as her mind replayed 
the sweet memory of Mulder making love to her that morning. 
When the car came up behind her she might not have noticed it unless 
she had a reason to believe she was being followed.  The headlights 
were off and there were no street lamps and very little moonlight to 
grant her visual aid.  At the initial impact she was jolted out of her 
musing, her body lurching forward but restrained by the seatbelt.  She 
touched the brakes out of reflex and looked to the rear-view, trying to 
make out the source of the impact. 
The second impact tossed her harder against the restraints, bruising 
her sternum from the pressure and knocking her head painfully against 
the side window, sending her into the opposite lane of traffic.  The 
headlights bearing down on her made her gasp and swerve, and the last 
thing she saw before the airbag exploded in her face and everything 
went dark was the muddy water of the roadside irrigation ditch. 
  
END CHAPTER ELEVEN 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER TWELVE 
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon; 
  How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, 
Streaking the darkness radiantly!-yet soon 
  Night closes round, and they are lost for ever: 
Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings 
  Give various response to each varying blast, 
To whose frail frame no second motion brings 
  One mood or modulation like the last. 
We rest.-A dream has power to poison sleep; 
  We rise.-One wandering thought pollutes the day; 
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep; 
  Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away: 
It is the same!-For, be it joy or sorrow, 
  The path of its departure still is free: 
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; 
  Nought may endure but Mutability. 
- Percy Bysshe Shelley 
  
Mulder was almost to Scully's apartment in Georgetown when his cel 
phone trilled on the seat next to him.  He grabbed the phone and 
punched the 'talk' button. 
"Scully?"  He asked anxiously. 
"I'm trying to reach Agent Mulder."  The voice was male - familiar, but 
he couldn't place it. 
"Yeah, this is Mulder."  He replied, recovering.  "Who's this?" 
"Agent Mulder, Detective McCracken.  Hey, I was just down getting 
coffee and our boys picked up a 911 call to the Falls Church PD on the 
scanner.  They said there'd been an accident and EMTs were requested 
for a female victim.  They ran a trace on the vehicle involved in the 
accident and it came back registered to you." 
Mulder hit the brakes on Scully's car hard and skidded to a stop, his 
heart seemingly stopping along with it.  He turned the car around and 
headed for I-66.  "Falls Church, you said?" 
"Falls Church.  Do you need me to send any back up?" 
Mulder gunned the accelerator as he entered the Interstate.  "I don't 
know yet.  I should be there in about ten minutes."  He disconnected 
the call and tossed the cel phone back to the passenger seat, sucking 
in a deep breath. 
In the country darkness he could see the red glow from the emergency 
vehicles long before he reached the scene.  He hit the accelerator 
pedal harder and raced to the site, pulling up behind two Falls Church 
police cars and cutting the engine as he opened his door.  He jogged 
forward, slowing as he saw his car resting in the ditch in front of the 
police vehicles, noticing the smashed-in rear fender, the deployed 
airbag and the blood against the side window.  Despite feeling as if 
the wind had been knocked out of him, he sprinted the rest of the way 
to the paramedic van. 
Scully was sitting on the back of the van, answering questions as a 
paramedic tended to her head injury and a Falls Church uniformed police 
officer stood nearby taking notes as she responded.  Her pants and 
shoes were covered with mud, and there was a track of blood trickling 
down the side of her face.  Another uniformed police officer was 
speaking with a middle-aged man near a Mercedes further down the road. 
When she saw Mulder appear around the side of the paramedic vehicle her 
first reaction was to sit up straighter, giving him a look with her 
eyes to convey that she was fine.  His eyes were dark with fear and he 
stopped, bending at the waist and grabbing his knees as he sucked in 
several deep breaths of air to try and catch his breath.  When he 
looked back up at her, his face awash with relief and emotion. 
Upon closer examination, Scully wore an expression of irritation and 
embarrassment, like a child who had knowingly gotten caught 
misbehaving.  Mulder straightened and stepped closer to her, still 
breathing heavy. 
"What happened?"  He asked. 
Scully didn't meet his gaze.  "I was run off the road."  Her voice was 
defensive, but vulnerable instead of sharp. 
He took in few more breaths.  "Did you see who it was?" 
She closed her eyes and he knew then that she hadn't seen the 
perpetrator.  But there was more than that.  She was blaming herself 
for the incident. 
"Scully..." 
She looked away, wincing as the paramedic swabbed her temple with 
antiseptic.  "I'm fine, Mulder." 
He stood with his hands on his hips, shuffling from foot to foot as his 
irritation grew.  He didn't expect her to throw herself into his arms. 
Hell, he was just damn glad she was alright.  But he had thought that 
they were past this self-sufficiency bullshit.  He looked down the road 
to where the uniformed officer was speaking with the middle-aged 
gentleman, and pulling his I.D. out of his back jeans pocket, he strode 
over to them. 
"I'm Special Agent Mulder with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  My 
partner is the woman who was driving the car, MY car.  Are you a 
witness?" 
The gentleman was kind looking, with light brown hair and brown eyes 
that were a bit glassy from the shock of a near-miss in what very 
easily could have been a fatal accident.  "As I told the officer, I 
didn't see the other car until it passed me on the road." 
Mulder nodded.  "Can you start over, from the beginning?"  He glanced 
at the police officer, who took in a breath of frustration, but nodded 
his assent. 
The man looked from the officer to Mulder, and sighed.  "My name is 
Geoffrey Roberts.  I was on my way home from the airport - I'm just 
returning from a business trip to Chicago."  He paused, looking at 
Mulder for acknowledgement before continuing.  "I could see her car 
coming toward me in the distance, and the car swerved a bit, just 
enough to attract my attention.  As I got closer, the car swerved 
again, this time right into my lane, and I hit the brakes.  The lady 
driving was quick to respond, and drove right into the irrigation 
ditch.  I swear, we would have hit head-on if she hadn't been so 
quick."  He looked up at Mulder, who was watching him with steely eyes, 
his jaw set.  "Another car passed mine, just behind her, with no lights 
on."  He drew in a shaky breath, running a hand over his face.  "If I'd 
swerved into her lane to avoid hitting her, I would have been hit head- 
on by that car.  Either way, I'd be dead on the road." 
Mulder nodded with compassion.  "Did you see the driver of the other 
car?" 
The man shook his head.  "No, it all happened so fast.  I think it was 
a dark sedan, but beyond that I can't tell you much else." 
"You called in the accident?"  Mulder asked. 
"Yeah, I have a cel phone because I'm on the road so much.  I called it 
in to 911 and ran over to check on the driver.  She was unconscious for 
a few minutes, but came to and climbed out of the car just as the 
police arrived." 
Mulder looked at the uniformed officer.  "Did you get any paint samples 
off of the car..." he peered down at the man's name tag "...Officer 
Moore?" 
Moore looked at him in the blank way uniformed officers were known to 
do.  "No Sir.  As this is a no fatality hit-and-run we usually leave 
the investigation up to the insurance companies." 
Mulder chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked at Moore.  He 
was young, and obviously inexperienced.  "This is a hit and run 
involving a Federal Agent of the United States Government, Son.  That 
makes it a Federal crime.  Now, either you boys get somebody out here 
who knows what they're doing to collect evidence, or I'll call it in 
and get my men to do it." 
Moore looked sheepish, and Mulder turned his attention back to Mr. 
Roberts.  He pulled a business card out from behind the badge in his 
I.D. wallet and handed it to the man.  "Here's my number.  If you 
think of anything else regarding the other vehicle, please call me." 
Then he turned toward the officer.  "I assume you'll be filing a full 
report?"  He asked, pointedly. 
"Yes Sir."  The officer replied stiffly. 
Mulder turned and stalked back toward the paramedic vehicle, where 
Scully was standing alone with her arms crossed in front of her.  "I'm 
done here.  Can we go?"  She asked crankily when he was within earshot. 
He stopped in front of her, a wall of Mulder with his hands on his 
hips, looking her over with irritation in his eyes, along with 
something else.  Disappointment?  He gave a terse jerk of his head 
toward her car and said, "Let's go." 
