Title:  Crossing Parallels
Author:  Chiqua <timandtiff@yahoo.com>
Spoilers:  Small Potatoes
Rating:  NC-17
Classification:  CRA
Keywords:  Mulder/Scully Romance
Archiving: Gossamer - yes.  Anywhere else is fine, too, so long as my name
stays attached.  And please drop me a line and let me know the URL so I
can come visit. 

Feedback:  All feedback will receive a chocolate-covered Mulder/Scully/
Krycek (whichever your preference) courtesy of myself! <g>
This has taken me a long time to complete and feedback of any sort 
will be loved and squeezed.  I'm also considering whether or not to 
write a sequel so thoughts and opinions on that would also be
appreciated.

Disclaimer:  Mulder, Scully, etc. do not belong to me, they are owned by
Chris Carter and 1013 productions.  No infringement is intended. 

Summary:  Through what they think is a freak accident, Mulder and Scully
trade places with Gillian and David. The results will change Mulder and
Scully's lives forever. 


Acknowledgments:  A big thank you to Youkneek whose story "Round File" 
was my inspiration.  I also want to acknowledge Madeline L'Engle from
whose "A Wrinkle In Time" I shamelessly stole a plot device.  And finally,
I'd like to thank Jacy Yates for beta reading, editing, encouraging me and
for getting on my case to get this thing done!  Your advice and comments
have been invaluable to me.  I am *so* going to miss you! 

Author's Notes:  While I am certainly not an Alanna Baker or a Rachel
Anton, this has been a labor of love for me.  The plot is going a bit far
back from where we are now, but I couldn't shake the idea.  So if you
don't mind one more Scully-Cancer-Arc story, then read on.  Also, if you
don't go for the NC-17 rating, an R rated version can be found on my
website: members.xoom.com/georgehale



County Morgue Martinsburg, West Virginia

Scully stared quizzically at the tail of Eddie Van Blundht,
Senior, now laying, broken, on the floor.  She'd just examined
the corpse and it had been firmly attached.  The only one who'd
touched it since her was...Mulder.  She grimaced even as a
slight smile curved her lips.  He must have been less than
gentle with his poking and prodding.  The quicklime which had
preserved the body had also made it extremely brittle.

Mulder could be so childlike sometimes, she thought as she
retrieved the tail and began repairing the damage Mulder had
wrought.  Endearingly so, considering his attempt to make the
break unnoticeable and then beating a hasty retreat.  It was
when he did things such as this that the wall she'd built around
her heart would crumble just a little, her throat constricting
with the effort to choke back the sudden onslaught of emotion.

Unwittingly, Scully's mind began to wander over memories normally
only indulged in the privacy of her home, preferably at night,
when the rest of the world was sleeping.  Mulder's voice whispered
inside her head, speaking words she held close to her heart...

...Nobody down here but the FBIs most unwanted...Before I could
only trust myself.  Now I can only trust you...If there's an iced
tea in that bag, could be love...I think it's remotely plausible
that someone might think you're hot...They've taken you away from
me...I still have the x-files - and I still have you...The truth
will save you, Scully.  I think it'll save both of us....

There was a time when she thought Mulder might see her as
someone other than a partner and colleague.  Back at the beginning
of their relationship when she'd been more na=EFve, more innocent.

Unfortunately, as time went by and nothing deeper was ever
expressed, she gradually realized that wasn't going to happen.
He was too involved in himself and his quest to think of their
relationship as anything more than an alliance to seek the truth -
whatever that would turn out to be.  They'd been searching so
long and suffered so much.  She'd begun to wonder if it was
worth it.  Especially since her cancer was diagnosed.  She had
always thought that maybe, someday, she might find enough courage
to make the first move toward Mulder - the courage to risk what
they already had.  When she found out that, for her, there were
only so many "somedays" left to live, it had cut deep.
Deep enough to penetrate the pain of losing something she never had.

The shrill ring of her cellphone interrupted her reverie.  She
peeled off her latex gloves and reached for the phone.

"Scully," she answered.

"Hey, yeah it's me. I think you should get down to the hospital
right away, okay?"

"I'm on my way."  She sighed as Mulder broke the connection.

Back to reality.

*******************

"You're a damn good looking man," Mulder heard, and then the
ceiling came crashing down on top of him.  His head hit the
hard linoleum floor and there was black.

Eddie slowly picked himself off the floor, wincing as he did
so.  That had seemed like a good idea at the time, he just
didn't know it would hurt so much.  He stopped brushing
himself off as he heard the sound of voices.  They were
very soft but were getting louder.  They didn't sound like
they were coming from the hallway.  No, they were surrounding
him and slowly increased in volume, talking over one another
and not making any sense.  A slight wind began whispering
through the room and gradually rose until it stung his eyes
and tore at his clothes.  A white light began to fill the room,
brighter than any light he'd ever seen and Eddie whimpered in
fear.  He turned and fled from the room, not seeing the pair
of eyes peering from the ceiling above and leaving Mulder
lying on the floor, unconscious, and the light shone blindingly
white around him....

*******************

Mulder slowly came to, his head throbbing.  He groaned as he
sat up, rubbing the sore spot on his head.  The last thing he
remembered was staring up at the light flashing in the
ceiling and Van Blundht knocking him to the ground.

Suddenly, a loud voice called out.  "Hey, David, you okay?"

Mulder's eyes snapped open.

The scene before him was straight out of the movies.

Television cameras took up strategic positions in a half
circle directly in front of him in the small locker room,
which now had only three walls.  People formed groups here
and there but were faceless in the shadows behind a myriad
of lights pointed at him.  Mulder could feel the heat of
the burning lights and broke out in a sweat under his shirt.
Everyone's stare was focused on him.

Mulder could see a man walking towards him from behind the
array of people and equipment.  He was tall, about six feet,
with a shock of unruly graying hair atop a pleasant looking
face.

"Hey, David, that really knocked you out.  The stunt
people were supposed to make sure that didn't happen."  He
reached Mulder and crouched down beside him.  With a concerned
frown on his face, the man lowered his voice and said, "Are you
okay?  Should I get a doctor?"

Mulder stared at the man incredulously for a second, then
exploded.  "What the hell's going on here?  Who are you?
Where's Scully?"  He winced in pain as his shouting
reverberated through his head.

"Woah, David, take it easy!  It's me, it's Chris," the man
said, clasping his shoulder, "we've cut the scene.  You're
done for now."  He turned his attention away from Mulder
and yelled, "Somebody get a doctor in here!"

Mulder shook off his hand and struggled to his feet,
grasping the man's arm in a crushing grip while his other
hand still held the back of his head.  "Where's Scully?"
he repeated, his voice harsh and demanding an answer.  His
eyes searched the room, frantically moving from face to face.
Trying to ignore his rising panic, he called her.  "Scully!"

"Mulder!"

Turning, he saw her, standing in the doorway.  Relief slammed
into him and his eyes briefly slid shut.  When he opened them,
she was making her way across the room to him, her purposeful
stride parting the crowd in her path.

Her cool hands on his face immediately calmed Mulder.
She was okay.  She was Scully and she was here and everything
was going to be okay.  He felt faintly embarrassed at his
outburst but she'd been taken from his side too many times
for him to react in any other way than blind panic.  He
watched her as she quickly and professionally examined the wound
that now was streaming blood and checked the dilation of his eyes.
The rest of the  world faded away as he inhaled deeply, her
nearness surrounding him with her familiar scent.  He felt his
racing pulse slow to a steady, regular beat.

"Are you all right, Mulder?"  She spoke softly, so only he
could hear.  Looking away from the cut, she searched his eyes,
her concern evident as she checked to make sure he was lucid.
Mulder, acutely aware of everyone's eyes upon them,
grasped her wrist and reluctantly pulled her hand away
from his face.  "I'm fine."

Together, their attention turned to Chris, still standing
just a few feet away who was staring at them, a confused
frown on his face.

"What's going on here?" Scully asked, the softness that had
been in her voice a moment before gone, replaced by a tone of
steel.  "Who attacked Mulder and why are you filming this?
Who allowed you in here?"

Chris' jaw gaped and he appeared at a loss for an answer.
The twin pair of eyes were disconcertingly piercing.  "I'm sorry,
I - hey, wait a minute!  Cut it out, you guys!  This isn't funny.
David's been hurt!"  He gestured to Mulder.

"Who the hell is 'David'?" Scully said.

"Come on, Gill," Chris said, exasperated, "this is ridiculous!"

"And just who are you anyway?" Scully demanded.

"Gill, it's me, Chris!  What's wrong with you?"

Mulder reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his wallet and
flashed his I.D.  "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is
Special Agent Dana Scully.  I was knocked out a few minutes ago
by someone I was pursuing.  We need to know who allowed you and
this group of people in the hospital and if you saw anything."

At this pronouncement, the room became deathly quiet.

Chris stepped closer and spoke so only Mulder and Scully would
hear, anger evident in his voice.  "Okay, fine.  You guys want
to play this game, that's fine with me.  I really don't think the
joke is funny.  C'mon, let's go to my office and have a little
chat."  With that, he turned and stalked through the opening where
the fourth wall had previously been.  "That's a wrap, folks!" he
called to the crew.  At this, the people who had been watching
the interaction with undisguised interest turned away and began
pulling down lights and cameras as hushed conversations began.

Mulder and Scully's eyes met.  In mutual agreement, they turned
to follow the retreating figure, uncomfortably aware of the furtive
glances cast their way as they passed the crew.

The sight that greeted their eyes as they stepped out of the
would-be locker room caused them to stop in their tracks, their
eyes wide in amazement.  What should have been the hospital hallway,
was now a large warehouse-like building.  It had several different
sets scattered throughout the dark expanse.  With a start, Scully
recognized the nearest one as the interior of her apartment.  She
tugged on Mulder's sleeve and gestured to the set.  He nodded.
"Mine's across from us."  Scully looked and indeed saw what she
knew to be Mulder's home, complete with couch, computer, fish tank
and an "X" taped to the window.

"So you wanna be in pictures, Scully?"  Mulder quipped softly.

"Mulder, where are we?" Scully asked, her eyes fixed on the
elaborate recreations.

"I don't know.  But I think that guy - Chris - might help us
figure that out."

Scully nodded and they continued to the door through which
they'd seen Chris disappear.

They entered to find a large, dimly lit office complete with a
deep mahogany desk nearly covered in papers and a bookcase filled
almost to overflowing.  Through the window behind the desk, Mulder
and Scully could see the newly risen moon shining a dusky orange.
A few scraggly plants were scattered around the room and a surfboard
took up one corner.  But what caught Mulder and Scully's attention
was the only wall decoration in the room - a poster showing what
appeared to be a flying saucer over a field of green with the words
"I Want To Believe" written across the bottom.

