From: Diana Lisky <DiLisky@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Mon, 01 Jun 1998 20:45:52 -0700
Subject: Submission: Trusting James (1/4) by Kristyn Collins

I DIDN'T WRITE THIS!  KRISTYN'S NEW ADDY IS kristyn_collins@hotmail.com


Title: Trusting James, Collector's edition
Author: Kristyn Collins
NEW E-MAIL (It's changed!): kristyn_collins@hotmail.com
Rating: R for graphic images
Category: TA
Spoilers: Unruhe, Memento Mori, Redux II
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance, rape
Story Summary: Scully is kidnapped, but with very little clues left behind, 
Scully is left to save herself.  

Author's Notes:  It's done, FINALLY.  Sorry to all the people who waited and 
waited for the story to be done, but my e-mail system went buggers, and then 
I couldn't get back online for three months.  I finished it, though.  Special 
thanks to JPC who edited a good 3/4 of this story faithfully.

Disclaimer: I own James Flores, he is my own.  Otherwise, the characters you 
recognize from TXF, mostly Mulder and Scully, belong to Chris(t) Carter, The 
Great Creator, 1013 Productions and Fox Entertainment.

Feedback Statement: How's Jim?  I hate him, myself, but I find it a great 
compliment when I can create a character that I have feelings about.  Please 
tell me what you think about him.