Except for the brief call Mulder made to Detective McCracken explaining 
the situation, they both were silent as Mulder drove them back into the 
city.  He was angrily clutching the steering wheel tightly with both 
hands, and she was staring out the passenger window, her arms crossed 
in front of her - feeling sheepish and pissed. 
Scully was waging an internal battle, one where she silently berated 
herself for allowing this to happen.  Because it wasn't her case and 
she had no reason to be out in the Virginia countryside in the first 
place.  Because like a schoolgirl, she'd been daydreaming about Mulder 
instead of paying attention to the road.  And like a schoolgirl who 
borrowed her parents' car without asking and then would have to pay the 
consequences, she'd wrecked Mulder's car.  Then to add insult to 
injury, Mulder had to come and rescue her. 
But that wasn't the end of it.  Mulder had passed the turnoff to go to 
her apartment, which meant that either she dropped him off at his 
apartment and drove herself home, or she came up and spent the night 
with him.  Considering the fact that someone had run her off of the 
road, whether or not it had anything to do with the anonymous telephone 
calls he'd received, there wasn't a chance in Hell he'd let her leave 
his apartment alone. 
He'd want to talk about it, obviously.  That was the last thing she 
wanted to do, as she wasn't in control of her emotions, feeling both 
stupid and defensive. 
He glanced over at her when he noticed her look up at the exit to 
Georgetown.  She glanced at him when he turned back to watch the road. 
After a long period of silence, he finally spoke. 
"What's this all about, Scully?" 
She laid her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes with a 
sigh, opting to steer the conversation to the least emotional topic she 
could think of.  "I'm sorry about your car."  She said with 
resignation. 
He bit his lip and held on to his composure, although he seriously 
wanted to pound his fist against the steering wheel.  "I don't give a 
FUCK about the car, Scully." 
She didn't open her eyes, but she inhaled a deep breath through her 
nose.  "I'll pay the deductible, anyway." 
He gritted his teeth and pulled up to his building, throwing the car 
into 'park' and turning to face her.  "Damnit, Scully!  Talk to me!" 
She opened her eyes and looked at him, her defenses flaring.  "What do 
you want me to say, Mulder?  That I screwed up?  That I shouldn't have 
been in Falls Church in the first place?  That I should have been 
sitting dutifully in your apartment with a casserole in the oven, 
waiting for you to come home from work?" 
His left arm was resting atop the steering wheel and he laid his 
forehead against his bicep.  When he looked up at her, his eyes were 
weary.  "You're still angry because I got Danny to ask for your help in 
the lab." 
She rolled her eyes and threw open the door, launching herself out of 
the car.  He followed suit and watched her over the roof of the car, 
biting his lip.  She met his gaze.  "I'm not angry, Mulder."  She said. 
"I just don't know how to do this." 
He released his lip from his teeth and shook his head.  "Do what?" 
She sighed with frustration and looked down at the ground a moment. 
"This!"  She gestured between them.  "I don't know how I factor into 
this equation anymore!" 
He looked at her silently, reading her face.  "You're my partner."  He 
said quietly. 
"Am I?"  She asked, slamming the car door and leaning forward on her 
palms against it.  "I sure as Hell don't FEEL like your partner, 
Mulder."  She turned and headed for the front door of his building and 
he followed her. 
"You KNOW this is only temporary."  He said from behind her.  She threw 
open the lobby door and punched the elevator call button.  Mulder 
caught up with her just as the elevator doors opened and they both 
stepped into the car.  She jabbed the button for the fourth floor and 
turned to face him.  "The work, or all of it?" 
He studied her expression.  "Meaning, what?" 
She looked at the floor with her lips pursed, thinking.  "When we 
decided that we were going to make this..." she looked up, waving her 
hand between them, "...more than what it had been, we discussed a few 
reasons why we should move on to the next level, for lack of a better 
term.  Reasons that were by and large hormonal.  What we should have 
discussed was timing." 
He crossed his arms in front of him.  "After seven years, don't you 
think that timing is a moot point?" 
The elevator opened and she stepped out, walking toward his apartment 
with him a step behind.  "No, Mulder, after seven years, timing is 
everything." 
Her words sounded hauntingly like the words Leslie Martin had spoken to 
him.  They stopped in front of his door and he leaned against it, 
facing her.  "What are you suggesting here, Scully?"  He asked. 
She looked up at him and sighed.  "Why did we wait seven years in the 
first place, Mulder?  We had a strong partnership with a high solve 
rate.  We got to the bottom of the conspiracy and the men behind it. 
We got the X Files back and our credibility along with it.  Why this, 
why now?" 
He watched her and listened intently, although his body was a mass of 
perpetual motion.  He noticed that not one time did she mention 
feelings.  Everything was presented to him in cold, hard facts.  No 
love, no caring.  No desire. 
Just facts. 
He could feel a physical pain tightening his chest.  Turning away from 
her, he inserted the key into the lock and threw the door open, 
storming inside, this time leaving her to follow him.  He stopped in 
his living room, and with his hands on his hips, he hung his head, 
kicking at the carpet. 
"Maybe you're right, Scully."  He said softly, looking over at her. 
"Maybe this was a bad idea." 
She felt as if a knife had been turned in her own chest and moisture 
rose in her eyes as she looked at him, then past him, her lips pursing. 
She was about to say that he was reading more into her statement than 
she intended when he brushed past her and went into the kitchen, 
opening a cabinet and then pouring a glass of water.  When he came 
back, he handed her the glass along with two white capsules. 
"Here, it's Tylenol.  If your head doesn't hurt now, it will."  He sat 
on the sofa, grabbing the remote and switching on the television and 
tuning her out.  "You can take the first shower." 
She paused, staring at the two small capsules in her hand, then popped 
the Tylenol into her mouth and took a long drink.  She took the glass 
into the kitchen and set it in the sink, then grabbed her overnight bag 
from the living room and disappeared into the bathroom without another 
word. 
  
  
Scully stepped out of the shower and carefully toweled off, feeling the 
Tylenol she'd swallowed taking effect.  She towel dried her hair and 
slid on her white silk pajamas, cracking the bathroom door to allow 
some of the steam to dissipate, when she heard the phone ring.  Pushing 
the door open a bit wider, she listened to find out if the call was 
about the case.  Mulder picked it up in the bedroom. 
"Frohike!  God, I forgot.  Sorry."  Mulder's voice was rough, perhaps a 
shade hoarse.  "No, she's fine.  Really."  His voice became softer and 
she had to strain to hear.  "Yeah, but it's not important. It's just a 
car.  She's alright, that's all that matters."  His voice got louder 
again, his tone defensive.  "Hey, I'm sorry, alright!  I really 
appreciate your help.  Scully does, too." 
Scully dropped her head, feeling her cheeks growing warm as shame and 
regret washed over her.  Wrapped up in her own guilt and selfish 
concerns, she hadn't fully considered what Mulder must have been going 
through as he drove to the scene of the accident.  He was already 
vulnerable about her safety, from the Padgett case and the residual 
nightmares, and the shock of having her virtual twin die while he held 
her helplessly in his arms.  She was so used to Mulder fending for 
himself that she'd effectively shut him out at a time when he'd really 
needed her emotional support.  And she was the one who not so long ago 
had accused him of not being emotionally available. 
"Yeah, I'll tell her.  Thanks."  She heard Mulder replace the handset 
and she stepped out of the bathroom, stealing a glance at him.  He was 
sitting on the bed with his back to her, his head hung and his 
shoulders slumped.  She felt her chest constrict as she stepped back 
into the bathroom and silently closed the door, looking at herself in 
the mirror. 
'Nice going, partner.'  She admonished herself angrily.  She stared at 
her reflection a moment, as if sheer will could erase the damage done 
by just a few hastily spoken words.  Then she drew in a breath and 
straightened her shoulders, admitting to herself that the only thing 
she could do now was to open herself up and talk to Mulder about what 
happened that evening, including her own ugly behavior, whatever the 
consequences. 
  
  
Feeling stronger and more together after she'd blow-dried her hair, 
Scully stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, prepared for 
the impending conversation with Mulder.  He wasn't there, so she went 
looking for him, finding him in the kitchen, stripped down to his boxer 
briefs and washing a glass in the sink. 
