Dead Ringer
by T Bishop and Jacquie LaVa
Rated: R
Category: MSR/X-File
Disclaimer: THIS Mulder and Scully belong to us. Chris has his own
to play with. We'd like to think ours and his would get along nicely
together though.

SUMMARY: Mulder's and Scully's professional and personal
relationship is challenged in a most unusual and dangerous way...
 
 
DEAD RINGER
 
Whitehaven Park
Georgetown, VA
Saturday 10:13 AM
Mulder yawned and rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his palms.
He'd been on stakeout all night, and without the luxury of a partner
to keep him company. Ryan McCarty, an old VCU buddy, had roped him
into helping out on this one as a favor; and Mulder had seen no point
in ruining Scully's weekend just because he couldn't find it in his
heart to say no to the guy. So he'd spent the night listening to
talk radio and surveilling the corner of 35th Street and Wisconsin
Avenue, waiting for the suspect to show - which he never did, of
course. Thinking about how many hours of his life he'd wasted
sitting in a car watching nothing happen, had been the focus of most
of his morning, putting him in a pissy mood. He could have been with
Scully last night; Friday nights were almost routine for them now. 
Heaving a weary sigh, he checked his watch; Agent Montgomery was due
to relieve him at the top of the hour.
Across from the suspect's residence was a park, lush and green,
filled with people enjoying what was turning out to be a beautiful
sunny Saturday. Mulder was thinking he'd like nothing better than to
get out of the goddamn car and join them; take a walk or a jog,
stretch his cramped up legs and let the circulation return to his
bucket-seat-numbed ass. Just a little while longer, he reminded
himself, then the rest of the day would be his.
He wasn't far from Scully's place. And as his eyes dully swept over
the target house for signs of life that were not there, Mulder
debated calling her and inviting himself over for a late breakfast or
an early lunch. Then he thought better of it, for he knew how much
Scully needed her time away from work - work also meaning him. She
seemed to need a break from him every once in a while; and for the
sake of their partnership, friendship, and blossoming romance, he
tried to respect that. Although, it was becoming increasingly more
difficult with each day that passed; those little breaks made him
crave her presence all the more. 
They'd recently taken their relationship to that next level and
become... lovers. And although they hadn't made any formal
declarations to each other, they had at least admitted that the want
and the need was there - and tangible between them. It had started
with a kiss; not a simple kiss; not that pathetic pass he made at her
on New Year's Eve. This one was spontaneous and passionate and left
them both gasping for air and stunned by the intensity of gale-force
emotions that nearly swept them off their feet. It had scared the
hell out of him; so much so that he was afraid to let it go any
further that night. In fact, he'd played it safe for weeks after
that; waiting until she made the next move; convinced that if he
kissed her again he wouldn't be able to stop himself.
Thank God she finally put him out of his misery.
It happened after he'd returned from England and that whole
frustrating crop circle fiasco. In his absence, Scully had
apparently experienced some kind of epiphany concerning a man with
whom she'd once had an intimate relationship. In the space of two
days her entire outlook on life had been changed. She claimed to
have had a spiritual awakening and was looking at her life from a
whole new perspective. Mulder had listened very carefully to
everything she'd told him, but he couldn't say he understood what had
actually happened to her. Later that night her behavior surprised
him even more when she climbed into his bed, offering herself to him
in a way he'd often dreamed but never dared to believe she actually
would. 
That first time had been awkward; they'd hardly exchanged a half
dozen words between them in their nervousness. They did it though;
they put an end to seven years of sexual tension. Truthfully, Mulder
admitted to himself, it hadn't been the best sex of his life. It
ended all too quickly; and they were both so unsure of how they
should act with each other after what they'd done, that they'd just
rolled over and gone to sleep without so much as a 'good-night'
passing between them. The next morning Mulder wasn't surprised at
all to find that Scully had left before he'd awaken. One thing he'd
learned about his partner over the years, she needed to assert her
independence. Her message had come through loud and clear; just
because he'd bedded her didn't mean he owned her. Scully's
contumaciousness had only served to make him want her all the more. 
After a few days of pervading silence between them on the subject,
Mulder had worked up the courage to ask her if she wanted to go to
the movies with him. He felt like a jerk asking Scully out on a date
in the hopes that he'd get lucky again; at least she'd had the good
sense to refuse him.
"Don't force it, Mulder," she'd said. "There's no need. If it's
meant to be, it will happen on its own."
She was right. It would. And it did. And it felt a hell of a lot
more natural the second time. They'd been working late, going over
case files at her place; and when they were through, Scully asked him
if he wanted to stay over. He'd 'stayed over' before, but he knew
she was offering him more than the sofa this time. After their
encounter that night they'd held each other close; the act itself had
been less rushed and not as desperate as their previous coupling. 
They'd been considerably more relaxed - much more affectionate with
each other.
A week ago Friday they'd had their third 'date?' - an impromptu
dinner after work that led back to his place afterwards, and their
most romantic exploration of intimacy yet. He'd felt the need to be
gentle with her; to take her tenderly and offer her, without
reservation, his worship. To show her the love that he was afraid to
tell her he held for her in his heart. Scully's response had been
spectacular; she'd held nothing back from him. It had been so
intensely satisfying that he'd actually found himself on the verge of
tears. No other woman had ever moved him like that. 
They'd acted like lovers that night, but still they'd yet to admit
to each other that their intimate trysts were anything more than
sexually driven. Mulder knew how he felt, of course. His love for
Scully had been undeniable for quite some time. He wanted to tell
her, but he wasn't sure she was ready to hear it. His hope was that
she might reveal her feelings first. Not that he was worried; he
felt certain she loved him as well. It was only a matter of time
before she told him as much - he knew this; he would just have to be
patient and wait for her. 
Scully, after all, was a very private person. After seven years of
partnership and close friendship, Mulder had recently realized that
he knew next to nothing about the woman she was before they'd met. 
He'd been shocked as hell when upon his return from England she'd
poured her heart out to him over tea at his place. He'd tried not to
let her see his astonishment when she'd confessed to having once had
an affair with a married man - a much older married man - one who
also happened to be her med school professor. This was not the
Scully he'd always thought he knew, the reserved and proper
professional, perpetually concerned about her reputation.
Before her startling revelation, he'd all but convinced himself that
she hadn't actually had a one-night stand with that nut-case Jerse in
Philadelphia. Now he wondered about that. And maybe, if he hadn't
kicked in Phil Padgett's door that day, Agent Scully would have done
the naked pretzel with the stranger in his unfurnished fourth floor
apartment after all. And then there was Jack Willis - another of her
instructors - Jesus Christ... What the hell was wrong with her? 
He shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking about her this way. It
was jealousy, pure and simple, that fueled his resentment and
consequent condemnation of her past relationships. He, after all,
had a past too; and he'd been just as reluctant to share details of
it with her. Now that they were 'involved' - yes, he decided that
was probably the best word at this point... now that they were
involved, he should really tell her. Although deep down he suspected
she already knew that Diana had been more than his 'friend' as Scully
had called her. She'd been his wife for a brief and utterly
disastrous twelve weeks. It was a failure he'd chosen not to talk
about with anyone; a very painful chapter in his life that he
preferred to try and forget about. If Scully did know, she'd been
perceptive enough and thoughtful enough not to ever ask him about it.
After Diana, Mulder had sworn he'd never let himself get THAT
serious about a woman again. And he'd tried, he really had. But it
was damn hard not to fall in love with Scully - in fact, for him it
had been impossible. She was intelligent and beautiful and strong. 
She challenged him, understood him like no one else ever had. She
was always there for him, whether he needed a comforting hug and some
gentle encouragement, or a kick in the ass and the ugly facts shoved
in his face. Scully was his truth; a truth he could no longer deny.
Day off or not, he needed to hear her voice right now; knowing it
would most certainly revive his weary spirit. His cell phone in
hand, Mulder was about to make the call when his eyes caught sight of
a figure emerging from the passenger side of a blue sedan that had
just pulled over to the shoulder of the street about a block ahead of
him. There was no mistaking that vibrant red hair, or her tiny yet
commanding presence. It was Scully. What in the hell was she doing
here?
Mulder expected her to make a beeline for his car, but instead she
crossed around to the driver's side of the vehicle that had brought
her there. When the man behind the wheel rolled down the window,
Scully leaned in and kissed him. 
She kissed him!
It hit Mulder like a hard punch to the stomach; actually forcing the
air from his lungs in one tremendous huff of sickening disbelief. 
Scully was seeing someone else? Through horrified eyes he watched
her flash a bright smile and wave good-bye to the man in the car. 
Then she crossed the street before turning to blow a kiss to the
driver as he pulled out into traffic and drove away.
For several stunned seconds Mulder watched until she disappeared
into the crowd at the park. He wanted to run after her, to demand an
explanation, but he still had twenty minutes left on the FBI's clock
and McCarty would be mad as hell at him if he fucked up this
surveillance. Though it wouldn't make much difference if he kept
watch or not after what he'd just witnessed; the suspect could do the
funky chicken on the hood of his car and Mulder wouldn't notice him
now.
By the time Agent Montgomery arrived to relieve him, Mulder had
worked up a good head of steam. Sure, he and Scully hadn't talked
about an exclusive relationship, but that was more or less
expected... wasn't it? Who the hell was this guy anyway? Someone
from the Bureau? A man she'd only recently met? He wished he'd
caught a better look at the guy or at least had enough of his wits
about him to get the car's plates. Setting off into the park after
Scully, Mulder was determined to get answers; ready to demand the
truth from her if necessary.
After searching for several minutes he spotted her, sitting alone on
a bench, impatiently checking her watch. He stopped dead in his
tracks, staying well out of sight, taking a minute to compose
himself. 
Better to approach her calmly and ask her to explain what he saw,
than to accuse her in a jealous rage. He took a few slow deep
breaths and tried to let go of his anger. He shut his eyes and
counted to ten,
but when he opened them, all his efforts were in vain, because the
reason for Scully's impatience was suddenly apparent. A tall, good-
looking man in his late forties was fast approaching her. And as
soon as she spotted him Scully got up from the bench and hurried to
meet the man; stretching up on her toes to greet him with a very
provocative kiss. This was not the same man that had driven away in
the car, of that Mulder was sure. The other man had blonde hair;
this guy's was black and peppered with flecks of gray.
What in the hell was going on? 
Mulder stood, unmoving, and watched as Scully and her man of the
moment put on a show for anybody who happened to care to look in
their direction. He couldn't understand this; couldn't believe this
was the same woman he'd known and loved for so many years. Scully -
HIS Scully, in the arms of another man right there in front of him. 
The blood ran cold in Mulder's veins, and his heart screamed its
outrage in loud pulsing beats inside his aching chest. If he hadn't
seen it with his own eyes he would never have believed it... never.
Scully was cheating on him. 
This was worse than Phoebe's infidelities, worse than Diana's
abandonment; because this was Scully - the last person on earth he
ever thought would betray his trust. He couldn't even bring himself
to follow after them when they walked away, leaving him standing
there confused and awash with emotional agony so strong it crossed
over into the realm of physical pain. 
 
**************************************************
 
Scully hung up the phone and sank down onto the window seat cushion
in front of her fireplace. She was completely confused by the
conversation she'd just had with Mulder. Well, perhaps she needed to
re-phrase that... the conversation she DIDN'T have - all the words
left unsaid between them. It had been damned odd.
She'd spent most of the day in and out of her apartment; cleaning,
doing her laundry and running all the errands she never had time to
complete during the week. She and Mulder had not seen each other the
night before, even though Fridays had become more or less an
established evening - and more lately, night. When they were just
friends, Fridays had represented popcorn and some sort of beverage,
and really bad movies - or several hours of in-depth case discussion,
as if their weekday conversations weren't enough. But the office
atmosphere had never been able to compare with the easy flow of
camaraderie they shared when Friday came along and they got away from
the basement. Even though becoming intimate had taken their
affection for each other to a different level, there was still so
much she didn't know about Mulder. He could be almost too intense,
too needy - and then he could withdraw and clam up tight; hiding
behind a veneer of sarcasm and biting commentary. And though she'd
been on the receiving end of his intensity, lately - and she
shuddered a bit at the remembered heat of that single-minded passion
he'd shown her - today he'd shown her the other side; the one she
hated to see. 
She had called him early in the evening, wanting to hear his voice;
find out how the surveillance had gone. His cell phone had rung
forever, which had worried her a bit - usually he picked up on her
call within three rings. They had both been issued brand-new
Meridians, which had caller ID, so he had to know it was her, yet he
wouldn't pick up. It was almost as if he didn't want to talk to
her... but that was silly, she thought to herself as she counted the
tenth ring; maybe he was in the bathroom and she'd just caught him at
an inopportune time. After seventeen rings he finally answered, and
his voice was dull and flat. 
"Mulder." Scully was immediately thrown off-balance by his tone;
then figured he was just grouchy about being stuck on car duty, and
so she made her voice extra bright and warm, just for him.
"Hi, it's me. Finally done with the house baby-sitting?" There was
a long silence; she could hear Mulder breathing, then he spoke one
terse word.
"Yeah." That was it? Scully frowned. What was the matter with
him? Stake-outs usually didn't make him this pissy. Actually, that
was the perfect word for the vibes she was receiving through the
phone. Pissy. She took a deep breath and tried again. 
"Are you hungry? I could fix some dinner. I didn't really get a
chance to eat today, but I know from agonizing personal stake-out
experience that you usually munch your way to gastronomic nirvana..."
She chuckled lightly, expecting him to join in. He didn't. There
was another heavy silence, and then his low voice tossed out a full
six-word sentence.
"What did you do today, Scully?" Innocent enough question... but
for the tone she caught in his syllables. She shook her head in
confusion, but kept her voice light and easy.
"Oh, nothing exciting. Typical Saturday routine; well, typical for
me, I guess. Errands, cleaning... you know." The silence following
her friendly reply was thick enough to caulk bath tile. He breathed
an impatient-sounding sigh into her ear, and his voice took on a more
definitive edge.
"You don't say. Well, I'm glad to hear you had such a productive
day. Look, I gotta go, Scully. Later." And with that abrupt word,
he disconnected, leaving her staring down at her cell phone in
stunned disbelief. What the hell...! She shook her head, hard. Had
she even been speaking to Mulder, she wondered? THE Fox Mulder, FBI
agent, partner and new lover; the one who had held her naked in his
arms just a short week ago; whose exquisite loving had moved her to
tears? Sure, they hadn't said much in the way of words, still fairly
shy with one another - but she knew the way of his heart; she hadn't
needed words. 
The way he had slipped his trembling fingers along her sensitive
spine, as the increased tenor of his breathing fluttered against her
neck; the utter tenderness of each kiss he pressed on her skin, as if
she was made of fragile, paper-thin china; every deep thrust of his
lean hips as he took her soaring to new heights... all of this spoke
to her and told her everything she needed to know. Mulder had always
loved her; of that she had no doubt. But last week she knew that he
was falling IN love with her, the same way she was falling for him. 
She knew the words were a breath away, for both of them...
Well, she knew - until today. Now she wasn't sure of anything; as
she slowly laid the phone down, and fought back tears of confused
hurt, she went back over the entire week; searching for any small
event which could have made him angry at her. But she couldn't
dredge up a thing. She leaned back in the window seat and stared out
unseeingly at the fading sun. She was in for a long Saturday
night... She brushed the dampness from her face in surprise, unsure
of the exact moment the tears had begun to slip down her cheeks. She
rested her head against the cold window glass, and let them fall.
 
***************************************************
 
She lied to him.
Scully lied to him.
He didn't know what hurt more, her infidelity or her deceitfulness;
though both were unforgivable - especially from her. He'd given her
his trust, not to mention his heart, and she'd chosen to regard both
as wholly inconsequential. He'd been hurt by women before; this was
nothing new... he just hadn't expected it from her.
Well, he was a big boy. He could handle this. After all, he'd
survived Diana - barely - but he'd survived. There was pain now but
he'd get over it, eventually... maybe.
He couldn't believe this was happening. Just when everything seemed
to be finally coming together for them... how could she take
advantage of him like that? Was their friendship a lie too? What
absolutely blew him away was the fact that he'd been so wrong about
her. After everything they'd been through together, to see her now
in this new harsh light... he didn't want to believe it.
But he'd seen her with his own eyes, kissing those other men... 
Jesus, he thought, it's not bad enough she's involved with someone
else - there has to be TWO of them!
And suddenly he was furious at her. He picked up his new cell phone
- the one that had delivered her lies - and he threw it as hard as he
could. It hit the wall with a loud 'crack' and bounced back onto the
hardwood floor breaking into tiny pieces of plastic and electronic
circuitry, scattering in all directions. He just stared at the mess,
thinking how she'd shattered his world in much the same way. 
 
Later that night as he lay on the sofa staring sleeplessly up at the
ceiling, knowing he would never be able to face his bed again and the
memories of her there, Mulder wondered how long he would continue to
love her despite what she'd done. He'd loved Diana for years after
their divorce... And what he felt for Scully was so much deeper. 
Scully...
She'd been the biggest lie of all. He wondered, had she purposely
set out to deceive him? Or was he somehow to blame - having put her
on a pedestal - imagining her as someone other than who she really
was? She'd shocked him with her confession about her adulterous
affair. And he'd been confused by her interest in that writer. He'd
been angered by her lack of judgment and what he saw as a moral lapse
with that maniac Jerse... but maybe... maybe she was just being
herself, all along. How could he have been so stupid? So blind? 
The evidence had been right there in front of him the entire time. 
Some fucking hotshot behavioral psychologist he was; he'd gotten his
own partner completely wrong.
 
 
By sunrise he'd made up his mind not to be angry with her. After
all, she wasn't trying to hurt him; she'd lied to spare his feelings.
Of course, that didn't make it hurt any less. But as long as he
didn't harbor resentment toward her, they could at least continue to
work together. He couldn't be intimate with her again, but Mulder
didn't want to lose her as a partner, even though their friendship
would never be the same after this. He worried what their
partnership would evolve into though, now that the trust that had
been such a vital part of their working relationship was gone. 
 
 
All day Sunday he knew he should get out of the house... or at the
very least off the sofa, but as hard as he tried he couldn't will
himself to care enough to do anything but just lay there and brood. 
Scully had called him again - well, she'd tried. He'd refused to
answer the phone, listening to her soft voice over the answering
machine speaker instead... 
"Mulder, it's me. I've been trying to reach you on your mobile but
the damn thing isn't working..." He heard her sigh. "Or maybe
you've turned it off. Whatever. I just wanted to check in and see
if everything is all right. Umm... You sounded upset yesterday. I
hope I wasn't the cause of it. If you get this message and it's not
too late... or even if it is late, Mulder, call me, okay? I'm
worried about you."
The concern in her voice sounded genuine. It was all he could do
not to run over and grab up the phone and tell her how much he loved
her and beg her to let those other men go. What he ended up doing
instead was curling up into a ball of pain on his sofa and crying
until his head ached so bad that he made himself sick.
 
 
*****************************************************
 
Monday morning found Scully exhausted and wrung-out from too much
worry and not enough sleep. She had given up on calling Mulder,
after her midnight attempt had yielded nothing but frustration. He
wasn't answering; of course there was a remote possibility that he
wasn't home - except she had also tried his cell number. No, she had
to accept that for some reason known only to Mulder himself, he
didn't wish to speak, maybe to anyone but certainly not to her. She
was clueless as to why. 
She had tossed and turned for the remainder of the night; had
finally given up on sleep as well, and had arisen early, grainy-eyed
and stiff. After a hot shower, she'd felt worse; listless and achy. 
She'd quickly gulped down a mug of black coffee and headed off to
work. 
All the way to town, she replayed her Saturday conversation with
Mulder; picking it apart in her mind. What was said between them...
what had been an inflection in his voice. He had sounded cold,
almost hostile. Almost... suspicious of her. Scully stopped for a
red light, nearly too late; she braked in a hurry, trembling in
reaction as the car in front of her loomed way too close in her
windshield. She dropped her head on the steering wheel and fought to
get her pounding heart under control. This was ridiculous! Why
would Mulder be suspicious of anything she did? She hadn't seen him
off-duty since mid-week; had only spoken to him twice outside of
regular working hours. So maybe they hadn't gotten together on
Friday... she knew he was all right with it; with not seeing her. 
Something had happened between Friday and Saturday. Scully's eyes
narrowed in concentration, trying to fit pieces of an ill-fitting
puzzle together. She was thinking so hard she missed the green light
and only an impatient honk from the car behind her shook her out of
her meditative state. She hurriedly rammed her foot on the
accelerator and her car shot forward. A quick glance at her watch
showed her she still had enough time to stop by the dry-cleaners
before she had to hit the basement. And, to be honest - if she ended
up being a bit late... she told herself it wouldn't be so bad; told
herself it wasn't because she didn't want to deal with whatever was
wrong with her partner. It just wasn't...
She was driving toward Pennsylvania Avenue, on the parkway that ran
along Rock Creek, when she noticed the car in her rear-view mirror. 
A nondescript beige sedan, it was riding her bumper. Scully sighed
and sped up a bit, figuring she'd been wool-gathering. A few seconds
later, she glanced in her mirror again - and the car was almost on
top of her. She frowned and pushed at the accelerator a little more;
the car behind her got even closer. Scully gaped into the mirror.
"What the hell -" The car's front bumper actually touched the rear
of her car, kissing it lightly; Scully was getting pissed, wanting
nothing more than to see a police car zoom up beside this idiot and
pull him over. A few seconds more, and suddenly the car behind her
rammed her, hard. Scully's head snapped forward, and her instant
panic had her almost slamming on the brakes. Her car picked up a
little more speed and she managed to stay in her lane. She fought
down the panic and concentrated on getting off the parkway and out of
this moron's driving space...
Suddenly he zipped around her, pulled up sharply beside her and
swerved, ramming into the driver's side and pushing her off the road.
Scully cried out in fear; her sweaty palms slipping on the wheel as
her car was forced into the rocky berm. She fought to keep control
of the vehicle, but she couldn't hold it. The car spun into one of
the few inclines along Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway that had no
guard rail; over the embankment she went, the car bouncing hard as it
hit water. Here the creek widened and got deeper, and Scully's car
plunged in, nose-first.
Inside, Scully became frantic as the car began to sink rapidly. The
engine had died the minute it came in contact with the creek, and
Scully realized with dread that she couldn't open the power windows. 
She knew she had to equalize the pressure inside the car in order to
get the door to open and make her escape. Her eyes anxiously
searched around inside the car for something she could use to break
the window; her briefcase looked like the best choice. Scully picked
up the heavy satchel and began to ram it hard over and over into the
driver's side window, until at last she was rewarded with a shower of
pebbled safety glass and rushing water. She willed herself not to
panic as the cold brackish creek began rapidly filling the interior
of her car. She had forgotten the first rule of submersion danger -
to unfasten the seat belt. By the time Scully's common sense
surfaced it was almost too late for her to escape. Panic threatening
to overtake her, Scully scrabbled to unfasten the sodden belt,
lifting a tear-streaked face above the rushing water; blindly
fighting fright and weakening arm muscles. She finally managed to
unlock her belt, and with waning strength pulled on the door handle
at the same time she pushed at the door itself. She sobbed in
frustration as the door still refused to budge. Water rolled over
her mouth and she swallowed some in her panic; coughing and
sputtering as she continued to fight with the door. Its sudden give
was a blessed relief as she pushed her way out, panic re-asserting
itself as she realized with horror just how deep this section of the
creek got - and that she had to swim to break the surface. She was
so tired, and she ached so badly from the cold water...
 