Trusting James 
Written November 1997-May 1998
Posted: May 30, 1998
By Kristyn Collins
	He stood outside her window, watching her close the door to her bedroom.  
She sank into her bed, with very little else but a tee shirt and panties.  They 
were silk panties, black lace, which she often slept in but never wore to 
work.  He sighed deeply and repeated her name through his head.  So 
soothing it was to hear her name upon his own lips, he thought as he spoke it 
softly.
	"Dana Katherine.  Dana Katherine.  Dana.  Scully.  Dana Katherine Scully.  
Dana.  Dana.  She will be mine," he whispered, as he went over his plan to 
take her.  He would crawl through the window she always kept open and into 
her living room.  Then he would, as silently as possible, sneak into her 
bedroom.  He would pick up the Sig Sauer she always kept next to her bed, just 
in case she attempted to reach for it.  Then he would press the needle into her 
tender thigh, being very gentle.  He didn't want to hurt her.  How could he?  
He loved her so much, he couldn't express it.  So he would take her far away, 
where he could express his love to her in as many ways as possible.
*******
	Dana settled into her new bed, pulling the comforter over her more.  It was 
a hot night, so she kept a few windows open.  Squishing under the covers 
made her feel secure no matter how hard her day had been.  This new house, 
which she had just moved into three months ago, still didn't feel quite like 
home.  After recovering fully from her cancer, she had decided to start over 
almost completely.  She wanted a house, so even if she never had a family, 
she could tend to a garden, a back yard and a porch.  Some place she could 
really call her own.  It sounded so shallow, but romantic in a way, and 
although she wasn't quite comfortable yet in it, she felt that she could really 
get to love the place.  It was small, affordable, yet cozy and neat.  A place she 
would bring a family, should she ever have one.  It was also a couple miles 
closer to the office, making her morning and evening commute easier.
	She sank more into the bed, feeling it push down all around her.  Feeling 
warm, she fell asleep without much worry. She only had insomnia now when 
her and Mulder were working on a big case.  Before her remission she had 
not slept very well.  She had constant night terrors of Mulder or her mother 
being taken away from her.  Worse than that, Melissa, her dead sister, had 
shown up many times, always pale and sickly.  The dreams were so vivid and 
so real, she would often wake up in a fetal position, her arms and feet drawn 
up near her body, shaking in absolute terror.  That was a second reason why 
she left her apartment, she felt that if she had a change of scenery, it would 
do her good.
	That night, as she slept, she dreamt of Mulder.  It was just a pleasant dream 
of her and Mulder cooking something.  She didn't know what it was, and she 
frankly didn't care.  They were just doing something, interacting together 
without fear of being hurt or fatally wounded.  It wasn't often that they had 
moments like this in real life, so she had resigned them to dreams.  Dana 
Scully slept deeply, so deeply that she only barely felt the needle prick in 
her thigh, she only vaguely saw the face of the man who had loved her since 
the day she moved in three months ago.
*******
	He breathed softly, repeating her name once more.  He silently, as he had 
practiced every night since he had first met her, placed her motionless body 
in the passenger seat of the car.  She looked so perfect, strapped into the seat.  
Like a Saint, or an angel, plucked from Heaven just for him.  In fact, he knew 
now that she had been put on the Earth just so he could fall in love with her.  
He had never loved anyone so much as he loved her.  Not Stacy Cassels, not 
Jenna Reemer, not even the last girl in his life, Lorie Iris.  Now, like he had 
done with all the others, he kissed her lips softly, and went back to the house.  
He took a bag and some of her better clothes.  He had been in the house many 
times while she was at work.  He never took anything before, for fear she 
might notice it missing, but now he packed the other pair of silk panties, 
some makeup, a tight fitting dress, and a flannel night gown.  Then he 
searched through the very back of her bottom drawer for the little teddy he 
knew was there.  He had only seen her wear it once, when she had a 
particularly difficult day, or so said her diary, which he also grabbed on the 
way out.  He didn't think she had bought it for herself.  Maybe a girlfriend 
had given it to her years ago, but he rarely heard the phone ring, so he 
deduced that she didn't have many friends.  Only one she called regularly, 
the man she worked with.  Mulder was his name.  James was horribly jealous 
of that man.  He got to see her, talk to her, hear her voice and say her name 
every day of the week.  But now, he thought with a smile, Dana Katherine 
Scully is all mine.  I love her, and I *must* make her love me.  She will love 
me more than I love her, he thought.  He took the bag down to the car after 
putting everything in its right place.  That was the hardest part, and several 
times he had to refer to the pictures he had taken of the inside of her room 
just yesterday, wasting valuable time.  He should have known, he had failed 
her in the first way, the first of possibly many.  Perhaps he should just be rid 
of her now.
	NO! his heart screamed.  This is the one, the one that will love me back.
*******
THE NEXT MORNING:
	Mulder walked into the office ten minutes late himself, so he was surprised 
not to find his partner, Dana Scully, with a disproving look on her face.  In 
fact, as he opened the door, he was all poised to give an explanation of how 
his alarm had been turned way down by some mysterious, unseen ghost.  
Instead he found nothing in the office, a stillness that was disturbing.  He sat 
down, figuring she had woke late also, and began to go through his e-mails to 
see if anything new or interesting had turned up.  The whole time he was 
reading it, he kept glancing at the door, expecting her tiny frame to walk 
through, but after an hour of waiting, he decided to call her house.
	He let it ring six times, and then the answering machine picked up.
	"This is Dana Scully, leave a message and I'll get back to you," it said to him, 
almost in a mocking tone.  It took her twenty minutes to drive, at the very 
most, from her new house, so he waited another twenty minutes before 
calling her cell phone, which, not to his surprise, was not on.  Then he 
walked up the stairs to Skinner's office.
	"Sir," he said upon coming face to face with the man.  "Sorry to barge in like 
this bu-"
	"You never make an appointment anyway, why should you start now?"
	"Agent Scully is missing," he stated, his voice shaking a little.
	"What!!?  What do you mean?"
	"She didn't show up for work this morning, didn't answer her home phone 
and her cell phone is not on."
	"Yeah?  She could have had an emergency."
	"Not without telling me.  Sir, she would have told me."
	"Did you try her mother?"
	Mulder faltered.  "I...I didn't want to alarm her...last time, and I...well, she 
shouldn't have to go through that pain again if it's nothing."
	"So you're not exactly sure," the imposing AD said gently.
	"No, but I think we need to check it out."
	"Agreed.  Why don't you drive over there?"
	"Okay," Mulder said, which is why he wanted to see the man in the first 
place, to ask if he could leave the office to go to her house.
	"Do you feel there is...foul play involved?" Skinner asked, genuinely 
concerned.
	"I honestly don't know.  I can't think of any reason she wouldn't answer 
unless there's been an accident.  If she were okay, she would have been here 
by now."  It was now 10:00 a.m., and Mulder was very worried.
	"Go.  It's probably nothing, but I know you won't rest until you make sure 
she's okay."
	"Thank you.  I'll try the...hospitals first though."
*******
	Groggily, Dana came to on a bed of some kind.  It wasn't as warm as her own 
bed, and in fact she realized that she was quite cold.  She opened her eyes 
slowly, and realized she was wearing next to nothing.  Only that little teddy 
her sister had given to her the birthday before Missy had passed away.  It 
was a joke gift, a gag, but Scully took it, as she did most things, seriously.  She 
liked it.  After difficult days, when she felt like if she didn't take Mulder's 
head and kiss him and make him as horny for her as she was for him, she 
would wear it, just to feel like a woman again.  When she was with him, she 
felt about as womanly as a pit bull, ripping apart everything he had worked 
through his brilliant mind to find.  It was a guilt thing, she thought, plus the 
lace felt nice on her skin.  Now, though, she was just cold and tired and 
groggy and had no idea where she was or why she was wearing it.
	"Hello?" she called out, surprised at the scratchiness of her voice.  She 
looked around and realized she was in a house, a small house not unlike her 
own.  She was also, as far as she could tell, alone.  Her hands were bound to 
the headboard of a bed, her feet tied together.  That was when she realized 
she had been taken against her will.  That was also when she began to notice 
the smell.
	It smelled like death.  Pure and simple death.  She struggled against her 
restraints, pulling down and up and every which way to try and get them 
undone.  She also realized that she was wearing black pumps on her feet.  A 
red piece of lingerie, black pumps, and her lips felt sticky with lipstick.  She 
was someone's fantasy.  Her profiling skills went into full effect as she 
deduced that she had been taken captive by someone with low self-esteem, 
but a very high IQ.  Someone who may have several deformities, but who 
probably held a normal job, and was always considered brilliant, but normal.  
If she was going to survive against her captor, she couldn't try to outsmart 
him, she was going to have to gain his trust.  She has going to have to make 
him feel sorry for her.
	She took a good look around the room, seeing if there was anything else that 
would lead her to a location or some more knowledge of her captor.  Several 
pictures on the wall of different women.  Beautiful women that looked like 
they could have been models.  There were six of them, standing together.  
Then separate pictures of each one.  One looked older but they all had a 
resemblance.  It was, perhaps, her captor's mother and sisters.  Perhaps he 
was jealous of their beauty, so he decided to kidnap women to make up for it.  
She wished at that moment, just a little bit of Mulder was with her, mostly his 
profiling and deduction skills.  If she was going to survive, she would have to 
know more about this man.  And she was going to survive.
******
	Mulder drove like a madman to his partner's apartment.  He had decided to 
call her mother afterall, but she had not heard anything from her daughter 
either.  He knew for certain, in his gut, that there was something very 
wrong.  He was used to following his instinct.  In fact, it was usually right, 
but as he tore down her street, he prayed to God or Shiva or anything that 
happened to be listening that he was wrong.  Not again, please not again, he 
prayed.  She had been taken once before, and given a horrible disease after 
it.  If she had been taken again, by them, he didn't know what he would do.
	His unease didn't subside when he entered her new house.  He was familiar 
with it, he had been there practically every week since she moved in.  He 
wasn't exactly sure why she had wanted to move, perhaps it was another way 
of starting over after her cancer.  He liked the house, it was closer to the 
office and closer to his apartment than her old apartment had been, but he 
didn't like the idea of Dana Scully starting over.  He was very much a part of 
the "old" life.  The cancer life.  Did she want to move away from him as she 
had her apartment?  Her moving houses frightened him because it showed a 
restlessness.  A need to leave things behind.  He hoped he wasn't one of those 
"things."
	Upon seeing her bedroom, he had a sudden sense of invasion, like he 
shouldn't be there.  Everything seemed to be in order, and that frightened 
him even more.  If she had been taken as part of a robbery or something like 
that, then everything would be thrown around, but since nothing was 
missing he had to assume that whoever took her wanted to take *her*, 
needed Dana Scully for something.  Then he felt violated himself, as if they 
had taken something that was specifically his.
	He looked at her bed.  The covers were pulled down as if she got out of them 
herself, not as if she was pulled out of them.  He noticed a small drop of blood 
on the bed, surrounded by a slightly darker fluid than the white sheets.  He 
took out his cell phone, and inspected it more closely.
	"Yeah, Fox Mulder, FBI.  Yeah, it's JTT047101111.  I'm requesting the 
immediate opening of a case file on a missing person, a federal employee.  Dr. 
Dana Scully.  I need a forensics team in here, I'm at her house.  1421 Regent 
Lane.  She's my partner.  I don't know, she's been gone maybe since last 
night.  I talked to her last at eight last night, so sometime after that.  There is 
no evidence of violence except for one drop of blood on her sheets.    Yes, 
S-C-U-L-L-Y.  I'll be here," he hung up the phone with the dense secretary 
and waited, strangely calm, until the arrived.
*******
	Dana slept a little while, drifting in and out of consciousness.  The drug that 
her abductor had given her was making her queasy and sick.  She didn't feel 
right, and worse, she was still wearing next to nothing.  She estimated the 