She ran her eyes over the smooth, golden skin of his back, watching the 
muscles tense and shift as he moved his arms.  He could feel, or rather 
sense her standing behind him, and he sighed resignedly, "You can have 
the bed, Scully.  I'm too wired to sleep right now, anyway.  I'll crash 
on the sofa." 
He didn't turn around to face her, so he wasn't able to see the 
expression of sorrow that colored her face, or the tears that came 
readily at his sad resignation.  She moved slowly toward him, sliding 
her arms around his waist and pressing herself against him gently.  She 
buried her cheek between his shoulder blades and sighed, stilling his 
motions. 
"Sometimes I think there is something seriously wrong with me, Mulder." 
She said quietly, her voice muffled against his skin.  "I don't know 
why there are times when I feel like I have to push you away, when I 
should be more open and honest about what I'm feeling.  I really do 
love you, more than I can ever find the words to say." 
There was a long period of silence.  "You're not doing a bad job right 
now."  He replied, finally. 
"I want to do so much better, Mulder.  You deserve so much better." 
She stepped back as she felt him turn, wrapping his arms around her and 
gently pulling her against his chest.  She sniffed and he realized that 
she was crying. 
"Shhh."  He said, pressing his lips against her head, still warm from 
the hair dryer.  "I know.  Shhhh." 
"I wasn't paying attention to the road, Mulder.  I should have been 
watching for someone following me.  I was thinking about..." she 
paused, then forced herself to continue.  "...about you.  And about 
this morning." 
He smiled at the memory, pressing a kiss against her head once more. 
He thought he understood now why she was trying to separate herself 
from her emotions in this situation.  "I know."  He said.  "but you 
could have been thinking about a million other things just as easily. 
The truth is, you just didn't expect to be followed." 
"But I've been trained..." 
"Shh."  He said.  "You're allowed, Scully.  If it makes you feel any 
better, the man who phoned in the accident to the police says you saved 
his life.  He said it was your quick reflexes that saved him from a 
head-on collision with the car that ran you off the road." 
She took a deep breath and let it out.  "I spoke with Senator Harman 
and his wife." 
He lifted his head, and she laid her chin on his chest, looking up at 
him for a response.  When he turned his eyes back to her, they were a 
warm green.  "What did they have to say?" 
Taking another breath, she pulled back, her hands resting gently on his 
hips as his hands traced circles over her shoulder blades.  "That there 
had been a falling out between the Senator and Donald Mathers over 
Stephanie Curtis.  That Mathers had publicly threatened the Senator, 
telling him he'd pay for it." 
Mulder looked across the room, his mind quickly drawing conclusions. 
"We've got enough on this guy to indict him.  I just wish we could find 
him before he does any more damage." 
She watched him a moment.  "There's something else, Mulder.  Mrs. 
Harman told me she sent the invitation to dinner.  To both of us.  She 
said she intended for the four of us to sit down and discuss what 
happened to Lisa Lewis and Steven Hoyt.  That perhaps they may have 
been able to shed more light on the investigation." 
Mulder pulled back and looked at her, his expression puzzled.  "Does 
that sound a little odd to you?" 
She looked up at him, her brow furrowed.  "Well, it didn't when she 
said it earlier." 
"Why didn't she just call and say that was her intention?  And if 
Mathers is the one who made the anonymous calls, how would he know 
about the invitation?" 
"Did he actually say anything about the invitation in the call?" 
He thought a moment.  "No.  He said you should choose your refusals 
more carefully." 
"Mulder, that could be interpreted at least a dozen ways." 
He looked at her a moment and nodded.  "You're right, Scully.  Maybe 
he's still in contact with someone on the Senator's staff who gave him 
the information.  Regardless, he's our guy." 
"I take it your search of his apartment was successful?"  She asked, 
eyebrows raised. 
"It was like winning the lottery."  He said with a smirk.  "The sooner 
we get Donald Mathers into custody, the sooner you and I get back to 
investigating X Files."  He kissed her forehead, dropped his arms and 
stepped out of her embrace.  Moving over to the refrigerator, he pulled 
open the door, bending to look inside.  "Have you eaten?"  He asked as 
he poked at some of the items on the shelves. 
She gazed at him in admiration.  He had forgiven her so much easier 
than she'd forgiven herself.  "No."  She replied as her wide eyes 
traveled over his broad back and lingered on his tight bottom.  She 
couldn't help herself.  Stepping up behind him, she slowly grazed the 
tips of her fingernails down his back, over the roundness of his butt, 
and reaching out to cup a cheek in each hand, gave him a gentle 
squeeze.  "You have a fabulous ass, Mulder." 
It was stated more as a fact than a come on.  He looked over his 
shoulder at her with dark eyes, a surprised look on his face.  His eyes 
issued a challenge as he turned and faced her, his hands hanging 
loosely at his sides.  "Like what you see, Scully?"  He rasped, his 
voice dark. 
Accepting his unspoken challenge, she crossed her arms in front of her 
and looked from his face down to his feet and back up again, taking in 
the shadows and contours of his bare, sculpted physique.  Smooth golden 
skin and dark, wiry hair completed by the impressive erection already 
growing inside of his boxer briefs, washboard stomach, razor stubble 
and topped off with a head of messy hair that had seen one too many 
finger-combings. 
He looked better than food. 
She put on her skeptical scientist expression, studying him the way she 
would a piece of evidence or a cadaver she was about to cut into.  "You 
know, Mulder, I don't believe I've ever told you..." Her voice was 
clinical, but the husky timbre betrayed more. 
"What?"  He asked, the sound of her voice accelerating his arousal. 
"I've been hot for your body since the day I met you."  She stepped 
closer to him, pressing her body against his and running her hands up 
his chest lightly as she playfully looked up at him.  He was warm and 
solid in all of the right places, his body heat radiating though the 
silk of her pajamas and warming her from the inside out. 
"Is that a pathologist's opinion or is that opinion based on other 
criteria?"  He grinned smugly.  His ego was secretly delighted that 
she'd finally admitted her attraction to him. 
"Well, the other criteria are a little hard to ignore at the moment." 
His hand went around her waist, pulling her lower body tightly against 
his as he began a slow grind against her, almost a slow dance.  Being 
allowed to touch her like this was still new, and looking into her eyes 
for approval he watched as her pupils grew even larger with arousal. 
Reverently, he reached out to smooth a wild strand of hair back down on 
the side of her head.  She slid her hand behind his neck in response, 
lacing her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling 
his mouth down as hers opened with a hunger that had nothing to do with 
food.  Their kiss was slow and erotic and it grew, hotter and hungrier. 
His mouth never left hers as his hands kneaded the flesh of her 
buttocks through white silk.  She slid her hands between his briefs and 
his bare ass, pushing the soft cotton down his thighs as far as she 
could reach without taking her mouth off his.  Finally having to break 
the kiss, she turned her head and looked down at her progress, then 
crouched and pulled the briefs down to his ankles, helping him step out 
of them.  She ran her hands up his thighs and stopped when she reached 
his hips, glancing up at his face a moment before leaning in without 
warning and licking the underside of his attentive cock from the sac to 
the head in one fluid motion. 
Mulder sucked in a breath through his teeth with a hiss and cried, 
"Jesus!" as he jumped at the sensation.  He wouldn't last long if she 
kept doing things like that to him.  Scully was looking up at him with 
a glint in her eyes and he grabbed her by the shoulders and 
pulled her to her feet as she slyly reached out a hand to grasp his 
erection.  Shifting his hips before she could get a hold of him, he 
hissed through clenched teeth, "behave yourself or this is going to be 
over very quickly." 
Her eyes sparked with challenge once again and she reached down 
deliberately to take him into her hand, stroking him slowly as she 
looked into his eyes.  "Mmmm, very nice..." 
Mulder drew in a breath and looked down at her hand sliding over him 
with a grin.  He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, giving 
himself a moment to regale the incredible sensations her hands inspired 
in his cock.  Then he put his hands on her waist, tucking his fingers 
underneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms and pushing them down 
over her hips.  She shimmied them to her ankles and kicked them across 
the kitchen tile as he lifted her off of the ground, setting her down 
on the kitchen counter.  Open and forgotten, the refrigerator door 
illuminated them, casting its soft yellow light across the cool kitchen 
tile. 