***************************************
 
After checking his watch for the tenth time that morning, Mulder
vowed he would not look again. Scully was uncharacteristically late,
and though he wasn't looking forward to facing her after ignoring her
calls the day before, he couldn't help but worry about what might be
delaying her... or whom.
Particularly whom.
Wallowing in self-pity and jealousy, he stared blankly at the case
file in his hand, having no memory at all of the page he'd just read.
Was she with one of them right now? Was that why she was late? He
wondered what excuse Scully would offer him this time - what lie.
Just as his anger started to build, the phone rang, and despite
himself he grabbed it on the first ring. "Mulder," he barked
anxiously into the receiver.
"It's me." The tremulous tone of Scully's voice struck a fearful
cord in him. "I'm in the ER at Washington Hospital. Someone forced
my car off the road into Rock Creek this morning."
He sat at attention, forgetting everything else in his sudden
concern for her safety. "Jesus! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just a few bumps and bruises, mostly I'm shaken up and
really, really wet. My car..." She sighed. "My car on the other
hand is totaled."
"I'll come and pick you up," he offered immediately.
He was half way out of his chair when she told him, "No. Don't
trouble yourself, Mulder. Really. There's no reason both of us need
to miss work today. I'll take a cab home. After I put a call in to
my insurance company, I'm going to spend the rest of the day trying
to forget what happened."
"Are you sure? It's no trouble. I can be there in twenty minutes,
Scully."
"No. Really. It's not necessary."
He didn't want to push any further. He'd made the offer. If Scully
preferred to take a cab, then so be it. "Tell me what happened. You
said you were forced off the road?" Mulder nervously worked his
bottom lip with his teeth as she explained the incident, how her car
had ended up submerged in the deepest part of the creek. By the time
she'd finished her story he was ready to drive right over to the
hospital and pick her up regardless of her insistence that it wasn't
necessary. But she hurried off the phone then, explaining that the
doctor was back and she needed to go, telling him that she'd see him
at work the next morning.
The rest of the day was a struggle for Mulder to get through. The
hours dragged by, and more than once he considered what work-related
excuse he might use to drop by Scully's and check in on her. His
concern for her well-being superseded his distress over recent
revelations about her personal life. Part of him still wanted to
believe that it wasn't really true, that he'd just imagined it all,
that Scully couldn't possibly give her love to anyone but him. He'd
mostly convinced himself of that as he was heading over to her
apartment after work that afternoon, but two blocks from his
destination Mulder was confronted with the ugly and undeniable truth
once again.
Stopped at an intersection, Mulder caught sight of the occupants of
an approaching vehicle; the brilliant and familiar red hair of the
female passenger first grabbing his attention. It was Scully. But
Mulder didn't recognize the man driving the car. Not wanting to jump
to any conclusions, he made a U-turn and followed, determined to get
to the bottom of this once and for all. He trailed them into
downtown DC, coming up with one plausible explanation after another;
finally deciding that this was probably Scully's insurance man, and
he was just bringing her to get a rental car. That was working quite
nicely until they pulled up in front of the Phoenix Park Hotel,
giving the valet their car and walking hand in hand into the high-
priced establishment. There was no shock this time; Mulder just felt
sick to his stomach.
He figured they were heading into the Dubliner, a popular Irish pub
inside the hotel. Mulder had been there only once, but he thought it
was the kind of place Scully might enjoy. He considered going in and
confronting her, putting an end to this whole charade, here and now. 
His anger had returned with a vengeance. All dolled up in a sexy
cocktail dress, smiling and laughing with her date as they made their
way into the hotel, Scully sure as hell hadn't looked like the recent
victim of a near-fatal auto accident, as she claimed. Another lie? 
Another man? What was going on with her?
Mulder had parked his car in a nearby garage and then sat there for
over an hour trying to work up the nerve to go in and face them. In
the end he couldn't do it. What good would it have done anyway? 
Other than giving him the satisfaction of catching her in a lie and
watching her try and squirm her way out of it... he didn't need that
kind of revenge. Maybe someday he would feel the need to hurt her
for doing this to him, but at the moment he was still too in love
with her to want retaliation. Drowning his sorrows seemed a much
better use of the rest of his evening.
 
 
*****************************************************
 
Scully leaned against the elevator wall, trying to ease the soreness
in her lower back. She probably should have stayed home an extra
day; Skinner had wanted her to, but she was anxious to see Mulder. 
After their phone conversation yesterday, she had actually been able
to get some sleep. Talking to Mulder had made her feel better. 
She'd heard the concern in his voice, and took it as a good sign; a
sign that he had returned to himself and had gotten past whatever
problems he'd faced on Saturday.
The doors opened and Scully straightened, rubbing at her bruised
shoulder. Slowly she walked down the silent corridor and opened
their door. Her eyes eagerly searching for Mulder, she found him
standing with his back to her, flipping through files. At the sound
of the door latching closed, he didn't look up, but continued to
search the files. She stood there in front of her desk, willing him
to look up and greet her as he always did. When he persisted in
ignoring her, Scully frowned in confusion, setting her purse down;
softly she cleared her throat.
"Good morning, Mulder." She stared at him, silently begging him to
turn around and visually acknowledge her. He didn't. Aside from a
shrug and a half-baked movement of his head, his back remained turned
to her.
"Scully." That was it; her name uttered in stilted, cool tones. 
Scully frowned again; what on earth was going on? First the strange
coldness of the weekend, and now this... She removed her jacket and
hung it on the coat rack, then moved to his side and stood staring
pointedly at him, until he finally turned to her and returned her
stare. Her eyes widened in shock as she took in his overall
appearance...
Mulder looked very badly hung-over. His hooded eyes were red-rimmed
and dark smudges ringed the puffy flesh underneath. His skin was
pale and even from a few feet away she could smell the lingering
fumes of what had to be one hell of a drinking binge. She didn't
understand - Mulder never drank to oblivion. She could count on one
hand the number of times she'd seen him toss back more than two beers
- yet something had driven him to imbibe heavily. Worry evident in
her face, Scully reached out a hand and laid it on Mulder's forearm;
she could feel his muscles tense under the small weight of her palm. 
He met her look of concern with a steady stare.
"Mulder... are you all right? What did you do last night?" His
eyes narrowed ominously at her soft words, and he shrugged again; a
very subtle move that eased his arm gently, enough for her to let him
go.
"I'm fine - and I didn't do a thing last night." His gaze bored
unsmilingly into Scully's perplexed eyes. His voice was low and
deliberate. "How about you, Scully? Did you spend last evening at
home resting up after such a trying day, hmm?" Scully's eyes
reflected more confusion as she caught the biting sarcasm in his tone.
"Yes, after I was released from the ER I went home and had a long
soak in a hot tub, hoping it would ease my sore muscles. I spent the
rest of the evening just trying to relax, trying to forget the idea
that someone would actually want to force my car and my person off
the road and into Rock Creek." She searched his eyes carefully as
she spoke - and saw disbelief lurking there. 
Mulder didn't believe her.
Why on earth wouldn't he believe her? It didn't make sense. His
body language was hostile; tight and inexplicably angry; his
muttered, "A long soak, I'm sure that must have helped -" tossed out
at her as he slammed the file drawer shut and moved to the door,
yanking his jacket off the coat rack. He slipped it on and faced her
briefly, eyes not quite meeting hers, as he inquired, "I'm going for
coffee. Do you want anything?" 
Still perplexed and concerned by his attitude, Scully sank down into
her chair, now aching all over; she fumbled in her purse - for some
of the pills the ER doctor had prescribed for her. She opted to
forgo the Soma for now, knowing that the muscle relaxant would make
her too drowsy. The pain killers were the better choice; she'd be a
bit spacy, but at least she'd be able to stay awake. Shaking two
Vicodin out into her palm, she looked up to find Mulder watching her
closely.
"Tea would be nice, Mulder - listen," as he turned to go, "Are you
sure everything's all right? You seem... upset. Please, if
something's wrong, tell me." Her plea yielded a long silence, and
then his soft reply, as he walked out the door.
"There's nothing wrong, Scully - nothing. I hope you feel better...
soon. I'll be back in a little while." Then he was gone; leaving
her more upset and worried than ever - and determined to get to the
bottom of what was shaping up to be a really odd mystery.
 
*****************************************************
 
When he wasn't out of town on a case, Mulder's regular Tuesday night
routine included pick up ball at the Bureau gym. It was nearly ten
o'clock and he'd just arrived home, sweaty and tired after taking out
most of his anger and energy on the court. He hobbled his aching
body into the kitchen looking for something cold to drink, cursing
when he was interrupted by a knock at the door before he could make
it even as far as the refrigerator.
He almost swore again when he saw who was standing in the hall. 
Scully. Regarding her coolly, he leaned his weary bones up against
the door frame - not inviting her in.
"Hi," she said, and he noted how nervously she was fidgeting with
her keys.
"Hi." There was nothing at all welcoming about his tone.
"I'm sorry I didn't call first." She studied him anxiously. 
"Mulder, I think someone is trying to kill me."
A closer look and he could see she was trembling. "What are you
talking about, Scully? What happened?" 
She tried to see past him into his apartment, as if she thought he
might not be alone. "Is it all right if I come in?"
He shrugged and stepped aside, allowing her to pass, but making no
move to invite her any further than the entry foyer. "So what's this
all about?" He could tell his aloof manner was making her
uncomfortable, but found that he liked having the advantage.
After eyeing him uncertainly, she drew a shaky breath. "I don't
know. I was taking a walk through the park in my neighborhood and
somebody took a shot at me! I swear the bullet passed not two inches
in front of my face! I took cover and tried to see the shooter, but
whoever it was ran off before I could mark him."
"Are you sure you were the intended target?"
"If not, the sniper was a damn lousy shot. I was alone on the
path." She looked at him, annoyed. "Mulder, what's with you? 
Someone just tried to kill me! And for the second time in two days!"
He would have been more moved by her act if he hadn't witnessed her
amazing recovery the night before. Yesterday he'd been genuinely
worried; tonight he was more angry at himself for wanting to believe
her than anything else. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm really tired. Can
we talk about this tomorrow?"
She studied his face a minute, then sighed and nodded. "Would you
mind if I stayed? I don't want to be alone tonight. I know I won't
be able to sleep if I'm by myself." The pleading look in her eyes
tugged at his heartstrings. He couldn't refuse her.
His assenting nod won him a thankful smile, which he chose to
ignore. Turning his back on her, Mulder peeled his sweaty T-shirt
from his body, then threw back to Scully as he headed for the
bathroom, "I'm gonna hit the shower. Make yourself comfortable."
And that she did. When he emerged from the steamy bathroom twenty
minutes later, he found Scully waiting for him in his bed. He had
been planning to sleep on the sofa again, but she called to him as he
tried to casually hurry past her out of the bedroom. "Mulder, I
already locked up."
"Thanks." He knew he wasn't going to get out of this unless he
wanted to make a big issue of it tonight. She turned back the sheets
on his side, patting the mattress gently. Her eyes sent a seductive
message that would have set him on fire had the circumstances been
different.
Walking slowly over to the bed, he reluctantly slipped in between
the covers, immediately turning his back to her. Scully snuggled
close, her naked form spooning up behind him. What used to feel so
perfect - the warm softness of her skin pressed against his - now
caused his body to tense. He shut his eyes against his anger, but
all he could see were visions of her betrayal, taunting him. He
wondered if she was sleeping with any of the others. And then he
hated himself for letting the thought even enter his mind. It was
just too painful to imagine; Scully giving herself to another man...
She'd made him feel he was the only one; that his touch affected her
as no man's ever had. Now all he could do was wonder how much of
Scully's passion had been nothing more than play-acting, just another
sham for his benefit.
Mulder remained stone-like as she nuzzled against him, but when her
hands began to roam he had to put a stop to it. Turning abruptly to
face her, he grabbed both her wrists, giving her a stern look - his
sudden forcefulness causing her to draw in a tiny gasp of excitement.
But his gruff, "Don't, Scully," broke through the momentary sexual
tension.
She drew away, confused by his rejection. "What?"
"I told you I'm tired. And we both have work tomorrow."
"It's more than that. Something's been wrong for days. What is it,
Mulder? Please tell me."
'Just do it, Mulder,' he told himself. 'Get it over with.' "I've
been thinking about our relationship. We may have made a mistake."
"What do you mean?" She searched his expression fearfully.
"This - US - it isn't working out."
"You've changed your mind?"
"I guess I have. I'm sorry, Scully." The pain in her eyes was
almost too much for him to bear. He had to remind himself that she
was cheating on him. That he was HER victim and not the other way
around.
"I don't understand." Scully's voice came as a choked whisper, and
even in the darkness of his bedroom Mulder could see the tears of
hurt glistening on her beautiful face.
But he was resigned to follow through with this. It had to be done.
"These things are never easy. But we can be glad that we realized it
wasn't going to work out before it got too serious. At least this
way we can still work together... still be friends." He couldn't
believe he'd used that terrible cliche on her. Maybe she hadn't
noticed, he thought, seeing that she didn't seem to be listening to
him anymore. Scully had retreated inside herself - he could almost
physically see the walls she had begun building for her own
protection.
After several moments, Scully wiped the wetness from her cheeks. "I
should go," she said decisively, and started to move away.
He grabbed her hand to stop her, noting how icy cold her delicate
fingers had suddenly become. "Stay. It's a big bed. I'll sleep
better tonight knowing you're safe." She considered his request,
then nodded silently. Mulder was surprised that she'd agreed so
quickly; that gunman at the park must have really put a scare in her.
Part of him wanted to hold her and give her a feeling of security
while she slept - but he forced himself to let it go. As desperately
as she needed him right now, he couldn't give her that anymore. He
turned his back to her again and willed himself to forget she was
there and go to sleep.
*****************************************************
 
She hurt in every muscle and was bone-weary, yet Scully couldn't
sleep. She lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, tears welling
in her eyes and slipping down into her hair. Next to her on the wide
bed, Mulder hugged the edge of the mattress and lay with his back to
her, snoring softly. She could feel the resentment building up
inside; tempered with hurt and laced with residual pain over his
rejection of her, not an hour ago. She wiped at the tears; they
flowed freely now and her fingers couldn't keep up with them.
Outside the bedroom window, tree branches swayed gently in the night
breeze; through the half-open window she could hear them rustle. 
Their leaves threw dancing shadows across the silent room, and that
play of gray and black on the walls of Mulder's bedroom brought the
memories flooding back; memories of a night not so long ago, when the
leaves skittered on his walls and the breeze touched the glass of his
windows as he'd held her pressed tightly underneath his driving body.
Scully lay next to her partner and best friend; the man who knew
her, sometimes better than she knew herself - and her aching body
remembered the feel of his hands sliding over every inch of her skin;
lips following fingers; eyes silently adoring her; words of awe at
her beauty, her desirability, tumbling over his seeking tongue as he
moved within her soul... 'So perfect, feels so right, Scully - God,
nothing ever felt this good...' And she'd gasped the affirmation
back to him as her limbs had wound about his lean frame, holding him
firmly and matching move for move. 
Turning on her side, Scully watched Mulder sleeping; needing him to
awaken and tell her why he'd changed his mind; why he didn't want her
- and why so suddenly he didn't think an intimate relationship was
the best thing that had happened to both of them; the best since that
day so long ago when she'd first shook Mulder's hand and knew somehow
he would become the grounding focus of her world. And it broke her
heart to think she might be losing that all-important relationship. 
One of her hands reached out to him; trembling fingers traced a
feather-light random pattern down the smooth muscled plane of his
back. His skin was warm and satiny, and her hand was greedy from the
lack of him. She touched him over and over, along the only place on
his body accessible to her. As she finally felt the exhaustion
overtake her, she was able to lull herself into a semblance of sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, eyes heavy and gritty from the tears
and the deprivation of solid rest... Mulder was already up and gone.
 
 
*****************************************************
 
Tapping his fingers impatiently on the dash, Mulder waited for
Scully to return to the car. She'd forgotten her lab reports for
their current assignment, so they'd had to stop by her apartment on
their way over to Georgetown University, where they had an
appointment to meet with an expert who would hopefully be able to
shed some light on what was turning out to be a very baffling case. 
It occurred to Mulder as he sat there waiting, that they might not
have needed the help at all if they hadn't both been driven to
distraction all week with personal matters. Since Tuesday night and
his horrible 'We can still be friends' speech, neither of them were
functioning at even half their usual capacity. Scully's body had
been reporting to the office each day, but her mind was somewhere
else entirely - and her heart wasn't in her work either. She passed
off her general inattentiveness as a side effect of the medication
she was taking; but Mulder was certain it had more to do with the
tensions hanging between them than anything else. And he found he
was no better able to concentrate than she, his mind constantly
wandering to thoughts of Scully and why she seemed so distraught by
their personal breakup when she apparently had a full dance card - to
put it politely.
Of course, some of Scully's emotional dismay could be attributed to
her continued insistence that someone was trying to kill her. 
Although it was now Thursday and there had been no further attempts,
she still held to her claim that someone out there had marked her for
death. Mulder had all but decided that the two near-fatal incidents
had just been coincidence - a case of road rage and a stray bullet
(gang activity was not unheard of in Georgetown). But just in case,
he'd been extra watchful whenever he and Scully were outside of the
safety of the Hoover Building.
"Jesus, Scully, come on," he muttered under his breath, then checked
his watch and sighed. He wondered what in the hell was taking her so
long. The last couple of days he'd had very little patience where
she was concerned - when he wasn't trying to ignore her completely,
his comments to her were curt and intolerant. He'd chewed her out
for a full ten minutes for her forgetfulness this morning. Scully
hadn't said a word, just absorbed the abuse; but now she was clearly
paying him back by making him sit out in the goddamn car for an
eternity while she was inside, probably touching up her fucking
makeup or something else equally as important.
"About damn time," he said out loud when his dawdling partner
finally made her exit from the apartment building. She was crossing
the street toward him when the gunning of an engine and the loud
squeal of tires caused Scully to momentarily freeze in her tracks -
right in the middle of the road. "Shit! Scully, move!" Mulder
yelled, seeing the beige sedan barreling down on her. She started to
run, but the car swerved purposely to hit her, and she had to dive
out of the way, contacting the road hard and rolling several feet
over the rough pavement.
Mulder couldn't get out of the car fast enough. As he ran to
Scully, he tried to see the plates on the car that was now speeding
away - but there were no plates - and the escaping vehicle was now
too far away to see the driver. Damn it! By the time he reached
Scully his heart was pounding. Kneeling beside her he asked as his
eyes searched over her, "Are you hurt?" Very slowly she sat up and
he could see she'd suffered some cuts and abrasions on her arms and
legs; one knee looked particularly bad, it was already starting to
swell.
"Now do you believe me?" she asked bitterly, wincing through her pain.
He quickly gathered up the papers for her that had scattered over
the roadway and slipped them back into their file. Scully didn't
wait for him to offer her a hand getting to her feet. And she
hobbled back across the road and up the stairs to her apartment,
stubbornly refusing to lean on him for support.
 