time to be around three in the afternoon when she heard the door open.  She 
was instantly alert, awake and sober as her body stiffened in fear.  She tried 
not even to breathe.  Maybe she could just disappear.  Being so still reminded 
her of a childhood friend, a girl, she couldn't quite remember her name.
*******
	"Dana, Dana c'mere," said Joanne putting her hand out to her friend.
	"Watcha want?  I was looking at some really neat bugs over there," said 
Dana, pointing to where she had been standing.  
	"No, lookie here.  It's a cockroach!"
	"No, it's a beetle, Joanne.  Duh," she stated confidently, rolling her eyes.  Her 
friend, who was just her age, lived next door to her.  It was nice when you 
moved into a neighborhood and there was a girl living right next door, 
because then you didn't have to go far to find a friend.  They both loved to 
look at the various bugs that hid under the rocks near their home.  Then the 
two eight year olds padded into Joanne's house for some pop and cookies. 
	After eating, they went upstairs to Joanne's bedroom, and began talking and 
giggling.  There was a knock at the door.
	"Joanne!" bellowed the large man who stood there.  "What the hell did I just 
tell you to do!!? Get out here, now!" he yelled.  Joanne complied, slowly 
creeping out like a guilty puppy.  Then Dana heard more shouting and 
Joanne scream.  Trying not to be noticed, Dana curled up into a little ball, and 
began to hold her breath, thinking about home.  She remembered watching 
"The Wizard of Oz," she she repeated "There's no place like home," over and 
over, but she didn't magically disappear from the violent scene.  Then she 
pretended she wasn't really there, that it was all a dream.  She was floating 
above her body, praying for her friend, but still away from the house.  About 
five minutes after it had begun, the terror was over, and Joanne was back at 
Dana's side, holding her bloodied cheek.
	"You hafta go home now, my Dad says."
	"Oh," Dana said, dreading that she would have to walk downstairs past the 
large man.  Maybe he would hit her too, and make her cheek bloody like he 
had made Joanne's.
	"Go," whispered Joanne fiercely, not wanting to get her friend hurt.
	"Are you okay?  Maybe you could come stay with us for awhile," Dana 
offered holding out her hand.
	"No, just go.  Hurry!" Joanne yelled, and Dana didn't look back again.  She 
slipped out of the house without a sound, and ran all the way back to her 
mother's arms.  She felt helpless for one of the first times in her life, because 
she couldn't tell anyone, but she couldn't let it go one either.  She had no 
choice but to sit back and watch the violence that played out before her, 
detached from her body, and unable to destroy it.  
*******
	"Dana?  Dana?  It's me.  It's me," said an unfamiliar male voice.  Dana didn't 
move.  "Please, sweetie, answer me."  She pretended to be asleep.  He came 
into the room where she was being held, and she kept her eyes shut tight.  
"Oh, alright," he said as if he knew she was pretending.  "We'll consummate 
our marriage tomorrow.  Goodnight, my lovely," he said in a sickeningly 
sweet tone of voice.  Then he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead like 
a protector, with the same affection as Mulder had in the hallway after 
Penny Northern had died.  She felt as if she were going to throw up, but she 
just lay still as he left her alone.
*******
	"It's a very heavy prescription sedative.  The blood is hers, there's not much 
more I can deduce," the tall female doctor Mulder had contacted told him.  
After taking the sample off her bed, he sent it to the lab.  Using all the 
contacts he had made, he rushed it through, and with the technician's 
sympathy, he was able to get it back within two hours.  It was now six at 
night, and almost ten hours since he had last talked to her.  They had found 
some fingerprints on the windowsill, but they didn't match any known 
perps.  They did, however, match the fingerprints of a suspect in three other 
kidnappings.  All of those were women in their late twenties, early thirties, 
but they had nothing else in common.  Scully and Stacy Cassels were 
professionals, the other two victims were homemakers; three had children, 
one did not; one had blond hair, two had brown and one had red; all had blue 
eyes, so maybe that was something, but lots of people had blue eyes.  
	Mulder was so frustrated he wanted to cry.  Not only was there a lack of 
evidence, but the previous three kidnappings had led to the girls' bodies 
being found in a lake.  The lake was seventy miles away, and seemed more 
like a favored dumping spot than one with a personal connection to the 
killer.  They had all been raped, but not beaten.  They had a few busies, but 
they had not been abused aside from the rape.  He began to rack his brain for 
a profile as he drove home from the lab.  He was deep in thought when his 
cell phone shrilly woke him up.
	"Hello?  Scully?" he said blindly into the phone.  There was a pause, and a 
female voice took a deep breath.
	"So, Fox, I guess you haven't found anything yet," she said, stifling a sob.
	"No, Mrs. Scully.  We only found one drop of blood, so it doesn't look like she 
was hurt," he said gently.
	"And the fingerprints?  You said you found some."  A glimmer of hope was 
still left in her voice.
	"Nothing.  No previous record. Only..." he trailed off, not wanting to tell her 
about the other kidnappings, but decided against it due to their gruesome 
outcome.
	"Tell me.  I don't want to be protected, Fox.  I know you feel it's your duty, 
and maybe it is, but don't lie to me," she said tensely.
	"Well, we found that the fingerprints match those lifted off three other 
kidnappings."
	"Were...were those girls found?"
	He sighed and closed his eyes.  He felt like he was telling her that Scully was 
dead already, "They were."
	"Where?" she could tell he wasn't telling her the whole truth.  A mother 
learns how to detect subtle changes in a person's voice that mean they are 
lying or covering something up. 
	"Dead.  In a lake," he said bluntly.  There was no way to soften the blow.
	"Oh, God.  Do you have any leads?"
	"Well, I'm working on the profile, and I've got a team of investigators 
looking for any persons that may have been connected to Scully that were 
also connected to one or more of the others."  Others, such a generic term.  He 
was now grouping Scully with a bunch of dead women.
	"Call me as soon as you know anything.  I mean anything, Fox."
	"Yes, Mrs. Scully, I will.  You can call me whenever if you have any 
questions or you...want...to...talk."  Click.  She was gone, the hardest part of 
his day over.  He sat down on his couch and worked out the profile until two 
in the morning, when he called Skinner at home.
*******
	"Dana, sweetie, wake up.  It's time for breakfast.  You spent all day yesterday 
in bed, honey, and I want you up today."  Dana felt the man's hand on her 
shoulder.  She was still groggy, and immediately reached for her nightstand, 
on which she always kept her Sig, but then remembered where she was and 
why.  He was leaning over her, so she tried to push him away, but her hands 
were bound.  "Now, now, I'm here to love you.  Don't fight against love, Dana.  
You're different.  You aren't like the others, you are going to love me."  
Realizing she was helpless and in this man's total control, she decided to play 
along.
	"You," she paused to clear her throat.  He closed his eyes, hanging off her 
every word.  He was tall, thin and lanky, with strait black hair cut in bangs to 
his eyes.  His eyes themselves were very handsome, deep and dark, with very 
black centers.  His hands, which rested on her stomach, were thin as well.  
She didn't see any obvious deformities, but he certainly didn't look dumb, so 
perhaps her profile wasn't all that bad.  She cleared her throat a second time, 
shaking off the stare from his pretty eyes as she continued, "You know my 
name.  It might be easier if I knew yours."  He narrowed his eyes.
	"You're an FBI agent.  I have to be careful with you."
	"What do you do?" she responded quietly, letting submission enter her voice.  
They didn't prepare you for this type of situation at Quantico.  Playing along 
may not be a good idea, as she was always told not play into a criminal's 
fantasy, but it was all she could do at this point.  If she could earn his trust, 
then maybe she could escape.
	"I'm a high school teacher," he said quickly.  She was stunned.  A teacher 
around children, around young girls.  How many other people had he 
kidnapped?
	"What do you teach?" she asked sweetly.  She felt strangely removed from 
the situation, as if she were watching this happen to someone else.  She was 
more worried about the kids he was around than herself.  It hadn't yet 
clicked that she was at the mercy of a madman.  
	"Chemistry.  My students hate me."  Low self-esteem, check.
	"Why?" 
	"I don't know!" he yelled suddenly.  "Are you going to love me?"
	She paused, not knowing what to say.  She was so unused to not having a 
procedure, having to create her own precedent.  There was nothing for her 
to go through, step by step in her mind, she could make a mistake, and that 
mistake could cost her her life.  She didn't know what to say besides do what 
she had been doing.
	"I...suppose I could...but I need to know...you're name," she said evasively.  
She couldn't let herself get personally involved with her kidnapper.
	"James Flores.  Most people call me Jim."
	"Jim," she repeated, "I prefer James.  Can I call you James?"
	"Sure.  Do you want something to eat?"  Uh-oh.  Could be poisoned, but she 
was very hungry.  Against her judgment and reason, going with her gut, she 
nodded, and he fed her cereal, putting the spoon up to her mouth as if she 
were a baby.  
	"What day is it today?"
	"Saturday.  The official beginning of our honeymoon.  Weren't you 
wondered why you were dressed like that?"  She was checking that after the 
first few bites of cereal she could still fell her extremities.
	"I...uh..." she had forgotten for a few minutes she was wearing her red teddy 
and black pumps.  "Honeymoon?"
	"Yes.  We're married now.  You are my wife!"  Oh, man, was this guy fucked 
up.  Most kidnappers had the fantasy of conquering a woman, or of saving 
them, but marriage?  Bizarre.
	"Oh," was her only response.  After she was done eating, he began to touch 
her chest, beginning with her breasts.  She squirmed uncomfortably, trying 
to inch away.
	"I'm going to make you feel good, Dana.  Don't you want that?"  She closed 
her eyes, and she was out of her body as he raped her the first time.  Just 
floating, floating, she couldn't feel a thing.
*******
	"Hello?" answered an alert AD.
	"Sir, it's Mulder," he said, sitting up in bed.  
	"Any new leads?"
	"No.  I'll bet you're not sleeping much either."
	"No," he answered softly.  "She's a wonderful agent."
	"She is.  We'll find her, Sir," he said, his voice betraying the exterior 
confidence.
	"Have you finished the profile?"
	"Yes, I just did.  Been up all night doing it.  Do you want to hear it?"
	"No.  Not really.  Give me a brief description," the AD barked, going into full 
boss mode.
	"He's thin, very thin.  We wouldn't have been able to get through her 
window otherwise.  He's very introverted, but extremely smart.  He also has 
access to chemicals, possibly a chemist or a pharmacist.  He's not well liked 
by many people.  I think he," Mulder paused clearing his throat before 
continuing, "wants these women to fill a hole."
	"How brutal?"
	"The others were not bruised in any way except around the genitals.  It 
indicates he really cares for them.  He's not a brutal man."
	"But he uses them for sex?"
	"No, I think he uses them for love.  I think he's really in love with them, or 
thinks he is."  Mulder could almost hear Skinner nodding thoughtfully on 
the other end.
	"About how long were the women kept before death?"
	"Varying times.  It was maybe two days for the first, but three weeks for the 
last."
	"Anything else?"
	"I think that Scully's only chance is to submit to him.  Tell him that she 
loves him," Mulder's head swam at the thought of Scully saying she loved that 
vile disgusting man who had taken her.
	"She wont-"
	"She has to," Mulder sucked in a sweet breath of air, "He'll kill her 
otherwise." 
*******
	Scully tried to fall asleep in the flannel nightgown he had covered her 
with, but kept getting images of a previous case where her brain had almost 
been skewered by a man trying to "save" her.  He had covered his victim's in 
flannel nightgowns before releasing them to walk the streets with a piece of 
their brain removed.  She was sore from the rape, but she didn't feel violated.  
Instead, she felt pity for the man who had done it to her and his pathetic life.  
After he had finished raping her, he had touched her hair and asked her 
about herself.  She told him that she worked at the FBI, and he told her a little 
about himself.  He was thirty-one, and he had "dated" three other women.  
She took that to mean he had kidnapped three others.  She asked again about 
his students, and he had shrugged it off, saying they were little bastards and 
didn't deserve "As" anyway.  A tear fell down her cheek for the man who 
slept beside her, forced to kidnap women and make them his wife.  That made 
her angry at herself and angry at him for making her feel this way, but 
mostly she just hated the situation, she didn't blame him or herself.  She 
curled up into a tighter ball, and James' arm tightened around her waist, 
drawing her close to him and his body.  She attempted to sleep away her 
troubles, hoping and praying that when she awoke she would be back in her 
bed at home.