Mulder held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes with gentle 
concern.  "Are you sure you're up for this tonight?" 
Her eyes gazed back into his, deep blue with arousal.  "Just make love 
to me, Mulder." 
He covered her mouth with his, their tongues meeting as their passion 
began to rise.  Dropping one hand down between her legs, he began to 
massage her clit in tiny circles with the pads of his index and middle 
fingers the way that he was quickly learning pleased her most.  She was 
already wet for him and her legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers 
grabbing at the muscles in his hard shoulders as her breathing came 
more rapidly.  It wasn't enough, she wanted more - they both wanted 
more, and within seconds of her moaning his name he was holding her 
behind the knees and thrusting all of the way into her with a long 
groan. 
She felt herself being pulled toward him and she grabbed on to the edge 
of the counter for support as he hooked his elbows under her knees and 
pushed them back while spreading her legs farther apart to give him 
deeper penetration.  Grimacing at the intense pleasure he felt at being 
inside of her, he pulled his shoulders back to look down to the place 
where they were joined.  His hands pushed the hem of her pajama top out 
of his line of vision and he pulled out of her almost completely, 
watching in aroused fascination as he disappeared back inside of her, 
repeating the motion several times before looking back into her face. 
It was a sight he knew he would never forget as long as he lived.  She 
had been watching as well, her eyes glassy and aroused beyond his 
wildest fantasies.  When their eyes met they exchanged a look of 
incredulity that this was them, that they were actually doing this 
erotic, intimate thing on his kitchen counter. 
Desire to prolong the experience dropped Mulder to his knees, propping 
her feet up on his shoulders and sliding his arms up her thighs so that 
they were now resting on top of his biceps.  His forearms lay across 
the tops of her thighs and his hands covered her inner thighs, gently 
spreading her legs wider.  He plunged his tongue into her, licking and 
tasting every part of her like he'd found his Holy Grail.  His mouth 
became more demanding of her flesh and she held on tighter, her 
knuckles turning white until she had to let go to find a better grip. 
She lost her balance and her bottom slid off the counter and almost 
onto Mulder's face but he caught her before she fell, grunting out a 
breathless but concerned, "you okay?" 
Her voice was high and toneless, more breathy than anything else. 
"Don't..." she panted, her eyes clenched shut, "God! Don't stop." 
He looked back down at the feast before him, opening his mouth and 
starting over, French kissing her labia, his tongue slowly rolling 
across and swirling around her clitoris and plunging into her vagina. 
When he once again grew more insistent and demanding her breathing 
became ragged and he felt her grow stiff, nearly humming as she 
balanced on the edge of orgasm. 
He could have easily finished her off, but he pulled away.  Her eyes 
flew open and she looked at him wildly, too wound up to demand he 
return to his task.  Standing, he slowly entered her once again, 
kissing her languorously as he did so. "Love you..." he whispered 
against her lips with a low and throaty tone. 
She groaned at the renewed connection and her hands came back up to his 
shoulders, fingers digging deeper into the muscles of his back, urging 
him to move as her legs encircled his hips.  Her senses were both 
heightened and hazy through her sex-induced stupor and she spoke his 
name as a caress, her heart and soul poured into that one word.  He 
began pumping into her with long strokes, feeling himself slipping away 
into the haze along with her.  After a half dozen sloppy thrusts her 
head cleared and she pushed against his chest, pulling back. 
"Wait...this position...isn't working for me." 
He paused, panting, fighting back his control as he considered his 
options.  Holding her tightly against him, he flipped them around and 
slid to the floor with her astride him.  Scully reached a hand over his 
shoulder to steady herself as her knees banged against the lower 
cabinet, letting out a soft gasp as their impact with the floor drove 
him deeper inside of her, bumping against her cervix. 
Taking the lead in her position of control she leaned forward and 
placed a hand on either side of his chest, looking down into his face. 
She set a slow but steady rhythm, his shoulders braced against the 
doors of the lower cabinet and his hips meeting hers in tempo while his 
hands slid up underneath her top to find her breasts.  They watched 
each other under half-closed eyelids, breathing each other's air, 
alternating between smiles and gasps and grinding against one another 
in tandem as the haze slowly descended over them both while the 
pressure built once again.  Mulder clenched his teeth against his 
desire to take control of the movement and she began to pick up the 
pace, her body growing taut as she sat up, holding on to his shoulders 
for support.  Her head fell back as her eyes closed, breathing hard and 
fast.  She whimpered part of his name, then sobbed out "oh...God!" just 
as her legs clamped against his torso and her fingers grasped his 
shoulders tightly before her entire body went rigid.  He could feel her 
inner muscles spasm, pulling him deeper inside of her as she undulated 
around and over him. 
She was beautiful when she came and he watched her with awe, his eyes 
shining and his mouth open as she dropped bonelessly against his chest, 
catching her breath.  He was wound so tight he couldn't hold himself 
back any longer, rolling them over until he was on top of her, rutting 
furiously on the cold tile in the soft yellow glow of the refrigerator 
light.  Through half-closed eyes she watched him relentlessly pursue 
his goal - making small noises of effort through his ragged breathing 
and the sounds of wet, slick skin slapping against skin and tile.  He 
clenched his teeth and cried out to a God he didn't believe in with his 
release, finally collapsing over her in a gasping heap of spent limbs 
and perspiration. 
She stroked her fingers through his hair and some time later, when the 
last faint spasms finally subsided and after many deep breaths, Mulder 
extracted himself from her with care.  Finding a dishtowel on the 
counter nearby, he toweled himself dry, leaned down and gently patted 
the sticky moisture from between her thighs, and instructed her to 
"lift" as he wiped the remaining residue from the tile underneath her. 
Then he offered his hand to her, smiling broadly while his lungs still 
struggled to compensate for his recent exertion. 
She grinned back at him, allowing him to help her to her feet.  She 
wobbled a bit on loose legs and he placed his hands on her shoulders to 
steady her.  They shared a soft, chaste kiss and a caress, leaning 
against each other until Scully gave his arm a squeeze and gravitated 
back toward the open refrigerator. 
She rummaged for a few moments before shutting the door and moving on 
to the freezer.  Mulder walked over to the table on tentative, shaky 
legs and sat on a dining chair, awash with feelings of emotional warmth 
and sated contentment as he watched her.  Pulling out a carton of ice 
cream with a triumphant "oh!" and holding it up to him, she smiled 
brilliantly.  "You've got Chunky Monkey!" 
"I have ice cream?"  He asked with surprise.  She threw him a smug 
look, grabbed a spoon out of a drawer and moved to his left to slide 
into a chair, but he caught her wrist, tugging her toward him. 
"C'mere, Scully."  He crooned in a low tone, her name caressed with 
affection as he pulled her down onto his lap.  She grinned and scooted 
back so that she was sitting solidly across his thighs, her feet barely 
touching the floor.  Spooning out the first scoop of ice cream, she 
offered it to him and he accepted it with a moan.  It went down cold 
and smooth, cooling him in the warm still air of the silent apartment, 
humid and smelling like bananas and sex.  He took the carton and spoon 
out of her hand, scooped out another spoonful and fed it to her.  She 
moaned her approval in turn and grinned back at him as he chuckled 
softly. 
"What?"  She asked, her smile growing broader. 
"Nothing." 
"Mulder, what?" 
"Just the look on your face.  You look so...satisfied." 
Taking the ice cream and the spoon back again she attentively licked 
the spoon clean before glancing sideways at Mulder, her eye catching 
his mischievously.  "Go ahead, Mulder, we've been intimate.  You can 
say it."  She replied casually, digging the spoon back into the carton. 
"Mmmnnff" was his response as he accepted another spoonful.  "Say what? 
That I never saw you smile for this long at one time in all of the 
years we worked together?"  He took the spoon and carton back from her 
and scooped another spoonful.  "That all of these seven years I always 
suspected you'd be the equivalent of sexual dynamite?" 
She deadpanned without missing a beat.  "That what I really needed all 
of this time was just a good hard fuck on the kitchen floor?" 
The spoon stopped just in front of her mouth and Mulder's jaw dropped. 