 
"All right, so someone IS trying to kill you," Mulder acquiesced
with a sigh of frustration as he shut the door behind them.
"Thank you!" Scully collapsed onto the sofa, looking over her
injuries and frowning as she realized one of her best suits was
ruined.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Scully."
She waved off his apology.
Mulder sat down across from her on the love-seat. "Okay, let's
start from the top. Who would want to kill you?" She gave him a
'You've got to be kidding' look. "Scully, our enemies are not the
kind to miss their target. Whoever this is has made three
unsuccessful attempts in less than a week. This isn't a professional
hit man, at least not one worth his salt."
"Someone from one of our old cases?" she hypothesized.
"Maybe. I'll run a check and see if anyone we put away has been
recently paroled." He studied her for the moment, knowing he had to
ask and wondering what her reaction was going to be.
"What's the matter?" Apparently he'd been staring at her a little
too long.
"Scully, is there anyone else you can think of who might want to
kill you? Someone you've maybe had an argument with recently, a
friend... someone you're involved with?"
"No." She looked at him confused. "Mulder, what are you getting at?"
Okay, he was just going to have to lay it on the line. Be blunt and
get it out in the open. "Look, I know you've been dating other men. 
Could one of them be angry with you..." He shrugged uncomfortably. 
"Jealous?"
"What ARE you talking about? Other men? I'm not seeing anyone. 
Whatever gave you that idea?"
Her feigned innocence infuriated him, as did her boldfaced attempt
at deception. She was staring right into his eyes and lying to him! 
"I saw you, okay?"
A piece of a bewildered laugh escaped her. "What exactly did you
see?"
"Saturday morning at the park. I saw you with both of them. And
Monday night... I followed you and your 'other' date downtown to the
Phoenix Park Hotel."
She gave him a look of incredulity. "I don't know what in the hell
you're talking about, Mulder."
God, she did it again! Looked right into his eyes and lied! He
lost his temper then, shouting at her in his rage. "You can deny it
all you fucking want! I know what I saw!" The shocked look in her
eyes as she digested his accusations angered him even more, as did
her next furious words.
"This is insane! Jesus, Mulder, how could you even think such a
thing? I would never -"
He cut her off, unwilling to listen to anymore of her mendacity. 
"You know... I don't even care if you admit to it! I know what I
saw! I saw you kissing two different men within a few minutes of
each other! And then I saw you on a date with a third man a couple
of days later! I wouldn't have even brought it up - because
obviously you've gone through great lengths to keep your promiscuous
behavior a secret from me - but out of concern for your safety, all
possible suspects should be considered."
Her cheeks darkened. "Promiscuous?"
"A few other terms come to mind but you probably wouldn't like
them." His eyes narrowed in an accusing glare as she seethed in
reaction to his words.
"I'm offended that you have such a low opinion of me. Mulder,
whatever you believe you saw, I swear to you it wasn't what you
think. And it wasn't ME!"
"Whatever you say, Scully." Her eyes widened in disbelief as she
caught his condescending, sarcastic tone.
"Mulder! Why won't you believe me? I thought you trusted me."
That was it! He couldn't stand it any longer! Nothing but lies and
denials and now she was chastising HIM for not trusting her! He got
to his feet and headed for the door. He had to get out of there, get
away from her... before he really lost his temper.
Scully followed after him, limping and cursing as she tried to get
to him before he could leave. "Ouch! Shit! Goddamn it, Mulder,
wait a minute!"
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob.
"Don't leave. Please," she begged.
"I'll call you later." He opened the door and she put a hand out to
stop him from leaving, but he couldn't stand the thought of her
touching him and quickly moved out of her reach. That simple gesture
hurt her badly, but he was in no mood to feel remorse. "You'd better
get some ice on that knee," he told her, and then he hurried out the
door. 
 
 
*****************************************************
 
In the bathroom, Scully cleaned off the last of her scrapes - a
nasty one across her knee - and bit back the tears of pain - pain
borne more from Mulder's wild accusations than from the raw edges of
her torn skin. Her breathing had long since returned to normal but
her heart continued its rapid beat in time to the anger and
disillusionment still trapped within. She tried not to replay his
words but they returned over and over as she dried off her knee and
applied ointment.
And she fumed out loud, to herself.
"How could he even imagine such behavior of me? I held him in my
arms and made love to him - made myself vulnerable to him -" It was
all she could think of, dwell upon - as she reached into the medicine
cabinet and found one of her prescriptions, shaking out a muscle
relaxant and downing it with a few swallows of tepid water. She
needed the pain pills as well, and though she knew the brand new
refills were out on the coffee table in her living room, she dug
through the medicine cabinet until she found an old bottle of
something from a previous injury - and fished out the remaining four,
deciding she was in enough pain to justify double-dosing. As she was
about to bring them up to her mouth the phone rang... Mulder! It had
to be Mulder, calling her! 
She hurried into the bedroom as fast as her sore, stiff body would
allow, but by the time she reached the phone the caller had given up -
disconnected without bothering to leave a message. Scully slumped
down on the bed, her hand opening and the pills rolling off her palm
and onto the comforter. She hurt too much to get up and walk the few
steps needed to enter the bathroom and pour another glass of water. 
The hurt was all over, even worse than before. Now the pain was
centered, more identifiable; and so deeply inside her she doubted it
would ever leave. If the caller had been anyone except Mulder, she
would be decimated by the fact that he hadn't even tried to contact
her - to make some sort of an attempt to mend what had broken between
them. But if the call HAD been from Mulder, then he'd not cared
enough to leave her a message... that upset her even more.
No one had ever given her this much pain. None of the men from her
past had caused her to feel this kind of disillusionment and
desperation. She'd never really let those relationships get to her;
not like this. Not like Mulder. He'd had over seven years to become
as necessary to her as breathing; she had absorbed him so fully there
could be no going back. Scully wiped hot tears from her eyes,
pressing shaky hands to her damp face. Her head was pounding and she
actually felt feverish. She wondered how much more of this she could
endure.
She ached for Mulder's tenderness; for his embrace, even though she
was furious with him - though the pain he'd caused her would remain
with her - she ached. Falling back across the bed face-down, burying
her hot cheeks in the slippery cotton pillowcase, she just wanted to
stop thinking about it; just stop. So tired - she was so tired. Too
many days worth of close calls had caught up with her. Every muscle
was sorer than ever; she told herself to get up and get that glass of
water so she could take the pills and attain some measure of relief,
but her body was telling her 'no' - and her heart was just too raw to
care... and her mind wouldn't let her rest, either. Her mind made
her think about it, dwell on it. 
Mulder had accused and then run, not even sticking around to listen
to her denials. Well, perhaps his body had been present, there in
front of her - but his mind had already evaluated the words, found
them lacking in whatever credibility he seemed to require, and then
vacated the premises, a few minutes before his tight-lipped, "I'll
call you later," heralded his physical exit from her apartment.
Scully had put out a hand, needing to stop him from going; wanting
to feel skin on skin, at that moment even angry skin. The idea that
her need would supersede her frustration and hurt at his attitude...
well, that made it all the more pathetic, but she couldn't stop
herself. So she had reached out, and Mulder had sidestepped, just a
little; enough to sting, to inflict yet another wound. Her hand had
dropped heavily to her side, and he had walked out - again. 
Scully buried her head deeper into the cool pillowcase and did her
best to will it all away... tried her best to pretend she was
succeeding when the cotton absorbed the fresh tears trickling from
her eyes, and the goose feathers muffled her small sobs. It didn't
help that he'd at least believed her to be the victim of someone's
murder plot; that he accepted the danger in which she seemed to have
fallen. The physical pain she felt was nothing compared to the agony
her poor heart had to suffer, when Mulder accused her, and then
didn't believe her. The withdrawal of his arm from her reaching hand
was the crowning touch; surely it wasn't possible to survive that
much heartache. She couldn't take one iota more of it; just
couldn't... then her damned short-term memory served up a nice plate
of visual for her viewing pleasure, as she pressed her hot face
harder into the pillows - and that memory did the trick:
Mulder's eyes; or rather, the look in those beautifully expressive
eyes. In all their years together as partners and friends, the one
place Scully had always been able to read him was in his hazel-clear
eyes. They showed every emotion; every belief, hope, fear and need. 
They spoke to her more eloquently than uttered words, deep in the
night when he'd hovered over her trembling form; asking her silently
to let him in, let him come into her heart and show her a universe
which was hers for the taking. In those eyes she'd lost huge pieces
of herself, gladly; time and time again he'd lifted her soul and
wound it through his as his eyes made love as sweetly to her as his
driving body. She'd never minded the temporary loss of self; knowing
it would be returned to her newer, improved, healthier than ever -
more loved than ever. She grew accustomed to that look; craved it,
longed for it - and until today that look had always been there for
her to cherish.
Until today. As Mulder had turned away from her toward the door,
she'd gotten a small glimpse into his soul through the eyes which had
swept her bare and dismissed her as lacking; as something less than
the Dana Scully he once knew; and that look was playing over and
through her as if the needle was stuck in one damned groove; one
place where the tune was horribly off and the words especially cruel -
and she couldn't clear it. She couldn't bear it, either - the
pounding of her head made her sobs thicken, until the pressure became
too much. She reached for the last four pills which she'd spilled on
her bed, telling herself she could force them down her dry throat
without water; knowing her legs wouldn't support her if she tried to
get up again - convincing herself it wouldn't do damage to her
ravaged stomach if she took so many...
Not when she was dying inside.
 
 
*************************************************
 
There was angry. There was furious. And then there was dangerously
enraged. Mulder considered himself in the latter category at the
moment. After brooding half the day, his conscience had finally
gotten the better of him and he had decided to give Scully the
benefit of the doubt; on the off-chance that he'd been mistaken, or
that his own paranoia and jealously had been wreaking havoc with his
imagination. Had that been the case, he would have owed Scully one
hell of an apology; and he was prepared to forgo all dignity and beg
on his hands and knees for her forgiveness... had that been the case.
But it was not.
Putting his investigative skills to use, Mulder had returned to the
Phoenix Park Hotel. He questioned the bartender and waitresses at
the Dubliner Pub, showing them a photo of Scully. He'd been relieved
beyond words when they all denied ever having seen her. But then the
bartender had suggested that he talk to the desk clerk of the hotel,
and Mulder couldn't leave without that final verification of Scully's
innocence...
The discreet desk clerk had been reluctant to comment at first -
until Mulder flashed his FBI badge - and then the man couldn't have
been more helpful. "Yes, that's her. She's a frequent guest here."
"Do you know the name of the man she comes here with?"
The clerk laughed. "Which one? The lady's got quite a few
gentlemen friends. About four or five at the moment. Most are
married, they don't register under their real names. You wouldn't
believe how many Smiths and Jones we have as guests here each day. 
Not very original but it's rather obvious when you're checking in
without any luggage what you're here for."
Mulder showed him the photo again in disbelief. "This is the woman?
You're absolutely positive?"
The clerk had looked again at Scully's picture one last time and
nodded with certainty, leaving Mulder bewildered as ever at his
partner's apparent secret life. He'd made up his mind right then and
there that he was going to get the truth out of her, no matter what
it took.
 
Blinded by his ire, Mulder found himself parked in front of Scully's
apartment again, with little memory of the drive that had taken him
there. This was it. The end. Their partnership couldn't possibly
survive the confrontation that was about to occur. Her betrayal was
bad enough, causing an ache that he was certain would never leave
him... but her lies were beyond the pale - he could never forgive her
for abusing his trust. He'd once referred to her as his
touchstone... the standard by which he judged the value and truth of
everything else in his life. If Scully was a fraud, how could he be
sure of anyone or anything ever again?
He couldn't bring himself to think about the details; about the
other men and what she did with them in that upscale hotel on North
Capital Street. If he thought about it he knew he'd go insane with
jealousy. He was already on the verge of madness, doubting
everything he'd ever believed in. He swore to himself as he strode
up the steps to her apartment that if she dared lie to him one more
time, she would see a side of him she'd never seen before - at least
not directed toward her.
In her hallway he passed a delivery man carrying a huge bouquet of
flowers. The man smiled and nodded at Mulder on his way out the
door. The lingering smell of roses and lilies that hung in the air
even after the man had gone sickened Mulder; reminding him of the
lobby at the Phoenix Park... God, it was already starting, he thought
grimly as he walked the final steps to her door - little
inconsequential things were going to serve as unsuspecting reminders
of his pain. He'd lived through it before - to this day he couldn't
eat pistachio ice cream without thinking of Phoebe, or smell Chanel
No. 5 without an image of Diana popping into his head. There were so
many things that would remind him of Scully; he would never be able
to escape the grief. Their history together was long, but in a few
minutes it was going to come crashing to an end... Swallowing over
the hard lump in his throat, he knocked on her door.
Nothing.
This time he pounded louder, using his fist.
Still nothing.
"Scully! Come on, open up! It's me!" It didn't occur to him that
she might not be home; he was too convinced she was trying to hide
from him. Frustrated, he tried the doorknob and was surprised to
find it unlocked. How could she be so careless when she knew there
was someone out there gunning for her? Opening the door he went
inside, calling her name out as he entered. "Scully?"
He found her immediately, asleep on the sofa. Well, he decided,
passed out was probably more accurate considering he could smell the
whiskey halfway across the room, and noted the mostly empty bottle of
Jack Daniel's setting on the coffee table. She was really out for
the count - hadn't even heard him pounding on the door. And then his
eyes took in the prescription bottles and empty glass. "Christ,
Scully," he muttered. She knew better than to mix pills and alcohol.
What was she thinking?
And as he got closer, he saw more of the picture... dozens of opened
capsule halves, littering the floor. He ran the last couple of steps
to her side, panic propelling him. Both bottles of pills were empty
and there was a granular residue inside the glass... a suicide
cocktail? He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Turning to Scully, he found her pale, her lips blue... She wasn't
breathing! And for several horrifying seconds he couldn't find a
pulse either. "Oh God - no!" He fought to still his trembling
hands, and then finally he picked up the faintest of beats - very
slow - but she was still alive. Before he did anything else he ran
to the phone and called 911. Then raced back to Scully, carefully
lifting her off the sofa and setting her on the floor so he could
begin mouth to mouth. Her eyes fluttered for the briefest of moments
and she groaned something incoherently. Mulder cupped her face in
his hands, ordering her, "Hang on, Scully, paramedics are on their
way." Pressing his mouth over hers, he pinched her nose closed and
began breathing for her, forcing the air from his lungs into hers to
sustain her life.
Between breaths Mulder continued to exhort her to fight, to not give
up, demanding that she stay with him. But Scully wasn't responding,
and it was scaring the hell out of him. Her body was limp and cool
to the touch. He was sweating, short of breath, his own heart wildly
pumping; so much adrenaline coursing through his veins. Her pulse
was growing weaker with each passing minute. She was going into
arrest... dying... her body too overwhelmed with depressants to keep
functioning.
"Damn it, Scully, don't you do this to me!" he yelled at her,
shaking her by the shoulders - trying desperately to reach her. She
was deathly silent in response.
It seemed like forever before the paramedics showed up, when in fact
it had been less than ten minutes since he'd made the call. They
knocked and hollered through the door announcing themselves. "EMS!"
"It's open!" Mulder called back, thanking God that help had finally
arrived.
The EMTs wasted no time getting right down to business, questioning
Mulder even as they knelt over Scully, evaluating her condition. 
"What did she take?" the older of the two asked; according to the
patch on his jacket his name was Dave.
Mulder produced the empty bottles of Vicodin and Soma, and Dave took
them, giving the labels a quick study. "Shit. She just had them
filled today. Barbiturates, narcotics and alcohol - lady wasn't
messing around." As he used a penlight to check the dilation of
Scully's pupils, he asked Mulder, "How long has she been unconscious?"
"I don't know. I found her like this." Mulder combed his fingers
nervously through his sweat-dampened hair. This isn't happening, he
tried to convince himself as he stared at Scully's lifeless body
being attended to on the floor. Why would she do something like
this? Why?
"Do you know if she has any medical problems?" Dave asked, snapping
Mulder out of his temporary daze.
"None recently, except that she was in a motor vehicle accident
three days ago. That's why she had the prescriptions," Mulder
responded, trying to keep his cool.
"Is she allergic to anything?"
"No."
"What's her name?"
"Scully... Dana Scully."
Dave quickly glanced at Scully's left hand before asking the next
question. "You the boyfriend?"
Mulder shook his head. "I'm her partner. We're FBI agents." As he
said it he realized that it wouldn't be true much longer, whether
Scully survived or not. Her career as a field agent would be over. 
The Bureau would confine her to a desk job or one of the labs - they
took attempted suicides very seriously in law enforcement - she
wouldn't be allowed to carry a weapon anymore.
Dave slapped at Scully's cheeks, trying to get a response. "Dana! 
Dana, can you hear me?" She didn't answer... didn't move. "I'd say
that's a big no. Okay, patient is unresponsive. Curt, you got
vitals for me?"
Curt had been busily checking Scully while his partner had been
speaking to Mulder. "BP 60 over 30, pulse 24, respirations 4, temp
97.6."
"Let's bag her, get a line in, and I want an amp of D50 and some
Narcan stat!" Dave directed, beginning to carry out some of his own
orders even as he spoke.
Curt worked feverishly to place a large bore IV. Once it was in,
the Narcan and D50 followed in quick succession. Almost immediately
Scully's respirations picked up as well as her pulse and BP. Even as
her condition improved, Dave called out, "Let's transport her stat. 
We can push the charcoal en route."
Curt groaned, knowing what a mess that damn stuff made, both on the
way down and particularly on the way back up. He really hated
cleaning up after one of those runs, but as Dave had seniority, this
unpleasant task always fell to Curt.
They quickly transferred Scully onto a gurney and whisked her off to
the waiting ambulance. As Mulder ran along behind, he called out,
"Where are you taking her?" A chilling sense of deja vu haunted him
until he forced himself to shake it off.
"Georgetown ER!" Dave shouted as they loaded Scully into the back of
the transport. Curt climbed in after her and they closed the big
doors. Soon Mulder was witness to the scream of their sirens as the
ambulance sped away, out of his sight. He jumped into his car, and
followed closely, determined not to lose her to a fast ambulance once
again... 
 
 
Mulder stood next to Scully's small, pale form in the ICU at
Georgetown University Hospital. The sight of all those tubes and
wires attached to and emanating from her was a frighteningly familiar
scene, he lamented. God, nothing scared him like seeing Scully with
such a tenuous grasp on life. She'd come very close to dying tonight
- was in a coma now, and the doctors couldn't promise him that she
would pull through. As he kept vigil beside her hospital bed, Mulder
felt completely drained - exhausted physically, mentally, and
emotionally. He didn't understand any of this. This woman lying
before him barely clinging to life looked like the Dana Scully he'd
known and loved for seven years, but her actions were so
uncharacteristic he found it difficult if not impossible to believe
it was really her. Scully was strong, a survivor, she cherished
life... he couldn't imagine her distraught to the point of suicide.
He had no idea Scully was in such a fragile state of mind. He knew
she was upset over their breakup, but he couldn't have foreseen her
doing something this drastic... this final. 
Reaching out, Mulder ran the back of one finger down the length of
Scully's ashen cheek, the softness of her skin evoking memories he
couldn't bear to think about now. She was so beautiful... And he
loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone. "Why?" he rasped, so
filled with pain and despair that he had trouble getting even that
single word out. Why would she do this to herself? Why the other
men? Why would she lie to him and destroy his trust in her? Why was
his whole fucking world crashing down around him when for the first
time in his life he'd found real happiness? 
Why?!!
Hot, angry tears fell from Mulder's eyes as he tried in vain to
understand why Scully would do this to him. A week ago he'd been
convinced of her love, and certain that she was the only person he
could depend on. Now he felt that he didn't know her at all, as if
she had become a complete stranger. And yet he still loved her more
than he ever would have believed it possible to love... He was losing
his mind. 
Behind him he heard footsteps approaching rapidly and he pulled
himself out of his introspection, turning his tear-streaked face to
see a very distraught Maggie Scully looking back at him with fearful
eyes. She was slightly out of breath as she spoke. "I got your
message, Fox. I hurried here as fast as I could. What's happened to
Dana?" He stepped aside, allowing her to see her daughter's
condition. "Oh, dear God," she whispered in horror, moving
immediately to the bedside. 
"She's in a coma, Mrs. Scully." How was he ever going to explain
all this to Scully's mom when he didn't understand it himself?
Maggie took a deep, calming breath, exhaled, straightened up her
spine, then turned to Mulder and asked him directly, "What happened?"
How in the hell was he supposed to look into this dear woman's eyes
and explain to her that her daughter tried to kill herself tonight? 
He couldn't. The more he looked at Margaret Scully, remembering all
that she'd been through... he just couldn't. And the longer Mulder
stood there unable to speak, the more overwhelmed with his own pain
he became... And then he just lost it. Fell apart. Started sobbing
and threw his arms around Scully's mom, nearly crushing the petite
woman as he leaned on her for comfort. She held him firmly, somehow
finding the strength to support his much heavier frame as he cried it
all out - the pain, the guilt, the fear, the frustration, and the
anger - all shed within sorrowful tears that he couldn't control. 
Maggie rubbed soothing hands up and down his back, trying her best to
calm him, offering him consoling words that she needed to hear
herself. Several minutes passed before Mulder was able to regain
some sort of composure. Scully's mother had helped him to a chair
and pulled up another beside him for herself, squeezing his hand as
she waited patiently for Mulder to collect himself. 
"I'm sorry," he apologized for falling apart on her. 
"It's okay, Fox," she reassured him. "I know how much you care for
her. But please tell me now, what happened to my baby girl."
"It was an intentional overdose. She tried to kill herself." He
refused to look Maggie in the eyes as he delivered the news.
"No." Margaret Scully shook her head in firm denial. "That's not
true. My Dana would never do something like that."
With a heavy sigh, Mulder began to explain all the details as
Scully's mother sat there stunned by his words. By the time he'd
finished telling her the whole story she was as bewildered as he was.
But once she'd had time to absorb it all, she strongly rejected the
idea that her daughter would have betrayed her partner or tried to
take her own life. Adamantly shaking her head, Maggie explained to
Mulder, "I simply won't accept it. Fox, I know what you think you
saw, but Dana isn't capable of that kind of deceit."
"Maybe that's why she tried to kill herself."
"I don't believe that either. Suicide is a mortal sin. My daughter
would not go against her faith."
"Mrs. Scully, I don't claim to understand her behavior. I just know
what I saw." Maggie shook her head again, rejecting the very idea.
"No... No! I don't believe it." Mulder took a shaky breath and
tried to make the distraught woman understand.
"I SAW her, Mrs. Scully. I saw Dana kissing those other men with my
own eyes. I KNOW what I saw."
Maggie wasn't buying any of it. "Dana would never do that, Fox. It
was only a couple of weeks ago that she came to my house elated. She
told me that you and she had started seeing each other. I can't
remember the last time I saw my daughter that happy. And now you
want me to believe that she's been dating other men - married men..."
Maggie shook her head again with firm conviction.
Briefly Mulder wondered if Scully's mother knew about the
relationship her daughter had with her married med school professor. 
"There is a precedent -" he began, but Maggie cut him off sharply.
"If you mean Daniel Waterston - Dana was very young then and that
unscrupulous man took full advantage of her." Mulder nodded,
remembering that he'd wanted to pound the guy even ten years after
the fact when Scully had told him about the affair. Maggie's assured
decisiveness about this piece of her daughter's past helped to ease
some of his concern, especially upon hearing her next words. "Believe
me, Fox, Dana would never allow herself to get involved with another
married man. Daniel Waterston was a painful lesson." 
Mulder sighed wearily. "I don't know what to believe anymore, Mrs.
Scully."
"You and Dana have always believed in each other. Why stop now?"
"You want me to turn a blind eye to all the evidence?" Maggie shook
her head and grasped both of Mulder's cold hands, squeezing them
gently.
"I want you to let your heart decide what the truth is. You know my
daughter - better than anyone." Mulder hung his head and fought back
fresh tears, finally raising his head and gazing at Scully's mother
with despair clouding his eyes.
"I thought I did."
 