From: Diana Lisky <DiLisky@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Mon, 01 Jun 1998 20:49:01 -0700
Subject: Submission: Trusting James (2/4) By Kristyn Collins

I DIDN'T WRITE THIS!!  Kristyn's E-mail addy is kristyn_collins@hotmail.com

Trusting James (2/4)
By Kristyn Collins
All other info see part 1


Sleeping next to her, James was sure this was the one.  This was the one who 
would stay his wife forever.  To hell with his sisters and mother, who were so 
beautiful.  To hell with the rest of his wives, who had never really loved him.  
He had a brainy one now, and she was going to love him or die.  Smart was 
sexy, he thought. 
*******
	"Good, good, I'll get over there immediatly," Mulder told the Agent on the 
other end of the phone.  His name was Rameriez and he was assigned to the 
Violent Crimes section, part of the team AD Skinner had called out for the 
investigation into Scully's disappearance.  He had called, saying that he had 
found a common link in the past abductions.  A chemistry teacher named 
James Flores.  He had been Stacy Cassells' daughter's chemistry teacher, and 
they knew each other through the PTA, where both were active members.  
He was Jenna Reemer's former teacher, she had been married and just out of 
high school, and the bastard was Lorie Iris' ex-boyfriend.  They had also 
discovered he was Scully's next door neighbor.  Flores could have been 
watching her since she first walked into the house, watching, waiting for 
the right moment to strike.  It infuriated Mulder.  All that time, if they had 
just found this simple lead earlier, they could have prevented Scully's 
kidnapping by catching him earlier.  His fists clenched involuntarily as he 
drove to her place.  Rameriez had obtained a search warrant for Flores' 
residence.  They couldn't find anything in Flores' past to suggest a criminal 
history, nor any mention of another house where he could take the girls, but 
they still hadn't searched his home yet.  
	When Mulder arrived, various cops and FBI agents buzzed about the house.  
There must have been ten different agents assigned from the Violent Crimes 
section, all that Skinner could spare.  He wanted Agent Scully found and 
unharmed, preferably, and quickly.  Mulder feared it was already too late to 
get her back completely whole.
	"Ramierz?" he asked the young agent.
	"Come in, we found something that might be of...use," he said cautiously, 
avoiding really telling Mulder anything.  
	"What is it?" he asked as Ramierez handed him a book.
	"It appears to be a diary,"  Mulder eyes grew wide.  Rameriez hastily 
continued, "but it's not written in English.  I think it's French, strange 
considering he has a Hispanic last name."  Mulder opened the book and 
quickly flipped through.  He saw several words which he recognized form 
his high school days, when they had forced him to take French against his 
will.  He saw, femme, or wife, and another word which meant house, maison.  
He turned to some of the last entries and saw the name "Dana."
	"That's what it looks like.  I'll take care of it," he said pulling it away as the 
other agent tried to grab it.  "Have you found anything else?"
	"Some pictures of him in front of a rustic looking cabin.  No address, 
though.  No pictures of his girls."
	Mulder glared, "They are *not* his girls.  I'd appreciate you showing a little 
more respect for the woman in question."  Rameriez scowled back, but 
softened his look when he saw how distressed Mulder was.
	"She really meant a lot to you, didn't she?"
	"Doesn't your partner mean a lot to you?" Mulder countered, looking around 
for his partner.
	"Who? Her?" Ramierz said indicating a young blond woman.  "Yeah, I guess."  
Mulder leaned in close to him.
	"Multiply how you feel about her by a thousand.  That's how much Scully 
means to me, and how much I want her found."
	"Gotcha," he said softly, avoiding Mulder's gaze.  "Hey, Blumenthal, I want 
you to meet someone."
	"Yeah," the woman blinked.  She looked fresh out of Quantico as did 
Rameriez.  He wondered when it had become FBI policy to pair two agents 
with no experience together.
	"This is Agent Mulder.  Dana Scully's partner."
	"Hi," she said shyly.  Mulder nodded, simply to acknowledge her existence 
and turned away.  He had more important things to do than talk to the green 
agents.  He had to get this diary translated.  Flores may have been smart, but 
sometimes that could backfire.
********
	Dana awoke to silence.  Complete and utter silence.  She was still clothed in 
the flannel nightgown, but found that her hands and feet were unbound.  
She also found a note on the dresser which read:
	"Dana:
	Sorry I couldn't see you awaken, but I had to get to work.  I will be back 
before five.  I've untied you, but you'll notice that there are bars over all the 
windows and the door locks from the outside.  Don't try anything stupid.  
Breakfast is on the kitchen table.
	Love always and forever,
	James"
	She shuttered and began to look around the large cabin.  She hadn't 
realized, because she hadn't been out of the room, that it was so big.  She had 
been upstairs in a guest bedrooms, one of three.  Also among these three was 
the master bedroom, which had its own fireplace and bathroom with a jacuzi.  
She could hid in a house like this, but then again, he probably would find her 
within a matter of minutes.  Walking downstairs, she first came into the 
hallway, which had a magnificent throw rug and then she proceeded to her 
left, where she saw a kitchen.  She found pancakes and orange juice left out 
for her on the counter, but the refrigerator was padlocked.  Across from the 
kitchen was the living room, which had a big screen TV and a large stereo.  
This man did not make all this money teaching.  He must be a drug dealer, or 
had a family with money because this was a not a cheap cabin.  
	She didn't touch the pancakes.  She had been weak before, to eat his food, 
but she would not give in now.  Dana told herself over and over that it was 
just a way to control her.  She was still weak from whatever he had injected 
her with, and should eat something, but her pride wouldn't let her.  This man 
who had made her lie down and take it while he had raped her, this man who 
would probably do it again tonight.  Hell, she began to feel sorry for him last 
night, actually sorry.  How could she have let him get inside her head like 
that?  She could see a knife going from her hand into his chest.  Deeper and 
deeper she could see herself plunging it into his heart.  His breath slowly 
stopped and his life passed out of him.  She felt powerful and healthy in her 
fantasy.  Not numb and helpless like she did now.  She would never ever pass 
through a weak moment like she did last night.
	She looked around the kitchen but only saw plastic knifes.  It might be 
enough to cut her own wrists, but not enough to kill her captor.  A tear of 
anger fell down her cheek, and she wiped at it with a vengeance.  She spotted 
a picture of him on the far wall, with two absolutely beautiful women.  He 
was smiling.  He was having fun!  He wasn't allowed to have any fucking fun 
when he had taken her and most likely other women.  He should be living a 
miserable existence, as miserable as he had made hers.  She took the picture 
and its frame and threw it down to the ground, shattering the glass which 
covered it.  She picked up the actual picture, cutting her fingers in several 
different places but not caring.  She ripped it into two pieces, one with the 
two women and one with James.  She put the two women back on the shelf 
and took James face in her hands, crumpling it and ripping it even more.  
	"Damn you!  Damn you!   What the hell is your fucking problem?  Why can't 
you just have a normal fucking relationship like a regular person.  Why did 
you have to take me away again?  Why did you have to make Mulder hurt 
more than he was before?  Why did you have to do it?" She began to sob and 
sank down to the floor, ignoring the blood which poured from her fingers 
and now her legs.  She sobbed for a good hour, crumpling the picture 
between her fingers.  Then she sobbed again in frustration from having to 
clean up the mess she made.
********
	He took a few deep breaths as he read the translation of the diary he had 
been given back.  He was in luck, there was translating software at the lab.  
Ah, the lab, he thought.  What the hell would he do without it?
	"Mr. Mulder, this is the diary roughly translated," wrote Agent McGann at 
the top.  The diary continued.  As Mulder read, he became more and more 
frightened.
*******
	She heard the click of the door, but didn't make the connection that he was 
home until she looked up and saw him standing over her.  She was still curled 
up on the floor, broken glass around her and blood still seeping from the 
deep cuts on her hands and legs.  His footsteps made a crunching sound as he 
circled her to see what she had done, like a vulture circle's its prey waiting 
for the poor animal to die.  She was looking at him, but it still didn't register 
that she was in danger.
	"Dana, why did you do this?" His voice startled her back to reality.  She leapt 
up, sending chards of glass flying every which way.  She realized that she 
must have fallen asleep there on the floor, because not only did he say he 
wouldn't be home until after five in the afternoon, but the grand window 
which was to her right showed that the sun was setting.  He spoke again, in a 
comforting voice, but it sounded all muffled to Scully, who kept her hands 
over her head in a defensive position.  Her head was foggy, like she wasn't all 
really there, a Cheshire cat in the most horrible wonderland ever created.
	"Dana, Dana," he cooed to her.  "Come on, get up, baby."
	"Damnit, I'm not a dog.  Don't' talk down to me." she said meekly, leaving her 
head down.
	"Come on.  GET UP!" It was the last thing she heard before she passed out 
from pain, low blood sugar and whatever sedative was still coursing through 
her veins
********
	SELECTED ENTRIES FROM JAMES FLORES' DIARY:
	MAY 8, 1998
	Dear Diary,
	Today I found a new wife.  Lorie obviously wasn't the one for me, but at least 
she's gone to a better place now.  This woman just moved in next door, and 
she is amazing.  Red hair.  Beautiful red hair.  She is a wonderful woman, 
beyond compare, and I feel more for her than I ever had for the others.  I'm 
casing the place now, and she's left the window open for the past two nights.  
I can get through to her, I know I can.
	JUNE 21, 1998
	I found out today that my woman had another man in her life.  I am so 
envious.  It isn't fair that he should have her when he can't love her as much 
as I do.  His name is Fox Mulder, I found it out when I broke into her house 
tonight because there was a case on her dresser, which had both their names 
on it.  I checked the house out, using the window while she slept.  I didn't see 
her, because that would risk the whole plan, but she works for the FBI, hence 
the case.  It would be ironic, wouldn't it?
	JULY 9, 1998
	God, I am so in love.  My Dana is sexy, smart, beautiful and intuitive.  I went 
to her window tonight to watch her, and even though her back was to me, 
and I didn't make any noise, she turned, like she knew I was there.  Even she 
can feel the love I have for her emanating from me.  Kalya said I was, as she 
put it, "simply glowing," when we met for lunch.  I also spoke to Mari today 
over the phone from New York.  Her job is going well, they take pictures of 
her body and other men stare at it.  Nice job.  Kalya's newest play isn't going 
well, but of course, with her beauty she'll get a another part soon.  
	SEPTEMBER 14, 1998
	Tonight's the night.  I have the medicine,  I'll inject it into her thigh and 
send her off to peaceful sleep.  When she wakes we'll be up at the cabin.  I 
spoke to Michaela yesterday.  I told her I was dating someone else.  Someone 
named Dana Scully.  She told me how plain that name was, but she was sure 
she was a "nice girl."  I can't believe my own sister doesn't see the beauty in 
that name.  Goodbye for now, I'm off to get my prize. 
********
	Mulder read the last entry and quickly went back to the previous entries, 
writing down the names "Kalya Flores?," "Mari Flores?" and "Michaela 
Flores!" trying to list the names of James' sisters.  He was startled by a knock 
at the door, and even more surprised to see the man who was standing there.
	"Mulder, I have some bad news.  It's been three days now, and I know that 
means we should be intensifying the search, but I can't spare the same 
amount of manpower now.  I'm assigning Blumenthal and Rameriez-"
	"What!?"
	"I'm sorry, but I just can't expend the whole VCS anymore," Skinner stated, 
throwing up his hands.
	"Can you at least spare some more experienced agents?  I don't want to 
babysit!"
	"Look, Agent Mulder, they're not as 'green' as you think.  Rameriez has been 
with us out of Quantico for three years, Blumenthal for four.  They've been 
partners for two of those.  Scully's just about as experienced as Blumenthal, 
and you certainly don't consider her a babysitting charge, do you?" the AD 
chided.
	"Yes, but they don't have any profiling experience-" Mulder protested, 
waving his hand for Skinner to come in.  The AD remained firmly at the door.
	"That's why I'm officially assigning *you* as their SAC.  However, I'm 
warning you, if you don't heed procedure and protocol at every instance, I 
will knock your ass off this case so fast you won't know what happened."
	Mulder nodded in acquiescence, knowing he was defeated.  The AD softened 
his stare a little and stepped into the apartment.  "And you came in person to 
tell me this?"
	"I was in the neighborhood.  I-"
	"You're checking up on me, aren't you?"
	Skinner clenched his teeth, "Are you okay, Agent Mulder?  If you want 
there to be another SAC, I can assign-"
	"No!  I'll find her, soon, and by myself."
	"I figured as much.  I want you to share responsibilities with the other 
Agents, alright?"
	"Yeah."  Skinner turned and left, but before he walked out the door, he 
narrowed his eyes at Mulder.
	"I know that, since I'm your superior that you don't...but if you need to talk, 
to tell me something, feel free."  Mulder was touched at Skinner's outreach.  
He bowed his head, and closed the door after he left.
********
	She awoke to James stroking her head.  "You awake now?"
	"Yeah, I'm-" she stopped, again forgetting that her kidnapper and rapist 
was the one comforting her.  She tried to push him away, but found her 
hands were bound again.
	"What did you do to my picture.  I thought you loved me."  Her only hope was 
to bargain for time again, like she had before.  She knew she risked the 
emotional connection she had felt before towards him, but winced and 
swallowed her pride anyway.
	"I do.  you are my hu...husband and I lo...lo...love you.  I was just a little bit 
angry, and I think that whatever you gave me when you...took me home, 
here, is having a bad effect.  What did you give me?"
	"A mixture of a few different sedatives.  Um...Dramamine, too, I think."
Uh, oh.  He had been mixing drugs, that could be bad.
	"Do you remember which ones?"  She was on the verge of passing out again.  
She hadn't eaten probably since breakfast the previous morning, and 
certainly had only a little to drink since then, only water from the bathroom 
sink.  At this point, thought, she wasn't sure even of her name.
	"Nope.  Made a few myself.  Dana, honey, you need to eat," he pushed a plate 
of food towards her.  It was toast with jam and more orange juice.  She drank 
the juice greedily, all the way down, but did not touch the toast.
	"Why did you padlock the fridge?" she asked shakily.
	"I don't want you to eat unless I make you something.  Only the best for my 
sweet wife."  It was another way of controlling her, she thought.  Then she 
passed out once again.
	When she next woke he was sleeping on the floor next to her.  It was still 
night, but beyond that she didn't know how long she had been out.  Scully 
was still bound by her feet, but he had released her hands.  She felt the rage 
in her stomach grow as she realized she was half naked, her clothes strewn 
about the room.  He had raped her again, and from the way she felt, he might 
have done it twice.  Her fist clenched and then she noticed something 
glimmering in the moonlight.
	A metal object, a fork.  It shone like a beacon in the night.  Her feet, 
although bound together, were not bound to the bed.  She used what little 
strength she had to pushed herself off the bed and grab it.  She held it, 
fingering the points at the top before placing it back on the night stand.  She 
had to think.  If she were to stab him with it, how could she do it to 
incapacitate him long enough to escape?  She would have to think before she 
leapt, she realized, so she picked the fork back up and placed it under the 
mattress.  It stabbed into her back, but it almost felt good.  Pain that was 
pleasure.  She went back to sleep, hoping to God that he didn't realize it was 
gone, or that he decided to rape her again.  
	She felt more powerful than ever.
*******