Chris sat behind the desk in a comfortably padded chair and
gestured to the two matching chairs sitting against the opposite
wall.

"Pull up a chair."

Mulder grasped the chairs and pulled them over in front of the desk.
Chris began to speak as Mulder and Scully settled themselves,
looking at each one in turn.

"David, Gillian, listen I know it's been a long day and it's been
a little stressful on the set," he began, "but I really think that
kind of behavior has a time and place.  You guys want to play
jokes, that's fine.  I have a sense of humor and don't mind.
But the crew wants to get home and so should you.  That kind of
thing merely prolongs an already long working day."

"We didn't mean to upset your...crew...," Scully said, her voice
measured, "but Agent Mulder and I are in the middle of
investigation and, to be quite frank, we could arrest you for
obstruction of justice."

Chris's jaw gaped.  "Wait a second, this can't - no of course
it isn't, you guys are playing a joke, right?"

Mulder and Scully looked at each other, then back to Chris.
Mulder answered, "No,  we're not playing a joke."

When Chris said nothing but continued to stare, Mulder continued.
"Do you know who we are?  Have you seen us before?"

Chris shook his head, dumfounded.  "This can't be happening.
This *can't* be happening."

Scully's eyebrow rose.  "Um...Chris...we need to know exactly
who you are and where we are.  Are you going to cooperate?"

Chris shook his head, as if trying to clear it.  "Forget it,
this is ridiculous.  I know this is probably hysterical to you
guys, pulling one like this over on me but I've had enough.
I'm getting more than a little angry about this and...." his
voice trailed off as his eyes fixed on Scully's face.

"And?" Scully prompted.

Mulder looked over at Scully and saw what Chris saw - the
blood beginning to stream from her nose.

Realizing she was the object of the two men's attention,
Scully started, "What is...-"  Only then did she feel the
slight tickle below her nose and hastily pressed her hand
against it to quell the sudden bleeding.

Mulder jumped up from his seat and crouched beside her,
pulling a white handkerchief from his pocket.  He didn't
usually carry such an old-fashioned accessory
but ever since Scully began having her nosebleeds due to the
cancer,  he'd taken to having one on-hand. She pressed the
handkerchief to the crimson stain  above her lip.

"Are you okay?" Mulder questioned softy, his hand stroking her
hair as the ominous blood still dripped from her nose.  He
felt physically ill at the reminder of the silent and deadly
tumor that was slowly pushing its way into her skull.

"I'm fine," Scully replied, brushing off his concern as a
faint blush of embarrassment staining her pale cheeks.  She
dabbed quickly at the blood, praying it would stop and save
her this humiliating scene.  Chris was staring at them
unabashedly, his mouth still open in shock.

Mulder realized she was embarrassed so he returned to his
seat and directed his attention to Chris, who was still
staring at Scully.

"Oh my god,"  he finally said, "you really are them,
aren't you?"


Scully had regained her composure and now looked at Chris
quizzically.  "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I'm a television producer, writer and director," he said,
excitement evident in his voice.  "Four years ago I created
a television program called The X-Files.  The show revolves
around two FBI agents who deal with cases of a more...unusual...
nature.  One is a believer, the other, a skeptic," he paused
for a moment, trying to gauge their reaction to his words.

He seemed to have captured their interest for the moment,
if not their belief.  He continued.  "The believer is a brilliant
psychologist.  An Oxford graduate with a gift for
profiling.  His name is Fox Mulder.  The skeptic is a medical
doctor, originally assigned to the x-files division to debunk
Mulder's work.  Her name is Dana Scully."  He stopped to allow
them time to process what he was saying.

"So what are you saying?" Scully asked.

"You're saying we may not be in Kansas anymore," Mulder said
grimly.

Chris hesitated, then nodded.

"You've *got* to be kidding." Scully looked
from Mulder to Chris, then back to Mulder.

"I think something happened while I was unconscious that
brought us here," Mulder replied.

"That's ridiculous, Mulder," Scully said with a shake of
her head.  "I was conscious the entire time and nothing
happened out of the ordinary."

"I can't explain *how* it happened, Scully, but it *would*
explain the scene we had out there and what he's
saying.  Do you have a better theory?"

Scully grudgingly shook her head, but she wasn't about to
accept such a ridiculous notion so easily.  Things like
this didn't happen - they couldn't.  "If what you're
saying is correct, and that's a big *if*,  then where
are we and how did we get here?"

"Can you help us answer that question, Chris?"

"Well, your current locale is Vancouver, British Columbia,"
Chris responded.   "As for how you got here, I have no idea.
Nothing unusual happened during the filming."

"And you said you 'created' the X-Files?"  Mulder questioned,
his tone skeptical.  "If that's true, then what's real?  Are
we real and you're writing about us or are you real and we're
merely products of your imagination?"

"I don't know that either.  Just like I don't know how we're
going to get you back."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other, their faces grim.

"Then we'd better get to work finding out what did happen,"
Mulder said.

They made to rise from their chairs to leave but Chris
stopped them.

"Wait, it's late and I don't know about you, but I'm beat.
I'm guessing that whatever caused this is not going to happen
again so soon - if at all.  Let's just get you guys settled
for the night and you can start fresh tomorrow.  David and
Gillian -" he paused awkwardly, "those are the names of the
people who play you on the show."

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances at this information.
It all seemed so strange, unreal.  To now have a name for
the people they'd taken the place of was eerie.  It
unsettled them.

"Anyway," Chris continued, "I think their trailers should
work out for the night.  We'll worry about better accommodations
later."  No one mentioned what everyone was trying to avoid
thinking about - that they might be here more than one night.

If Scully's exhaustion wasn't so obvious, Mulder might have
put up more of a fight.  But her skin was a pasty white and
he could see her hands were trembling even though she tried
to hide it.  Whether it was from their situation or fatigue,
he couldn't tell.  He couldn't do anything about what had
happened but he could damn well make sure she got some rest.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," he said.

********************

Chris was walking towards a door to the far left of the
building.  Mulder's hand went to the small of Scully's back,
allowing her to proceed ahead of him, then fell in step
behind her.

They were led through the building past the crew putting
away equipment for the night.  Not many people were chatting,
just talking when it seemed absolutely necessary.  Mulder
got the feeling it had indeed been a long day and the uppermost
thought on everyone's mind was going home.  No one paid them
any attention.

As the exited the building, a blast of cold air hit them.
It was easily twenty degrees colder here than it had been in
Washington.  Scully crossed her arms over her chest and
gripped her arms, trying to shelter herself as much as she
could from the biting wind.  While Mulder had his coat on,
she was just in her skirt and jacket.  Just as an uncontrollable
shiver was passing through her, she felt hands on her shoulders
and started in surprise.

"It's just me," Mulder said, bending near her ear.  "Thought
you might be cold."

Scully then noticed he had taken off his overcoat and draped
it lightly over her shoulders.  She hesitated for a moment.

"Thanks," she finally said, pulling the coat tightly around her.
Now that she was a little warmer, Scully took in her surroundings.

The had exited the building and were now crossing the pavement
to where a group of trailers sat together.  Off to her right, there
were barricades set up as if to keep a crowd at bay.  The
"crowd" there at the moment consisted of two teenage girls
huddled together on the ground bundled in coats, scarves, earmuffs
and mittens.  At the sight of Mulder, one of them screamed and
jumped to her feet, frantically waving to get Mulder's attention.

Mulder had been looking towards the trailers but, at the scream,
his head snapped around as his hand went for his weapon.

Scully grabbed his arm.  "Take it easy, Mulder," she said softly,
humor underlying her voice,  "I don't think they're hostile."

By now the other girl had also spotted Mulder and was on her feet.
Together, they waved and shouted, "David!  We love you, David!"

Mulder relaxed his stance.  "I always knew I had a fan club,"
he said dryly.

Chris paused before one of the bigger trailers and said,
"This is David's trailer.  Mulder, you should be comfortable
here for the night.  I'll put Scully in Gillian's trailer."

Mulder looked at Scully and hesitated, wanting to have a few
moments alone with Scully and make sure she was okay.  "I think
I'll follow you to where you'll be putting Scully first."

Chris looked at him, confused.  "Really, it's just right over
there."  He pointed across the lot.

Mulder felt a swell of irrational possessiveness and his eyes
narrowed.  "That's okay.  I'll follow," he insisted.

"Um, sure, okay," Chris finally said before turning and walking
further into the mass of trailers.

Together, they  worked their way after Chris, carefully stepping
over the thick cables that crisscrossed the pavement like elaborate
webs.  Finally, they stopped in front of another trailer almost
identical to Mulder's.  "This is Gillian's trailer."

"Thanks," Mulder muttered.   Scully didn't bother saying anything
as she climbed the stairs to the door.  The nosebleed had merely
been the precursor for the headache pounding inside her skull and she
desperately wanted to get a glass of water to take some
of the pain medication her doctor had given her.

The inside of the trailer was warm and inviting.  A sofa,
matching chair and an entertainment center stood in the
middle area by the door.  A TV, VCR and stereo occupied most of
the entertainment center while videos and CDs took up the rest.

To Mulder's right was a small kitchenette and dining area complete
with a table for two.  To his left was a short hallway leading to
a door behind which he assumed was a bedroom.  The colors of the
walls and carpet were a soft ivory with touches of dark green,
feminine but not overtly so.  The television was on, its volume
turned low, and Mulder could see one of the late night shows was on.

Scully immediately veered to her left, towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Mulder asked.

"I just need to take some medicine.  I'll be back in a sec." She
replied, stepping beyond the wall separating the bathroom and
living area and moving out of earshot.

Mulder and Chris stood quietly, staring after Scully.  Chris
broke the silence.

"She really does have a tumor," he said softly, stricken.

Mulder turned on him, unleashing his frustration and anxiety on an
unsuspecting Chris.  "Yes, she really does," he whispered harshly,
"And it's killing her.  She's dying -" his voice broke and his eyes
locked with Chris'.  Chris stared, dumbfounded, at the pain and
torment he saw there.  Mulder finally turned away, trying to regain
his control before Scully returned.

Chris was silent, watching Mulder jerk off his suit jacket and toss
it carelessly aside.  This was so incredibly difficult to believe.
He didn't doubt for a minute, though, that it wasn't very real.  He
was in the business of making people believe in the
magic and sleight of hand of film - and that nosebleed had been
neither.  Though Mulder's vehemence surprised him.  Even though
he'd
written the reaction David would give to Scully having cancer - to
see it in reality was entirely different.  Here, hearts didn't stop
breaking when the cameras stopped rolling.