*****************************************************
 
If Scully was innocent as her mother insisted, then how else could
all of this be explained? Mulder left the hospital resolving to get
answers, but fearful that what he would find would not support Maggie
Scully's assertions.
He began his investigation back at Scully's apartment, looking
through her address book, e-mail records, anything that might give
him a clue as to the identity of these mystery men. He searched
every logical place, and a few that were downright illogical, but he
found absolutely nothing. Okay, he told himself, so she knows how to
be careful and cover her tracks - she's an FBI agent, that only would
follow. Her phone records might give him something. He'd call the
Gunmen and have them see what they could do in that regard. Going
through official channels would involve paperwork - and he wasn't
ready to share his and Scully's dirty laundry with everyone at the
Bureau. For now he would handle this unofficially.
 
He went back to the Phoenix Park Hotel again that next morning,
hoping the desk clerk could give him descriptions of the men Scully
had been there with; and maybe figure some way of tracking at least
one of them down via a credit card that may have been used to pay the
bill for a room. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if he found
one of them. Ask him point blank, 'Hey, while you were fucking the
woman I love did she happen to mention to you why she would want to
rip my heart out and stomp it to a bloody pulp?' Or maybe he just
needed to have that final blow dealt; confirming what he already knew
had happened between Scully and those men, up in the swanky rooms of
this posh no-tell motel. It occurred to Mulder as he approached the
front desk that he wasn't trying to prove Scully's innocence - he'd
already convicted her in his own mind; he was just looking for the
hard evidence to prove to the rest of the world that Dana Scully was
guilty as sin.
The desk clerk recognized Mulder immediately. He shook his head in
amazement. "Your timing sucks. You just missed her, buddy."
"What are you talking about?"
"That little redhead you've been trying to track down, she checked
out not five minutes ago."
"That's impossible. She's..." Oh, God - no. No. It couldn't be. 
The realization struck Mulder hard. And the sinking feeling of dread
in the pit of his stomach at the terrible mistake he'd made, left him
unsteady on his feet.
"It was her. She had the Texan with her this time. They registered
as Mr. and Mrs. Smith, but I overheard her call him Jimmy -" Mulder
missed the rest of what the man was saying because he couldn't hear
anything over the pounding of his own heartbeat. The sudden
awareness that he'd been completely wrong; that he'd harshly accused
Scully of betraying him when in fact it was HE who had betrayed her,
by his distrust and suspicion - it weighted his conscience to the
point of absolute devastation. He wandered away from the puzzled
desk clerk, sick with grief over what he had done...
He walked across the grand hotel lobby, bumping into anyone who
happened to be in his path as he unconsciously made his way toward
the exit. He was replaying everything that had happened since last
Saturday, this time with the knowledge that Scully obviously had a
double, an unrelated twin that bore such a striking resemblance to
her that even he had been fooled. He'd treated Scully deplorably all
week. He couldn't even imagine what she must have been going
through, not understanding where all his sudden hostility had come
from. No wonder she'd been so distraught when he'd abruptly broken
off their relationship. God, what he'd put her through!
He'd driven Scully over the edge with his cruelty; hurt her so
profoundly that she preferred death to the pain he'd caused her to
feel. Mulder pictured her now; heartbroken, confused, rejected and
abandoned by the one person she'd come to believe she could always
count on. 'Don't leave, please,' - they were the last words Scully
had spoken to him; spoken in desperation after he'd wrongly accused
her of infidelity and refused to believe her sincere and honest
denials. If only he'd listened. If only he'd stayed...
The loud blast of a horn shook Mulder awake just in time to jump out
of the way of a speeding taxi. He'd been so lost in thought that
he'd stepped blindly off the curb onto the busy street. The angry
cabby flipped him the bird as he swerved around Mulder and sped by. 
Instead of shaking him up however, the incident gave Mulder focus,
reminding him of the hit-and-run attempt on Scully a couple of days
before. He wondered now if she was really the intended target after
all. What if whoever was trying to kill her had mistaken Scully for
her double? That would mean that whoever this other woman was,
Scully's doppelganger, she was in danger too.
He had to find her before it was too late. But first he had to tell
Maggie Scully that she'd been right about her daughter all along.
 
 
****************************************************
 
Sometimes there would be a soft wet weight on her forehead, and
sometimes a dry, warm feeling. Sometimes she dreamed of the oddest
things; comfort foods like bread and caramel butter, and poached
eggs; her favorite green sweater and ships fashioned out of clouds -
or maybe it was the other way around.
Her back ached...
One single candle next to the bed, and a solitary perfect blush rose
glistening with dewy pearls... no, the pearls were real, weren't
they? He'd unwound them from the rose's stem and fastened them
around her neck and she murmured, 'No, Mulder, they're too much,' and
his soft response of, 'Don't worry, they were my mother's and I
always wanted to give them to you -'
The light from the candle hurt her eyes; too bright and now shining
in her eye, just one eye - a hopeful, 'Wake up, Darlin'!' And no I
don't think I want to open my eyes just yet because I'm lying in
Mulder's arms wearing pearls and a smile and he's kissing the smile
off my lips - and I really want to see how many kisses it takes to
stretch from my mouth to that mole on my right hip. Well, Mulder
cheats of course, since he's using his tongue and I love it, love him
but I think I forgot to tell him... Ten kisses and twenty licks... or
is it the other way around...?
The nurse who was swabbing Dana Scully's forehead paused in mid-
swab, wondering if she'd heard something from her unconscious
patient; was that a sigh; a sob? She looked closely, looking for any
sign of regaining awareness; fishing in her pocket she pulled out a
small penlight and gently lifted one of the comatose woman's eyes;
shining the light and looking for any movement, whispering to her,
"Wake up, Darlin'..." Nothing. Poor little thing... such lovely
blue eyes. Well, she was a firm believer in the power of prayer -
and she'd never lost a patient. Not on her shift. She'd visit the
chapel later, and light a candle or two...
 
*******************************************
 
It wasn't easy facing Margaret Scully, even though he was bringing
her good news - that her faith in her daughter had been well placed;
that Dana was the honorable and decent woman her mother had
steadfastly believed her to be. Still, for Mulder it was a painful
act of contrition, a humble apology for even casting a shadow of
doubt over Scully's good name. He told her mother everything; held
nothing back. His vitriolic jealousy... the horrible things he'd
said to Scully, the accusations which still rang in his own ears and
made him want to gag... the way he turned his back and withdrew his
support - his heart - from her. 
He'd never felt so ashamed of himself as he did entering Scully's
hospital room that morning; seeing her lying there at the mercy of
all those tubes and wires, and knowing every bit of it was his doing.
He took it all in though, as punishment for his sin; the IV - the
intrusion of its sharp needle bruising Scully's delicate flesh, the
droning monitors recording and reporting her frailty, the rasping of
the ventilator forcing air through that awful tube down Scully's
throat and into her lungs, the pallor from her brush with death
desecrating Scully's lovely complexion, the worry and sorrow in
Maggie's eyes as she watched over her daughter and prayed for her
life... He forced himself to endure it, knowing that he deserved this
guilt. He'd earned every agonizing moment of the disgrace he felt
standing before Scully's mother and admitting he'd been completely
wrong about her daughter. But what he didn't feel he was worthy of
was the kindness and sympathy Margaret Scully offered him in return,
or her compassionate words in spite of his transgressions. 
"Fox, I know how you must feel, but you have to let go of the guilt.
Dana needs us to be strong for her right now. To help her get
through this. I'm sure when she wakes up the two of you will work
things out." Mulder shook his head decisively, his reddened eyes
haunted.
"No. I didn't trust her, Mrs. Scully. She could never forgive me
for that." Maggie held onto her patience and patted Mulder's arm
reassuringly.
Dana will forgive you," she insisted, wishing she could make him
understand. "She loves you, Fox."
"And look where it's gotten her!" Mulder shot a glance in his
partner's direction, renewing his remorse. He shook his head again,
stubbornly. "What I've done is unforgivable. I wouldn't accept
absolution for failing her as I have. Without trust Dana and I have
nothing. And there's no point in pretending otherwise. She knew
that." He looked at Scully again, watched her lying there helpless,
tears shimmering in his dark eyes as he thought about the heartache
and emptiness she must have felt to bring her to the point of such
hopeless desperation that taking her own life seemed the best option.
"I have to go, Mrs. Scully. I may have made a mess of your
daughter's life - and for that I'll be eternally sorry - but I'm
determined to get to the bottom of what's been going on; to find out
who this other woman is, and what, if anything, her sudden appearance
has to do with the attempts on Dana's life."
"Can't that wait, Fox? Dana needs you here. Your presence has
given her strength in the past..."
Mulder met Maggie's pleading eyes with only a fleeting glance;
unable to face her motherly desperation. He would have liked to have
offered her some comfort - Maggie was such a dear woman - but he
couldn't do it. He didn't belong here. "I'm sorry. I can't. I
really have to go now." She just stared after him as he walked out,
adding one more worry to her already heavy burden. 
 
****************************************************
 
Mulder had given his phone number to the desk clerk of the Phoenix
Park Hotel, instructing the man to call him immediately should
Scully's look-alike return. Three days passed before he heard
anything. But on Monday afternoon, as he screened the calls through
his message machine, he got word that the woman and a male companion
had checked in to the hotel under the name Davis. 
Ignoring the other messages, Mulder hightailed it over to the hotel.
It was a strange thing meeting Scully's double, face to face. He'd
felt an irrational twinge of jealousy when he knocked on the door of
room 308 and a middle aged man appeared after several long seconds,
still struggling into his robe, hair mussed and sweaty. "What?" he
snapped, glaring at the unwelcome interruption.
Mulder flashed his badge and the man's eyes widened. "I'm Special
Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI. I'm looking for a woman who I believe
checked into this room with you earlier today."
"What for?"
"I believe her life may be in danger, Sir. I need to speak with her."
"Oh, Christ," the man muttered in frustration, thoroughly disgusted
with the sudden change of events. "Elise," he called over his
shoulder. "There's a federal agent here looking for you."
Mulder didn't have to wait long, and there she was. "Can I help
you?" The voice was all wrong, and now that he was standing only
inches away he could see other differences too, but the similarities
between Scully and this woman were unbelievable. Anyone, even
Scully's own mother, would have easily confused the two from only a
few yards away. It should have eased his conscience a little; he'd
made an honest and understandable mistake, but Mulder didn't see it
that way. He shouldn't have been so quick to mistrust Scully - he
shouldn't have mistrusted her at all! Regardless of what he thought
he saw, her word should have been enough to cast reasonable doubt
even when the evidence for conviction seemed to be concrete. Scully
would never have lied to him - and he KNEW that! At least he SHOULD
have. And yet he'd let his jealousy and his paranoia fuel his
suspicion and destroy his trust and faith in the one person whom he
never should have doubted.
Considering the attempts on Scully's life a legitimate cause for
investigation, he brought both the woman and her companion in for
questioning; but Mulder got a grilling too when Assistant Director
Skinner finally caught up with him in the hallway outside one of the
interrogation rooms.
"Agent Mulder! What in the hell is going on? I've been trying to
reach you and Agent Scully all day! Since last Friday, in fact! 
Mind telling me why neither of you answers your cell phones or checks
your messages?"
"It's a long story, Sir." And one I'd rather not tell you, Mulder
added silently.
"Then perhaps you'd like to take this conversation into my office."
"Sir, I think you'd understand better what I have to explain, if I
show you something first." And with that Mulder opened the door to
the small room where Scully's double was awaiting questioning. 
Skinner raised a brow in surprise, seeing what to him looked like a
very inappropriately attired Agent Scully, clad in a low-cut dress
and strappy high-heeled shoes, sitting alone in the room looking back
at him with a blank, disinterested stare. "Her name is Elise
Heartman," Mulder told him.
Skinner took a second, longer, look. The woman popped her gum at
him and gave him a bored glance, turning her attention to her
fingernails as if they were ultimately more fascinating then either
of the men presently gawking at her. Mulder closed the door and
Skinner shook his head in amazement. "The resemblance is uncanny."
"Isn't it? She had me fooled. Of course when you get up close to
her you can see the differences, but from a short distance away she's
a dead ringer for Scully."
"So what's this all about? What have you got her on? Impersonating
a federal agent? She pulling some kind of a scam?"
"No. I just brought her in for questioning. I believe someone
wants her dead, and has been targeting Scully by mistake."
"This has something to do with that person who ran Scully off the
road last week? Where IS Agent Scully, by the way?" Mulder's guilt
was obvious as he regarded his boss, trying to decide how and what he
should say. For several reasons Mulder had kept the news of Scully's
hospitalization a secret; first and foremost being his desire to
protect Scully from the gossip he knew would spread quickly through
the Bureau once it was officially on record that she had attempted to
take her own life. And once the word got out as to why, he was
fairly certain there would be an OPR hearing and a reprimand in both
their files for letting their personal relationship become a
hindrance to their partnership. He didn't give a rat's ass about his
own reputation, but he couldn't bear the thought of Scully suffering
that kind of humiliation on top of everything else she'd been
through. "Agent, I asked you a question. Where is your partner?"
Mulder gave up the news begrudgingly. "Georgetown University
Hospital. She's been in the ICU in a coma since Thursday night."
"My God! What happened? Why wasn't I informed?"
"Sir... She O.D'd on prescription drugs." The horror on Skinner's
face turned to absolute disbelief as Mulder spoke his next three
words. "It was intentional."
"What?!!"
"It's all my fault, Sir. And it's a personal matter, so I'd
appreciate it if we could keep this off the record for the time
being."
Skinner stared at Mulder hard. "What the hell did you do?" Mulder
sighed and looked away; unable to retain continued eye contact with
his boss. A hard hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to
Skinner's narrowed gaze, and Mulder reluctantly met that stare with
an equally determined one of his own.
"I'd prefer to discuss it outside the Bureau, if you don't mind." 
Skinner searched his agent's eyes for something that might explain
all this. What he saw told him the answers would not be easy to
hear. "I've got a meeting in," he checked his watch, "shit - five
minutes. Finish up with whatever it is you're doing with her," he
indicated the door to the interrogation room, "and meet me over at
The Rock at 4:30. Be prepared to spill your guts, Mulder. If you
expect me to cover for you on this, I want to know what the hell's
been going on."
Mulder nodded. "I'm trying to sort it all out right now."
 
 
********************************************
 
 
"You know, I've got rights. You can't hold me here without an
attorney." Elise Heartman wasn't happy at all about being the
subject of an FBI investigation, despite the fact that Mulder had
assured her repeatedly that she was not a suspect and had not been
arrested, merely detained for questioning.
"Miss Heartman, if you want your attorney present it's certainly
your privilege to have one here, but it's really not necessary. I
told you, you're not a suspect. I'm only trying to determine if you
have any enemies who might want to see you dead. Anything you could
give me would be greatly appreciated. My partner has had three
attempts on her life." Mulder watched her reaction carefully, as he
had been throughout the interview. He could tell she was nervous,
even though she was doing her best to hide that fact from him. Her
defensiveness and resistance concerned him. While Mulder could
understand some resentment at having her rendezvous interrupted, the
hostility Elise Heartman was projecting his way seemed
disproportionate. 
"Look, Agent Mulder, I'm sorry someone is trying to kill your
partner, but that's her problem, not mine. I don't have any enemies,
so I really can't help you with your investigation. Can I go now?" 
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him expectantly.
Okay, appealing to her concern for fellow man didn't work very well.
Maybe she needed to have the obvious pointed out to her. "Your life
could be in danger."
She glanced around the room casually, trying to appear unworried. 
"I hardly think so."
Mulder sighed. If she refused to cooperate there was nothing he
could do. He really couldn't hold her against her will, but he was
certain there was a connection between this woman and the attempts on
Scully's life; especially after he found out that Elise Heartman
lived in Scully's neighborhood. Just as he had mistaken one for the
other, one of Elise Heartman's boyfriends could have done the same...
especially if he was blinded by jealousy as Mulder had been. "Miss
Heartman, I still have to interview your boyfriend. I'm wondering if
he knows about the other men you're seeing." That touched a
sensitive place and Elise lost her cool.
"You have no right to interfere in my life like this!"
"I'll take that as a no," Mulder remarked dryly. At least he'd
gotten through her nonchalant facade.
"Who and how I choose to date is not the business of the federal
government!"
"Are you a professional, Elise?"
"Professional what?" The look Mulder gave her spoke volumes; she
stiffened and clenched her fists in anger.
"How dare you!"
"I'm sorry. I had to ask. I didn't mean to insult you." Mulder's
insincere expression belied his words, and Elise's eyes narrowed in
fury. 
"Well, you have! And I'm not sticking around for any more of this!"
With that she got up from her chair and made for a fast escape.
Mulder jumped up and grabbed her arm to stop her. "Wait, please!"
The irate redhead jerked her arm, trying to break his hold, without
success. She spat at him, "Let go of me or I'll file assault
charges, Agent Mulder!"
On her demand he immediately released her. Regardless of their
validity, assault charges would have been the nails in his coffin
when the shit hit the fan with the professional review panel, as it
all too soon would. But he was desperate to get answers from this
woman, so when she reached for the door handle he put his hand on the
door to stop her from opening it. "Miss Heartman, just one last
question. Could one of the men you're involved with be trying to
kill you? Out of jealousy maybe? I can offer you protection if
you're willing to cooperate." The final look of hatred he received
from Elise Heartman's face could have turned him to stone - and he
briefly wondered how he could have ever mistaken her for Scully.
"Agent Mulder, for the last time, nobody is trying to kill me. I
don't need or want your protection. Just stay the hell out of my
life!" And with that she yanked on the door handle hard and Mulder
had no choice but to let her go.
"Shit," he swore under his breath after the woman had gone,
frustrated that she'd given him nothing to follow up on. Despite the
fruitless interview, Mulder was more sure than ever that Elise
Heartman was the key to this whole mystery. Maybe the boyfriend
would give him something... 
 
 
********************************************
 
On 6th Street in D.C. is a sports bar calling itself The Rock. 
Located just two blocks north and east of the Hoover Building, it's a
popular after-hours watering hole with many of the Bureau's agents. 
Of course at four thirty on a Monday afternoon Skinner had been
fairly certain he and Mulder would not run into too many familiar
faces. Still, they took their conversation up to the rooftop bar,
selecting a table where they could talk without being easily
overheard; the city noise acted as an additional buffer, making it
difficult for others to listen in on their private discussion. 
Over a pitcher of Hefeweizen, Mulder did his best to explain to
Skinner the events of the past week and a half; filling his boss in
for the first time on the nature of his and Scully's personal
relationship as well. It wasn't easy pouring his heart out to his
boss, but the beer helped somewhat; and Mulder found himself drinking
the lions' share of the pitcher as he told his story. Skinner said
nothing, just listened and sipped at his beer while Mulder rambled on
and on, confessing all. Finally Mulder couldn't stand it anymore. 
Signaling the waitress for another pitcher, he looked Skinner right
in the eyes and demanded, "Say something! Anything! Yell at me, for
Christsake!"
The older man sighed and studied what was left of his drink. "I
don't know what to say, Mulder." He threw back the last swallow of
warm beer, and seeing that Mulder wasn't going to let him off the
hook, Skinner tried to bridge the gap between boss and friend,
knowing that he was caught somewhere in the middle on this one. 
"Blaming yourself for what's happened isn't going to help Scully. 
The two of you have been through some tough times in the past..." 
Skinner shrugged uncomfortably. "Jesus, Mulder, I'm the last one who
should be giving relationship advice. My marriage to Sharon was an
unmitigated failure. We never could work through the issues... I
guess it's always easier to retreat than to stand and fight. One day
I realized I'd lost more than the will to do battle, I'd given up on
the cause." The waitress brought the next round and Skinner waited
until she was out of earshot before he continued. "I've often
admired and at times even envied the relationship you and Scully
have. The bond you two share has been tested time and again, and
only seems to get stronger with each new challenge. I see no reason
to think that this time will be any different... Unless you've given
up on the cause too, Mulder?"
"What cause? Our partnership is over. There's no way our
friendship can survive something like this." Mulder pushed his half-
empty mug around the scarred table-top, morosely. Skinner sighed in
exasperation and tried to hang on to his patience.
"I was talking about love. Isn't that what's kept you and Scully
together all these years?" His direct gaze was hard for Mulder to
hold; his eyes dropped and he rubbed at his face with one weary hand.
"How could she possibly love me after what I've done to her? And
even if by some miracle she did, I couldn't risk hurting her again. 
Getting involved with Scully was a mistake."
"Then you've already made up your mind."
Mulder nodded solemnly. And for a long time both men just sat and
drank their beer, looking around without much interest at the
smattering of other patrons that had made their way up to the rooftop
bar that afternoon; each reflecting inwardly. 
Mulder thought about his interview with Elise Heartman. He was sure
she was hiding something. She'd been defensive, evasive, and though
she tried not to let him see - nervous as hell. She couldn't wait to
get away. If, as she claimed, she had no enemies, what was she
afraid of? And if there was someone out there whom she had reason to
fear, why was she hiding the truth from the FBI when they could help
her? The interview with her companion had revealed little more. His
name was Thomas Rubin, forty-nine years old, married, father of
three, held an upper-level job with a local investment firm. He was
willing to tell all as long as his wife didn't find out about his
little trysts. Unfortunately, he didn't have much to tell. He'd
been seeing Elise Heartman off and on for the past month; they'd met
in a club one night after work. Just another middle-aged businessman
looking for a way to get through his mid-life crisis with a
meaningless extra-marital affair. Mulder had released the guy, who
he hoped had been scared into fidelity by the whole experience; the
asshole was certainly sweating bullets at being hauled down to FBI
headquarters for questioning. Bastard got what he deserved, Mulder
thought to himself. 
"Have you been to the hospital yet today?" Skinner's question,
coming out of the blue, shook Mulder from his thoughts.
"No. I haven't been there in a few days. I call the nurses'
station for updates. Her bloodwork is showing a steady improvement. 
And her doctor is going to try taking her off the ventilator today...
but there's still a lot of concern; she should have regained
consciousness by now." He tried not to think about what that might
mean as a long-term prognosis.
"Why aren't you visiting her?"
Mulder avoided the other man's probing stare. "I can't."
"It might help - both of you."
He ignored Skinner's comment and diverted the subject. "How long
can you keep Scully's suicide attempt quiet at the Bureau?"
"At least until she recovers and wants to return to work. For the
time being though I'll put her on a vacation leave of absence. 
Scully's overdue for a little R and R time; no one should question
it. Why don't you take some time off yourself, Mulder? In fact, I'm
going to make that an order, not a suggestion. I don't want to see
your face for at least the next week. Get some rest and go see
Scully. I'll make that an order too if necessary." Mulder grunted
his understanding reluctantly, and Skinner finished off the last of
his drink; half a pitcher still resting on the table between them. 
"I've gotta get going. Give me a call if you need anything. 
Otherwise I'll see you in a week or so." Before he walked away,
Skinner tossed a few bills onto the table, his contribution to the
drink fund. Mulder would stay to finish off the rest of the beer,
hoping somewhere around the bottom of the pitcher he'd find the
courage to pay that visit to Scully.
****************************************************
 
She could smell lilies of the valley, their aroma heady and sweet,
as Mulder slowly stripped the clothes from her body... she took a
deep breath and hummed in sensuous pleasure. He brought her lilies
of the valley; her favorite of all. They sat in a fragrant jumble on
her night-stand and she inhaled again, smiling up in a haze of
delight at her partner, who was busy trying to remove her bra with
his teeth. So cute; Mulder was so cute... no, handsome. Gorgeous,
actually. Face it, he was downright beautiful. Men could be
beautiful; the proof of that was bending over her right this minute,
delicately licking at her collarbone and stroking those lush lips of
his over her skin. Mulderkisses, everywhere, too many to count. 
Here a kiss, there a kiss... it was torture to lay still like this
but he'd ordered her not to move. 'I want to do everything for you
tonight, Baby -' that's what he'd said. And he called her Baby...
God she loved to hear the small hitch in his voice when he called her
'Baby'...
Still as can be, not moving a muscle - she would be a good girl for
him. He'd said it so sweetly; how could she resist? She wound her
hands around the spooled posts on her bed frame, and let him have
whatever part of her caught his fancy. Down a shoulder, under an
arm; kisses, kisses. Lick and another kiss, oh, God... he was
killing her. She hummed and sighed and sobbed and then bit back a
scream when his wandering mouth found the downy-soft skin of her
abdomen, and blew another kiss into her navel, before he ventured
lower, and took her tender heat between those full lips; the first
time, the very first time. She had to watch; she couldn't watch -
she could only feel. His dark head against her pale thighs; a thing
of wonder and magic, truly it was - and her fevered brain snapped an
everlasting portrait of it, developed the negative and mounted it
against the gallery she kept in her memory, to take out and admire
for later. She closed her eyes and swam in the darkness, letting her
other senses take over as his tongue made agonizingly slow love to
her, there against white cotton sheets and the smell of muget de
bois... 
In her hospital bed, Dana Scully took a breath, and then another;
all on her own... 
 