From: Diana Lisky <DiLisky@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Mon, 01 Jun 1998 20:50:34 -0700
Subject: Submission: Trusting James By Kristyn Collins (3/4)

I DIDN'T WRITE THIS!  KRISTYN'S ADDY IS kristyn_collins@hotmail.com

Trusting James (3/4)
By Kristyn Collins
All other info see Part 1

	Mulder sniveled as he walked into Rameriez and Blumenthal's office in the 
VCS.  He nodded politely and threw down a piece of paper with names on it.
	"This Flores' sister's name.  I got it from his diary.  Rameriez, I want you to 
try and find out where she is.  If she's local, I want you to interview her.  
Also check out a woman named Kalya Flores, who, if she exists, will probably 
be local.  Flores' mentioned having lunch with her.  Now, Blumenthal, I want 
you to go interview the following people," he put his finger near three 
names on the list, all connected with previous victims, before continuing, 	
"Got that?  I'm going to continue looking into where that cabin could be and 
to check with a few friends up in the photo lab, see what they can pull.  
Alright?"
	The other two agents stared after him as he walked out.
	"Oh, yeah," Blumenthal commented, "This is gonna be *fun*."
	"Well, at least he's not crazy.  I mean, his procedure's right," Rameriez 
answered.  He didn't know why he was defending Mulder, but he almost 
sympathized with the rogue agent.  Rameriez's dark eyes stormed from under 
his black lashes, "We should be nice to him, he's been through a lot."
	"Yeah, it's almost spooky, ain't it?"  She brushed two blond bangs out of her 
eyes.  "This better be worth it.  I mean, we better get some sort of home made 
bunt cake from Skinner after this."
	"I wouldn't bet on it," Rameriez said grimly as he looked at the names Mulder 
had placed in front of him.
********
	Scully awoke, her hands and legs still sore and her mind still cloudy.  It must 
be a Wednesday today, so James would be gone already. Indeed, she found the 
same set up as the day before, a note and a small breakfast.  The note read 
only:
	"My Dear Dana,
	I hope you do not find the need to wreak yourself and my pictures today.  
Eat.  It will do you good.
	James"
	She scrunched up her nose in disgust, but drank the orange juice he had 
left out for her because she was terribly thirsty.  She remember little of the 
night before. Only that she had awoke and found the fork and put it in her 
mattress.  He hadn't seemed to notice that it was gone.  She also remembered 
waking up naked, and feeling as though she had been raped, but now she was 
fully clothed again.  He was trying to control every aspect of her life 
now--what she ate, what she wore, and she was letting him control her.  She 
figured he must be keeping her sedated, or else she had some other sort of 
sickness.  She knew that whatever she was sedating her with was in the food 
he fed her, but she didn't care.  She needed to eat.  
	Dana went back upstairs and decided she wanted to run a bath and think.  
She always had though better when she was in the bath anyway, and she 
needed to know what to do with the fork.  As she entered the bathroom, she 
checked under the sink for more potential weapons.  There was a jar of 
Drain-o and some toilet paper.  The Drain-o could be helpful--it hurt like hell 
when you got it in your eyes, but the toilet paper probably wouldn't.  She 
looked in the medicine cabinet.  She hadn't done this the first day she was 
alone in the house because she had felt awful and could barely stay awake.  
She hadn't eaten for awhile now, so the stuff he had sedated her with would 
probably be in her system soon, the body absorbs things faster on an empty 
stomach.
	The medicine cabinet yielded nothing except a bottle of Tylenol.  There was 
nothing she could do with that, so she ran the water and got into the bath 
thinking.  She could hide somewhere with the fork and the Drain-o, then 
throw it in his eyes.  That was fine, but how would she get out, she didn't 
know where he kept the keys.  Maybe there was an attic or somewhere she 
could hide and then when he was leaving out the door she could ambush him, 
stab him with the fork, throw Drain-o at him and then run out the door.  But 
there was the other problem as well.  From what she could see out the 
window, this cabin was set out in the woods.  She had only seen the driveway 
that James used to leave every morning, but it could be miles and miles of 
running, something that her body just was not up to.  
	After emerging from the water feeling cleaner than she had in decades, she 
took another tour of the house, carefully opening every cabinet and every 
drawer that wasn't locked up.   She opened one last cabinet in the 
half-bathroom downstairs and saw it.  The bottle of insulin and the needle.  
Dana picked up the prescription and checked the name.  James Jay Flores.  
He's a diabetic, she thought.  He has to inject himself with insulin every day.  
This was valuable information, but what could she do with it?
	Then it hit her like a bullet.   She had read an article about a woman on 
death row who tortured her daughter by injecting her with various 
household chemicals.  The girl's heart eventually stopped because of the 
poison in her bloodstream.  Something like that would work quickly, 
especially if her were to inject it every day.  
********
	Rameriez hit the brakes at Michela Flores' building.  It hadn't taken him 
long to find her, she lived about three blocks from the FBI building in a 
crummy apartment.  When he knocked a beautiful girl answered the door.  
She was a bottle-blond with deep set Hispanic eyes, ones he recognized form 
his own sisters, but she was voluptuous and her lips were pouty.  She looked 
like she could be a model or a movie star.
	"Michela Flores?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
	"Yes, how can I help you?"  He took out his badge and opened it up for her to 
see.
	"Chris Rameriez, FBI."
	"Oh, my," she gasped, "This is about Jimmy, isn't it?"
	"Jimmy?" he asked, as she motioned for him to come in.
	"James, my brother."
	"Um, yeah.  We're investigating him in a series of murder-kidnappings and 
were wondering what you could tell us about him."
	"Oh, James is a chemistry teacher.  He's so...normal...he would harm a fly."
	"Has he mentioned any women to you lately?"
	"Uh, yeah," she said, blinking hard.  "A woman named Lorie recently, and 
another woman named...uh...Dana.  Dana Scully, that was it.  I used to live in 
Los Angeles and do radio there, so I remembered her last name.  Vin, you 
know?"
	"He specifically mentioned 'Dana Scully' to you?"
	"That's what I said, isn't it?"
	"That bastard has cojones," he said under his breath.
	"What?  Did you call my brother a bastard?" she said, standing up angrily.  
"Get out!"
	"Miss, we need your help.  Dana Scully is the name of the woman kidnapped.  
She is an FBI agent, and she was taken four days ago from her apartment 
using an injection sedative.  We believe him to be responsible for three other 
kidnappings that ended in murder.  We need your help in finding Miss Scully 
so that she doesn't end up dead like Lorie did.  By the way, can you remember 
Lorie's last name?"
	"Um..." she sat back and blinked again a few times, shocked into submission. 
"Lilac?  Iris?  It was a flower, I remember because I said to Jimmy, 'Is she as 
pretty as the flower she's named after?' and then he launched into how 
beautiful she was.  Come to think of it, I never have actually seen him with 
any of his dates.  I just figured that he liked girls who would sit around and 
watch TV with him.  You know, he was always such a great little brother."  
Michela put her head in her hands and shook it, "It just can't be him, it 
can't!"
	"I need to ask you one more thing.  Are you up to it?" he put a hand on her 
shoulder and she nodded weakly, "Does James have a cabin that you could 
maybe take us to?"
	"Yeah, but he has never taken me.  It's way up in the hills somewhere, I 
think.  One of his friends in the construction business built it for him.  He 
loves it there and even though he works at a city high school, he insists on 
living up there all the time.  I don't remember where it is.  I don't remember 
if he even told me," she answered blandly, staring off into space.  
	"Alright, thank you, Miss Flores.  We'll be in touch," he said, giving her his 
card, "Call me at this number if you can think of anything important, or 
anyone who might know where the cabin is.  We're pretty sure that he's 
holding them up there."  She nodded, as if in a trance.
	As soon as he stepped out of the house, he heard his cell phone chirp.
	"Rameriez."
	"Hey Chris, Lesley here.  I was just checking in with you.  Did you find out 
anything?"
	"Hell of a thing, his own sister has never been up to his cabin.  What did you 
find out?"
	"Not much yet.  I went to talk to the sister of one of his victims, she was 
dumb as a mule.  Told me nothing.  Just that he was 'normal' and 'nice.'"  She 
snorted softly, sarcastically, "Where are you going now?"
	"I'm off to see about Kalya Flores, another sister."  She hung up with him, 
after agreeing to meet back at their office in four hours, or call first.  As 
partners, they felt that communication was vital, and they often called each 