Scully returned from the kitchen and headed to the couch where Mulder
had landed, sprawled back against the cushions with his long legs
stretched out in front of him.  She lightly perched beside him,
crossing her legs and smoothing her jacket down over her pants before
folding her hands in her lap.

Chris stared at her.  Scully's appearance was alarming to him.
Gillian had had to lose weight progressively for the past few
weeks to simulate the appearance of being sick, much like Tom Hanks
had done in "Philadelphia."  So now she was very thin, but
still looked healthy off-camera.  This Scully was painfully thin
and obviously ill.  Dark circles appeared as angry bruises beneath her
eyes on delicate skin which was alarmingly pale.  Make-up
artists on the set had created that look for Gillian, but Chris
was brought up short by the reality that this Scully was indeed dying.

The thought sobered him.  He was amazed that she had the
strength to sit there, she looked so frail, like she might
crumble under the cruel weight of the cancer.  But it was her
eyes that finally captivated him.  They were a clear blue,
shining from the light of sheer will.  In her eyes he saw the
strength he had endeavored to instill in Gillian's character,
and was heartened by it. She exuded a pull on him that was
almost tangible in its potency.  He felt vaguely jealous of Mulder,
gifted with such a woman as this by his side. And
he had a brief glimpse of why Mulder was devoted to protecting her.

Mulder felt Scully sitting beside him so serenely.  It calmed
him.  She had the unerring ability to be his anchor, his eye of
the storm.  A soft smile curved his lips until the thought rose,
unbidden, in his mind - But what will you be when she's gone?
A pain twisted inside him so suddenly and swiftly that he wanted
to gasp.  Instead, his jaw clenched and he abruptly turned to Chris,
who was staring unabashedly at Scully.  Mulder felt
jealousy rear its head.  How dare he stare at Scully like she's
some kind of science project.  "If you can stop staring, I think
we should start comparing notes on what happened," Mulder snapped,
dragging Chris' attention back to him.

Chris shook himself out of his trance.  His face flamed at being
caught.  "I'm sorry," he apologized, "just caught up in my own
little world."

"Yeah, well so are we," Mulder retorted.

Scully quieted Mulder with a hand on his thigh.  "Let's just
start at the beginning, shall we?" Scully said.  "I think
the first thing we should find out is what happens first,
this timeline or ours."

Mulder nodded, then turned to Chris.  "What was being filmed
when we... arrived?"

Chris sank slowly into the chair opposite Mulder and Scully,
sitting side-by-side on the couch.  He noticed that Mulder
didn't move far from her even now that she was feeling better.
He hovered in a semblance of fierce protection, her smallness
and fragility accentuated by his nearness.

"We were filming an episode called 'Small Potatoes', written
by one of my staff members, Vince Gilligan," he said.  "Mulder
and Scu -" he paused, "I mean...you...came to investigate because
five babies born recently all had vestigial tails.  The part
we were filming immediately before your...arrival...was when
you were looking in the locker room for Eddie.  He was hiding
in the ceiling and came crashing down on top of you.  It wasn't
supposed to knock you out, but it did."

Scully spoke up first.  "Well, that still doesn't answer our
question of who's writing our lives - you or us.  Nor does it
help explain how we got here."  She sighed in frustration, a
hand brushing across her eyes.

Mulder stared intently at her for a moment, noticing the
fatigue around her eyes and her pallor.  He then said to
Chris, "Why don't we call it a night like you suggested.
We can talk some more tomorrow."

"Sure, that sounds good.  Can I get you guys anything before
I leave?  I don't stay on the set - I have a house in town."

"No," Mulder replied, "we'll be okay.  Thanks."

"Okay, well, if you do need anything, here is my home number.
Just give me a call if you need me," he held out a business
card.

Mulder took the proffered card but before Chris could
step out the door, Scully said, "Wait!  Aren't there any
scenes or something tomorrow we should help you out with?
I don't know a lot about making a television show, but I'd
think you have some kind of deadline or something for making
an episode each week."

Chris hesitated, then replied, "You're right, I do have a
deadline to meet."

Mulder protested immediately.  "Scully, forget it.  You're
not up to that."

Chris agreed, "He's right...Scully."  Her name sounded strange
on his tongue.  He had never called her anything but Gillian
or Gill.  "I'll just do some rewriting and we'll do an episode
about the Lone Gunmen or Skinner or something."  What he didn't
mention was how he'd be up the rest of the night churning out
a new script and how they'd be busting their asses to get it
filmed in time.

"Don't be ridiculous," Scully said, "I'm fine.  Now, where's
the script?"

Chris opened his mouth to object again, but quickly realized
he would lose the battle.  He reluctantly went to the kitchen
and brought back a folder on which was written "Small Potatoes -
Episode 4X20."

"Here," he said.  "There's a couple of copies in there.
Tomorrow we'll be filming the final three scenes - 17, 18
and 19.  I'll send someone to your trailers for you when you
need to get into make-up - probably around 7:00 a.m.  There's
not too many lines so you should be okay.  Also, I think it
would be best that this whole - situation - remained our
little secret for a while.  Agreed?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Scully said.  "What are
their names again?"

"David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson."

"David," Scully repeated softy, as if testing the name.
She smiled.  "Hey, Mulder, I finally get to call you by
a first name."

He grimaced.  "I think I prefer 'Fox.'"

Scully chuckled lightly.

"See you tomorrow," Chris said, and walked out the door,
leaving Mulder and Scully alone.


As soon as the door shut, Scully fell back against the
couch cushions, laying her head back as her eyes closed.

Mulder watched her, concerned.  She just looked so tired.

He lightly touched her cheek, his fingers barely grazing
her skin.  She opened her eyes, watching him.  She could
see the pain and worry in his eyes.

"I'm okay, Mulder.  Just tired," she reassured him with
a gentle smile, tentatively taking his hand at her face
and squeezing softly.

"Scully -" he began, but stopped.  He wanted to help her.

He'd do anything she wanted, fetch any remedy, jump through
any hoop, anything if it would help her.  The bitch of it was
there wasn't anything he *could* do.  At least, not here.
She couldn't die - he wouldn't let her.  As long as he kept
searching for her cure, she wouldn't die.

"I'd better go," he said, abruptly dropping her hand as he
stood to leave, reaching for his coat.

The familiar sinking feeling came over Scully and her stomach
turned over.  He'd been about to say something, she was sure
of it.  But had stopped.  Why?  Was she cursed to live like this
until the cancer robbed her of what life remained?  Would
Mulder be off on a fruitless search to find a cure for her
when death came?  Would he ever face the truth that time
was running out for her, for them?  The questions hammered
at her until tears began to sting her eyes.  She squeezed her
eyes shut - she would not let him see her cry.  The last
thing she wanted to do was resort to the old tired cliche
of a weepy woman crying on his shoulder.

Mulder glanced at Scully as he shrugged into his coat.  Her
eyes were tightly closed, as if in pain. His helplessness
overwhelming him, he grabbed a copy of the script, turned
and left.

The cold air wafting through the door caused Scully's eyes
to snap open in time to see the door close behind him.

The pain knotting inside her stomach increased tenfold and
she laid down on the couch, drawing her knees up until she
was as small as possible.  Cradling a throw pillow to her
chest, she sank into a troubled sleep as tears slipped out
of her eyes and fell, unheeded, onto the fabric of the couch.

**********

Mulder jogged across the parking lot to David's trailer.
It had begun to rain and by the time he got to the trailer,
water was pouring freely from his hair and coat.

Inside the trailer, he shed his coat and shoes, both oozing
water, by the door before turning to study the interior.

Inside, it was dark and quiet.  A single lamp
on a table beside an overstuffed black couch was the only
light.  Mulder made his way past the couch to the door
which he assumed was the bathroom.  The layout was very
much like Scully's trailer except the decor more masculine,
the colors leaning towards a predominance of black and
burgundy.

He quickly found a towel and began drying his hair.
Heading into the bedroom, he flipped on the overhead
light.  Inside the bedroom was a double bed heaped with
pillows.  It looked soft and inviting, but Mulder knew he'd
opt for the couch instead.

He thought he should feel uncomfortable here, like an
unwelcome intruder delving into someone else's privacy.
But the only thing that made him uneasy was the thought
that David was very likely intruding into Mulder's own
apartment at that very moment.  He cringed at the thought
of two actors trying to pull off the real thing as FBI agents.
He just hoped they didn't get themselves killed - then what
would happen to him and Scully?  Pushing that thought to the
back of his mind, he continued his explorations.

Opening the small closet, he found a pair of well-worn jeans
and a gray t-shirt.  Glad to shed his sodden clothing, he
quickly donned the other man's garments.  They fit perfectly.
In the kitchen, he grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and
stretched out on the couch, script in hand.  After taking
a long swig from the can, he started reading....

***********

It was amazing.  It was all here.  Every word, every nuance,
everything they had done or said over the past few days.

Scully sat, stunned, on the couch.  Having woken up after
a few hours and unable to go back to sleep, she'd begun to
read the script Chris had given them.  Although she had known
this was real, to see it all there, in black and white,
staggered her and questions spun in her mind.  The uppermost
one being, how?

Fascinated, she kept reading.  She read through the scene where
Mulder broke Eddie Van Blundht Senior's tail - ah ha! He did
break it, she thought with a grin - and Mulder left to head to
the hospital.  Thanking her lucky stars this was a script and
therefore did not include her thoughts as well as her words,
she read Mulder's encounter with Amanda Nelligan.  Or rather,
Eddie Van Blundht's encounter with Amanda while he was pretending
to be Mulder.  Scully's eyes widened in shock.  Oh no, she thought
she could see where this was heading.

Reading faster, she sped through where Eddie attacks Mulder in
the locker room.  The next scene confirmed her fears.  Eddie
locked Mulder up and assumed his identity.

"No...." she breathed, her eyes wide as she read on.  How could
she not realize that wasn't Mulder?  Leaving a case without
apprehending the suspect?  Especially when Mulder had already
voiced his theory that Van Blundht could change his appearance
into anyone.  Of course you wouldn't know, her mind whispered,
because you never believe any of his theories.  It never occurred
to you that he might be correct.  Quashing the guilt
she felt, she read further....

*************

Mulder felt a glimmer of satisfaction that his theory
had been correct - Van Blundht *could* assume another
person's form.  Though the fact that he had let Van
Blundht kick his ass and assume *his* form was a bit
humiliating.

But he was in no way prepared for what Van Blundht did next.
Disguised as Mulder, Van Blundht appeared outside Scully's
door with a bottle of wine and the obvious intention of
seducing her as he had those other women.  He sat up in shock.
He made himself read on through the scene, terrified of what
he thought was going to happen.

Pain flared in his gut at Scully's line and he winced.