 
****************************************************
 
Mulder stood at the entrance to Scully's hospital room, forehead
resting against the polished wood of the heavy door. It was still
early in the evening and he knew Maggie would be inside keeping a
worried vigil over her daughter... Of course she'd welcome him with
open arms; that wasn't what was holding him back. He just couldn't
bring himself to cross that threshold - to step beyond and face again
the devastation he'd wrought on the woman he loved. 
He'd been so horribly cruel to her. It made him sick now to think
of it. The things he'd said... turning his back on her that night in
his bedroom when she was frightened and needed him so badly... the
wretched way he'd treated her at work after he'd broken off their
personal relationship... accusing her of infidelity and refusing to
hear her pleas of innocence... walking out on her when she'd all but
begged him to stay... He'd pushed her too far; broken her heart;
driven her to depths of despair she felt she couldn't escape from
except in the taking of her own life.
What had it taken to push a woman as strong as Dana Scully to the
brink and beyond? He could only imagine her pain. His mind flashed
on an image of Scully lying pale and lifeless on her living room
floor as he frantically worked to keep her alive... All those goddamn
pills... he envisioned her forcing them down; drinking the bitter
cocktail of death she'd mixed for herself and then lying back and
waiting to breathe her last breath... waiting for the hurting he'd
caused her to come to a final and permanent end.
He couldn't - just couldn't go inside.
Even half inebriated his conscience refused to let him go to Scully.
He closed his eyes briefly, the effects of the alcohol he'd consumed
causing him to feel a sudden need to grip the door frame for support.
When Mulder reopened his eyes and he realized how hard he had to
concentrate to focus them again, he decided, quite easily and without
deliberation, that it would be best to head home. After all, showing
up at the hospital drunk would make a hell of an impression on
Scully's mother. Yes, it was nothing but a weak excuse to justify
leaving - he knew that even as he let himself believe it was the real
reason for his hasty retreat. But as he headed for the bank of
elevators at the end of the long corridor, Mulder told himself he was
doing the right thing just the same. 
 
 
****************************************************
 
After repeated attempts to reach Elise Heartman by phone, Mulder
decided to drive by her condo and confront her again directly. He
was taking a big risk; she could easily charge him with harassment if
he pushed too hard, but he HAD to find out what she was trying to
hide.
He pulled in front of the address she'd given him yesterday at the
Bureau; it was just up the street from Scully's apartment - a row of
townhouses, very nice - pricey. Hers was dark inside; no car in the
driveway. You didn't have to be a trained FBI agent to put two and
two together and come up with 'gone' - she wasn't home. Mulder
checked his watch, debated for a moment, then decided to let himself
in for a little 'unofficial' look around.
Getting in was no problem at all, but once he was inside Mulder very
quickly found trouble. Apparently someone else had the same criminal
trespassing tendencies as he did, and as Mulder rounded the corner
into the study, he came face to face with the other intruder. Both
men jumped in surprise. 
"Who the hell are you?" Mulder demanded, gun already drawn. The
other man stared nervously down the barrel of Mulder's SIG,
volunteering his hands in the air.
"Hey, man, don't get crazy with that."
Mulder kept the threatening edge to his voice. "What are you doing
here?"
The man faltered just slightly, but recovered quickly enough to
avoid suspicion. "I'm a private detective. I was hired to
investigate Elise Heartman."
"By whom?"
"Ever heard of client confidentiality?" Mulder cocked his gun in
reply. "Mason Connors - a former acquaintance of Ms. Heartman's...
Look, if you're one of her boyfriends too, I think you should know,
Elise Heartman is a scam artist. My client found out she'd used him
to gain access to his corporate accounts and embezzled a great deal
of money, setting everything up to make it look like HE had stolen
the funds. From what I can tell so far, this is a full-time
occupation with her. She seems to prefer the dating pool near the
top of the corporate ladder - I'm sure with good reason. So if
you're seeing her, pal, I suggest you watch your back."
Better to play along, Mulder decided; that way he didn't have to
explain what HE was doing in Elise Heartman's condo uninvited. "How
do I know you're not full of bullshit? Look at this place, you've
been rifling through all of my girlfriend's things... How do I know
you're not some thief? What are you after?"
"Evidence. A way to prove my client innocent. And he'd like to see
that little doll get what she's got coming to her, if you know what I
mean." The other man smiled slightly and for a split second Mulder
could have sworn he'd met him somewhere before.
"You're trying to beat her at her own game? Set her up somehow? 
What?"
"My client would just like her exposed for what she is."
Mulder pretended to take a moment to process everything, then he did
his best to play the role of one who'd been duped. "I can't believe
this... God damn it! Now that I think of it, she's been alone in my
office several times! If she's screwing me over I swear I'm going to
wring that pretty neck of hers. You say she's dating other men?"
"Lots of them."
Voices, footsteps and the humming of bees... she didn't like bees. 
She'd been toying with the idea of seeing whether or not her eyelids
worked, but if there were bees she would rather not know. Why didn't
she like bees? In her subconscious she shrugged; but in her sleep
her lids twitched a fraction and a barely-audible sigh escaped her
lips. Sleep... maybe not; maybe she struggled to open an eye,
weighted down with pennies; wasn't that a line from a Beatles' song? 
She seemed to remember it: 
"...And my advice for those who die -
Declare the pennies on your eyes..." 
Not dead! Not her; not now - not yet. One eye, the penniless one -
it opened just enough to see her mother, bathed in sunlight. Her
mother, jerking awake with that mother-radar that all mothers have
concerning their kids; radar that tells them to jump up and grasp at
your hands and bend over your face and murmur, 'Honey, everything's
okay, you're going to be okay, my baby is going to be okay...' It
was too much and she wisely decided to re-enter dreamland. As she
succumbed to the velvet waves she felt her mother's lips touch her
cheek, and if she had been more awake she would have smiled.
Seconds later, minutes and hours later - swimming up through the
same waves - she thought she heard her stomach growl. Hungry? How
could she be hungry? No, wait a minute; that wasn't her stomach. 
That was her boss, growling. She almost smiled at the familiar, dear
sound. Skinner made the most odd under-his-breath sounds, she
remembered. Come on, Dana - pick an eye, any eye and open it; look
at him, sitting there next to the bed, snoring. Snoring? Oh, that
made sense; not a growl but a snore. Sleeping at her bedside,
watching over her. She would have shed tears over that, but she was
so dry. Dry throat, as if she'd been eating sand. Mulder's words,
once... she remembered. They'd been flipping through channels on her
TV, snuggled on the sofa together; Mulder had been on a quest to find
a decent movie. He'd paused on a sports channel, making ridiculous
fun of the beefy referee bouncing around the WWF Wrestling ring; said
the ref was so mean-looking, he probably ate sand for breakfast and
then farted diamonds during the digestive process. She'd laughed
then... and as she lay there remembering this and other odd Mulder-
things, the need to laugh overrode her worry concerning the fact that
it was Skinner and not Mulder, keeping vigil over her bedside. Not
that she didn't appreciate the guardian she had, but she needed
Mulder. Seeing him snoring at her side would be enough to make her
bone-dry throat bubble up into some sort of audible chuckle...
She would have given anything to open that eye, and see Mulder
sitting there, unshaven; tie loose around his neck and a day's growth
of stubble. Skinner, not Mulder; well, it was all right, she
supposed. Open the eye, Dana - and she did. Look at him in that
chair; he's got to be uncomfortable sitting like that in such a dinky
chair, and he's snoring; so tired... she was tired, too. The effort
it took her to keep her eye open long enough to see Skinner sleeping
next to her bed was strong enough to form a smile on her cracked
lips. Long enough to force a raspy sigh from her mouth, and wake him
up. Long enough to see the hopeful panic in his bespectacled eyes,
as he jumped out of his chair and stammered (Skinner stammered!),
"Scully... you're awake, you're...um, I'll get a nurse...!" 
She couldn't really stick around long enough to talk to one of the
medical profession... so she closed her one eye and let herself sink
back down into it.
 
 
**************************************************
 
Another day slipped by, and then two, as Mulder focused his efforts
on investigating Elise Heartman. At least now he knew the secret she
was trying to hide, why she was so anxious the day he'd interviewed
her. He'd staked out her condo but she hadn't returned - probably
hiding out or on the run, he decided. Pulling up her phone records
he'd hit the jackpot; it would take some time since he was working
alone, but Mulder had a fairly good idea that one of the names on
that list would lead him to the person that was trying to kill
Scully. 
Scully...
He refused to check his answering machine anymore, knowing the
steady blinking was the result of Maggie's repeated calls. She
wanted him there at the hospital; holding her daughter's hand and
encouraging her healing with his presence - but Mulder just couldn't.
Not when he was the reason she'd tried to check out in the first
place. 
She was still in a coma. With each hour that passed the likelihood
that Scully would enjoy a full recovery became less certain. It had
been far too long already - more than a week since she'd drugged
herself into unconsciousness. The nurse said Scully was breathing on
her own now - but that didn't mean she'd ever wake up again... or if
she did, that she would not suffer any long-term effects of
hypoxemia; there was no telling how long she'd been oxygen deprived
before Mulder had found her at death's door and began to resuscitate
her.
He'd rather hide from it all. Bury himself in his work and not
think about the possibility that Scully might live out the rest of
her life in a vegetative state in a bed in some God-forsaken long-
term care facility somewhere. He couldn't bear to think about it. 
Not Scully, so beautiful and smart - her whole life ahead of her - he
couldn't conceive of such a horrible fate for her. She HAD to get
better. How else could he tell her how sorry he was?
 
 
**************************************************
 
 
Her head felt very itchy, and her back ached, so badly... throat dry
and painful, glands felt swollen. Damn... tonsillitis, again! She'd
miss too much school, and finals were coming up; she couldn't afford
to lose valuable prepping time! Restless in the bed; probably
running a fever; she always did when her useless tonsils acted up. 
Backache worsening, ugh... she had to get Mom up here; Mom gave the
best backrubs - knew just how to ease away bed-back. She cleared her
painful throat and opened her eyes further; there Mom sat, at the
side of her bed; so sweet of her to stay so close. She didn't even
have to yell... just whisper, in a raspy, low voice.
"Mom? My back aches..." The rest of her words were swallowed up in
the cry of joy her mother gave as she reacted to seeing her daughter
awake; she launched herself out of the chair and bent over her,
pressing trembling kisses all over her cheek, murmuring thankfully to
her. Scully was confused; just how bad could one bout of tonsillitis
be, for heaven's sake? She must have spoken the words aloud, for
Maggie Scully paused in her barrage of kisses and gazed into her
daughter's pale face with an expression of amused tenderness.
"Tonsillitis? Sweetheart... you've been in a coma! Don't you
remember what happened?" Upon hearing the word 'coma,' Scully
snapped out of whatever leftover vestiges of dream she'd retained,
and as her eyes opened wide so did her memory. Coma... shit. She
was in the hospital; she'd taken all those pills... oh, hell. 
Mulder! She reached out a thin hand, and grasped her mother's arm.
"Mom, where's Mulder? I need to see him; where is he? Has he been
here at all? I remember... God. I have to talk to him." Scully
twined her fingers through her mother's, taking comfort in the soft
warmth of her skin. As a child she'd loved it when her mother held
her hand; some things never changed. And then others... well, that
which had seemed so right, so necessary, had just faded away - and if
she lived to be a very old woman, she would never understand how she
had managed to lose a partner, friend and lover in one fell swoop;
never knowing why, just knowing the finality of it. Maggie squeezed
her hand, and Scully squeezed back; bringing her mother's hand to her
face she rubbed her cheek against it. She had so many questions. 
"How long have I been out, Mom?" 
Maggie sighed, and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, cradling
both of Scully's hands in hers now. She looked into her daughter's
worried eyes with as much reassurance as she could muster. "You've
been in a coma for nine days, honey... and I haven't seen Fox since
he visited last week. I've phoned him several times over the past
few days and left messages, but he hasn't been returning my calls." 
There was a brief pause while Maggie collected her thoughts, then she
squeezed her daughters hands gently and continued. "Fox is very
upset, Dana. He believes he's to blame for what you did - taking
those pills and alcohol - trying to end your life." Scully's pale
cheeks got even whiter, at the idea of Mulder taking the blame.
"No." Oh, God, what a mess this was. Everything was such a mess. 
And she was still so damn tired - groggy really; and terribly weak.
"Now I know just how impossible that is - that you would never do
such a thing! You're stronger than that, Dana. I know this in my
heart. You're your father's daughter, with his strength and courage.
I tried to tell that to Fox but he wouldn't listen to me. He
believes he drove you to attempt suicide because of the way he'd been
treating you."
"Oh, God, Mom..." Poor Mulder. He must be just about out of his
mind with guilt. 
"He was the one who found you; who kept you breathing until the EMTs
got there. He saved your life, honey. We came so close to losing
you." Maggie brushed at the tears forming at the corners of her
eyes, then repeated the gesture on Scully's face; for those same
tears were mirrored in her daughter's eyes. Maggie kept a gentle
hand against Scully's cheek, and added, "Even though he saved you,
Fox is absolutely guilt-ridden over everything that happened. I'm
sure that's why he's been staying away. Dana, honey, please... tell
me what this is all about. Tell me what really happened with the
pills and the alcohol. Can you remember, sweetheart?" Scully
nodded, slowly; the events coming to her clearer as she lay back in
the tousled bed with her hands held in her mother's gentle grip...
 
She'd had a really miserable rest of the day, after Mulder had
walked out on her. She'd applied ointment to her torn knees and
after fuming, sobbing and generally feeling sorry for herself, she'd
managed to cry herself into a fitful sleep. No idea how long she had
slept, but a knock at the door had awoken her restless dreaming, and
she'd gotten to her feet, legs very stiff and sore. She'd glanced
back at the small handful of pills scattered on her bed, knowing she
was sore and in pain because she'd fallen asleep before she could get
any of them inside her. Another knock, more insistent; Scully sighed
and moved slowly to the door, figuring she could take the pills
later. She eyed the peephole; there was a man standing there with a
large bouquet of white lilies and what appeared to be dark red roses.
The sight of the lovely flowers brought tears to her eyes, and she
smiled as she unlocked and unbolted the door. Mulder... sending over
flowers for her, to apologize... 
She opened the door and turned her growing smile at the delivery
man, who smiled sweetly back at her, right before he reached into the
mass of fragrant blooms... oh, a card as well! Mulder tucked a card
into the flowers... no, that wasn't it, was it? For the object which
emerged from the massive bouquet wasn't a card, but a gun... which he
pointed straight at her head. And with that horribly sweet smile
still on his face, he jerked his chin toward the open door, and
ordered, "Inside, bitch - now." And even though Scully knew she had
no choice; even though she realized too late the utter stupidity of
opening her door to a stranger without immediate access to her gun -
still she automatically slipped a hand down the side of her body,
searching for that which she knew in her heart was sitting useless on
her bedroom dresser. Luckily for her the move she made was so subtle
her assailant never noticed it - for if he'd seen that move he would
have shot her where she stood. She backed into the apartment and he
followed; plopping the unwieldy flowers on the nearest table, the gun
aimed steady and sure at her head. Not breaking eye contact with
him, Scully used her most calm, reasonable voice and attempted to
find out what he wanted.
"If it's money you're after, I'll give you all that I have..." His
sharp bark of laughter cut her short. He moved closer and let the
mouth of the gun rest against her forehead, still smiling as he
leaned in and replied directly into her ear.
"Do I LOOK as if I want or need your money, doll? Wrong guess. 
Wanna try again?" His tongue snaked out and wormed its way along her
outer lobe; Scully shuddered, revolted and feeling the first
stirrings of fear. With the gun at her temple she had no way to get
any sort of upper hand. She eased her head away from his disgusting
caress and fought to remain calm.
"I seriously doubt you're here to assault me sexually... and since
you don't want my money, then I can only assume somebody wants me
dead." It was hard to keep the tremble out of her voice, but she
managed to do just that. The man gave her one last lick, then his
free hand gripped her around the throat and he twisted her face
toward him, eager to see the fear she was attempting to hide. It
took all her concentration to keep her face expressionless and calm. 
Her assailant just laughed out loud.
"You think correctly, bitch. Somebody wants you dead. Pity -
you're a very pretty lady." He leered at her and slid his free hand
down her neck to one of her breasts, squeezing it mercilessly. 
Scully bit her lip hard and fought to stay sane; stay perfectly
still. The man sighed dramatically and released her breast, holding
the gun right on her forehead as he looked around the room, scoping
it out. Then his eyes flicked back to hers and glanced briefly over
her face, noting the pale, soft skin and lovely bone structure. 
"Gorgeous, actually - it'd be a real shame to fuck that up, but a
job's a job. You know, I never much cared for the mess that bullets
make; I'd have to shoot you in the head, doll. So sloppy, don't you
think? And I'm not in the mood for cleaning up blood, so..." He
glanced again around the room, and his eyes fell upon the full
bottles of pills on the glass coffee table; he gestured toward them. 
"What kind of pills are those, bitch?"
Five minutes later, at gunpoint... Scully was dumping the fine
granules from her Vicodin and Soma capsules into a large tumbler full
of Jack Daniels. She'd forgotten all about the bottle of whiskey;
how she'd teasingly joked to Mulder about throwing it out after he'd
brought it over one night and challenged her to a "Whiskey Truth or
Dare" session. One drink each, and they'd quickly lost the taste for
it, giving up on the game, and pursuing a more pleasant activity -
necking with wild abandon on her sofa. At the time she'd forgotten
to pour it in the sink. Now she wished with all her heart that she'd
done just that... for the cocktail that her 'houseguest' was forcing
her to mix had deadly consequences. 
He kept the gun rock-steady, aimed right between her eyes. He'd
told her to call him 'Grim Reaper,' after she'd asked him his name. 
"Grim for short, doll... just call me Grim. I'm the last name you're
gonna let roll off those cute little lips of yours." He'd slid hot
eyes all over her as she'd dumped the contents of each capsule into
the tumbler, and stirred the concoction with a spoon. Standing
between her and freedom; he blocked the door and kept her a prisoner
on her own sofa. At first she tried reasoning with him, maintaining
a calm, steady voice; refusing to show fear. She sensed that he
would have loved to see her display fear, and so she was determined
to deny him. He'd smiled knowingly at her attempts to lull him, and
had trailed the tip of his gun over her lips, making her shiver with
trepidation as he'd replied.
"Doll-face, I don't give a flying shit about anything you've said so
far. I got hired to do a job, which I'm damn good at, by the way. 
Like I said, somebody wants you dead in a really bad way." His eyes
roved over the soft breasts he'd mauled just a scant twenty minutes
ago, and Scully shuddered anew at the heat she saw banked in them. 
Grim licked his lips and pushed his face into hers, as she fumbled
with the pills in her hands, trying to get them open - but in no
hurry to do so. "You are one sweet piece, I'll say that. You've got
a bodacious set of ta-tas as well. Too bad the boss made me promise
to keep my hands off." She could feel his hot breath on her cheek,
oh God... Scully was fighting a losing battle to remain outwardly
calm, though she managed to drain yet another capsule without
spilling any on the glass surface of her table, despite the fact her
hands were shaking. Somehow she imagined he'd be less than pleased
if she spilled it, and the last thing she needed was his fury on top
of his deadly intent. She dropped the empty shell onto the floor and
took a deep breath, vowing to discover the reason she had to die - if
she got nothing more from this animal, she at least deserved to know
that much.
"Look, Grim - I think I'm owed a reason, don't you? A reason that
someone wants me dead. Can you just give me that much? Please... I
deserve to know." God, she was pleading, a sure sign of weakness -
and it sickened her that she was pleading with this monster. She
forced herself to meet his eyes without flinching. He gave her a
huge grin and shook an index finger at her playfully. He was
obviously in a good mood, the bastard. How she wished she could get
to her gun! His voice was jovial when he replied.
"Nah-uh, sorry, bitch - ask me no secrets and all that shit. Can't
tell you a thing. Just accept that your time is up - that's all you
need to know. Hey, you missed a few pills." He poked at them with
his finger; five of them had rolled under a magazine laying on the
surface of the table. "Can't overlook anything; suicide victims
always use it all up, y'know? They can be so neat and tidy, just
before they croak. Pick those up; all of them. Hurry up." Scully
released a trembling sigh and picked them up; pried the gel open. 
The drink was now thick with medicine and she had a hard time
getting it to dissolve. As she stirred it, she stirred her hopes
down into the nasty brown liquid, knowing with a doctor's
intelligence that if she drank down even half of it she would not be
alive for long. She had always prided herself on her realistic
outlook; so she supposed it was time to be realistic. She would not
be magically saved at the last moment, by Mulder or anyone else. 
Skinner expected her to be gone, at home recuperating after the hit-
and-run attempt; Mulder had bolted from her in a furious rush, and
would not be coming back anytime soon - not soon enough anyway. Grim
had a very steady gun hand and her own gun was in the bedroom, only a
few yards away but it may as well have been Siberia, for all the luck
she would have in getting her hands on it. She was, to put it
politely... up shit creek. She knew it, and her grinning hyena of an
executioner knew it too. She dropped the spoon on the floor and
squared her shoulders, facing her eminent demise with quiet courage. 
He pointed to the lethal tumbler with a sweep of his hand, and she
picked it up. Put it to her lips. Drank. Tried not to gag, for she
knew if she spit out any measure of it he would shoot her - the gun
had not wavered from her forehead one iota. So Scully drank it,
mouthful by rotten, foul mouthful, while Grim the goddamn Reaper
watched her like the putrid bird of prey that he was. 
It took her over five minutes to drink it all; several ounces of
prime whiskey, and well over a hundred dollars' worth of pills. 
Quite a costly after-dinner drink... except she was drinking on an
empty stomach; no food at all inside her to soak up any of the
alcohol. She finished it, swallowed with difficulty the last dregs
of it, knowing she would not be allowed to leave even a small
mouthful. She dropped the glass, and the potent liquid began to work
in her immediately; she was at once dizzy and nauseous and fought
down the urge to vomit, willingly reclining on the sofa when Grim put
a hand against her shoulder and pushed her down. He stared at her,
gauging the reaction her body couldn't help but reveal, as the poison
infiltrated her system.
"You'd better not puke, doll." 
 