other.  They also frequently talked of "Spooky and the Mrs." as a certain Tom 
Colton, a mutual friend of Lesley and this Dana Scully they were looking for, 
had referred to Mulder and Colton's ex-classmate.  No one could believe after 
all they had been through, they hadn't either slept together or killed each 
other.  Sometimes love and hate were only a fine line apart.  Still, Blumenthal 
could see how partners could get too close.  Here she was, married with a 
child, and she felt a certain something for her handsome partner.  Chris was 
her best friend, undoubtedly, and her closest confidante besides her 
husband.  Of course, she would never let the relationship go any further 
than that, but the thought was always there--a small speck of dust on an 
entire planet.  
*******
	Scully sweetly smiled as James walked in the door, feeling better now that 
she had a plan.  Right after she found the insulin, she had poured it out and 
poured in the hydrogen peroxide and a drop of Drain-o.  Of course, she was 
half-asleep and about to throw up from the sedative, but she felt for the first 
time she might actually get out of the house soon.  She needed to turn on the 
charm, though, until he was incapacitated enough, and playing the good wife 
wasn't going to come easy.
	"Hello, my husband," she paused for effect and watched him do a double 
take.  "How was your day?"  She felt sick to her stomach from more than just 
the drugs, but when one was in danger, one would do anything to ensure 
survival.  That's all that she was doing by poisoning him, she insisted to 
herself, ensuring her survival.
	"My day was hell as usual.  Crack-laced little bastards," he cursed, clenching 
his fists.
	"Are your students really that bad?"
	"Yes," he said sullenly, pouting.  He almost looked like a little kid as he sat 
down on the couch next to her, crossing his arms.  "What did *you* do?  
Break anymore pictures?" he mocked her, and she spoke through clenched 
teeth.
	"No, my love.  I just sat here and thought for a long time.  I turned on the TV 
and watched some stupid shows for awhile.  I took a shower."
	"So, you're feeling better?" he asked brightly.  
	"I suppose."  Actually, she felt worse than she had, physically, in a long 
time.  She decided to broach the subject of the drugs.
	"I remember you said that you were giving me," she had to pick the right 
word, "medicine," she paused again to gauge his reaction.  He didn't seem to 
be too annoyed.  "I was wondering if maybe you could stop because it's really 
beginning to make me feel bad.  I want to be awake and happy when you 
come home each night."
	"I don't know..." he said uncertainly.  "That's all that keeps you to me."
	"No, my love," she cringed, "I will never leave you."  He leaned over to kiss 
her and she had to struggle not to gag.  Back to her original plan of trying to 
gain his trust, but she had forgotten why she abandoned it in the first place.
*******
	She snuck down early in the morning, after she felt him leave their bed. 
Scully watched him inject the insulin into himself, her head cocked in deep 
thought.  Overnight, she had realized there was a hole in her plan.  In order 
to take whatever keys there were to take, she had to keep him there.  And to 
do that, she had to give him an incentive to stay home.
	"Morning, James," she said softly after he had finished taking his medicine.
	"Hi, baby, you're up early.  Are you feeling any better?  I stopped giving 
you the sedative."
	"I'm fine.  I was wondering, seeing as how it's Friday and all--would you like 
to stay home with me today?  Please?"
	He stared at her wide-eyed, before crossing the room her sit next to her.  "I 
suppose I could ditch the little SOBs for a day.  I was just absent a couple of 
days ago though..."
	"Stay home," she repeated, "It's the middle of the flu season.  Tell them 
you're sick, but you'll be back Monday.  Is it too short of notice?"
	"No," he answered, kissing the top of her head, "I'll stay.  Good excuse."
	"Good," she whispered.  Let the fun begin.
******
	"So, we're still nowhere," Mulder said bitterly the next morning.  "The photo 
lab told me nothing.  It's a large cabin in the woods.  Big help."
	"Michela Flores told me nothing as well.  However, I did locate Kalya, and 
she lives in Richmond.  I'm going today."
	"Good job, Ramierez," Mulder commended.  Chris beamed at the compliment, 
Blumenthal rolled her eyes.
	"I haven't had any luck either.  I visited Jenna Reemer's husband,  Lorie 
Iris' mother and Stacy Cassels' sister, and only one had even heard of Flores.  
Mrs. Iris told me he was 'cute'," she said, moving away from the two men.
	"I think that today you two should both go down to Richmond."
	"And where are you going?"  Lesley asked him, annoyed that he was giving 
orders again.
	"I have to talk to someone."  He grabbed his coat and slammed the door to 
their office.
	"I have to talk to someone," Blumenthal mocked in a low voice, "Because 
*I'm* the macho man SAC".  Chris laughed.
	"Aw, Les, he's just hurting real bad.   Don't give him so much shit."
	"Why not?  He gives us shit.  I'm so sick and tired of taking orders from him 
when he puts on this air of mystery, like we're supposed to figure him out.  Of 
course, that just motivates me more to find this Dana Scully, and ask her how 
she's put up with that bastard for five years."
	"Yeah, really.  She must be one hell of a strong woman."
	"Or one hell of a crazy one." 
	"I'm taking the latter," Chris remarked, but added softly, "I just hope we 
*get* to meet her."
******	
	James was in pain, deep pain.  She sat with him as he drifted in and out of 
consciousness.  He had already thrown up three times, and fainted twice.  The 
chemicals were now deep into his bloodstream.
	"Oh, James, let me get your insulin.  You must not have enough in your 
system."
	"No," he groaned, "It's something else.  Oh," he grabbed his stomach and 
head simultaneously.  
	"I'm a medical doctor.  I know what diabetes can do."
	"Then you must not be a very good one.  I know what's good for me."	
	"Then at least let me get you some orange juice," Dana pleaded as well as she 
could.  Three plays in high school hadn't prepared her for the acting job she 
was doing now.  
	"It's locked."
	"Give me then key, James."
	"You will try to run away.  I know," he answered, but he reached into the 
dresser drawer next to the bed anyway.
	"Trust me, James.  Please," she grabbed his hand, "I love you.  I will never 
leave you."
	He stared at her intently before weakly raising his lips to hers.  He 
whispered fiercely to her, his face only inches from her, "Then kiss me 
Dana.  Kiss me passionately."  The scene was worse than the harlequin novels 
she sometimes read for release when Mulder's gentle teasing became too 
much.  The plot was dumb, but the right woman always got her man.  This was 
a romance novel written by Steven King.  A romance thrown into the 
blender and twisted beyond recognition.  
	Still, she needed those keys.  She bent over and kissed him.  He stuck his 
tongue down her throat, exploring her mouth as he hadn't done before.  She 
knew to him that because she had initiated the kiss, it was the final pact 
between wife and husband.  She was essentially saying she would love him 
forever.  She held his head and felt herself swoon from the emotional impact 
it had on her.  He was so pathetic and morose.  He just wanted someone to love 
him.
	He pulled away a minute later.  "I would do more, but obviously, I don't feel 
good.  Go, get the orange juice.  Here are the keys," he threw an entire set at 
her.  She ran downstairs, but before she left for the front door, she ran to the 
half-bathroom and threw up.  She drank a lot of water, knowing it could be 
days before she drank again.  Then she tried every key she could before 
finding the one that opened the one lock.  He called from the bedroom.
	"Bitch!  What the fuck are you doing?"  She heard his feet hit the floor.  "I 
trusted you.  You betrayed me.  Fucking whore!"  
<You need a weapon, Dana> Her fight or flee response was kicking in.  She 
felt the adrenaline surge within her, and she tried the keys to open the 
drawers.  He was half way down the steps when she found the butcher knife.  
It had dried blood on it.
	"Is this what you used to kill you other wives?  Is it?  Damnit, answer me!"
	"Yeah," he replied.  "Why are you doing this to me," his face softened, "I 
thought you loved me."
	"I hate you,"  His face sank as she took a step towards him, "Now, I'm going to 
leave.  If you interfere I will cut you up like you cut the others.  Got it?"
	"No, Dana.  You are the one who will end up dead tonight," his voice took on 
a dark quality that she hadn't heard before.  She moved backwards to the 
door, never taking her eyes off him.  He struck quickly, she almost didn't see 
it coming.  She thrust her knife in his direction.  It landed in his stomach 
and he fell to the ground, bleeding.  He tried to get up, but she kicked him 
square in the temple.  She was wearing the heels he had brought for her, and 
one of his sweat suits.  Her heel came in contact with the softest, most 
vulnerable part of his head twice before she turned and ran out the door.  
She ran for ten minutes strait before collapsing in fear, hunger, and 
sickness.