"What do you mean like...really talk?  No, no we don't, Mulder."

Was that true?  It couldn't be.  They talked, all the time in
fact.  But about what?  Mulder's theories, government conspiracies,
lies covering the truth.  In a sinking moment, he realized the
script was right.  He couldn't remember a time when he had sat down
with Scully and just talked with her, listened to her stories,
her memories, her hopes and dreams.  That has to change, he vowed.

Reading on, he realized that Scully was tipsy in the scene, Van
Blundht refilling her glass until the wine was gone then
leaning in to kiss her.  Relief flooded through him when the
"real" Mulder crashes through the door, interrupting the moment.
Mulder didn't think he'd actually be grateful for this absurd
twist of fate that had brought them here, but he was.  At
least here, he could protect her from that psycho Van Blundht.
Here, nothing was real.  Not the conspiracy, the lies, the aliens,
nothing.  Except the cancer.

He glanced at the clock - 5 hours until showtime.  What scenes
did Chris say they needed to do yet?  Seventeen, eighteen and
nineteen.  Mulder knew TV shows and movies often filmed out of
sequence so he had no idea which scenes were left.  He flipped
pages until he reached scene seventeen, eighteen and nineteen.
He felt his breath catch in his chest when he realized they were
the scenes in Mulder's office, his apartment and...Scully's
apartment.

********

Scully's heart skipped a beat.  They were going to have to do
the scene in her apartment.  They were going to have to kiss!

Correction - they would *almost* kiss.  The real Mulder interrupts
by kicking in the door.  It figures, she thought with chagrin.
Her one chance of actually kissing Mulder without jeopardizing
their friendship or partnership.  Shot to hell.  Thanks to Chris
and Mulder's, as usual, impeccable timing.  A short, wry,
humorless laugh escaped her.  How fitting for them both, really,
that it should *almost* happen.

With a sigh, she set the script on the table beside the couch
and went back to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light.
She briefly thought about trying to find a nightgown in the small
closet, but the feeling of invading someone else's personal
things was too strong.  Instead, she stripped off her suit, hose
and bra, letting them fall to the floor in a heap instead of
neatly folding them as she usually did.  She then climbed under
the covers in just her panties.  It felt a little strange, but
she was too tired to care.  Barely had her head touched the pillow
before her exhaustion overcame her and she was sound asleep.

************

6:30 a.m.

Mulder woke from a nightmare with a start, sitting bolt upright
on the couch in a blind panic at the unfamiliarity of his
surroundings.  A split second later, the previous day's events
came flooding back.  He groaned and fell back against the couch.
Looking at his watch, he remembered what Chris said about sending
someone at 7 a.m.  He'd better grab a shower before they got here.
If he hurried, maybe he'd have a chance to see Scully before
they were separated.

He raced through the process of cleaning up - nicking his face
several times in an effort to speed along the process of shaving.

Approximately fifteen minutes later - a personal best - he was
walking across the lot to Scully's trailer, clad in similar attire
as the evening before only a white T-shirt instead of gray.

Reaching her trailer door, he knocked lightly.  When no one
answered, he knocked a bit harder.  "Scu - Gillian," he caught
himself just in time as he called her name, he quickly checked
to see if anyone was nearby.  Again, no answer.  Starting to
get concerned, he knocked as hard as he could and waited.

When no answer came again, he tried twisting the door handle.
Surprisingly, it opened.  Panic flared in him.  How could she
leave it unlocked!  She knows better than that!  You know better
than that, he thought, you were the one to leave her alone last
night.

In an instant in was inside the trailer, noting that the
television was still turned on.  "Scully?" he called.  Silence.

His hand went to where his holster normally would be, forgetting that,
not wanting to arouse any suspicion, he'd left it in his
own trailer.  Glancing around, he spotted her gun on the table
near the door.  Checking to see it was loaded, he eased off the safety.

Cautiously, he made his way back to the bedroom, checking the
bathroom along the way.  Finding no one, he slowly pushed open
the bedroom door, expecting someone to jump at him.  Nothing
happened. He stepped into the room and looked around. No one
was here.

So intent was he on looking for an intruder, he almost
missed the diminutive form curled amidst a pile of pillows and
blankets in the middle of the bed.  Scully.  He released the
breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and felt his heart
rate immediately slow from its frantic pumping.  He quietly moved
closer to her, a small, tender smile curving his lips.

She looked so peaceful.  Her brow was clear of the usual lines of
stress
and worry that often clouded it, her breathing even and deep,
indicating to him how tired she must have been to still be
sleeping so soundly after the racket he'd made.  She must not
have heard because the bedroom door had been closed, he mused.

He froze at the sound of her sleepy sigh, realizing that him
being in her bedroom when she woke was *not* a good idea.  He
stayed absolutely still as she shifted in the bed, turning
from her side to her back.  As she did so, the covers slipped
from her shoulders to display  naked shoulders and the creamy
white tops of her breasts.  Mulder's eyes widened.  He had *not*
figured on Scully being one who slept in the nude.  The revelation
was one he would have enjoyed more if he was not desperately
hoping she would not wake up to find him gaping at her.

To his immense relief, she did not waken and soon her breathing
was as even and deep as before.  Mulder allowed himself to relax.
Now he'd better get the hell out of here before *they* came to get
her
and she kicked his ass.  He turned to leave, then stopped.

Just one more look, his mind begged.  He dared one last glance back
at her, wanting to freeze this image in his mind.  He had dreamed
of seeing her like this for a long, long time.  *His* Scully,
her hair tousled and streaming like fire on the white pillowcases,
softly rounded arms askew in the carelessness of sleep, one over
her head, the other thrown out to the side, her mouth parted
slightly in her sleep.  Mulder felt desire flare in him for this
incredible woman who, even in slumber, still had the ability to
render him incapable of coherent thought.

The blankets moved slightly with her breathing.  Mulder found
his eyes inexorably drawn to her breasts, partially in view above
the sheets.  As he watched, unable to tear his eyes away, the blankets
began to slip down a little more with each breath she
took.  If he waited just a few moments longer...

The sound of loud knocking made him nearly jump out of his skin.

"Ms. Anderson?" a voice called.  Damn!  Frantic, he turned in
time to see Scully waken with a start at the noise and sit straight
up in bed, the covers falling and baring her to the waist.  Oh shit.
Scully's eyes were wide and staring straight into his.

"Mulder!  What's wrong?  What are you doing here?"  Scully asked,
seemingly unaware of her lack of clothing.

"Um, I..." Mulder fumbled, then cleared his throat.

Against his will, Mulder found his eyes slowly drifting downward
from Scully's eyes to her throat - he could see her pulse rapidly
beating there - then lower, past her shoulders to her breasts, fully
exposed to his hungry gaze.  They were beautiful, perfect.
Small, but full and rounded, contrasting sharply with her tiny
ribcage and waist.  He felt his body respond
at the same moment Scully realized her predicament.

Scully's eyebrows flew upward as she finally became aware of
her nakedness.  She felt the blood rush to her face.  Her
embarrassment was so strong, she felt she had been made of stone.
She couldn't move a muscle.  Her throat constricted and, in
spite of herself, her breathing grew faster causing her breasts
to rise and fall even more rapidly. It wasn't as if no man had
seen her naked before, but this was *Mulder*.  She didn't know
what to do, she didn't know what to feel.  She just sat there,
immobile, like a deer caught in headlights.

Mulder's eyes drank in the sight of her, bared before his eyes.
Her alabaster skin flushed at his gaze, her eyes a bright, clear
blue, unblinking, staring into his.  His fingers ached to touch
her.  Without consciously making the decision to move, he stepped
close to the bed.  He reached out his hand, acutely aware of
everything around him - her smell, sweet and slightly musky,
which permeated the air, the soft sound of their rapid breathing,
even the sound of the blood rushing in his veins.  She didn't
move, her eyes still locked on his, taking in every move he made.

Softly and ever so slowly, as if the slightest wrong move would
send her flying from him, he touched her hair, tucking it gently
behind one curved ear.  The fire of her hair was so radiant, he
expected it to burn his hand.  Instead, it felt like cool silk in
his fingers.  His hand dropped lower, caressing her cheek. Her
skin felt like smooth porcelain under his fingers, but warm and
vibrant.   Then she did something amazing.  Her eyes closed and
she nuzzled her cheek and lips into his hand, softly kissing his
palm.  The electricity from her touch shot straight to his groin.

"Scully," he managed to choke out through a suddenly dry mouth.
She hesitated for a moment, then opened her eyes to find his
burning with fierce emotion, darkened by desire.  Her breath
caught in her chest and her heart pounded.  She froze, waiting
to see what he would do next.

Another knock, this one sounding even more impatient, sounded
at the door.

"Damn!" Mulder cursed, casting an angry glare towards the door.
He looked back at Scully and saw the panic in the way she
averted her eyes from him as she made a grab for the blanket
to cover herself.  He cupped her chin in his palm and forced
her eyes to his.  "I'll be right back," he said firmly,
"don't go anywhere."  He waited until he felt her grudging
acquiescence.

Watching Mulder leave the room, reality crashed in on Scully,
shaking her out of the almost hypnotic state Mulder had had on her.
She mentally berated herself, burying her face in her hands.  This is
ridiculous,
she thought.  How could you just sit here naked, practically throwing
yourself at him?  She could admit how much she loved him and
desired him, but having that kind of physical intimacy would come at a
price she was not willing to pay:  their working relationship, trust
and
mutual respect.  An anguished moan left her lips.  But it was still so
hard to stop wanting, no matter how many times she tried to convince
herself it wouldn't work.

But a small voice whispered insider her head, Mulder had touched
her, finally.  His hand on her face had felt so...right.  She
hadn't been able to resist turning into that callused hand softly
stroking her hair, her cheek, her lips.  She closed her eyes and
briefly savored the moment, her hand touching her face where his
had caressed her.  But as much as she wished it were different, the
reality of the situation was screaming inside her head.  What
must he think of her? How was she ever going to look him in the
eye again?

Absently, she heard Mulder talking to someone at the door.
Looking at the clock beside the bed, she realized it was 7:00.
She was late.  She would have to put off dealing with what had
just happened until later.

She quickly jumped out of bed, grabbed a robe hanging on the
back of the bedroom door and disappeared into the bathroom,
shutting the door soundly after her and locking it.

Mulder shut the front door practically on the nose of the
make-up girl he'd been speaking with.  She was a nosy,
irritating woman in a ponytail who constantly smacked her gum.
She'd looked surprised to see him answer the door.

"Gillian's on her way.  She's running a bit late this morning,"
he told her by way of explanation.