Tired... so tired. She should have gone to bed a lot earlier... 
Her stomach hurt and she was sick and feverish and miserable and she
needed - Jesus, not that! She didn't need to feel his hand on her
leg, creeping up and up while she lay on her sofa and felt her life
slipping away, second by second. She'd started to doze off. She
couldn't do that again; had to be on her guard... had to stay awake
on the dim and fading hope that she could still find some way out of
this. From a roaring distance she heard his voice; felt the crawling
hand upon her leg, over the Township of Knee and heading for the Land
of Thigh... she wanted to vomit but she was too tired... so tired. 
His voice -
"You are one stubborn broad, you know? Just give into it, already! 
Jesus, you've lost! Be a graceful loser, Bitch - close those baby
blues and let Uncle Grimmy send you to La-La Land. I'll even tell
you a bedtime story - see how nice I am? Usually the folks I waste
just get a bullet between the eyes. But just 'cause I think you're a
decent piece of ass, I'll deliver you to the Pearly Gates with a
fairy tale." His voice was short-circuiting on her, in and out;
Scully was also short-circuiting, melting down into a puddle of limp
skin and bone. Battling a war to stay awake, and losing skirmish
after skirmish... She forced her sticky lashes to open, and watch as
Death rocked her back to sleep...
"...Once upon a time there was a greedy bitch who wanted not only
her money but everyone else's as well..." Scully frowned a little at
the way the story began; she couldn't remember any fairy tales
opening in that manner. The hand was drawing lazy patterns up and
down her inner thigh; she decided to concentrate on that instead. 
Easier than death; the memory of the last time a gentle hand coaxed
her skin to shiver under talented fingertips. And although the
current hand didn't even come close to that shivery goodness, it
still helped her to remember... 
...On the floor in front of a roaring fire, just a very short time
ago - Mulder. She could see him behind her closed lids; the heated
gaze he turned on her, as his fingers climbed up her bare leg. 
Tracing a pattern of random urgency over her smooth skin, as she
watched him through half-closed eyes; watched as his lips danced
ahead of his caress, when he'd teased her with a whispered, "Lips
before hands, Scully..." And she had snickered, and retorted that it
was 'Hips before Hands, Mulder...' and he'd told her it was impolite
to interrupt a lover while he was loving her...
God, loving her... softly sweet and firm the kisses; taut and hot
the body pressed against her own; tight need and a hunger that
matched hers, touch for touch. Tongue moving along all her nooks and
crannies, sending her spiraling out of her mind with the enormity of
what he was doing with just lips, and hands. Scully made herself
open her eyes, just enough to see him, see his beautiful eyes; to
respond to him, to tell Mulder 'I love you so...' and the face of her
partner shimmered for one sweet moment in front of her hazy eyes,
before his beloved features disintegrated and then rearranged
themselves into the hateful grin of her killer, whose clammy fingers
were clutching at her thigh and whose oily voice was telling her how
the heroine in the story was a bitch who had to die in order to live
forever... Scully gulped in a huge mouthful of panic and fear,
gagging on it, choking through the need to drown in it, as Grim the
man of her endless nightmares twisted his callused hand on her
shrinking flesh and told her his own grisly interpretation of Grimm's
Fairy Tales... and she could feel the scream building inside, deep
inside where the poison cocktail she'd downed had caught hold of her.
Helpless... so helpless. Fading in and out, fading into nothingness
with no time left to dream but plenty of time left in which to feel
the nightmares wrap her in their icy embrace.
"... Know I can't get my fingerprints on too much of you, Sweetie-
Pie, but man, I gotta tell you, I almost wish I could do the 'dirty'
just once with your pretty little pelt..." The words bit into her
dwindling consciousness and she mustered every ounce of waning
strength she could gather, and got one of her eyes to flicker open. 
Didn't want to look but had to; had to torture herself, assure
herself - the identity of the man with the hand, oh she knew it
wasn't Mulder but hope springs so goddamned eternal when the
hourglass is bottom heavy and the Wicked Witch is just outside,
scratching her five-inch claws on the door and trying to kill your
little joys... 
In this case the face and form of Death was just another small man
with big-ass dreams who tweaked her numbed skin with hurtful hands
and leaned into her face, close enough for her to smell the
peppermint gum he was chewing... She hated the fact that the last
smell of her world would be Wrigley's. She wished it could be
Mulder's warm, smooth essence, instead - but at least THAT particular
smell was laced through her heart, and safe - and she would take it
with her when she finally vacated this life. 
Peppermint gum, in the meantime; leaning in - and out of that one
blurry eye - she could see him grinning at her; she could sense the
exact moment when he saw her demise reflected in that eye, and his
grin got even wider, as he bent over her and pressed an open-mouthed
kiss into her parted lips, stealing the last bit of her oxygen and
enjoying her final curtain call. Burning one last image into her as
he licked at her front teeth and muttered, "Your skin's getting cold,
doll; won't be long now... I can still catch the second half of the
game if you just hurry it along and fucking die, already. Not that I
haven't enjoyed molesting you..." She barely registered his words,
because she was one breath away from the end of the pain. One more
soft breath, and she closed the eye and felt herself floating;
floating and swimming in peaceful waters; no tummy-ache to speak of
and the endearing face of Mulder pressed into the darkness of her
closed eyelids. Mulder... "Mulder..." She slipped under, and that
was it. That was all...
 
"Oh, God, Dana -" Maggie Scully's eyes were flooded with tears; she
could barely breathe. She wrapped her arms around her precious child
and rocked her, as Scully sobbed and choked out breaking pieces of
anguish, releasing them from her soul and flinging them elsewhere,
away from her. They held onto each other and cried it all out
together, each for different reasons, yet so similar. Maggie shed
tears for all that her daughter had endured, not only at the hands of
a monster such as this latest, hideous enemy but the endurance of
years of it; everything bad, all things dark and ugly. And Scully's
anguish stemmed from a fountain of pain which began with a life
without Mulder and ended in the same place... because for all she'd
had to face in her life, nothing could cause her more anguish than
the worry that Mulder could vanish from her existence as if he'd
never been. And it really didn't matter if he went first, or she did
- for the result would be the same. Separation - solitude. Removal
from the warmth of him; she couldn't bear the thought. She wiped her
wet cheeks and sat up a little straighter, leaning her tired head on
her mother's shoulder; Maggie also attempted to dry her eyes. She
ran soothing fingers through the tangled red hair splayed out under
her cheek, and her voice was hoarse when she spoke.
"Fox found you like that, on the sofa, barely breathing and with
only a thread of a pulse. I can't imagine what must have been going
through his head, honey. But I know why he'd reacted the way he did,
around you... why he was out of his mind with jealousy in the first
place - why he treated you the way he did, and why his behavior was
so hurtful. He thought you were someone else, Dana. He saw someone
he believed was you, in and around your neighborhood; this woman
bears a marked resemblance to you - Fox said that from just a short
distance she had him completely fooled. Same hair, same overall
physical appearance. And she met all these men, honey - and he
couldn't believe his eyes, but there she was, publicly embracing, and
kissing, all these men..." Scully was horrified beyond measure. A
doppelganger... Jesus. And as her mother related the events that
had led to the awful day in her apartment, Scully listened with
incredulous, morbid fascination.
In her wildest dreams she would never have imagined a double of her,
and in her neighborhood, no less! No wonder Mulder had gone off the
deep end. Scully's comprehension of the situation, and her
understanding, was immediate and complete. She raised her head and
met her mother's brimming eyes, wiping at her damp cheeks. "Mom,
God... he must have thought the worst of me! And faced with that
kind of evidence, right before his eyes... how could he have thought
anything else! It all makes sense now. His accusations, his utter
disbelief when I discounted it all - he was beside himself with
anger, Mom; I'd never seen him like that before. It was as if every
hope he'd ever had was slipping away. And now I know why." Maggie
nodded, and brushed the tangled hair off her daughter's brow, leaving
a hand there to curl around her cheek and soothe her.
"All the betrayals in Fox's life, Dana - and there have been quite a
few, based on what I know of him and what you have told me in the
past - all of this came to a head and overwhelmed him, when he
thought you had added the final betrayal to that massive pile. He
reacted the way a man hopelessly in love would react. And his guilt
and remorse was just as overwhelming, when he finally discovered how
wrong he'd been. When I tried to make him see that he'd only reacted
as anyone would, he couldn't understand it, couldn't see beyond that
which he considered his worst sin - of doubting you, not believing in
you." Maggie kissed her daughter's cheek and smiled into her teary
eyes. "You are going to have your work cut out for you, honey -
making Fox understand that YOU understand, and forgive him - and
still love him, so very much. You do still love him?" At her
child's vigorous nod, Maggie smiled, and kissed her cheek again. 
Gave her a gentle hug, and snuggled her there in her arms. Her baby -
her Dana. Back from the war, yet again - and she was so thankful. 
So thankful... She whispered a last reassurance into the silent
hospital room.
"You'll find a way to convince him, Dana."
 
 
**************************************************
 
"Mulder, it's me." 
His heart skipped a beat when he heard her voice over the answering
machine speaker. Scully... God! She was awake and alive and
talking! Thank God! Mulder was on his feet and half way to the
phone before she could get another word out. 
"If you're home please pick up..." 
He stood beside the answering machine, listening... All he could do
was listen, for the sweet sound of her voice. 'Talk to me, Scully,'
he willed her silently, his hand caressing the speaker, needing to
hear more of the soft voice coming from her perfect rosebud lips -
lips he imagined now so vividly that he could almost taste their
sweetness. 
A little sigh of disappointment prefaced her next words. "Okay, if
you're not there please come to the hospital and see me when you get
this message..." 
Mulder closed his eyes, focusing intently on the sound of her voice;
envisioning her beautiful face...her impatient frown... her blue eyes
open and full of life once again... Thank God!
"And if you're there listening... Mulder, I'm not mad at you. We
need to talk -" She sighed again. "Face to face. Please come and
see me as soon as you can. I NEED to see you... Please?" A soft
click, followed by the loud hum of the dial tone and then the machine
turned itself off.
Mulder's fingers continued to trace over the speaker box long after
Scully's voice was only a memory echoing inside his head. His mind
swirling with emotions; relief, joy, guilt, sorrow, the aching need
to see her, touch her, smell her, taste her... He wanted desperately
to go to her, but how could he possibly face Scully after what he had
done? Of course she wasn't mad - she was a very forgiving person,
compassionate and kind. But he couldn't take advantage of that; not
in a situation like this. He would find a way to apologize, but he
would never accept a pardon for hurting her as he had. 
Never.
 
He must have played her message over a hundred times that afternoon
and would continue to play it late into the night; committing to
heart every word, every little sigh, every meaningful pause. Each
time he listened he closed his eyes and imagined her; held her in his
thoughts because he couldn't cradle her in his arms as he wanted...
telling her how sorry he truly was.
He'd send her flowers, Mulder decided at one point as he stared out
his window at the cloudy sky, lit with the orange-red glow of the
setting sun as the last hours of daylight waned and night crept up on
him. Scully liked lilies of the valley; they weren't easy to come by
but he would find a way to make sure she got some... lots of them. 
And he'd write her a letter, telling her how sorry he was, a long
letter... written in his own blood if that's what it took to show her
his remorse.
He couldn't face her ever again, but he WOULD send her flowers. 
Sweet delicate flowers to tell her how much she was loved. And the
letter... he sat down to compose it on the fine stationary his mother
had given him a long time ago, that fancy box that he'd never
bothered to open. Scully appreciated beautiful things like expensive
writing paper; the meaning would not be lost on her. Hour after hour
passed and the only thing he'd managed to write was 'I'm so sorry,
Scully.' There just weren't words to express the depth of his sorrow
and shame.
In the darkest part of the night, he got in his car and drove over
to the hospital to see her. She'd be asleep; and he knew she would
have sent her mother home for some much needed rest as well. He'd be
able to sneak in very quietly - come and go without anyone ever
knowing he'd been there. He had to see her. Maybe then the words he
needed to tell her would come, and he could compose the letter while
he watched her sleep.
 