******
	"Come in."  Mulder walked into AD Skinner's office tentatively. 
	"Sir," he nodded and sat in the leather chair across from him.
	"How's the investigation going?  Are Blumenthal and Rameriez working 
out?"  The AD asked, not looked up from his paper work.
	"It's not going.  They're working out fine, but there are just no leads.  We 
know he's holding her in a cabin, but we don't know where it is.  We know 
he's murdered before, and she could even be dead now.  But we can't find the 
bastard.  I'm so..." he stopped himself.  Skinner looked up.
	"Mulder," he paused, "It isn't your fault.  I hardly expect you to have been 
with her at night."
	"I'm not still feeling guilty, really," Mulder answered, avoiding Skinner's 
direct gaze.  "It's just that...never mind."
	"I told you that you could talk to me.  Please do."
	"I just feel so helpless.  Scully, she's...What I'm trying to say is that she...off 
the record, Sir?"
	"By all means." 
	"She means everything to me.  She keeps me sane," Mulder answered 
weakly, holding back the tears that threatened his cheeks.
	"I know she does.  There's nothing I can do, though, until you have a lead."  
As if by some magic movie timing, Mulder's cell phone chirped.
	"Mulder.  Oh, my God.  Yes, I'm in his office now.  That's wonderful."  
Skinner raised his eyebrows as Mulder let out a genuine sigh.  "Blumenthal 
and Rameriez know where the cabin is.  Can I get some backup?"
******
	Scully shivered in the woods.  She knew she was in shock, but she had 
nothing to treat it with.  She tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes 
she saw James collapsing.  She saw James throwing up from the poison she 
gave him.  She saw James telling her he loved her.  She sucked in a breath 
and shivered again, remembering.  <But you've killed people before.>  She 
knew that it wasn't the same.  She had shot people but never actually plunged 
a knife into them.  The mere thought made her want to vomit again, but she 
had nothing left in her stomach to throw up.  The sun began to go down and 
she knew it was going to be a long night.
*******
	"Faster, Blumenthal," Mulder urged, as he watched the forest rolls past 
outside the car window.  He, Ramierez and Blumenthal were blasting down a 
quaint little road on their way up to where they thought Flores' cabin was.  
Blumenthal had been interviewing various relatives of his previous victims 
when she had come across the lead.
	"So, have you ever heard of a cabin that James has?" she had asked one of 
the staff members of the high school where he worked.  They told the police 
he hadn't been to work in awhile.  This woman was rumored to be James' 
closest confidante on staff, as they had attended college together.  
	"Yeah, sure, I've been there," Ms. Lauren Jensen had said nonchalantly.  
"Many times.  That damn thing was his pride and joy."  Lesley Blumenthal 
practically fell off the chair she was sitting in.
	"Do you remember where it is?"
	"Yeah.  I can take you," she answered sweetly, as if she were dropping off a 
friend somewhere, not driving to a potentially dangerous criminal's house to 
find a woman who might have been severely raped, beaten or even dead.  
Blumenthal had then quickly called Mulder, her SAC for this case and a man 
she was beginning to loathe, who had gotten Skinner to give them backup.  
Skinner had gladly said okay.  So she, Mulder and her partner Chris Rameriez 
were now following another unmarked police car which held Lauren Jensen, 
who directed them to the house.  As they drove up one winding road, and 
then turned on another, Mulder began to get anxious.  
	"Maybe she's jerking with us.  Did you check her out, Blumenthal."
	Lesley gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes, "I did my job, Mulder.  Now do 
yours and quit acting like a kid."
	"Hey!" he snapped, and took a breath to say more, but Ramierez stopped him 
from the backseat.
	"Stop, you two.  Look, I know you're worried about Scully, but you need to 
stop fighting with Les.  And Les, I know you don't find him to be the most," he 
paused, searching for the right word, "effective SAC, but he's the officer in 
charge.  Accept it."
	"Thank you, Chris," Lesley said sarcastically, "I didn't know that he was my 
superior officer.  He doesn't make that painfully clear every time he speaks, 
now does he?  Don't pull that act, partner," she put an acid bite on the last 
word, "I know you hate him as much as I do."
	"How I feel about him personally doesn't matter.  I obey his orders because 
he's in charge."
	"You're such a wimp," she yelled, gripping the steering wheel.  "I wish I 
had a better partner, you don't do anything.  In fact, I wish I had never met 
you in the first place."  Chris sat back, used to his partner's emotional 
outbursts.  She was given to emotion, as he noticed Mulder was.  They were 
too much alike to get along well.
	"There are times I wish I hadn't met Scully," Mulder said softly as he looked 
out the window.  "But they're fleeting.  She brings a lot more light to my life 
than pain.  Take your friendship seriously.  One of you may be gone 
tomorrow.  That's what this...and the other has taught me."
	"The other?" Lesley asked quietly, now mollified by his disclosure.
	"When she was gone before.  That was three months.  This has been only a 
week.  Are you two close?"  Mulder asked the two younger agents.  Chris 
shifted uncomfortably.
	"We're friends. Good friends," he answered.
	"Are you attracted to each other?" Mulder encouraged.  
	Lesley shifted.  Rameriez answered the question carefully, "We've 
never...well, I mean...she's a woman, I'm a man there are times..."
	"Why so careful, Chris?  Yes, there are times when we were attracted to each 
other.  We...um...we talked about it.  The...um...attraction...I...um... guess."
	"Now who's being careful?" Rameriez joked gently.  
	"But," she added hastily, "I'm married now.  We're friends, nothing more.  
You know, Mulder, that brings me to a question that Chris and I-"
	"No."
	"No, what?" Chris asked, confused.
	"We've never slept together.  I wouldn't...I couldn't...never mind.  You 
wouldn't understand.  Look, the car ahead of us is stopping," he said, thankful 
for the end of the conversation.  He couldn't make them understand what he 
and Scully had, because it was obvious they didn't share the same bond.  He 
and Scully's relationship transcended anything he had ever experienced.  
Love in it's purest form.  No sexual or dating relationship to mess it up, just 
unconditional, forgiving love.  Always.  He knew that she would go to the 
ends of the Earth for him.  Hell, she already *had* gone as far as she possibly 
could for him, sacrificing her health--he cringed in memory of the cancer, 
but shook himself again.  It's over, he thought.  It's over and it will never 
come back.
	"It's just up this path here," Lauren Jensen called from ahead of them.  
Mulder could vaguely see a cabin in the distance, but it looked at lease a mile 
away.  
	"Let's hike," Mulder said to the younger agents.
******
	She drifted in and out of consciousness, floating somewhere between the 
near and distant past, in between memories.  The little girl whose father beat 
her passed through her mind.  <There's no place like home, there's no place 
like home>.  Then she saw her arm moving down over James, and stabbing 
him.  He was just a poor man who wanted to be loved, half of her argued.  The 
other half was trying to convince her he was a heartless killer.  Then 
another memory, bittersweet.  Her first meeting with Mulder.
	"No one down here but the FBI's most unwanted."  She tried to smile at the 
memory, but her face was pressed against the ground and she couldn't make 
her muscles move.  She also remembered being in the hospital after her 
abduction.  The feeling of not knowing what had happened, but being 
extremely grateful for being home.  Then seeing Mulder's shy face, coming 
to bring her a"Superstars of the Superbowls" video.  Then another hospital 
memory, telling him she had cancer.  It was the same shy look as he handed 
her flowers he had gotten from, "A lady with a broken leg," but it was more 
wise, more honest almost.  He had grown, they had grown, and she would 
never want to do it any other way, even if it meant she would die right on 
this ground.  Her final memory was late one night while she was in the 
hospital.  A sobbing Mulder coming into her hospital room.  He said he didn't 
have the heart to wake her, but she really didn't have the heart to tell him 
she was awake the whole time.  He came to her for comfort, for support and 
for love.  She had recovered from her cancer, she was trying to make it a 
distant memory, but the image of a helpless Mulder crying on her arm stayed 
with her, it probably always would.  That was when she had realized, beyond 
a shadow of a doubt, that if anything kept her alive it would be the love of 
this man, and the fear of what would happen to him once she was gone.
	"Mulder, I love you too.  I know that you know that.  Please, please help me." 
 Scully was doubtful that he could hear her in the dark place she was in.  She 
sighed deeply before she lost consciousness, realizing once again it would be 
up to her to save herself, but having no idea how she was going to get out of 
the damn woods.