"Aaaaah," she said, in a long drawn-out nasal whine, her
eyebrows lifting.  She tried to peer behind him into the
interior of the trailer, but he smoothly blocked her field
of vision.

"She'll be along soon," he reiterated.  Then promptly shut
the door in her face.

He walked back through the trailer in time to hear the shower
start up in the bathroom.  He cursed again.  He briefly
entertained the thought of bursting into the bathroom and
sweeping Scully into his arms but dismissed it with a humorless
laugh.  Somehow he doubted she'd appreciate that.

This morning was not going at all the way he'd planned, he
thought as he sank into the couch.  More like it was spiraling
out of control.  The image of Scully's sweet body danced
before his closed eyes.  The kiss she had pressed into his
palm still burned and he clenched his fist as if to imprint
it on his skin.  "Now what?" he thought.  Why had she run
away from him?  She hadn't seemed that upset at him seeing
her like that, in fact, she had seemed to enjoy his scrutiny.

"*That* can't be right," he thought, shaking his head, "not Scully."

There's a lot about your partner you don't know, he thought to
himself, maybe she felt the same way about him as he did her.

No, he decided quickly, it was dangerous to start thinking that
way, to start hoping.  Life was just not *that* good to Fox Mulder.
She probably hadn't been fully awake enough to realize what was
happening, he decided.  When she did, though, she was probably
going to be furious with him for taking advantage of her like
that.  And why did he do that anyway?  Why hadn't he turned away
as he should have done?  Because as much as you try to
kill it, that hope still remains, hope that one day Scully
will take you in her arms and whisper how much she loves you,
his thoughts answered.

That will never happen, he ruthlessly quenched the small voice.
You can't let her get to you; you have to keep her at arm's length.
The pain of the separation is much easier to bear than her rejection.
He would have to stay controlled around her, another scene like that
would
shred the fragile walls he'd constructed and he'd be reduced
to his knees, begging for her affection, her love.

Mulder was interrupted from his thoughts by yet another knock
at the door.

Gillian must be one popular gal, he thought ruefully before
going to pull open the door.

Chris stood on the step before him.  "Hey," he said with a small
smile.  "Candi just told me Gillian wasn't ready yet so I got a
bit worried.  Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine."

Both men turned to see Scully standing before them clad in jeans
and a sweater, hair still wet from the shower.  She didn't look
at Mulder, instead directing her words to Chris.

"I was just about done getting ready," she said, "I just need
to do my hair and throw on some make-up."

"Don't bother," Chris said, "Make-Up and Wardrobe will take
care of you.  C'mon, let's go."  He went through the door,
Scully following closely while studiously avoiding Mulder's
eyes, her eyes suspiciously red-rimmed.

Mulder felt his heart constrict.  He'd hurt her, made her cry.
He was such a selfish bastard.  He should have been thinking of
how to protect her from himself.  She deserved so much better than
him.  How the hell does she find the patience to put up with
him constantly violating her, now having violated her in the most
private way?  She's an angel and your savior, that's why, his
thoughts
whispered.

Mulder tried to think of something to say, something to do that
could make it up to her.  "Scully," he began.  She turned slowly
toward him, not quite lifting her eyes to his but staring at some
point beyond his shoulder.

"Yes?" she replied, her voice very quiet.

"I'm...sorry," Mulder said, then cursed himself for the trite
expression.  Couldn't come up with anything more original, eh,
Mulder?

Scully remained silent.  He was turning down her unspoken
invitation, telling her he wasn't interested, albeit as gently
as possible.  A knot formed inside her stomach - she hadn't
known it would hurt this much.  She steeled herself against
the pain and made her face an expressionless mask.  There was
no way she was going to let him see how he was hurting her,
he'd only feel worse and she would not have him pitying her.
That's all she needed, him having sex with her because he felt
sorry for her.  The poor girl needs one last pity-fuck before
she's dead, the thought reverberated, burning her like acid.

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.  Then quickly turned
and headed after Chris, already halfway across the lot.

Mulder stared after her, aghast.  She'd barely responded to
him but she hadn't seemed too furious to speak, either.  That
only left one option, he thought.  He'd hurt her too badly for
her to forgive him and pretend nothing had happened.

He followed her across the lot, despair seeping through him at
the damage, perhaps permanent, he'd wreaked on their relationship,
on her trust.



Scully gaped at herself in the mirror.  She usually was not a
vain person but - she looked fantastic!  The make-up designer,
Joel, had had a fit about her eyebrows, seemingly amazed at how
quickly they'd grown and how unshaped they were.  Scully didn't
know whether to be insulted or amazed as he proceeded to pluck
and fuss over her.  She only interfered once and that was when
he tried to cover her beauty mark above her lip.  As adamant as
he was, she refused to let him cover it.  She was not going to
change or hide what she was so she looked better in front of a
camera.

The figure that gradually appeared before her eyes was completely
different from what she normally saw staring back at her every day.
Her freckles, which she normally didn't pay much attention to in
her daily make-up routine, were nowhere to be seen.   Her eyes
and lips seemed to stand out in her face and appear larger than
she knew them to be.  Her eyes looked more blue, her lips, more
red and full.  The foundation and base were caked on and she felt
like she was wearing a mask but she had to admit, Joel knew what
he was doing.  She felt slightly betrayed by her hair, which had
responded to Joel's ministrations like it never had to hers.
It lay perfectly about her shoulders, framing her face in a
soft sweep.

She absently wondered how Mulder was faring.  Chris had led
them to the make-up and wardrobe areas, dropping her off in Hair
and Make-Up even as he dragged Mulder off to Wardrobe.  Scully had
to repress a chuckle as she imagined Mulder's reaction to
having to wear make-up.

"Okay, Gill," Joel said, "you're all done.  Clarissa is waiting
for you in Wardrobe.  Not a big hurry today since your
scene is last."

Scully pondered that even as she tried to become more
accustomed to being called "Gill" and "Gillian."  She hadn't
had any close calls, but she hadn't had to interact with many
people yet.  She figured her best bet was to just act like herself
and not say too much.  She hoped Mulder had come to the same
conclusion.

If she hurried, maybe she'd be able to catch Mulder filming his
scenes.  She walked in the general direction of where she'd seen
Chris take Mulder earlier, trying to appear as if she knew where
she was going.

She was starting to get worried when she ran into Mulder - literally.
He had changed, or been changed, into a suit like the one he'd had
on yesterday.  But this one was much nicer, the fabric soft and supple,
accentuating the gray in his eyes and making them appear dark,
smoky, mysterious.

His eyes fell on her and her throat constricted.  She had to act
normal, as
if nothing had happened this morning, as if her heart hadn't died
inside.

"Scully!" he said in a hoarse stage whisper, his panic momentarily
blinding him to the pain on her face as he pulled her behind
a rack of clothing.  "You've gotta get me out of here!  They're
going to put make-up on me!"  He said the words "make-up" as if
they were poison to his tongue, his brow wrinkling in distaste.

Despite herself, Scully snickered, hiding her grin behind her hand.
Mulder, seeing her smile, tentatively smiled back.  Shoving thoughts
of their encounter this morning to the back of her mind, Scully
briefly related her experience with Joel.

"I feel like I have an inch of make-up on," she said ruefully,
"but not over my beauty mark," she amended.

"What?  This one?" Mulder asked, his finger grazing along her
upper lip, lightly touching the offending mark.

Scully's breath caught and held at the brush of his skin on her
lip.  She'd never realized he'd noticed.  She was suddenly aware
of how close they were standing to each other, Mulder's face was
mere inches away.

Scully abruptly cleared her throat and stepped away from Mulder.
What was wrong with her?  He's always in a suit, that's no
reason to go gaga over him, she chastised herself.

"I have to get into wardrobe now," she blurted out before turning away
and heading to where a group of women were gathered, talking
softly and discreetly glancing their way.  She didn't turn,
but felt Mulder's eyes on her as she started talking to the women.

It turned out one of them was indeed the Clarissa who had
been waiting for her.  She led Scully to a changing room,
toting an armload of clothes.  Scully cast a surreptitious
glance where Mulder had been standing, but he was gone.

***********************

About an hour later, Scully emerged from wardrobe.  They
had outfitted her in everything from panties and bra to the
watch she wore.  Scully had had to think quickly to explain
why she was wearing the exact same cross as Wardrobe kept for
Gillian.  She had fed them some line about liking it so much
she had went and bought one for herself.  They seemed to
accept that.  Who knows?  Maybe that's something Gillian
would do.  Scully was just glad that, so far, the people she'd
had to meet were more interested in making her feel
like a life-size Barbie than chatting with her.

Following the sounds of an occasional shout and the hum of
voices, she found the main filming area.  She recognized the
sets she and Mulder had seen yesterday when they had "arrived."
They were currently filming the scene in Mulder's apartment.

Another make-up woman that Scully recognized from her time there
this morning was refreshing Mulder's make-up.  He appeared to be
taking it stoically, eyes staring forward while she worked.

A few people cast smiles in her direction and said hello, but
overall they were more preoccupied with filming the scene than
paying attention to her.  Scully, grateful that Mulder had not
yet noticed her presence, sank back into the shadows to watch.

"Okay, people, let's get it this time!"

Scully looked over and saw Chris sitting in a chair beside
the man who was yelling.  He hadn't seen her either.

"Lights!  Camera!  Action!"

The sudden silence surprised Scully as everyone fell still
except the cameraman.  Mulder started to speak.

"Where the hell do I sleep?" he asked no one in particular,
then walked over to feed the fish.  He pressed the button on
the answering machine while picking up a basketball to dribble.
Scully recognized Langly's disembodied voice emanating from the
machine.

"Geeks for friends," Mulder muttered as Langly's message ended.

The next voice, breathy and female, caused Scully a moment of
panic until she realized that it was a phone sex operator.

Scully watched as Mulder walked to the mirror.  He pulled
out his badge.

"FBI.  F...B...I."

Scully grinned as he turned the badge right-side up.

"FBI.  You looking at me? There ain't nobody else here, you
must be lookin' at me. You want a piece of this?"

He grabbed for his gun and Scully choked back a laugh as the
clip fell to the floor.  Mulder was pretty good at this, she had to
admit.

"You're a damn good lookin' man."

He eyed himself in the mirror as the gun twirled on his finger.

"Cut!  Print!"

Mulder sighed in relief.  He had never realized how exhausting a
cting was.  He'd done two very short scenes, but they had
taken all morning.  It was hurry up and wait, hurry up and
wait.  The lights were extremely hot and he could feel sweat
pooling on his chest and back under the suit and tie.

Suddenly, Chris was there beside him.  "That was great," he said
in a low voice.  "You sure you're not really an actor?"  Mulder
just fixed him with a look.  Chris laughed.  "Your and Scully's
scene is next.  While we get set up for that, why don't you go
find her and rehearse.  There are some rehearsal rooms along the
perimeter of the building."