Mulder crept past the nurses' station unnoticed and slipped silently
into Scully's darkened room. The curve of a smile stole across his
lips the moment he laid eyes on her small form asleep in the bed. 
All the wires and tubes and noisy monitors were gone. The last time
he'd seen her she was barely clinging to life, unable to even take a
breath on her own. And now as she slept, Mulder watched with awe
each gentle puff of air she took - all by herself... 'Thank God,' he
thought, 'Thank God.'
A few steps closer, the most he dared. He couldn't risk waking her,
but he felt drawn to her and found the compulsion almost too much to
resist. It had been too long since he held her last. Too many days
since he tasted her mouth, her skin, the quintessence of her
passion... God, he missed her! And now she was right there in front
of him, perfect and whole - just an arm's length away - and yet by
his own decree he'd lost the privilege to touch her. 
The quiet sob that escaped past the lump in his throat caught Mulder
by surprise. He hadn't even realized that he was crying. But
suddenly his eyes were flooded with tears of regret, and he longed to
go back and undo the terrible things he'd done; to have Scully back
as a partner and a friend - if not the lover he'd always wanted her
to be.
Scully - his lover. How arrogant was he to think himself worthy to
possess a woman like her? She was so unlike the others of his past;
and yet he'd treated her as if she were no better than they - because
he hadn't really understood what he'd had with her... That was where
it all went wrong; where he'd made his big mistake. Scully wasn't
like Diana or Phoebe, putting self-interest ahead of all else. 
Neither of those women had hearts like hers; they couldn't love as
she loved... So devoted... As his partner he'd never doubted her
willingness to sacrifice her life for him; but he'd always thought
that such an act would come out of professional loyalty and her sense
of duty. He never dreamed her selflessness was motivated by love. 
He didn't believe that anyone could care for him enough to forfeit
their life. Until Scully came along, Mulder had never experienced
love of that magnitude, at least not directed at him. He loved her
with all his heart and soul, would die for her without question - but
it was a stunning revelation to him that she would give him back that
same unconditional devotion. 
She'd tried to kill herself over HIM... 
Mulder shook his head sadly as he watched her hugging the starched
white hospital pillow to her cheek. His sight had adjusted to the
darkness of the room and now as a bit of moonlight peeked through the
clouds it caught her face, and he could see the salty streaks of
tearstains highlighted in the pale beam. She'd cried herself to
sleep - because of him. Another wave of guilt washed over Mulder and
he dropped to his knees beside her bed, sobbing silently into his
hands. How could he make her hurting stop? How could he fix this? 
What a fool he was to think flowers and a few contrite words could
ease her pain. But what could he do? What else could he possibly
do? He loved her so much. It was killing him inside knowing that
her suffering was all because of him... and he could do nothing to
stop it.
And then suddenly he felt the tender touch of gentle fingers combing
through his hair. And lifting his head, he looked right into
Scully's smiling face. "Mulder, you came," she said to him, weakly,
fighting back tears of her own.
"Scully... I... God, I'm so sorry." He put his head down on the bed
again and the sobs came from deep within this time; from the very
heart of his soul. And he let it all pour out to her, unashamedly. 
Scully stroked his head in an attempt to comfort him; and when that
didn't calm him, she wrapped her arms around his shaking shoulders
and held him, speaking softly soothing words. "Shh - Mulder, it's
okay. Don't cry. Please."
"I'm sorry," he murmured over and over, finding the worn phrase
sadly lacking but not knowing what else to say to her.
"I know. I know. It's okay. Mom explained everything... about the
woman you thought was me - Mulder, I understand. It's okay."
"It's not okay! You... you tried to kill yourself because of me! 
Because of how badly I hurt you."
She shook her head. "No, Mulder. No. That's not what happened. 
Listen... listen to me." She sat up and struggled to get him to lift
his head off the mattress and stop crying long enough to hear what
she needed to tell him. "Would you look at me, Mulder, and just
listen!" When he lifted damp eyes to meet hers, Scully placed her
palms against his cheeks and cradled his face lovingly as she spoke. 
"I didn't take those pills voluntarily. I wouldn't do something like
that, Mulder. I thought you knew me better... I wouldn't do that."
"But -" 
"A man came to my apartment - with flowers - I thought they were
from you. I was stupid and opened the door..."
"Oh, God, Scully." Up until this moment Mulder was convinced the
idea of her taking her own life was the worst thing he could imagine.
But now...
"It was him, Mulder. The man who had been trying to kill me. He
had a gun hidden in the flowers. I couldn't get to mine."
"Oh, Jesus. He forced you to overdose." It made a hell of a lot
more sense and yet Mulder hadn't even considered it; the possibility
that her suicide had been staged.
She nodded, and then proceeded to tell him all the horrible details,
even more than she'd had the courage to share with her mother. By
the time Scully was through, Mulder was seething; seeing the world in
angry crimson red. He wanted - no, he NEEDED - to hunt this man down
and choke every last fucking bit of air from his worthless lungs, for
the hell he'd put Scully through. He vowed he WOULD do it; find the
rock this slimy son of a bitch was hiding under and make him suffer. 
Hurt him. If it took the rest of his days on earth to do it, Mulder
was determined to track down this bastard who'd had the gall to put
his filthy hands and mouth on Scully and see to it that he paid
dearly for his crime. The goddamn floral delivery man! He'd walked
right past the asshole in the hallway outside Scully's apartment! 
The prick had smiled at him so politely, nodded 'hello.' 
... OH, SHIT!!! 
And in the midst of his rage Mulder suddenly realized something that
had been nagging at him for days; and he jumped to his feet, filled
with the urgent need to somehow act on the revelation. "That son of
a bitch!" He knew now where he'd seen the intruder before: in Elise
Heartman's condo! It was him! The phony delivery man and that fake
private eye were one in the same! All the pieces of the puzzle were
falling into place now. The stupid-ass jerk had screwed up. He was
hired to go after Heartman but trailed Scully by mistake. Somehow
the moron must have figured out that he'd fucked up... but by the
time he'd found the right address, Elise was on the run, having been
tipped off by Mulder that she had been marked for death. He'd HAD
the guy! "GOD DAMN IT!"
"Mulder what's the matter?" Scully was staring up at him with
concern; startled and confused by his abrupt display of temper.
"I know who it is. I had him, Scully! Damn it, I had him and I let
him get away! I saw the delivery man as he was leaving your
building, and I saw the same man again a couple of days ago in the
home of Elise Heartman - your double. He'd broken in, probably
waiting there to kill her. Jesus, I had him and didn't even know it!"
Scully put a gentle hand on Mulder's arm. "It's okay. We'll find
him again, partner."
Partner. Mulder almost laughed when he heard her say it. She still
wanted to be his partner, after everything he'd put her through... 
No. She might not have the good sense to get the hell away from him,
but he loved her too much not to put an end to all of this right here
and now. As long as they were together he would continue to find
ways to hurt her. It had to stop! HE had to stop it! It was the
one thing he could do that would even come close to making up for all
the pain he'd caused her. "Scully, I know you're going to argue with
me, but you're not going to win this time. Everything that's
happened recently has opened my eyes. I've taken a good look around,
Scully. And I realized that one way or another I always find some
way to hurt you. I don't mean to; but it's inevitable - it just
happens. You can't blame it all on the nature of our work either. 
So much of it is personal - a direct result of my selfish disregard
for your feelings, your needs... I put you in harm's way, ask you to
trust me - which you always do - even though you surely know you will
suffer for your faith. I ask this of you, that which I have no right
to ask, and you've always been there for me. And despite that,
though you've never given me any reason to mistrust, I cannot give
you my full confidence - not when it matters the most. You deserve
better. You're an incredible woman, Scully. You have so much to
offer the right man. You don't belong with me. You deserve to have
a happy life. You'll never have that as long as you're with me. 
I'll just continue to find ways to hurt you. It's time to end this -
to go our separate ways."
"No!" She gripped his arm tighter, as if she could physically stop
him from walking out on her. She was so goddamn stubborn! Why
couldn't she see that he was right? Why did she have to make this
harder than it already was?
Mulder did his best to keep his voice firm; though his insides were
rapidly weakening at the thought of leaving Scully forever. He knew
if she saw even the tiniest sign of indecision on his part, she
wouldn't accept his edict. "It's not negotiable! Either you leave
the X-Files or I will! We can't work together anymore, Scully! We
can't be together at all! It has to be a clean break." God, this
was killing him. The look on her face... Mulder fought with every
last drop of inner strength he had to stand his ground.
He watched her wipe the tears from her eyes with a trembling hand,
as she tried to overcome her emotion and offer a line of counterpoint
to his case. "Mulder, this was just a big misunderstanding -"
"A misunderstanding that nearly cost you your life, Scully!" he
interrupted her angrily. How could she dismiss something like this
so lightly? Had she become that used to his mistreatment of her? 
Was she that fucking devoted to him? "If I hadn't been such a
jealous ass none of this would have ever happened! When I saw Elise
Heartman with those men I should have known she couldn't be you! 
That you would NEVER have betrayed me like that! If I wasn't hell
bent on proving my suspicions and justifying my mistrust, I would
have been with you when you needed me, Scully, protecting you - not
running around looking for evidence to condemn you with!"
Her watery blue eyes held nothing but forgiveness and compassion as
she looked at him and tried again. "Mulder -"
No! He wouldn't listen to her! Couldn't risk letting her find that
growing spot of vulnerability. Stay tough, Mulder. "Goddamn it! 
Give it up, Scully! I've made my decision! Nothing you say or do is
going to change my mind!"
Scully shouted back at him in frustration. "That's not fair! Don't
I get a say in this?"
"No! Because you'd stay by my side until the day they put you in
the ground, Scully! Which, in all likelihood, wouldn't be far off! 
And I don't want to spend the rest of my life putting flowers on your
grave and wishing I'd had the courage to push you away!" Her tears
fell unchecked and Mulder despised himself for having to hurt her
again, but this time he knew he was doing the right thing. In the
long run, Scully would be better off. "I'm doing this for you," he
told her, emotion stealing the last vestiges of his anger; his voice
cracking and faltering to almost a whisper. 'Because I love you...'
He kept that last part to himself, not daring to speak those words to
her now - or ever more. And then he pulled out of her grip, forcing
himself to turn his back to her tears and walk away. 
************************************************** 
If he had walked to the door with his usual amble instead of the
quick hard stride which carried him out of her hospital room...
Scully might have been able to think of something to say which would
stop Mulder from leaving; to make him feel some measure of remorse
for refusing to hear her out; for deciding their future for the both
of them. She could have found a way to stop him with nothing more
than words. After all, she'd been with him long enough to know which
words to use. But the final emotion in his voice rendered her
temporarily frozen, as did the barrage of reasoning he'd used as
loving ammunition against her... and then he'd almost run from her. 
The tears hovering under her lashes finally overran and slipped down
her cheeks, as she replayed that reasoning of his... which Scully
decided had been the most unreasonable monologue he'd invented, to
date. 
Oh, it wasn't as if she'd never heard it before, from Mulder, or her
family, especially Bill. Mulder was exceptionally good at pointing
out all of what he considered to be his many selfish failings. What
Scully never seemed to make him understand was that none of this had
ever been his choice - not really. Once her feelings and emotions
had been engaged, it was all over, for both of them. Dana Scully had
made her decision to include Mulder in her future - and there wasn't
a thing he could do about it. She wiped the tears from her cheeks,
which were starting to become chapped from all the excessive crying -
and her throbbing head yearned to just lay back on her lumpy pillow
and let it all wash over her; all the anger and all the frustration
of trying to stop Fox Mulder from being his own worst enemy. Tonight
his denouncement had hit her especially hard; she was still so weak
from her ordeal; her insides were very tender and she was so very
tired. His treatment of himself had been difficult to hear - he'd
committed mental suicide, right in front of her. And Scully wished
he could know just how much he hurt her, when he persisted in hurting
himself. Nobody was allowed to speak that way about the man she
loved...
Not even the man she loved.
Skinner would never let Mulder quit; she was sure of that. Skinner
knew Mulder; knew he could be brutally hard on himself. Skinner
would also never let her quit, either. How many times had he ripped
up their resignations? Scully smiled grimly; the last time Mulder
had tried to resign Skinner had wiped the floor with him... then had
shook his hand hard, clapped him on the shoulder and ordered him to
"Get the hell out of my office and stop wasting my time..." Mulder
had plodded back to the basement, Scully right behind him... and as
soon as the door had closed and been locked, Scully had wrapped her
arms around him and hugged him tightly. They had stood there in each
other's arms for the longest time; no words necessary. Finally
Scully had raised her head and stared hard into her partner's red-
rimmed eyes, and had spoken three soft words.
"Don't leave me." And Mulder had promised, right there and then -
not to leave her. Just a month or so after that they'd kissed;
really kissed - for the very first time. Their first true smooch,
since neither of them had ever counted their New Year's Eve kiss as
anything worth counting... Scully wiped at her wet cheeks again, and
lay back on the rumpled bed, remembering... 
The kiss itself would have been spectacular regardless of what
circumstances lay behind it - but the reaffirmation it afforded them
both was the real reason she would never forget it, would find
herself thinking about it weeks later. Soft... candy-sweet... deep
and wet and intensely romantic... hard and gentle and trembling and
worshipping - and that was just within the first three seconds of the
kiss. His arms had been too-tightly surrounding her; she could not
breathe, but that was all right. She bit his bottom lip in
accidental passion... again, acceptable - even welcome. His hands
had wandered over every inch of whatever part of her he could reach,
and her fingers had been busy probing, caressing and stroking him in
response. Moaning, both of them - gasping into throats made raw from
the holding back of tears. Enough tears - this kiss had been meant
as a celebration. Lips pressed and clung; tongues danced and played
tag inside mouths made brave by the utterances of broken phrases,
which started with words like, "God, Mulder..." and "Need you want
you so much, Scully..." Oh yeah - she would remember that kiss. If
Mulder got his way, and they never saw each other again... Scully
would remember that kiss. To never see each other again, however...
the pain of that image was too much for her ravaged heart to handle,
and she bowed her head and sobbed.
Sometime later - Scully was never sure how long - she raised her
head and managed to get out of bed; to walk with the baby-steps of
the recently mostly-dead... across the room and into the small
bathroom. She splashed water on her face and fretted about the dark
circles ringing each eye. She looked awful, she decided - and she
felt worse. She also felt cleansed, by the crying session; ready to
think clearly for a change, and prepared to do anything to override
Mulder and his absurd decrees. Not be with him anymore? Not be his
partner, his friend... his forever lover? Not any of that, ever
again?
She didn't think so. Moving a bit easier, Scully walked to the
small closet in the corner of the private room; finding some of her
clothes hanging there. The same clothes she'd been wearing when
they'd brought her here, she'd bet... Scully refused to dwell on it. 
She needed to get out of here; needed to see Mulder. Needed to try
out all the persuasion he'd denied her just a short hour or so ago,
when he ran out the door and refused to look back. To do that she
needed to be dressed; and in some sort of control. She slipped into
the skirt and sweater, combed through her hair with her fingers and
found some dollar bills in one of the sweater pockets; enough to get
a taxi. Now to get out of the hospital without bringing the entire
nurses' station down on her head... 
Luck was with her - the station was deserted when she crept by. A
lone student nurse had her back to the corridor, flipping through
somebody's chart. Holding her shoes in her hands, Scully tiptoed
soundlessly by her, holding her breath. The girl never turned
around. She made it to the elevators without incident; slipped her
shoes on as it hurtled down three floors, and walked out of the
emergency room exit, hailing the first taxi she saw. As she settled
into the seat and the taxi moved away from the curb, Scully released
the breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding... The cabby
looked into the rearview mirror and made bored eye contact; asked her
where she wanted to go. Scully smiled, for the first time that long,
weary night, and answered.
"Alexandria."
 
 
**************************************************
 
Mason Connors had been rousted from a sound sleep, up out of his bed
at 4:30 in the morning to have the screws put to him by a very
annoyed G-Man charged with a personal vendetta. Mulder hadn't
concerned himself with protocol or proper FBI procedure; that would
have taken too goddamn long. His need for retaliation was immediate
and acute. Connors had quickly and wisely spilled his confession
with a minimal amount of blood loss; conceding, what Mulder already
knew, that he'd hired not a private investigator but an assassin to
go after his former girlfriend Elise Heartman. And shortly there
after Mulder had the real name of Scully's self-proclaimed 'Grim
Reaper.'
Stan Mariano.
And a phone call later Mulder had the address of an old apartment
house just off New York Avenue. And twenty minutes after that he
kicked in the door of 7B, tearing through the rooms like a madman
until he spotted a lone figure trying to climb out the bedroom
window, hoping to make a fast getaway via the fire escape. 
Holstering his weapon, Mulder charged at the man, grabbed him and
yanked him back inside, tackling him to the floor. Still half groggy
with sleep, it took Mariano a few seconds to recognize the angry face
of the man looming over him, but when he finally did, his eyes went
wide. "Hey, man, look, I didn't touch your girlfriend, okay? I
don't know where she is!"
Mulder served up a right cross that caused Mariano's head to smack
back against the floor with a loud 'THUD!' Adrenaline pumping
viciously through his veins, Mulder had to struggle to regain enough
control of his temper so that he could exact his revenge and not
simply give this cretin a quick death. "Wrong girl, Stanley!" He
emphasized the man's name, purposely making fun. Mulder knew a guy
named Stan in college - the best and fastest way to get his goat was
to call him 'Stanley.' He was fairly sure he'd get a similar
reaction from this jerk too.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the other man stammered,
trying to recover from Mulder's fist to the jaw.
"Elise Heartman is NOT my girlfriend. I'm an FBI agent. And the
woman you fucked up and tried to kill by mistake is my partner!" 
Mariano's eyes opened wide in realization of what his error would
cost him. He groaned under his breath.
"Oh shit." Mulder nodded grimly and drew back one hard, clenched
fist.
"Oh yeah - Oh shit!" This time it was a left that Mulder used to
rattle the teeth of Scully's would-be assassin. Mariano coughed and
spat up blood, showering both himself and Mulder. "I know what you
did to her, you son of a bitch!" Mariano's injured jaw worked with
ineffectual jerkiness, before he managed to get his next words out.
"It was an honest mistake! Jesus - the two of them broads could be
fucking twins or something!"
"You do very sloppy work, Stanley. I can see mistaking them in
public, but you went to the wrong goddamn apartment, you asshole!" 
Mariano shrugged, made a face, and rolled his eyes; and Mulder just
had to slug him again - this time in the nose, breaking it in several
places and spattering more blood.
"OUCH!!! GODDAMN!!! FUCK!!!" Mariano struggled to get out from
under his crazed attacker, but Mulder's full weight seated on the
smaller man's chest, holding him pinned securely to the floor.
"Did you get off on it, you prick? Drugging my partner into a
helpless state and assaulting her while she couldn't fight back?" 
There was nothing but contempt locked in the darkness of Mulder's
focused stare. Mariano spluttered in self-righteous protest at the
verbal attack.
"Hey, man, the bitch is lying! I never -" Mulder didn't let him
finish the hateful words; he exploded all over the sick bastard.
"WHAT?!!" Mulder roared! WHAT DID YOU CALL HER?!!" He grabbed
Mariano by the hair and tugged hard, taking great pleasure in the
feel of roots giving way under his tight-fisted grip. "You lousy
piece of shit! My partner would NEVER lie to me! GOT THAT?!! HUH? 
YOU GOT IT?!!"
"Yeah, yeah... I got it - I got it." Mariano hissed, eyes watering
as he tried in vain to pry loose the grip Mulder had on him. "And
you've got me. I'm busted. So arrest me already."
A wicked grin crept over Mulder's hardened face. "Eager to have the
cuffs on, Stanley?" There was a definite look of panic from Mariano
as Mulder muscled him onto his stomach and retrieved a shiny pair of
Smith and Wesson handcuffs from his own back pocket; sadistically
tightening them to the point of pain around the other man's wrists.
"Hey!" the prisoner objected, wincing at his mistreatment. "There's
no need for the police brutality routine! I'm not resisting!"
"There was no need for you to put your filthy hands all over my
partner either! I don't believe she was putting up much resistance
at the time, was she?" He jerked Mariano to his feet and spun him
around so they faced each other. "Because of you, fuckhead, I almost
lost someone very dear to me. She spent more than a week in a coma,
fighting for her life, while those drugs you forced down her throat
worked their way out of her system. And when she finally came to, I
heard all about the nightmare YOU put her through!" Mulder's anger
flared again as he revisited Scully's story in his imagination; and
Mariano found himself doubled over, the wind knocked out of him,
choking and gasping to refill his lungs after a hard punch to the
gut. 
The rage within Mulder threatened to take control. In his mind's
eye he could see so clearly - Scully's anguished expression as she'd
relayed the whole story to him, reliving every horrible detail over
while she struggled to convey the events with her usual clinical,
matter-of-factness... Visions of Scully drugged and powerless, having
no choice but to endure this greaseball's lecherous advances as she
fought a losing battle to stay awake; to keep breathing; to live...
Scully, sick and helpless and frightened, her life draining from her;
victimized by this animal who had the vile audacity to put his mouth
to hers and partake the sweetness of her lips! This worthless piece
of shit touched her breasts! Slid his grimy hand under her skirt
and -
"... beggin' ya... no more... no more..." Mariano's breathless
pleas somehow made it past the roaring in Mulder's ears; snapping him
out of his frenzied state, and waking him to the fact that while he'd
been thinking about Scully he'd been beating the other man to within
an inch of his life. Mariano was once again on the floor with Mulder
hunched over him - a bloody fist poised for what would likely have
been a deadly blow to the head. Mulder straightened, forced himself
to back away, waited until his breathing evened out, and then willed
his fingers to unclench so he could reach into his pocket and
retrieve his cell phone.
 
DCPD arrived within five minutes. And Mulder was pleased and
relieved when he saw a familiar face amongst the uniformed officers
responding to his call. Mike Guthrie had been on the Force for
almost thirty years, knew Mulder since his days with the VCU; the big
bear of a man thought the world of Scully. Mulder couldn't have
hoped for a more sympathetic ear. 
"Mulder!" Mike's voice boomed loud and reverberated off the walls of
the tiny bedroom as he pushed his way past the others and headed for
his friend. "I heard your name on the dispatch and had to come see
what trouble you and that little firecracker of a partner have gotten
yourselves into this time!" Mulder forced a weary smile at the
remembered nickname that Guthrie had always used for Scully. 
"Hey, Mike. How long's it been?"
"Over a year... I think." He glanced down at Mariano, frowned and
turned a questioning look back to Mulder. "What's the story with
this guy?"
"Four counts of attempted murder of a federal agent, sexual assault
on a federal agent, breaking and entering... that should do for
starters, huh?" The older cop's comprehension of the situation was
swift and astute; shock evident on his craggy face.
"Christ Almighty!" Guthrie's eyes surveyed the room again and then
he took in Mariano's condition and Mulder's bloody fists. "Oh... No.
Tell me this punk didn't go after Scully."
"She's okay, Mike." Mulder put his hand on the other man's shoulder
and led him off to the side of the room where he preceded to fill him
in on the details of the case. By the time they were finished
talking amongst themselves, Mariano had recovered enough that he had
begun whining and complaining about his mistreatment.
A young cop, who Mulder decided probably hadn't yet worn out his
first pair of Department issue shoes, approached both Mulder and
Guthrie, pen and pad in hand. He cleared his throat twice before
nervously addressing Mulder. "Sir - um... Agent Mulder? Mr. Mariano
claims you assaulted him while he was in restraint. Could you please
tell me what happened here, Sir?"
Mulder nodded and was about to speak, but Guthrie stepped in and
answered for him. "Son, I just took Agent Mulder's statement. That
little punk over there is lying through his teeth." The big man
leaned over and whispered aside to Mulder with a smirk, "What's left
of them, that is." Mulder bit back a chuckle as Guthrie returned his
attention to the rookie and continued in his usual boisterous tone. 
"Attempting to escape apprehension, the suspect ran into a stairwell
where he tripped over his own two feet and took a header down three
flights of stairs! Anything else he tells you, son, is a crock of
bullshit!"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good boy. Now make sure someone has read Mr. Mariano his rights
and let's get him down to the station."
The young cop looked like he almost hated to say the next words to
his senior. "Um... he's requesting medical attention."
"Oh hell, all right. I'll take him by Howard ER first."
"Jonesie and I can do it, Sir," the rookie eagerly volunteered.
"No - no. That's okay, kid. I'll take care of Mr. Mariano." The
gleem in Guthrie's eyes almost made Mulder feel sorry for poor
Stanley... almost. When the younger cop was out of earshot Guthrie
spoke freely again. "You know, Mulder, I've been on the Force a long
time. Long enough to know that the best of us put our hearts into
the job. And when one of our own goes down or is the victim of a
crime, it's hard not to react emotionally. Don't sweat this one, my
friend. I've got your back. Go home and get cleaned up and put it
behind you. And don't give another thought to that worthless punk
over there. He won't be a problem." The older man winked and
slapped Mulder on the back reassuringly. "Do me a favor, say hello
to Scully for me. Tell her I hope she's out there chasing down the
bad guys in those high heels of hers real soon." He smiled at the
mental image. Guthrie had always given Scully crap about her shoes.
"Thanks, Mike. I owe you." The big man dismissed the debt with one
wave of a massive paw as he lumbered off to take Mariano into
custody. 
 
************************************************
 
She'd made it to his apartment in record time; the cabby must have
thought she was sick, or drunk - as she'd had a hard time remaining
upright in her seat, there in the back of his cab. He never said a
word, though - just got her to Mulder's building in record time,
screeched up to the curb and didn't even squawk indignantly when she
gave him all the money in her pocket, which was enough to pay for the
ride and tip him maybe fifty cents. After knocking hard on Mulder's
door and realizing he wasn't home, Scully had to rouse the poor super
out of bed and sweet-talk him into letting her into the apartment;
luckily for her the man knew and liked them both and also knew they
were FBI. He never questioned her, just let her in without a word
and stumbled back to bed. 
Inside the cool, albeit stuffy apartment (Mulder never opened his
windows), Scully moved silently, almost afraid to think of his
possible whereabouts. Also hoping he wasn't doing what she feared
he'd do - such as roaming the streets of DC looking for a delivery
man with flowers in his arms and an annoying tendency to call women
'Doll'... She walked slowly into the bathroom and caught a look at
herself in the mirror, then sank down on the toilet seat and laughed
weakly. No wonder the cabby hadn't said a word; she looked like a
wildwoman. He probably thought he had some kind of killer in his
taxi... which, in effect, he did - for Scully was surely going to
kill Mulder when he returned; for not only attempting to find her
would-be murderer and in the process ditching her yet AGAIN... but
for also thinking that by the usage of a few guilt-ridden phrases and
impassioned nonsense he could ever shake her, as a partner or a
lover. The poor guy had an awful lot to learn... 
She went into the living room and pulled his wool Navajo blanket
from the back of his sofa and dragged it into the bedroom, coccooning
herself into its comforting warmth and breathing in the Mulderscent
clinging to his pillow. She'd wait right here - maybe doze a little.
She left the bedroom door open, knowing when he came home she'd hear
him unlocking the door -
And then she'd let him have it... and after that, she'd let him have
HER.
 
 
**************************************************
 
He was wiped out; dead-dog tired. He had no memory of the drive
home; his brain had been on auto-pilot from the city's Eastside to
his own lonely apartment in Alexandria.
As he dragged himself through the front door, the last of Mulder's
reserves drained away, leaving him feeling more empty inside than he
could ever recall having felt in his life. He was finally paying the
toll for weeks of emotional turmoil; his body physically exhausted
and spiritually numb. Even the measure of vengeance he'd exacted
from Mariano seemed pointless now; a hollow victory in the face of
everything he'd lost.
Everything he'd lost.
He'd lost it all.
He'd lost Scully.
Blindly dropping his keys from deadened fingers, he failed to notice
as they missed the intended side table and landed on the floor at his
feet. He continued mechanically forward, oblivious to everything
else around him, focused with the singular intent of cleaning himself
up; and driven by the instinct to collapse into unconsciousness
shortly thereafter. 
In the harsh light of the bathroom, Mulder stared at the gruesome
evidence of his latest sin; another man's blood, dried to a dark
stain upon his bruised and swollen knuckles. He plunged his hands
beneath a stream of painfully hot water, watching with morbid
fascination the incriminating proof run bright red against the stark
white porcelain sink, before disappearing down the drain. If only he
could that easily wash the guilt from his soul; the remorse from his
heart. He hated himself for hurting Scully; deeply regretted that
he'd finally given into his overwhelming desire for her... for that,
as he'd always feared, had been the beginning of their end.
 