"Scully!"  He whispered, feigning shock but bursting into soft 
laughter along with her, thoroughly delighted at her open playfulness. 
He liked hearing her talk dirty.  With her sharp mind and willing body, 
that was an avenue he definitely wanted to explore in the very near 
future. 
Her eyes never left his as she leaned forward to take the spoon into 
her mouth, the action followed by another wide grin.  "I'm not a prude, 
Mulder.  I've just been waiting for the right time and the right man." 
He beamed and leaned over, never breaking eye contact as his mouth 
slowly covered her mouth, his tongue leisurely capturing the last 
bit of ice cream on hers.  "I'm so glad you did."  He whispered, 
brushing her hair back from her face and kissing her again as his cel 
phone trilled in the living room. 
She whimpered in protest as they pulled apart.  "Let voicemail get it." 
She whispered against his lips, moving in for another kiss. 
He pulled back, frowning.  "I asked Skinner to call me if anything came 
up on Mathers." 
She sighed and slid off of his lap with a groan.  "God, I'm going to be 
sore tomorrow." 
Mulder strutted proudly across the living room with a grin, picking up 
his phone from the coffee table.  "Mulder." 
He listened to the caller, then turned and looked over at Scully, his 
face deceivingly void of expression.  "We'll be right there."  He said, 
thumbing the 'end' button.  He drew in a breath and looked at her a 
moment.  "There's been a fatal shooting at Senator Harman's estate." 
  
END CHAPTER TWELVE 
*X*X*X*X* 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
Let those who are in favour with their stars 
Of public honour and proud titles boast, 
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, 
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most. 
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread 
But as the marigold at the sun's eye, 
And in themselves their pride lies buried, 
For at a frown they in their glory die. 
The painful warrior famoused for fight, 
After a thousand victories once foil'd, 
Is from the book of honour razed quite, 
And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd: 
 Then happy I, that love and am beloved 
 Where I may not remove nor be removed. 
- William Shakespeare, Sonnet XXV 
  
As they raced to the Harman estate they both noticed that all traces of 
Scully's earlier accident had already been removed.  The emergency 
vehicles were gone and Mulder's car had been pulled out of the ditch 
and towed to the Falls Church Police Department impound as evidence. 
Before long they were passing news vans setting up camp the side of the 
road, and Mulder was squinting into a flashlight and showing his badge 
to one of Falls Church's finest standing at the gate at the head of the 
driveway.  As the car tires slowly crunched up the gravel, the lights 
twinkled from the dogwood trees as they passed by, belying the fact 
that this pastoral getaway was now a crime scene in a murder 
investigation. 
It seemed that Scully and Mulder were the last to arrive at the party. 
There were several emergency vehicles - Falls Church P.D., D.C.P.D., 
paramedics, dark sedans that screamed Federal government - and one dark 
sedan with the front grill smashed in.  Scully glanced at Mulder and 
hopped out of the car, striding quickly over to the sedan and examining 
the smashed grill. 
"Same color as the paint on my car."  Mulder commented, joining her as 
she used her fingernail to scratch at a corner of a long paint mark 
marring the front bumper.  They exchanged a look and headed to the 
front door, his hand lying gently against her lower back. 
The front door was open, barricaded by a band of yellow tape, and there 
were muddy footprints spoiling the pristine white marble floor that 
Scully had admired earlier that evening.  Another uniformed officer 
from the Falls Church P.D. was on hand and they flashed their badges, 
giving him their names for the log.  The sound of voices emanated from 
the room in the back where Scully had spoken with Senator Harman and 
his wife, and she preceded Mulder down the hallway. 
The once quiet sanctuary was now chaos, a conglomerate of detectives, 
E.M.T.'s, criminalists, photographers, firearms experts and fingerprint 
experts, most Federal Agents.  Two bodies lay opposite each other, one 
average-sized male stretched across the floor in front of the chair 
where Scully had sat earlier, and one slumped over on the leather sofa. 
The body on the sofa was Senator Robert Harman. 
It was evident from the scene that the coroner had not yet arrived. 
There was a drawer standing open on the table next to the sofa, a 
loaded 9mm clip lying inside.  From a quick visual analysis of the 
bullet's point of entry on the Senator's chest and the 9mm Glock still 
in the Senator's hand, Scully determined that the Senator had not died 
by his own hand.  There was a corresponding point of exit on the upper 
back of the other victim, and a .38 lying on the Sorayan rug near his 
outstretched arm. 
A.D. Skinner was standing with a shaky Diane Harman in the back of the 
room near the bar, his arm around her shoulders as she spoke with 
Detective McCracken and another detective.  Drawing closer to the body 
on the floor, Mulder was kneeling carefully and without touching 
anything, took a better look at the .38 and the man who had fired 
it. 
Scully carefully made her way over to the Assistant Director, cautious 
not to disturb anything in the room that might turn out to be evidence 
later on.  As she got closer to Mrs. Harman she noticed the blood 
staining her hands and the front of her dressing gown. 
"...what happened after the first shot was fired?"  Detective 
McCracken was asking Mrs. Harman, flipping over to a new page on his 
notepad. 
"Robert slumped back into the sofa, clutching his chest.  I was 
shocked, and before I realized what was happening, Robert had fired 
back at Donald."  Mrs. Harman stated, her voice trembling.  "Donald 
fell to the ground."  She looked up at Skinner a moment, and took a 
deep breath.  "There was a terrible...wheezing sound coming from 
Robert, and so much blood..." she let out a soft sob.  "I ran to him, 
placing my hand over his on his chest to help slow the flow of blood." 
There were tears in her eyes.  "He looked at me, and I could see this 
look in his eyes..." she gasped, sniffing back her tears and leaning 
against the Assistant Director. 
Skinner turned his face closer to hers and said softly, "Take your 
time, Diane." 
Mrs. Harman sobbed and looked back up, seeing Scully and locking eyes 
with her.  "He was saying goodbye...with his eyes.  I told him to hold 
on, that I would call for help, but before I could even get up he 
slumped back into the sofa and I knew he was gone." 
Her voice broke at the end of the sentence and she dropped her chin 
down against her chest.  Scully could feel the moisture rising in her 
own eyes out of a strange and extreme empathy for the Senator's wife. 
"What about Mathers?"  McCracken asked. 
Mrs. Harman turned her attention back to the detective and sniffed 
again.  "He wasn't moving.  I didn't check him."  She looked up at 
Skinner again, her mouth forming around a horrific 'oh.'  "Oh my God, 
Walter, I didn't check on him.  He may have still been alive." 
With that realization, Mrs. Harman began to sob and Skinner looked over 
at Scully.  She met his gaze a moment, turning when Skinner looked up 
at the Coroner entering the room.  Mulder stood and glanced at Scully, 
their eyes meeting and both instinctively moving toward each other. 
"It appears that the other victim is Donald Mathers."  Scully said 
softly, leaning in close to Mulder for privacy.  "Mrs. Harman just 
identified the body." 
Mulder nodded slightly.  "I'll bet the registration on that dented 
sedan out front will be in Donald Mathers' name as well." 
  
  
The first rays of sun were coloring the dawn sky lavender as Scully 
stepped out through the French doors separating the crime scene from a 
small patio bordering Senator Harman's rose garden.  Skinner was 
standing off to the right, facing the oncoming sun with his hands in 
his trouser pockets.  He glanced over his shoulder at her as she 
approached, then turned back toward the sun. 
When she reached his side, Scully could see that the patio looked out 
over the entire garden, the gazebo and the pastures beyond.  Just 
beneath them, Senator Harman's Sterling roses were covered with dew, 
glistening in the morning light.  It was a magnificent sight.  They 
stood silent, side-by-side for a long time, soaking in the vision. 
Finally, Scully spoke without turning away from the scene before her. 
"How long have you known Mrs. Harman?"  She asked, her voice void of 
any accusation. 
Skinner was silent a moment longer.  "Diane attended Wellesley with my 
ex-wife.  They were sorority sisters as undergraduates." He squinted as 
the morning sun grew stronger.  "We saw each other socially off and on 
until the divorce." 