Mulder nodded, loosening his tie.  "How long do we have?" he asked.

"About an hour," he said.  "Then we'll break for a quick lunch,
then film.  Hopefully we'll be done by 3:00."

Scully jumped about a foot as two hands come down on each of
her shoulders and turned her.

"What are you doing over here?"

It was Krycek.  Scully's eyes went wide and, without thinking,
her hand went for her gun -- only belatedly realizing
it wasn't there.  Oh, God!  Where was Mulder!  Krycek still had
hold of her, his hands clasping her shoulders.  "What are you
doing here?" Scully demanded, her voice a snarl as hatred filled
her eyes.

"What do you mean 'what am I doing here'?  I'm here for the meeting
later today that Chris is having."  At her blank look, he continued,
"Remember?  It's about the season finale and Season 5."

He looked questioningly at her and slowly the rage that clouded
Scully's
eyes cleared and she took a good look at him.  He was wearing his
customary jeans and a T-shirt but something about his face made her
pause.

It was his eyes.  They were...different.  Scully had looked
into Krycek's eyes before and seen only a coldness that had chilled
her to the bone.  These eyes were different, warm and alive.  And
he looked as if he was waiting for her to answer him, a confused
smile on his face. Scully had never seen Krycek smile.  Ever.

To her horror, she suddenly realized who he was.  He wasn't Krycek at
all, merely the actor who had the misfortune to play him.  Of course!
How could she have forgotten so quickly!  She had just been completely
unprepared for this type of meeting.  Intellectually, she had known
there would be people she knew on the set, only they were now actors
rather than the people themselves.  But she had not been counting on
Krycek being one of them.  She suddenly wondered who else she might run
into.

"C'mon, Gill," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and
leading her over to where Mulder and Chris were talking, "you and
David should be rehearsing your big scene."

Scully stiffly allowed herself to be led, trying not to let the
strangeness of having Krycek's body pressed  so tightly next to hers
affect her.   She had always been aware of her small stature, but
rarely had she felt it more acutely than she did now as other concerns
kept her from freeing herself.  She couldn't make a scene, not if she
and Mulder were going to pull off this charade.  She wordlessly allowed
herself to be dragged by "Krycek," trying not to seem as repelled by
his
touch as she felt.

Mulder glanced away from Chris in time to see Scully being
towed toward them.  His eyes widened as he saw just who had his
arm so tightly around his partner.

Chris turned to see what had captured Mulder's attention.  Shit!
He quickly reached out a hand and grabbed Mulder's arm.  "It's
okay,"
he said, "don't flip out on me."

Mulder didn't hear him.  His hands had clenched into fists and his
face was white with rage.  He was momentarily stunned motionless
by Krycek's audacity at putting his hands on Scully.  Pure, animal
instinct filled him and he longed to kill him with his bare hands.

Chris knew he had to do something, and fast.  He grabbed Mulder by
the shoulders and turned him so he was looking at him instead of
the approaching Scully and "Krycek."

"Mulder, that isn't really Krycek.  You *have* to hear me.  That is not
Krycek -- he's not going to hurt her."

Mulder's eyes slowly focused on Chris', comprehension dawning.

"Then who is it?" he asked, his voice trembling with repressed
fury.

"His name is Nick -- he's just an actor, Mulder.  He's not the
real thing.  You have to remember that."

Just then, Krycek and Scully arrived.  "Hey, David, shouldn't you
and Gill be rehearsing?  I found her hiding behind some cameras -
surely the idea of having to kiss you isn't that unappealing," he
grinned good-naturedly.  "Maybe she'd be more willing to kiss me
instead."  He waggled his eyebrows at them.  Then, to Scully's
horror, he pulled her to his chest and forced her chin upwards as
if for a kiss.

Scully frantically tried to free herself.  For all she knew, this may
be a regular occurrence here for...Gill...but appearances or no, there
was no way Krycek, or even just someone who looked like him, was
going to kiss her if she had anything to say about it.  But his hold on
her was too tight and her squirming only made him squeeze tighter.

Mulder watched Scully's vain attempts to free herself and struggled
to contain the impulse to react violently to Krycek's hands on her.
The thought of Krycek's lips on Scully's made him physically ill.

"Try it and I'll make sure it's the last thing you ever do," he bit
out, his voice menacing.

Nick froze in shock, his mouth a hair's breadth away from Scully's.

Mulder reached for Scully's arm and pulled her from Nick's grasp to
stand beside him.

"Let us know when you're ready for us," he told Chris.  With that, he
placed his hand on Scully's back and guided her away, leaving Nick
to stare slack-jawed after them.

"He's just on edge," Chris offered to Nick, relieved that they'd
avoided a potentially dangerous sitation.

Scully's relief was palpable, but she was acutely embarrassed that she
hadn't been able to handle the situation herself.

"Why do I feel like a prize you just won?" Scully muttered to Mulder.

"I dunno but I've got a *huge* testosterone rush going on here.
Is there something nearby I can hunt?" Mulder joked back.

Scully rolled her eyes.  She'd never admit it, but it had been
quite interesting to see Mulder's reaction to another man
kissing her.  It would be even more interesting to see if any
man could solicit the same reaction or if it had just been the
thought of it being Krycek that set him off.

"So, where are we going?" she asked.

"Chris said we should rehearse and memorize our lines for the
final scene," he replied evenly.  "We have about an hour."

Scully tried to still the butterflies that took flight in her stomach
at those words, but was unsuccessful.  This is absurd, she thought,
we don't even kiss.  "But what if we did," said the traitorous voice
inside her head, "you could always - slip."  She quickly quenched
that thought as they arrived at a door.  It had "Rehearsal Room 3"
printed on it in large, white letters.  Ever the gentlemen, Mulder
opened the door for her and allowed her to enter.

A few feet away, unnoticed by Mulder and Scully, a man watched
them disappear into the room.

**********************

Inside, the room was rather small and contained a couple of chairs,
a sofa, a lamp as well as an overhead light and a couple of plants.
It had a generic feel to it that was accentuated by the fact that
there were no windows.  The walls were solid.  Soundproof, Scully
thought.

"You have your copy of the script?" Mulder asked as he threw his
jacket on a chair, his tie quickly following.

Scully nodded.  She didn't trust her voice at the moment.  Her
nervousness had increased despite her attempts to think rationally.

"Well," Mulder said, "I guess we should just read through it first,"
he paused, taking up a position just in front of the door.  "I just
came in the door - go ahead," he prompted.

Scully cleared her throat.  "Mulder, what's up?" she read.

"Scully? Is this a bad time?"

"No. No, uh...come on in.  Who's that for?"

"Uh...us."

"This feels wrong, Mulder," Scully said, stopping the scene.  "It
feels really awkward."

"I think it's supposed to be, Scully," Mulder replied.

"Are you sure?" Scully asked.  "We have to pull this off, you know."

Mulder nodded.  He hesitated, then said, "I think it's supposed to
be a little awkward because - I've never just shown up at your place
before just to talk to you."

Scully felt a pain in her stomach at the truth of his words.  The
question 'Why haven't you?' echoed so loudly in her head she was
surprised he couldn't hear it.

She quickly looked back down at the script, blinking back the
sudden tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

"Okay. Have a seat," she read.

Mulder crossed to the couch and sat down.

"So uh...what are you working on?" he said.

"More autopsy data. You know, everyone at the lab found Mr. Van
Blundht pretty fascinating. We discovered an additional anomaly
related to the hair follicles in his scalp. I can't even begin to
guess at the nature of it until we can run it through the
transmission electron microscope."

"Sounds very interesting."

Scully, following the script directions, came and sat near him
on the couch.  "Yes, it is. So seriously Mulder, what's going
on? You okay?"  She had to admit, it was eerie how the script
was echoing exactly what she would say if given the same situation
with Mulder.  She wouldn't think for a minute he was just there
to hang out, something would have to be wrong for him to just
show up at her door.

"I was just kind of knocking around, I was just thinking...we
never really...uh...talk much...do we?"

For the first time during the reading, Scully's eyes lifted
from the page to find him staring at her.  "What do you mean
like...really talk?  No, no we don't, Mulder," she said with
absolute certainty, no longer reading the script.

"Well what's stopping us?"  Their eyes locked, Scully's searching
his.  Was this real?  The tension between them was thick and
oppressive in the room.

"So," Mulder said, breaking the momentary silence, "this prom
story true?"

"What - oh," Scully said, disoriented.  He was talking about
the script.  She glanced down at it and nodded.  "Not exactly
a Cinderella story," she said ruefully.

"What's the rest of the story?" Mulder asked.

"The rest of the story?"

"Yeah, it looks like we're joining the program already in
progress here," he said, gesturing to the script.

"Oh, well there's not much to tell," Scully evaded, a little
uncomfortable.  Since when did Mulder want to talk about anything
other than the x-files, much less anything personal?

"C'mon, Scully," he persisted, "tell me about Marcus."

"Forget it," Scully snapped, getting a little irritated at
his sudden interest in her past, "let's just get this over
with, Mulder."

The remark bit into Mulder.  He was trying to get her to open
up a bit, to talk to him.  But she had just made it pointedly
clear she didn't want to let him in.  He could feel his own anger
and frustration.  Without thinking, he reacted.  "Christ, Scully,
do you have to be on your deathbed to open up to me?"

The moment the words left his lips, he desperately wanted to
take them back.  Scully went absolutely still, her face draining of
color.

"Scully, wait I didn't -"

Scully's hand meeting his cheek in a vicious slap cut him
off mid-sentence.

"How dare you?!" she hissed, her eyes blazing fury even
as tears welled up in them.  "Just who the hell do you
think you are?  What, are you pitying me?  I've worked
with you for four years, you never gave a damn about my
life unless it happened to involve little green men!"

Scully's voice rose, louder and louder, until it filled
the small room.

"I've followed you places no one should have to go,
even when you left me behind!  I've lied for you,
proven myself to you over and over again, protected you and
saved your ass more times than I care to remember.  And now you
dare reprimand *me* for not opening up to *you*?!"

Scully paused, her chest heaving, face now flushed.

Mulder watched, stricken, as Scully yelled.  He'd never,
ever, seen her like this.  She was always so controlled -
detached, almost.  But her eyes were burning with an intense
blue fire and he realized Scully was anything but detached
from what was happening to her, to them.

"Scully, I - " he stopped.  All the words in his mind seemed
woefully inadequate as answer to her accusations.  She knew
she was everything to him, didn't she?  Didn't she know
the thought of her alone gave him the strength to get
out of bed every day?  That without her, he'd have eaten a
bullet a long time ago?