 
***************************************************
 
It was the soft !snick! of the front door latch that awakened her;
Scully stretched, and groaned under her breath at the stiffness of
her body. She must have fallen asleep in a tight fetal position; she
always woke up stiff when she did that to herself. She glanced out
the window; pre-dawn light was just beginning to filter through the
mini-blinds. Mulder's window... Mulder's key in the lock. 'About
damn time, Mulder,' she thought to herself.
He walked right by her, never saw her wrapped in his blanket there
on the bed. Enough early-morning light filled the quiet room; she
watched him, her eyes half-closed, body held still under the wool
throw. He moved slowly, shoulders hunched a little. His clothes
were badly wrinkled; even as shadowed as it was in the room she could
see that. He walked into the bathroom and snapped on the light; she
heard water running in the sink. She peeked over the frayed edge of
the blanket and saw his hands, about five seconds before he plunged
them under the faucet. Scully bit back a gasp; his hands were
stained with dried blood, knuckles bruised. He'd been fighting, and
she had a feeling she knew with whom... somehow Mulder must have
found her assailant. She really wasn't surprised, for Mulder in
quest-mode was relentless and single-minded to a fault. She fought
back even one smidgen of sympathy for the bastard who almost killed
her... he deserved everything he probably suffered at her partner's
hand. 
When Mulder turned from the sink and walked out of the bathroom,
wiping his hands on a towel, Scully was able to get a good look at
the desolation on his face... and it broke her heart to think he'd
had to make himself suffer this much pain. Such a stubborn man...
she spoke the words aloud, in a soft voice; Mulder dropped the towel
in shock and stared at the wool-covered lump on his bed, disbelief in
his voice, as he stammered, "Scully... what are you doing here? How
did you get released so fast?" Scully sat up in the bed, pushing the
blanket from her shoulders; shaking the hair out of her eyes as she
debated just how she was going to bring about the downfall of her
guilt-ridden partner. She regarded him with a serious face.
"I broke out of the 'Big House,' Partner; had to wound a lot of
nurses to blow that joint..." She batted her eyelashes at him, then
before he could react to her silliness she put out one firm hand and
pushed him onto the bed, keeping her hand against his shoulder when
he tried to sit up. "Stay down, Mulder, or else I'll handcuff you to
your own bed. Don't think I won't do it. You and I have issues to
settle; you would have heard them a lot sooner than this if you
hadn't gone ripping out of my hospital room without letting me get a
word in. And you've got a hell of a lot of nerve, ditching me yet
again, and going off by yourself to look up the man who tried to kill
me... Don't bother to deny it; I saw the blood on your hands, and
the bruises. I know what you've been up to." Mulder's mouth dropped
open in shock, and he sputtered at her.
"Scully, Jesus! Ditch you? You were in the hospital - just out of
a coma, for godsake! Besides, I had to do this - I had to! I was
feeling worthless. It was the only way I could find to redeem
myself. And you weren't supposed to know - because you shouldn't
have left the hospital, and come over here... I told you, Scully,
it's over for us. Didn't you listen to a word I said?" He glared at
her in anger. Scully glared right back. Her next words were spoken
through clenched teeth; she'd never been this angry at him.
"Do you honestly think I'm going to accept that guilty tirade of
yours, Mulder? Give me a break! You should know me well enough by
now to know that I won't tolerate anyone trashing my partner - that
includes you! I won't stand for you beating yourself up over this!" 
She refused to allow her attitude to soften toward him; Mulder needed
this sort of reality check from her. It was way overdue. She'd make
it up to him later...
Meanwhile, Mulder sighed heavily and tried to move again, but Scully
was right there pushing at him, and unless he wanted to physically
hurt her, there wasn't a way to get around her determination. He
threw up his hands in frustration and his eyes smoldered at her. 
"All right, Scully - go ahead and have your say, if you must - but it
changes nothing. I've made up my mind..." That was as far as he got
before he was rudely and furiously interrupted by his diminutive and
fiery partner. She shoved her face into his and her words tumbled
out in a heated flurry.
"I don't know what makes you think you have the right to make
decisions for me! I'm perfectly capable of making my own choices -
where my career is concerned, and especially in regard to my personal
life!" He broke in hotly, clenching his fists as if he'd like
nothing better than to gag her with them.
"Dammit, Scully, I'm only trying to protect you!" Once again she
jumped in his face, effectively shutting him up.
"I didn't ASK you to protect me - beyond the natural proclivity of
the job itself, and of our partnership... that's as far as it goes! 
Your professional responsibilities to me include watching my back and
saving my bacon, same as I do for you! You owe me your loyalty, your
on-the-job concern and your trust - which you have ultimately always
delivered. No, don't speak!" She glared at him when he opened his
mouth in protest, and Mulder found himself shutting it again,
muttering to himself as she continued.
"You HAVE given me your trust, Mulder. Every day that we're out
there putting it on the line, you prove your faith in me, in my
ability to back you up and support you in our work. Seven years,
Partner - we've watched each other's backs for seven years... if
that's not trust -" She shook her head, exasperated that the look on
his face told her he still couldn't see it. Scully reached out a
hand and wound her fingers through his, tugging on them a little for
emphasis. "I've let you down so many times, refusing to believe even
when the proof was right in front of me. And yet you continued to
let me share your work; respected my opinions - trusted that I was on
your side even when I argued so stubbornly against your theories. I
SHOT you once, and even then you didn't lose your trust in me." 
Mulder stared at her; she could tell he was trying hard to maintain
the Great Brick Wall between them, but she was on a roll... she could
knock down anything he tried to stack against their relationship. 
She folded her arms across her chest and waited for his rebuttal; she
didn't have to wait long.
"Scully, Jesus! You're my partner and my best friend; I trust you
with my life, you know I do! But that's not the issue here. The
issue is that I can't seem to trust in you now that our relationship
has become intimate; I act like a jealous asshole the first time
something happens to threaten it in the least little way. I lost all
my faith in you - based on a case of mistaken identity; believing the
worst, when you've never given me reason to -" She interrupted him
again, this time yanking on his hand so hard she almost toppled him
over.
"We haven't BEEN intimate long enough for either of us to have any
sort of confidence or real sense of security in our relationship,
Mulder! Think about it! We're talking about two different forms of
trust here! As my lover you have yet to know everything in my heart,
just as I'm learning yours. We're both insecure and vulnerable at
this point. And we've both been so long without any intimacy in our
lives - we're sadly out of practice at placing our hearts in another
person's hands. It's frightening; at times overwhelmingly so. Put
that up against the events of the past few weeks, and I don't blame
you at all for your reaction when you saw someone who looked so much
like me, kissing another man. If our positions had been reversed,
and I saw a man who I thought was you, kissing on some woman... I'd
probably shoot first and ask questions later."
She slid closer to Mulder on the bed, and wound an arm around his
shoulders, pulling him in for a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.
His eyes raised to hers, and the look in them revealed his inner
conflict. She smiled into their cloudy hazel depths, and murmured,
"Mulder, when I gave you myself that first night I opened more than
my heart to you. I provided you with a way to hurt me, based on
nothing more than an initial knowledge of what made me vulnerable. 
It was a show of faith, as much as any I've ever given you. And you
gave me the same. Placing yourself at risk by allowing me access to
your weak spots; granting me the power to hurt you so easily if that
is what I chose to do. It was a big step for both of us; but it was
only the first step, on what I hope will be a long journey together -
a lifetime if we're lucky. Along the way we're bound to hurt each
other every now and then; but you know, Mulder -" she toyed coyly
with the collar of his shirt and with a mischievous grin she
delivered her next words. "Make up sex can be pretty damn good."
His shaky chuckle vibrated against her cheek, as he hugged her
tightly; Scully slipped her other arm around him and they held each
other closely - silently. Mulder rubbed his bristly jaw against her
much-softer one, making her squirm in his arms. He whispered low in
her ear. "Wanna practice, Partner?" She laughed out loud in sheer
relief; she'd won. Thankfully, she'd made him see clearly, and she
was going to do everything to assure his eyes remained clear and
unfettered by any more guilt. Scully slipped her hands underneath
his shirt and whipped it over his head, tossing it in the corner;
pressed soft kisses to his warm skin; answering him in deed rather
than in words...
Another lesson in trust, but this one was so much easier than the
last one, Scully decided; as she lay back on pillows that still
smelled faintly of their combined MulderScullyscents... which meant
he'd forgotten to change his sheets lately, but that was all right. 
She didn't mind at all. She only minded that he'd managed to get all
her clothes off, and he still wore his boxers - but not for long. 
Even as her head hit the pillow, her fingers were busy tugging and
peeling; she got them off the rest of the way and they landed on top
of his shirt. She twined her legs through his and wrestled him down
on top of her; Mulder landed with an audible, "Oomph!" - his face a
scant inch from hers. As he gazed down into her eyes, Scully stuck
out her tongue at him impishly, then used it to trace the outline of
his mouth; tickling each side, teasing him - until Mulder opened his
lips and sent his own tongue out to retaliate. Their mouths clung as
their mingled breaths and seeking hands welcomed each other home -
soothing away residual heartache and worry, mending old wounds and
new alike. He raked his fingers though her hair as he kissed her,
the fine strands of it cool and silky on his overheated skin. So
tender the kisses he placed in precise, loving fashion - on all of
the places she knew to be his favorites. He named and described them
as he kissed, as if she could ever forget the feeling that each spot
endured...
"Left shoulder, right below the collarbone; 'bombs away'..." Kiss. 
"Upper arm, along the inside track; mmm, Scully..." Kiss kiss. 
"Fourth rib, front and left, my favorite rib, but in case the others
get jealous, I think I'll stay here and visit, maybe set up the Parcheesi
game..." Kiss. Lick. Her laughter shook those ribs and he fought
to hang onto rib number four, as he kissed and nibbled and licked
from one sensitive side of her to the other - only to repeat it over
again when he'd completed the trek. Scully shivered and whispered a
moan; barely able to keep still; determined to let him have anything
he wanted - for she knew as soon as he'd had enough, it would be her
turn... and before she was through with him, her big strong partner
would one large basket case of an erogenous zone. Her breath hitched
in her throat as his fingers brushed over her soft skin, rubbing
gently, then more firmly, on each pink nipple; as they stood up and
smiled at him he returned their welcoming response with a big grin of
his own, delighted they'd remembered him - and he pressed his cheeks
there between them and spoke softly. "You have absolutely the most
beautiful breasts I have ever seen, Scully - how many times have you
been told just that?" Scully blushed and giggled and sighed when his
lips stroked over her; trying to remember the damned question so she
could answer, before her senses overloaded on Mulder-lust and
performed automatic brain-drain. She pondered for a moment, then
answered teasingly.
"Thirteen million, Mulder. But it never meant a thing until you
told me..." He huffed against her, holding one soft handful and
nuzzling the other.
"That's 'cause I got the 'Magic Touch,' Baby..." And her eyes
teared at the sweet endearment; one she hadn't heard in so long. 
Baby... Her hands held him firmly against her as she retorted in his
ear.
"You definitely have something 'magic,' Mulder... and everyone
knows you're 'touched.' So... can it do tricks? - the Touch, that
is..." Mulder smiled down into her half-closed eyes as he slid down
her slim body, anchoring his mouth to her navel and beginning the
final journey home.
"Oh, yeah... wanna see?" he didn't wait for an answer - and she
didn't waste her breath saying 'yes,' when they both knew what magic
was about to happen...
 
 
**************************************************
 
"I love you, Mulder." Her words echoed in his head and he could hear
Scully's sultry voice, even as she slept beside him so contentedly in
his arms. She'd finally made her declaration and he'd joyfully
proclaimed his own heart to her as they held each other in the wake
of their sweet reunion. How on earth - no, that wasn't quite it -
WHY on earth had he ever entertained the thought that either of them
would be better off alone? To not have this feeling; not know Dana
Scully ever again, after having loved her - even if the words HAD
come almost too late.
He didn't think he would have been able to face a future that cold -
and now, he didn't have to. She was here in his arms - and she was
determined to stay with him despite his best efforts to protect her
from himself. Call it defeat, but that wasn't it - not at all. In
losing the battle, he'd actually won the war.
Now as he lay awake and wondered at the miracle that this incredible
woman could be in love with him, Mulder tried to be good; to merely
watch her sleep and worship without disturbing her rest, but he found
it impossible to restrain himself when Scully lay naked and so near. 
She was a drink of water to his parched soul; and he needed to love
her, not only with his heart and mind, but with his whole body. So
small and delicate; yet larger-than-life, as well - tough and
brilliant and brazen; feminine to her pink-tipped little toes. 
Adoration, for her - he ached with it; so much he dared wake her,
just to tell her one more time - or better yet, show her. Actions, 
after all, spoke louder than words. Right?
Well, he was ready to scream. With a megaphone, if necessary.
Mulder ran his fingers through her hair, marveling at the softness
of the red silk; brought his hand to her lovely face and cupped one
rose dusted cheek, still heated from their last encounter - holding
her - as he drew nearer... A breath away from her lips and her lashes
fluttered open; she smiled and welcomed his kiss. And then, with a
sparkle of mischief dancing in her eyes, she took the lead and pushed
at him, until she had him flat on his back; she curved her small self
over him, settling upon him with a sweet little wriggle, and a
deliberately slow slide.
Scully just... Scully. "So perfect... so perfect," he sighed the
words into her breasts as she took him deep within her...
 
Afterwards their tired and sore bodies cooled, weak from the loving
but not wanting to give in to the need for sleep. They had so much
time to make up... wasted days and weeks apart; time which could have
been spent in much more worthwhile pursuits - and of course he'd
cornered the blame for all of it. Scully had refused to let Mulder
pound at himself any longer; had ordered him to banish the guilt. 
Had loved away the guilt, very effectively, in fact. Pressed close
to his side, fingers twining through his... frowning at the bruises
she saw there, and bestowing gentle kisses upon each of Mulder's
battered knuckles. Examining them with a concerned doctor's eye and
lover's heart; an empathetic tear slipping down her cheek as she
soothed his painful bruises with the softness of her lips. "Your
hands..." she spoke sadly, her own pain revealed. "Look what you've
done to them."
"It's nothing, Scully." He pretended to be the tough guy for her
benefit, even though he was reveling in the way she babied him. 
Scully frowned, shaking her head in exasperation.
"It's not nothing... I love your hands. I never told you this
before but I've always had a thing about them." Scully placed one of
her small palms against his larger one. Her hand looked child-sized
in proportion, the skin fair and fragile against his tanned fingers. 
"They're beautiful, Mulder, big and strong, and yet - elegant too. 
You would have made a fine surgeon... or maybe a pianist." He
chuckled as she continued to admire his long fingers; weaving them
through hers to lovingly surround them.
"Come to think of it, my piano teacher did say I was good with my
hands," he wisecracked, wanting to take the melancholy edge out of
her voice. She gasped and swatted him.
"You're terrible!" His teasing was successful, prompting a giggle;
and he couldn't resist trying for more. He loved the sound of her
laughter. 
"I think Miss Duncan would take exception to that remark, Scully."
That comment won him a sizable amount of mirth, and she playfully
nudged him under the covers with her foot as well. "Stop it!" He
was enjoying the happy noise filling his bedroom and regretted it
when he squeezed her closer and her mood swiftly changed to
seriousness again. She leaned close and whispered in confidence, "I
probably shouldn't admit to this, but I was actually very touched by
the fact that you went after that man who tried to kill me; that you
would fight for me the way you did... It's very... I don't know...
sexy, I guess." Mulder waggled his eyebrows at her and nuzzled her
bare shoulder.
"Mental note: Scully is turned on by brutish displays of machismo." 
This attempt to recapture the lightheartedness of a moment ago fell
short of its goal; her face lost its open smile, and she dropped her
eyes, finding and then picking at a stray thread coming loose on the
corner of his bedspread. She muttered to herself.
"I knew I shouldn't have said anything." Eyes not quite meeting
his, Scully sighed and then abruptly voiced her concern. "Mulder,
you didn't go too far, did you? I mean, there is something left of
the man, right?" She looked into his eyes, searching for the real
skinny on what had happened. Mulder returned the intense stare, his
own struggling to convey actual regret, and failing miserably.
"It's okay, Scully. I stopped just short of murdering the little
dirtbag. I promise you he was alive and putting up a fuss when Mike
Guthrie took him into custody." Mulder could feel the relieved
reaction of Scully's body at the mention of the tough old teddy bear
of a cop; and he knew he'd reassured her by simply dropping the name
of their mutual friend into the conversation. Her mouth turned up at
the corners, and she shot him a sideways glance from under her lashes.
"Good, because we're not married, you know - So I wouldn't be
eligible for conjugal visits while you're doing hard time in 'The
Pen'."
Mulder's body shook with silent laughter. He was trying to decide
on the best comeback when the phone rang and they both bemoaned the
interruption. He reluctantly forced one hand to let go of her and
reached for the offending device on the third ring. "Mulder."
"Hey, Mulder - it's Mike Guthrie." Speak of the devil. God, he
hoped there wasn't going to be trouble over the thing with Mariano
after all. Mulder sighed and spoke into the mouthpiece with as much
friendliness as he could muster.
"What's up?" Scully was staring up at him, her faced pinched with
worry the moment she felt his body go tense. She laid a hand on his
bare back and traced comforting circles with gentle fingers. She
could hear Mike's booming voice from where she lay.
"Well, I think we may have found Scully's missing twin that you were
telling me about. A couple of fishermen discovered a body in
Washington Channel this afternoon. The Jane Doe looks a helluva lot
like your partner. They look so damn close the coroner was afraid it
was Scully at first; I guess he's made her acquaintance a time or
two... I was wondering if you could come down and have a look; maybe
give us a positive ID so we can notify next of kin." Another almost
inaudible sigh; Mulder nodded, as if the burly cop could see him do
it through the mouthpiece.
"Sure thing. I'm on my way." He put the phone back on its cradle
and pressed a swift kiss on the top of Scully's head, then quickly
got out of bed, trying not to think about what might be waiting for
him downtown.
Scully sat up, frowning as she watched him begin to dress. "Where
are you going?" Mulder rooted around in a dresser drawer for a clean
shirt, finally locating an old Knicks sweatshirt and yanking it over
his head.
"That was Guthrie," Mulder explained to her as he pulled on his
pants. "DCPD has a body they need me to come down and identify." He
unearthed a pair of sneakers from underneath his bed and shoved his
feet into them without bothering to untie them. Scully's eyes got
wide and she sat up straighter in the bed, staring at him in concern.
"Who?" Mulder stood and moved to the night stand, retrieving his
gun. He glanced at her and tried to sound as non-committal as
possible.
"It could be Elise Heartman." As soon as Scully heard that she
climbed out of bed and was right behind him, grabbing up her clothes
from the floor until Mulder took hold of her arm to stop her. "What
do you think you're doing?"
"I'm going with you," she told him, matter-of-factly; pure
determination in her eyes. She stared him down, obviously expecting
him to protest. And although it was pointless of him to even try,
Dana Scully didn't have the market cornered on stubbornness; Fox
Mulder held a good share of stock as well. He stood his ground and
protested.
"Scully, you're still recuperating. Get back in bed. I won't be
gone long." He tried to gently steer her away from her clothes, but
Scully dug in her heels and refused to budge. Her eyes beseeched him
to let her help. 
"No, Mulder. I don't want you to have to face this alone."
He could resist anything, it would seem... except Dana Scully;
especially when she looked at him with those pleading eyes. And
though he should have argued - she needed the rest - he gratefully
accepted her offer to go with him, telling himself that it would be
easier on her just to let her come along, rather than fight with her
about it. In all honesty, he didn't relish the idea of seeing a
carbon copy of Scully laid out on slab in the morgue. Having the
'real deal,' alive and well and standing beside him, would be a great
comfort.
 
 
***************************************************
 
Of all the times Scully had 'Snapped on the Latex,' as Mulder so
loved to bait her... this was one time she heartily wished she could
have stayed home with the bedcovers over her head. This was a body
she was going to find impossible to remain objective over; not
because the dead woman meant anything to her but because as she
looked into the pasty face of Elise Heartman, it was as if she looked
upon her own demise. At first she found the resemblance exceedingly
creepy; and that feeling assailed her from across the room, before
she even got very close. But she had promised herself that she
wouldn't let Mulder go alone to the identification... and a promise
was a promise.
The phone call had come for them in the late afternoon, rousing them
from the first real quality time they'd had together in days...
they'd slept the sleep of the dead, in between episodes of extreme
waking pleasure. Scully had lost count of how many times Mulder had
brought her to the very edge of her world, and held her there,
causing her to slowly lose her mind - before he provided the last,
small pulse which pitched her head-first into oblivion. When the
phone call came - well, the last thing either of them would have
wanted to think about was the possibility of performing
identification and an autopsy on Scully's doppelganger. Yet, here
they were... and looking this woman in the face had been especially
hard on Mulder.
Now Scully smoothed the protective sterile gloves over hands
fighting to remain steady, and she took a deep, fortifying breath,
before approaching the body. The head was turned just the slightest
bit away from her, affording her a clear visual of the dead woman's
red hair. Almost the same exact color... uncanny. And as she'd
imagined, creepy. Scully made herself move a little closer, slightly
around to the other side, enough to finally get a good look at Elise
Heartman's face... and she found herself gasping in unprofessional
reaction to the overall resemblance which could not be denied. Her
eyes darted over the small face, noting how the bone structure was
the same, as was the general shape of the eyes, and nose. Elise's
mouth wasn't quite as full in the lower lip... but still it was an
amazing likeness. Small wonder that Mulder mistook Elise for her...
probably her own mother would have done so as well! And Scully
decided the only thing more unsettling than coming face to face with
your double, would be if that double was dead instead of alive... She
murmured to her partner, one latexed hand reaching for, and clasping,
his.
"My God, Mulder... this could have been me, so easily - it could
have been my body lying here, a victim of mistaken identity..." She
shuddered, unable to control her response to the gruesome feel of it;
she choked back tears - and felt him slip his arms around her from
behind, the fingers holding hers winding both their hands around her
middle, and pressing himself warmly and comfortingly against her. 
Celebrating life, even as they gazed down at death - and Mulder
whispered in her ear, just before he kissed it; just before he turned
her in the circle of his arms and pressed her damp eyes to his
shoulder.
"But it wasn't you, Scully - it wasn't you. I'll thank God every
day for the rest of my life, that it wasn't you..."
 
~THE END~