Scully was silent again, her blue eyes squinting against the growing 
brightness as well.  Skinner glanced over at her, noticing that the red 
flush that she wore when she'd arrived still clung to her cheeks, 
although her lips had returned to their usual shape from the puffy, 
swollen shape of earlier. 
There was something different about her, and air or an aura that hadn't 
been there before.  He'd seen it in Mulder as well, and had a pretty 
good idea what it meant.  Although he chose not to draw attention to 
the fact that he'd noticed, he hoped that they would be able to make 
their partnership work on all levels.  If any two people stood a chance 
in hell at finding happiness in another person it was these two.  He 
knew he owed it to them now to tell them the truth about the 
investigation band his role in it. 
"Diane called me just after Steven Hoyt was picked up for the murder of 
Karen Darby."  He paused, and Scully crossed her arms and turned 
slightly to face him.  "She was afraid that Steven's connections to the 
Senator would alert the media to the situation, further tarnishing the 
Senator's public image."  He lifted his foot up onto a nearby wooden 
bench and leaned onto it.  "She made a personal request, asking me to 
look into the situation, try to keep it out of the press.  I brought 
you and Mulder in because I believed that you would be able to get to 
the heart of the matter quickly and discreetly." 
Scully turned back toward the garden, her arms still crossed in front 
of her.  "Why didn't you tell us that in the beginning?" 
Skinner looked down at the ground, then turned and faced her.  "I had 
my own suspicions about the Senator's involvement.  I wanted to make 
sure that you and Mulder approached it just like any other case, 
without any preconceived ideas or obligations." 
Scully squinted up at him.  "You believed Senator Harman was 
responsible?" 
Skinner shook his head slightly.  "Not directly.  I've known Rob Harman 
for a long time.  It was no secret he had a weakness for the ladies. 
But he had a good heart, and he really cared about people.  I suspected 
he may have had ties to Hansen House, but I didn't want to believe he 
could be involved in murder." 
She let out a breath and watched as a grazing horse wandered into view 
on the pasture far beyond the gazebo.  It made sense, and although she 
wished he had told them the situation up front, she understood why he 
didn't.  Anyway, she was too tired to care.  She had been up all night 
on her feet and the bump on her head had been throbbing for the past 
two hours.  She felt grungy and sticky from sex and sweat, the 
afterglow long since worn off, and was so wrapped up in her fatigue 
that she hadn't noticed that Mulder had joined them on the patio until 
she turned her head and saw him standing to her left. 
What remained of the case was the tying up of loose ends.  From the 
evidence they'd help collect throughout the early morning hours, it 
appeared that Donald Mathers had shown up at the Senator's estate 
directly after running Scully off the road.  He had spoken with the 
Senator and his wife, the conversation escalating into a quarrel, and 
Mathers had pulled a gun on the Senator, firing a fatal shot.  But not 
before the Senator had fired back, killing Mathers instantly. 
Forensics would answer most of the remaining questions.  Regardless, 
the result was still two men dead by each others' hand.  One, a United 
States Senator; the other, his former aide. 
Mulder looked even more tired than she, if that were even possible. 
The Summer sun was now wide awake and heating up the morning air, and 
he squinted as he tugged at his tie, loosening it and unbuttoning the 
collar of his shirt.  "I feel so old."  He said hoarsely, bringing a 
gentle smile to both Scully and Skinner's lips.  They were all feeling 
their age this morning. 
"You were right about Senator Harman being involved in this case, 
Mulder."  Scully said, tilting her head and squinting up at him.  "Just 
not in the way you originally thought he was involved." 
Mulder clenched his eyes shut, grimacing, then blinked a few times. 
"Too bad people had to die before we figured it out." 
There was a moment of silence, then Skinner let out a huff of air and 
turned toward them, studying them.  "You've done excellent work here, 
Agents.  Both of you.  Don't forget that."  He turned and paused, then 
walked back into the house. 
Mulder put his hand on Scully's shoulder and looked down at her 
exhausted face.  "C'mon, let's get you to bed." 
She glanced up at him and nodded.  "Can we stop by the Falls Church 
impound lot first?  I left my cel phone in your car and I need to take 
it in to have it looked at." 
He nodded.  "We'll pick it up, but the repairs can wait 'til tomorrow, 
okay?" 
She walked stiffly toward the door.  "You'll get no argument from me." 
  
  
Mulder's skin was coated with a fine sheen of perspiration despite the 
November chill in the room.  They were staying in his apartment for the 
first time in several days, after spending all weekend and Monday night 
at Scully's.  Alternating back and forth between the two apartments 
these last few months had turned out to be a bit of a hassle, and they 
had yet to discuss living arrangements.  In fact, the unresolved issues 
that they'd decided to work on several months previous on the night 
they'd gone to dinner and fallen asleep on Scully's sofa were still 
unresolved and hadn't been broached again.  But the status quo suited 
them both just fine at present and both were loath to discuss 
alternatives without getting into the deeper issues at hand. 
They'd spent almost every night together since then, either at his 
apartment or at hers, the only exception came on a Friday night about a 
month prior.  Quarrelling at work over some insignificant point on an 
interview transcript that they both knew had nothing to do with the 
real issue, they'd gone to their respective apartments alone to 
spend some much-needed solitary time.  They knew the small separation 
had been long overdue and when they saw each other again on the 
following Monday morning they were both revitalized and anxious to be 
together again that evening, able to joke mildly about their self- 
imposed weekend apart. 
Scully was now rising gloriously above him, her pale skin glistening in 
the moonlight and her breath coming in sharp, shallow pants.  They had 
gone to dinner and came back to his place to watch the election 
returns, and for whatever reason he didn't care to debate she had 
seduced him away from the television in the living room and onto the 
bed.  Or perhaps it was he who seduced her.  It didn't really matter. 
Sex was one thing about her that he'd come to know in great detail in 
the months that they had been together as lovers.  Scully was sweet and 
submissive in the morning, their lovemaking slow and gentle as he sank 
into her luxuriously, without urgency.  In the evening she was a 
different lover altogether.  Not that she wasn't pleasant to be with - 
she was more aggressive and passionate, their lovemaking very physical, 
almost feral at times.  Hard pressed, he would be unable to say which 
he preferred.  He loved both. 
>From the look on her face and the tensing in her thighs he could tell 
she was nearing her release.  She preferred not to speak when she 
reached this point unless absolutely necessary, focusing all of her 
attention on the art of giving and receiving satisfaction.  Sex was an 
equal playing field where they could both compete, and his favorite 
game was to see how many times he could bring her to orgasm before 
losing himself to his own.  Scully's preferred game was to make him 
lose that control.  It was unspoken but acknowledged tacitly by both, a 
game that neither party ever minded, whether winning or losing. 
She had already come once that evening as he'd pushed her into the 
mattress while he'd taken her from behind.  Now looking down on his 
flushed, shining face through heavy-lidded eyes she sensed he was still 
holding back, and her competitive nature flared, accepting the 
challenge he presented.  She leaned down over him, capturing his lips 
and drinking from them, the blunt edges of her hair brushing against 
his cheek.  She ran her lips across his cheek and caressed them over 
his ear, while she clenched her thighs tightly against him and flexed 
her inner muscles, whispering to him in rich, dulcet tones. 
He heard her describe to him in minute, clinical detail how much she 
wanted to see him reach orgasm, how he was making her feel and how she 
would respond when her own orgasm hit.  Her tactic worked and Mulder 
let out a guttural moan as he held tightly to her hips, bucking up into 
her with hard, rapid thrusts that sent her straight over the edge.  She 
cried out deep and long as she promised she would, his name and a few 
other well-chosen colloquialisms falling from her lips as he could only 
manage to clamp his eyes shut and sob, "oh, fuck!" through clenched 
teeth. 
Sweaty but sated, she wore a slight but triumphant smile as she 
collapsed next to him on the bed.  She may have won that particular 
battle, but they both came out on the winning side by his estimation. 