>From the fury and hurt in her eyes, she obviously didn't.
But he couldn't tell her that, not now, not like this.
What if she didn't believe him?  What if she thought he was
only saying that to quell her anger?  Because the fear of
losing Scully was stronger than the fear of her anger, the
only words that fell from Mulder's lips were, "I'm sorry,
Scully."

Scully felt her anger slowly drain away. She brushed a tired hand
across her eyes. It wasn't Mulder's fault, not all of it anyway.  She
had kept him at a distance, too.   At first, she thought it was for
her own protection - to keep some semblance of her own will so
as to not be completely drawn to him and his cause. Well, that had
happened regardless and now her self- imposed isolation was also
her own private hell. She felt alone and had only herself to blame.
How could she be angry at him? She needed him so desperately,
to keep herself sane even as the futility of fighting the cancer
sapped her will. If he only knew, if she only had the courage to tell
him.

She looked up to find him watching her.  Every part of him seemed
focused on her.  Could she tell him?  God, how she wanted to.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.  She buried her face
in her hands.  Why was this so hard?

Finally, she brought her gaze back up to Mulder's.

"I -," she started, then stopped.  Closing her eyes, she
took a deep breath.

"I don't want to die, Mulder."

The whispered words lanced through Mulder's
mind, causing a numbing pain in his abdomen.

Reverently, he pulled Scully into his embrace, his arm curving
around her neck as he buried his face in her hair.

They said nothing.  There was nothing to be said.  The feel of
the other's body so intimately entwined with their own
brought comfort and strength, as if they gleaned it from each other.

Cautiously, Mulder hooked an arm under Scully's thighs and
shifted her slightly until she was on his lap. They sat there
quietly for a few minutes, listening to one another breathe.
Neither wanted to break the silence for fear of losing this time
of physical and mental closeness.

Scully nestled herself in Mulder's arms and closed her
eyes. Her arms wound around his waist as she tucked
her head into the crook of his neck. She sighed deeply, content
to stay in this position for as long as he'd let her. Mulder
was with her - he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Scully
allowed herself the peace of believing this, even if it was only
for a little while. Truth be told, there was nothing she would not
do for this man who held her so tenderly in his arms.

Mulder savored her slight weight in his lap, sliding
his hand comfortingly up and down her back and gently
rocking her.

As they sat there, cuddled together, Mulder slowly began
to realize exactly how close Scully was.  The softness
of her breasts pressed against his chest, her backside
rested on his open thighs while her legs tangled with
his over the side of the couch.  As much as he mentally
fought against it, her nearness proved to be his undoing.
He cursed himself, disgusted, as his groin started to throb.
His forehead beaded with sweat.  He closed his eyes and
prayed Scully wouldn't notice.

Just then, Scully shifted slightly in Mulder's lap, moving
to a more comfortable position.  She paused when she heard
his sharp intake of breath.

"Mulder," she asked, "you okay?  Am I too heavy?"

"No," Mulder choked out, "you're fine." He swallowed hard.
How could he tell her that he couldn't even hold her to comfort
her without becoming unbearably aroused? She was going
to think all he thought about was sex -- well she probably already
thought that anyway, he thought with chagrin.

Scully squirmed again, trying to turn her head up to look at him
when she suddenly felt his mouth settle against her ear.

"I think you'd better sit still before I do something you'll
regret," he whispered, his voice raw.

Scully froze.  With his words, realization dawned.  She
suddenly was acutely aware of his body's response, his
hardness pressing insistently against her.  Her face flamed
even as the blood began pounding in her veins.  Her skin rose
in gooseflesh as his breath came hot and fast against her ear.

The room was suddenly much too warm and much too quiet.

A rapid knock at the door startled them both.  Scully scrambled
off his lap and Mulder jumped to his feet just as the door opened.
They both turned to see the unannounced visitor.

A man, about fifty or sixty years of age, stared back at them.
He stood a good head shorter than Mulder with a forgettable
kind of face and was dressed in a plain khaki pants and shirt.

The only memorable thing about him was his eyes.  They were piercing,
alive with knowledge and vigor that belied his age.

He stepped forward to Mulder, extending his hand in greeting.

"Good day, Mr. Mulder, Ms. Scully.  My name is Professor Krinsky."

He spoke with an accent Mulder couldn't quite place.

Mulder unthinkingly returned the handshake before he realized the
incongruity of the words.  "How do you know who we are?" he asked.

The man gave a slight chuckle.  "Because I am the one who brought
you here."

The room was silent.

"And how, exactly, did you do that?" Mulder asked, skepticism
apparent on his face.

"That is not important," the Professor answered, "what is important
is getting you back."

"And how are *you* going to do that?" Mulder questioned.

Sitting himself down in the armchair, the Professor gestured for Mulder
and Scully to sit also.  "This will not be a short story," he said.

Mulder and Scully retook their seats on the sofa.

"What happened to you," the Professor began, "is what's called a
tesseract."

Scully's eyes widened.  "That's impossible!" she said.

"I'm afraid it's quite possible," the professor replied.

"But the scientific community has studied tesseracts and
decided that, while in theory they could be made, real life
testing proved fruitless.  The research was given up on years ago,"
Scully said, adamant.

"Wait a second," Mulder interjected, hopelessly trying to make sense
of Scully and the Professor's conversation.  "What are you talking
about?
What's a tesseract?"

"A technical definition of a tesseract," Scully answered, "is that
it's the four-dimensional analogue of a cube.  In and of itself,
that means nothing to us.  But, as I'm sure you know, Mulder,
space is four-dimensional.

"The first dimension can be described as a line, from one point
in space to another," Scully patiently explained.  "For the second
dimension,
you would square the line to form a box.  And for the third dimension,
you square the square and form a cube.  The fourth dimension cannot be
drawn
but presumably you would square the third dimension, producing time.
Speculation has always been that there are more than four dimensions in
space.
Scientists have theorized that time-travel would be possible if you
could square time to produce a fifth dimension.  They call that event
a tesseract."

"But we didn't travel in time," Mulder said, "we are at the same point
in time but in a rather warped version of our world."

"That is what was unforseen about the tesseract," the Professor said,
"not time travel, as we had always guessed, but rather the ability
to cross the barrier separating different levels of the universe."

"What are you saying, that there is more than one universe?" Mulder
asked, incredulous.

"No, no, of course not!" snorted the Professor.  "There is but one
universe, only with infinite...parallels, so to speak.  You exist in
each 'parallel' for the same amount of time and you have the same
appearance, but your place in each is vastly different.  This
parallel is particularly intriguing because of it's relation to the
one from which you come.  Here you are actors, David and Gillian,
portraying what you, as Mulder and Scully, actually live.  It's
quite fascinating, really."

"How is this possible?" Scully asked.  "Experiments on tesseracts
were banned and stopped a long time ago."

The Professor chuckled.  "I'm afraid not, Miss Scully.  The research
and experiments were merely hidden from the public view.  After all,
the ability to travel in time would certainly be a weapon to end
all weapons, would it not?  Alas, the breakthrough has only been
quite recent and, unfortunately, quite unpredictable.  They are
testy things and have a tendency to fight any attempt at control.
Hence, your presence here," he gestured to Scully.

"What do you mean?" Mulder asked.  "She came at the same time I did."

"Oh, you are quite correct, Mister Mulder, she did come at the same
time.  You see, we thought we had developed a method of control over
the tesseracts.  Unfortunately, you stumbled upon a test we were
conducting that brought you here.  Your presence here was not planned."

"Wait a second," Scully asked, "if you were conducting a test at the
hospital where Mulder was, then how did I get here?  I was nowhere
near the hospital when this happened."

The Professor paused for a moment before replying.  "We don't actually
know for sure, Miss Scully.  But we have a theory."

"You keep saying 'we,'" Mulder interrupted, "who's 'we?'"

"Goodness, pardon my manners!  By 'we' I am referring to the other
members of The Circle."

"The Circle?" Scully questioned.

"Yes, it is merely an association of colleagues with whom I have worked
for years in trying to achieve a tesseract.  When our research finally
paid
off a few months ago, we decided to conduct a test.  I was there when
Mr.
Van Blundht attacked you, Mister Mulder.  That part of the hospital is
usually deserted at that time of day which is why we chose it for the
location of the test.  I was in position but helpless to stop the
tesseract
from forming when you arrived.  When we realized Miss Scully had gone,
too,
I was sent to bring both of you back."

"So what's your theory on how Scully got here in the first place?"
Mulder
asked.

"We have observed that, in each parallel, there are some people who are
always linked to a certain individual, though the relationship may
differ
somewhat.  This link is incredibly strong and transcends the parallels.
For instance, two sisters in our world who are extremely close
may be merely best friends in another parallel while in another they
may
be work colleagues and in another, lovers."  He paused.  "From what
we've
gathered, it appears you and Ms. Scully are linked like this.  When you
were transported, Mister Mulder, the link took Ms. Scully with you."

Dumbfounded, Mulder and Scully simply stared at the Professor.

Scully found her voice first.  "That's impossible.  Even if tesseracts
*were* possible, this...link...you're describing is ludicrous!  People
cannot just vanish into time and space because of their relationship
with someone else!"

"You say that because you do not understand the link," explained the
Professor.  "I knew you, especially, would need proof.  So...I brought
these."  With that, he carefully extracted a large manila envelope from
the inside of his jacket.  He handed it to Scully.

With trepidation, she took and opened it.  Into her lap spilled dozens
of
photos.  Upon closer examination, she realized they were all of her and
Mulder.  But the poses of the photographs were nothing she could ever
remember.  She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Mulder also
staring intently at the photos.

"Those are all photos of you and Mister Mulder from different
parallels,"
said the Professor.  "You'll find you and he share every relationship
imaginable, Ms. Scully.  We found you two as brother and sister, as
in-laws, as work colleagues and, in one rather convulated parallel,
married to other people but having a rather torrid affair with one
another.
In each case, no matter how you met or from what background you came,
you two were always the best of friends -- or perhaps soulmates would
be a more fitting term."

The Professors words rang hollowly in Scully's ears as she looked at
the
photos.  The top one was of her and Mulder at a birthday party, his
arms
wrapped around her as she sat before a large cake complete with
a dozen lit candles.  Her hair was long, past her shoulders.  They
looked
so...happy.  Scully was transfixed by the smile on Mulder's face in the
picture.  She'd never seen him look so carefree.  So at peace.

She picked up the next photo in the pile.  This one was of she and
Mulder
amidst a group of people at some kind of formal occasion.  Only she
was wrapped in the arms of a man she'd never seen before while Mulder
was similarly holding the arm of a woman she'd never seen.  Both of
them looked very posed, their smiles reaching only the surface.