  
  
Scully awoke at 3:14 a.m. the following morning to hunger pains, 
despite the wonderful dinner she and Mulder had enjoyed out nearly 
seven hours earlier and the cookies they'd consumed in bed after they 
made love.  She untangled her legs from Mulder's, planted a soft kiss 
on his shoulder and slid out of bed, padding softly into the living 
room.  Shivering involuntarily in the Autumn chill, she picked up her 
discarded Armani suit from the floor and folded it into a neat pile on 
the coffee table.  Then she grabbed Mulder's white dress shirt off of 
the floor, buttoning a few buttons for modesty and rolling the sleeves 
up until her hands appeared underneath.  She pulled the collar up to 
her face and inhaled deeply, a warm glow spreading through her chest in 
response to Mulder's scent.  With shirttails grazing her thighs she 
wandered into the kitchen, searching for sustenance. 
Mulder awoke on his stomach and alone just as her bare form disappeared 
into the living room.  He sat up sleepily, scrubbing his hands through 
his hair and yawning, more than familiar with Scully's late night 
forages for post-coital nourishment.  Looking over at the clock and 
feeling his stomach rumble, he threw back the comforter and followed 
her. 
She was standing in front of the refrigerator with a finger in her 
mouth, her curves silhouetted by the interior light shining through 
the thin white cotton of his dress shirt.  It was one of the most 
beautiful, erotic glimpses he'd ever been allowed to see of the usually 
polished Special Agent Dana Scully, enraptured as he watched her, 
scratching the back of her calf with the big toe of her other foot and 
her hair falling sloppily around her face. 
"Is there enough for two?"  He asked, snaking up behind her. 
She turned, a jar of peanut butter in one hand and the index finger of 
the other hand in her mouth.  She looked startled for a moment but her 
expression changed to a sly grin as she dipped her finger back into the 
jar, offering it up to him.  With his eyes locked onto hers, his mouth 
closed around her French-manicured digit, his tongue swirling over and 
around until he'd cleaned all of the peanut butter, leaving her finger 
and her center glistening with wetness.  As she considered his ability 
to leave her quickly and completely aroused at such a small gesture, he 
snatched the jar from her hand.  Grabbing her other hand and scraping 
her finger once more along the inside of the side of the jar, he took 
it into his mouth with a boyish grin. 
She chuckled and took the peanut butter jar back, giving him a gentle 
push toward the living room.  "Go sit down, I'll get the food." 
Mulder wandered into the living room and turned on CNN.  Shivering, he 
grabbed his jeans off the floor and stepped into them, buttoning the 
three bottom buttons with a yawn.  Then he sat down carefully on the 
sofa and watched as the results of the Nation's polls rolled in while 
he waited for Scully to roll in with food. 
Scully padded in and sat down next to him a moment later, a bowl of 
fruit in one hand and a tupperware container of cold spaghetti in the 
other.  "Have they declared a winner in the special election for the 
Virginia Senate seat?" 
"Not yet.  Not that it matters."  He replied, his eyes still on the 
television as he reached over and grabbed a banana.  She popped open 
the tupperware and dug in, twirling the spaghetti around her fork. 
"You know, Mulder, you forfeit the right to bitch about politicians if 
you don't go to the poll and vote when there's an election." 
Mulder turned and looked at her, his mouth full of banana.  "Look who's 
talking." 
She chewed her pasta and swallowed before responding.  "I voted.  I 
went at lunch."  She gave him a smug smile and stuck another forkful of 
pasta into her mouth as he responded with a silent, sarcastic 'ha ha 
ha.'  Then he turned back toward her.  "I thought you had lunch with 
Danny and Mancina." 
"I did.  I voted afterward." 
The studio anchor cut live to a reporter covering the special election 
and Mulder pointed the remote at the television, turning up the volume 
and shoving the rest of the banana into his mouth. 
"...here at campaign central where the Senator-elect is expected at any 
moment..." 
Scully shivered and Mulder sat back in the corner of the sofa, pulling 
her into his arms so that her back was resting against his chest and 
his arms enveloped her.  "Cold?" 
She smiled up at him.  "Not anymore." 
He kissed her temple and looked down into her bowl of pasta, turning 
his head so that he could see her eyes.  "You gonna eat all that?" 
He maintained his forlorn expression and she gazed sidelong at him as 
she twirled the noodles around her fork.  He watched her actions 
attentively, and finally breaking into a smile, she carefully fed him 
the cold spaghetti. 
A man on the television was speaking enthusiastically into a microphone 
in front of a cheering crowd.  "Ladies and gentlemen, the good people 
of the Commonwealth of Virginia have cast their votes and elected a 
Senator who they know stands for integrity and honor.  A Senator who 
will represent their issues and concerns with the utmost respect for 
decency and family values..." 
Scully placed a kiss on Mulder's arm as he looked at her gratefully, 
smacking his lips as he chewed. 
The man's voice on the television voice rose half an octave as he 
shouted "...proud to introduce Senator-elect Diane Harman!" 
Scully pointed at the screen with her fork.  "Would you look at that." 
Mulder nodded.  "Like anybody had a chance against the martyred widow 
of a veteran and all around American hero." 
Scully was twirling her fork around in the pasta as she watched the 
Senator-elect raise her arms in victory to the cheering crowd.  "That's 
a little harsh, don't you think?" 
Mulder shrugged.  "The man's philandering probably wouldn't have 
gotten him re-elected if he'd lived to see the regular Election Day. 
Fate played a hand and he was killed, the scandal rocking the 
opposing party because of Donald Mathers' connections, and Harman came 
out looking like the long lost boy wonder and a shoo-in for the White 
House." 
"And his widow takes over his Senate seat in a landslide victory." 
Scully took another bite of pasta and chewed thoughtfully.  "It 
DOES seem a little convenient when you put it that way." 
Mulder took the bowl and fork away from her and helped himself to a 
heaping mouthful of spaghetti.  "A widow with post-graduate degrees in 
Law from Harvard and an MBA from Wharton, no less...you know what I've 
always wondered about that case?" 
She stared at the Senator-elect on the screen.  "Hmm?"  She asked. 
"Why Leslie Martin?  She was recruited away from her job in San 
Francisco by Hansen House a good year before Karen Darby was murdered 
and we were brought in on the case.  Was it just a coincidence that she 
happened to look so much like you?" 
Scully turned her head and looked at him as Diane Harman spoke of her 
joy and responsibility for and to the people of Virginia and the United 
States, and how her late husband would approve and be proud of the 
overwhelming voter response tonight. 
Her response was a shrug.  "Some things ARE just coincidence, 
Mulder.  You know the investigation into Hansen House didn't turn up 
anything on recruitment for any of the employees, including Karen Darby 
and Leslie Martin."  She looked down at the bowl in Mulder's hand, now 
nearly empty, and yawned.  "We've got that meeting with Skinner in the 
morning."  She reminded him, sliding forward to get up off the sofa. 
Mulder put the bowl down on the coffee table and pulled her back 
against him before she could stand up.  "Not for six hours."  He said, 
kissing her neck while his hands slid under the hem of the shirt. 
She shifted her hips and felt his growing hardness against her 
backside.  "Mulder, have you always had a voracious sexual appetite?" 
He lifted his mouth from her neck and looked at her.  "Pretty much, 
yeah.  Having you around in various states of undress only aggravates 
the condition." 
He went to task gliding his hands up her abdomen and cupping her 
breasts in his palms, fondling her nipples with his thumbs and the pads 
of his fingers.  She was thinking about his years of celibacy and 
gained just a little more insight into the reasons for his former porno 
habit.  "A few times a week isn't enough?"  She asked, her voice 
serious. 
His lips were pressed against her ear and his voice was husky as he 
spoke.  "Let me put it this way...if we didn't have work to do...if we 
didn't need to be responsible and take care of business every day...if 
you'd ALLOW it, I'd spend all day, every day and every night inside of 
you and it still wouldn't be enough." 
So far, they'd only had one night of marathon sex - it was three weeks 
after the death of Senator Robert Harman, while they were finally 
wrapping up the loose ends on the Mathers case.  Scully had presented 
the conclusive P.C.R. results confirming that Mathers had been the last 
person to have sex with Leslie Martin before she died, and she'd been 
so sore through the meeting that she could hardly sit.  Mulder had worn 
a silly grin that he could barely disguise and Skinner threw him 
irritated warning looks throughout the meeting that had been duly 
ignored. 
Although his sultry voice and talented fingers were having a definite 
effect on her, Scully turned her head and looked at him with a Mona 
Lisa smile.  "Maybe we'll explore that idea on Saturday if we're in 
town."  She said, her voice holding her promise. 
Mulder gazed back at her with a glint in his eye and caught the subtext 
in her message: 'another round isn't advisable tonight as we really 
need to get some sleep before meeting with Skinner in the morning.'  He 
pressed one last kiss to her neck and released her breasts, smoothing 
the hem of her shirt back down.  "I think I'll bring it up with Skinner 
during the meeting tomorrow." 
"Bring what up?  Our sex life?"  She asked, turning to look at him 
carefully. 
"Leslie Martin.  I think we should investigate that avenue a little 
deeper.  Although..." 
She interrupted him before he could finish with an off-color remark. 
"Mulder, the case is closed.  Donald Mathers murdered Karen Darby, Lisa 
Lewis, Leslie Martin and Senator Harman.  You, yourself collected the 
evidence." 
"What about Steven Hoyt?  That was never satisfactorily explained, 
either." 
She stood, picking up the empty tupperware and fork and heading toward 
the kitchen.  "Mulder, Steven Hoyt was an anal-retentive control freak 
who was frightened that his mapped-out life plan was ruined over the 
allegations that he was involved with Hansen House and that he killed 
Karen Darby.  He hung himself in his cell." 
He stood, his voice raised to accommodate for the distance.  "It goes 
deeper than that, Scully.  Why didn't he leave a note?" 
"Because he didn't have any paper?"  She replied snidely as she washed 
out the bowl and left it in the rack by the sink to dry. 
"It just doesn't add up."  He said absently, watching Senator-elect 
Diane Harman clasp her hands above her head and shake them in an 
affirmation of victory. 
Scully stopped in the doorway as she passed through on her way to the 
bathroom.  "Skinner will never go for it, Mulder.  It's over, the case 
is solved to his and to the Bureau's satisfaction.  There is no more 
case."  She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then looked 
in on him as he continued to stare at the television, biting his lip 
thoughtfully.  "You coming?" 
Mulder muttered, "yeah" and pointed the remote at Senator-elect Diane 
Harman's smiling face, turning off the television.  He tossed the 
remote down on the coffee table, and running a hand through his hair as 
he yawned, shuffled into the bathroom.  "Did Skinner actually say what 
this meeting is about when you spoke with him this afternoon?"  He 
asked, stepping into the bedroom and looking at her as he scrubbed his 
teeth. 
She was already in bed, sitting up against the headboard with the light 
from the bathroom cutting across her torso as she kicked her legs to 
arrange the comforter 'just so.'  "He mentioned something about an 
artifact that may have been brought into the country illegally from 
West Africa.  He wants us to look into it because he says there's some 
unintelligible text or pictograms on it." 
He pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth.  "Ooooh, that's our bag! 
Give us some hokey-smokey writing on the wall and we'll unearth all 
sorts of goblins.  Too bad we just missed Halloween!" 
Scully closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.  Obviously, the simpler 
answer would have gotten her to sleep faster. 
"What kind of artifact?"  Mulder asked around a mouthful of toothpaste. 
"I don't know."  She replied, eyes still closed.  He returned to the 
bathroom and she heard him spit, rinse and pad into the bedroom. 
"Mulder...light." 
Rolling his eyes at her, he returned to the bathroom and hit the light 
switch, then padded over to his side of the bed in darkness.  He slid 
into place, rolling over on his stomach and throwing his heavy arm over 
her middle as he nuzzled his nose against her side. 
She lifted her arm to accommodate him and gently scruffed through his 
hair with her fingers, then slid down into the bed to take her place 
beside her partner. 
"Last chance, Scully.  I'm minty fresh."  He said, his voice muffled 
against the bed. 
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could just see his face in 
front of her, his eyes gazing hopefully into hers.  She responded with 
an amused, affectionate smile.  "Goodnight, Mulder." 
He reached his hand up to caress her cheek then pressed a soft kiss to 
her lips and sighed, closing his eyes.  "Sweet dreams, Scully." 
  
END CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
*X*X*X*X* 
EPILOGUE 
  
The garden and pastures of the estate in the early morning were 
glorious.  There was a light mist on the pasture and even though it 
was too cold for the roses to still be in bloom the garden was green 
with trimmed hedges, ivy and other foliage.  The second floor balcony 
off of her bedroom offered the best view of the entire estate, and 
Senator-elect Diane Harman raised her face to the cold but welcome 
breeze as it washed over her. 
Senator-elect Diane Harman. 
It had been a long time coming.  She had spent many a hard night on 
this balcony, tearful eyes staring at the small white lights in the 
garden, planning for this day.  Her day.  Afraid that it would never 
arrive.  In the end it had all come together for her, and now she had 
everything she'd ever wanted from life. 
HER victory. 
HER estate. 
HER inheritance. 
Donald Mathers had done all the work.  He'd killed them, but she was 
the one who had worried and stressed over the smallest details, 
spending years of her life laying the framework.  Since the day that 
she'd sat in the gallery at the Senate Select Subcommittee on 
Intelligence and Terrorism, seeing Special Agent Dana Scully stand up 
and refuse to answer the Subcommittee's questions in order to protect 
her partner.  She'd become infatuated with the diminutive redhead and 
her tremendous courage and strength, catching her breath and wiping 
away the tears that spilled onto her cheeks when Special Agent Mulder 
entered the hearing without warning and enveloped his partner in his 
strong arms. 
She knew then that she'd found her answer. 
Senator-elect Harman walked through the French doors separating her 
bedroom from the balcony and sat her coffee cup down on the antique 
dresser next to the black and white glossy photographs of Mulder and 
Scully that she'd had that Dobbs fellow shoot for her.  She ran her 
finger over the image, smiling to herself at the carnivorous look on 
Agent Mulder's face as he stared into the face of the woman arching 
over him, her head thrown back and her face contorted in an exquisite 
ecstasy.  His partner.  His lover.  It was almost a fairy tale, the 
devotion these two held for each other. 
She'd lived through enough of Robert's indiscretions to know that he 
would be instantly attracted to the beautiful and courageous Agent 
Scully.  She researched, and she followed, and she learned all she 
could learn about Agents Scully and Mulder.  She fell in love with 
them and their angst-ridden, bittersweet, unrequited love affair. 
They were so attractive.  And so dedicated to the truth. 
She watched, and she hoped.  And she waited. 
She found Leslie Martin and wooed her away from San Francisco, 
learning that almost anyone could be bought at the right price. 
And she waited. 
Her luck faltered when Mulder and Scully were reassigned away from 
the X-Files.  It was the bleakest moment of her life, having to live 
through the public humiliation of a media blitz over Robert's affair 
with Stephanie Curtis.  An affair that she had silently orchestrated, 
paying Curtis and enormous sum of money in exchange for a few not-so- 
secret trysts with the Senator and her silence over the financial 
retribution.  Nearly anyone would risk ruining their professional 
reputation for a six-figure check and a little publicity, she'd 
learned. 
Not Agent Scully, though.  Never Agent Scully.  Nor Agent Mulder, for 
that matter.  Their Achilles Heel was their loyalty to the truth and 
to each other.  That's why they were the key. 
Donald Mathers and his insane jealousy was Diane Harman's 
deliverance.  He became her vehicle, her tool.  She fed his anger, 
meticulously placed subtle whispers encouraging him to seek revenge 
beyond fucking the Senator's wife in the Senator's own bed.  Almost 
anyone could be enticed to commit murder with the right incentive and 
a few well-placed, post-coital words. 
But fortune was smiling on her once again when Mulder and Scully were 
finally reassigned back to the X-Files under Walter Skinner's 
supervision.  And then she'd found Karen Darby, the ringer for Lisa 
Lewis, and all of the pieces fell into place. 
Timing was everything. 
She looked down at the photograph of the lovers once more, and 
couldn't help but feel a little fondness.  She turned back to the 
open French doors and paused, surveying her domain once more. 
Drawing in a cleansing breath of cold air, she released it slowly, 
smiling with satisfaction. 
HER garden. 
HER Senate. 
HER secret. 
  
*X*X*X*X* FIN *X*X*X*X*