Another photo was of she and Mulder as children, posed in front of a
large Christmas tree.  Mulder held his fingers up in rabbit ears behind
her head.  Another was them amidst a group of people, they seemed to be
about college age, playing volleyball on a beach.  Still another had
them
dressed for prom while Mulder was awkwardly pinning a corsage to the
top of
her dress.

Scully dropped the photos in her lap.  Her own image as well as
Mulder's
stared back at her from the myriad of photos -- each one telling their
own story.  Her fingers caressed them.  Could this be real?  What
the Professor was saying was true - in theory.  But what did this mean?
For science...for her and Mulder....  She paused in her mental
deliberations.  Mulder was still gazing over her shoulder at the
pictures,
his breath softly grazing her cheek.  The Professor was just watching
them,
a shadow of a smile on his face.

Suddenly, a photo caught Scully's eye.  It was near the bottom of the
pile.  Curious, she pulled it out -- her heart leapt to her throat and
she
heard Mulder's sudden intake of breath.

There, in her hand, was a photo of a wedding.  Only it wasn't just any
wedding.  It was her and Mulder's wedding.

She was wearing a short-sleeved ivory gown with ivory gloves.  It was
a simple yet classic dress, fitting snuggly to her bosom and waist then
softly flaring out over her hips and cascading to the floor in a short
train.  She held a bouquet of spring flowers in her hand.  A dainty
circlet of pearls adorned her brow.

Mulder was outfitted in a black tuxedo with an ivory vest and tie that
matched her dress, a matching sprig of flowers on his lapel.

And they were wrapped in each others arms, deeply engrossed in a kiss.

Scully saw the picture begin to blur and swim in her gaze.  Her hand
began to shake.  She heard Mulder calling her name but he sounded so
far
away, as if he was talking through cotton.  She went to turn towards
him
to tell him she was okay, but her body wouldn't respond to her
commands.

The last thing she saw was Mulder's frantic eyes searching her face
and his lips soundlessly moving before the darkness overcame her.

*********************

"Scully!  Scully!!" Mulder's agitated voice filled the room as Scully's
head lolled on his shoulder.

"She'll be all right," the Professor said.

"How the hell do you know?" Mulder retorted.  "She's dying."

As he spoke, he gently gathered her in his arms and laid her down on
the couch.  His touch as delicate as if she were a priceless work of
art that was easily broken.

"She's not dying, Mister Mulder.  On the contrary, she's healing."

Mulder froze in his ministrations at those words.  Slowly, he turned to
face the Professor who calmly met his gaze.  "She's *what*?"

"I said she's healing, Mister Mulder.  In this parallel, that body does
not have a cancerous brain tumor.  It's being destroyed by the forces
of
this parallel even as we speak.  Unfortunately, that kind of physical
change
takes its toll on the body's resources.  It's no wonder she collapsed
from
the combined strain of what she was seeing as well as what her body was
doing on the inside.  I'm surprised she had the strength to stay alert
even this long."

"Wait a second," Mulder interrupted, too afraid to believe what he was
hearing, "are you really saying the cancer is gone?  She's not going to
die?"  His heart surged at the new hope layed as a gift before him.

The Professor nodded in confirmation.

Mulder's face lit up in a brilliant smile.  He tenderly brushed
Scully's
hair back from her brow and leaned close to her ear.  "You hear that,
Scully," he whispered, "you're going to be okay.  It's over."  Hot
tears
burned his eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut.

The Professor watched, vaguely uncomfortable.  He cleared his throat,
then paused before speaking.  "Mister Mulder," he hesitated, "please
understand.  We never meant to bring Ms. Scully here.  Her respite
from the cancer is but a brief one.  When we take you back, the cancer
will return."

Mulder felt his heart split in two at the words.  Then a white hot fire
of anger filled his belly and he turned to the Professor, his eyes
blazing.  "Then we won't go back."

The Professor appeared taken aback by the words, his eyes widening in
shock.  "But, but you have to!" he spluttered.

"We don't *have* to go anywhere," Mulder shot back.  "We didn't ask you
to bring us here and from now on we're damn well going to do as we
please."

"Mister Mulder -" the Professor began.

"Shut the fuck up!" Mulder shouted, his voice cracking with tension and
fury
while his eyes shone with unshed tears.

The Professor blanched, fear entering his eyes even as he watched
Mulder curve his body over Scully's as if to protect her from an
invisible threat.  Pity replaced the fear as he watched Mulder softly
whisper to Scully words only she could hear.  He carefully arranged
her legs on the couch and folded her hands on her stomach.  She
remained
impassive, blissfully unaware of the emotion raging in the man now
sitting beside her, silently gazing at her face.

The Professor waited a moment, then tried again.  "Please, listen to me
-"

Quick as a cat, Mulder was on his feet, hauling the Professor up
out of his chair by the front of his shirt.  Mercilessly, he slammed
the man into the wall and held him there with his arm against his
throat.

"I will *not* let you take her back to die."  Mulder  spoke through
clenched teeth.

The Professor clawed at Mulder's arm, struggling to speak even though
almost no air was allowed to reach his lungs.

"You...know...you...have...no...choice..." he gasped out.  "Please...
let me go...."  Mulder's arm remained tightly against his throat, his
eyes dark with fury.

The Professor tried again, the room slowly fading from his vision.
"You...don't...belong...here..."

The words tore into Mulder and realization of what he was doing dawned
on him.  He hastily removed his arm and the old man sank to his knees,
dragging in long gulps of air and rubbing his neck.

As much as he deplored it, the Professor was right.  They weren't the
same people here even though they may look like the correct
inhabitants.
If they stayed, they'd be forced to live the rest of their lives as a
lie,
pretending to be who they weren't.

After a moment, the Professor picked himself off the floor and stood in
front of Mulder.  "You're lucky I'm an understanding man," he rasped,
his voice still recovering from the stranglehold.  "I lost my wife to
cancer," he said, the pain filling his eyes suddenly making him appear
years older.

He paused a moment before continuing, gathering the scattered
pictures of Mulder and Scully.  After tucking the envelope back into
his
coat pocket, he spoke again.

"I *am* sorry you cannot stay here, Mister Mulder, but the
ramifications of
your being here and those who were here being in our parallel are quite
serious.  You *must* go back.  I'm sure, despite your personal
feelings,
you see the logic and necessity of this."

His voice was sympathetic but firm.  "The next tesseract is planned for
tonight.  Please be in Ms. Scully's trailer at midnight. I will
come for you."

With that, he straightened his jacket and with a last glance at Scully,
still unconscious on the couch, he turned and left the room.

Mulder stared at the closed door for a moment, numbness knawing at the
edges of his mind.  If he could just stop feeling the pain....  But
there was always the pain.

He turned and walked back over to the couch where Scully still lay.

Her face was so peaceful, her body so relaxed.  Her pale face now
held a slight tint of rose, a sign of the healing process slowly
rebuilding the damage the cancer had wrought.  The fragile healing
that would be crushed beneath the onslaught of the cancer that was
only held at bay for the moment and would return with vengeance
tomorrow night.

Should he tell her?  Should he give her a miracle only to cruelly
snatch
it away in the next breath?  Or should this secret remain his to keep?
His lone burden that would tear at his soul as he watched her body
slowly wither away.

Mulder's eyes drifted to the floor.  A splash of color caught his eye.
A picture had fallen on the floor and been pushed under the couch.
With shaking fingers, he carefully picked it up and smoothed out the
wrinkles before tucking it into his jacket pocket.

His knees suddenly felt too weak to hold him and he sank to the floor
beside Scully.  He pressed her hand to his cheek as hot tears slid
down his face into her open palm.


Scully woke feeling more relaxed and refreshed than she had in a very
long time, her ever-present headache for once absent.  A little 
disoriented as to her location, she raised her head to peer at the room

- then discovered Mulder fast asleep, his head resting on the cushions 
beside her while his hand clutched hers in a death grip.  

A soft smile curved her lips as she observed him.  While she hated to
worry him, it always made her feel cherished when he did.  It actually
wasn't so hard to believe - the link the Professor had spoken of.  From
the moment she'd met Fox Mulder, she had felt like she'd found a
missing
piece of herself.  Their arguing over cases and facts always seemed
more as if she was playing devil's advocate with herself than taking
sides against him.  She couldn't explain her devotion and fierce
protection of him - she just knew it was.  They were halves of the
same whole, each completing the other and each dependent on the other.

Her hand drifted from her side to lightly touch his hair, the thick
strands sliding through her fingers.  Unable to stop herself, she ever 
so softly stroked his face, her fingers barely touching the skin as she

traced his silky eyebrows, the strong bridge of his nose, the cheek 
roughened by a five o'clock shadow, the satin of his slightly moist
lips.

He stirred at her touch and her hand quickly retreated to the safe 
territory of his hair.  His eyes drifted open to meet hers.  The air
was heavy between them and Scully's breath came fast.  The darkness 
of his gaze penetrated her, unwavering in its contemplation.  

"Your knees are not going to appreciate that position, Mulder," she 
finally said with a smile, his hair still caressing her fingertips.

Mulder's heart constricted at her smile.  Her touch had wakened him 
but had been so unexpected and sweet, he had pretended to be asleep.  
Finally, her feather-light caresses had driven him to open his eyes.
Not trusting himself to not pull her into his arms, he merely smiled 
back and squeezed her hand, still wrapped tightly in his.

"So," Scully said as she sat up on the couch, nervously smoothing a
hand 
over her hair, "what did I miss?"

"Not much," Mulder replied, his conscience pricking at the lie, "just
that we'll get our ticket home tonight at midnight.  We're supposed
to wait for him in your trailer."  He reluctantly let go of her hand
and stood.

"Is that when the next tesseract is planned?" she asked.

Mulder nodded.

"Not soon enough, if you ask me," she grumbled.  "I wasn't relishing
making a living on my looks and acting abilities.  Somehow I don't
think they'd believe I was a self-taught doctor."

"You can always play doctor on me, Scully," Mulder teased, grateful
to be leaving the topic of what he and the Professor had discussed
while Scully had been unconscious.

Scully grunted in reply, trying to hide the smirk on her lips at 
the images that evoked in her mind.  Maybe she just might have to
take him up on that offer...someday.

Mulder extended a hand which Scully grasped as she stood from the
couch.
She straightened her clothing as her mind turned to the next problem
still facing them.

"I think our time's up, Mulder.  They must be ready to finish
filming by now.  I don't think I've memorized my lines."  She 
sounded vaguely worried.

"Chris said he'd set up a couple of teleprompters for us.  We should
be okay."

"Well then, let's go G-man," she said, her eyes sparkling with
mischief.

*******************