From: Diana Lisky <DiLisky@ix.netcom.com>
Date: Mon, 01 Jun 1998 20:52:06 -0700
Subject: Submission: Trusting James by Kristyn Collins (4/4)

I DIDN'T WRITE THIS!  Kristyn's NEW! addy is kristyn_collins@hotmail.com

Trusting James (4/4)
By Kristyn Collins
All other info see Part 1

They found the cabin, and an ominous sign flowing in red out the front door.  
It had been only about an hour since they parked their cars.  No one had 
talked on the way up.  Rameriez was, as usual, lost in his own thoughts; 
Blumenthal was trying to remember if her eight year old had violin or 
soccer practice today, and she fretted over whether the babysitter would 
remember to take him; Mulder was planning an all out attack.  When he first 
saw the cabin, all of his muscles tensed up and he got ready to go on the 
offensive.  Then he saw the blood and another surge of adrenaline was 
pumped into his veins.  He instructed one of the backup agents to stay with 
Lauren Jensen outside the house, and led Rameriez, Blumenthal, and six other 
well-armed well-trained feddies into the hot zone.  
	Mulder indicated that Blumenthal should get on the other side of the door, 
and as he opened it, he said a silent prayer, asking God not to let it be Dana 
Scully.  Blumenthal drew her gun and pointed toward the slowly opening 
door.  She relaxed a little, but only for a second when she saw what lay 
beyond.  Just a puddle of blood.  A large puddle of blood, but no red-haired 
agent laying in it.  She saw Mulder exhale a small breath.  They moved into 
the house, following a trail of blood that seemed to lead upstairs.  
	They heard him before they saw him; a moaning which shook Mulder's very 
soul, for he knew who it was.  It sounded more animal than human, which is 
what he thought the man that had taken Scully away from him was--an 
animal. Blumenthal went first, afraid that her SAC was about to go ballistic.  
She saw something in his eyes that scared her.  *He* was an animal, willing 
to do anything to save his partner.  He was now stalking Flores, as if he were 
a cobra, Flores the rabbit.  Blumenthal went first, following the sound into a 
bathroom.  Rameriez also felt the heat from Mulder, so he also stepped in 
front of him from the rear.  Blumenthal kicked open the door revealing a tall 
thin man who was bleeding profusely from his stomach.  He was hunched 
over the toilet bowl, and it looked as if he had thrown up a few times.  
	"Chris!  Get the paramedics up here,"  yelled Blumenthal.  They had expected 
at least one injured person, so the ambulance had followed behind the 
calvery of cops.  Mulder strained to get past the tall blond woman to see the 
devil who had taken Scully away from him.  She wouldn't let him.
	"He's been stabbed in the stomach, his head is also bleeding.  It looks fatal.  
Backup!"  She yelled past Mulder, who kept trying to get past her.  "No, 
Mulder!  Don't," he understood she was afraid he would hurt Flores, but he 
thought that if he could just see him, the energy that had been building 
inside him since Scully had been gone would somehow magically dissipate.  
He was angry that she kept him from seeing this man, and he shoved her out 
of the way.
	"Flores!  Where is she!  Where *is* she?"  The man looked up at him with 
hollow, sunken eyes.  
	"Fox Mulder," Flores breathed.  "You!  It was because of you she wouldn't love 
me."  
	"Where is she!  Did you hurt her?"
	"No.  Look at me.  She hurt me!"
	"Bastard!  Where the hell is she?"  Flores looked around and saw the cops 
that had encircled him.  One woman had her hand on Mulder's shoulder, 
trying to pull him back.  Flores saw he was defeated.
	"She ran out into the woods," his voice was barely a whisper.  "It was more 
than six hours ago,"  he raised his eyes to Mulder, and using his last breath 
before losing consciousness he coolly stated, "I hope the whore's dead by 
now."  Then he passed out.  Mulder, who was leaning over him, kicked him in 
the stomach, right where the open wound was.
	"I hope you're dead, sonofabitch," he kicked him again before Rameriez and 
Blumenthal were collectively able to pull him off the injured man.  Other 
agents had already rushed outside, and spread out over the forest.
******
	Scully was slowly making her way to where she believed the road to be.  She 
had heard cars pass a few minutes ago, and thought that they could be there 
to save her.  Half the time she walked, half the time she crawled, and she 
fainted twice along the way, but she reached the cars, and saw the FBI's 
signature blue Taurus' and an ambulance.  She made her way to just where 
the forest stopped and the road began.  The last sound she heard was someone 
screaming her name in relief, then it was all very, very black.
*******
	"Let's get him some saline," said one paramedic to another who threw him 
the IV bag.  Mulder watched in disgust as they worked on this man who had 
just denounced Dana Scully's name to his face.  The one who had taken her, 
probably raped her repeatedly, maybe beaten or killed her.  Blumenthal and 
Rameriez, after pulling him off of the injured man, had ran outside to try and 
find Dana Scully.  Blumenthal had ordered him to stay inside the house, and 
he was resenting her for it.  He needed to be the one to find her, not those 
younger agents.  He called the ambulance that was a the road, an hour's walk 
away.
	"You found anything yet?"
	"No sign of her.  You can come down if you want.  They'll bring her here 
first, so if you want to see her-"
	"I'll be right down."  He walked from the house and didn't look back.  The 
whole way through the woods, he thought about every time he could have 
been more caring towards her, more appreciative of her services, when he 
could have said the words, "I love you with all my heart, Dana Scully."  He 
knew she loved him, too, but it was unspoken.  Sexual relations wouldn't have 
worked, it just would have fucked up an already great relationship.  He 
thought about her sexually, wouldn't every guy who saw her beautiful face, 
but he wasn't sure if anything would ever come of it, or if he wanted 
anything too.  As soon as he saw the road, he jogged the rest of the way.  The 
whole place was deserted, so he knew that she wasn't back yet.  
	As he was thinking this, he saw someone laying on the ground next to his 
car.  He blinked twice to see if it was really who he thought it was, and then 
moved closer.  She was crumpled up on the street, looking incredible pale and 
thin, and covered in blood.  Her hair was stuck to her face, and her arms 
were scratched.  She was wearing red heels and a sweat suit, but it was her, 
he was sure.  
	"Scully!" he yelled.  She raised her head slightly before putting it back 
down.  She seemed to have gone unconscious.  He ran as fast as he could and 
took out the radio to call Blumenthal and the other teams searching her in 
the woods.
	"Blumenthal, we have here here.  She's alive.  Oh, God she's alive!" He could 
hardly contain himself.
	"I'll call off the search.  Over and out." 
	When she reached the road, she found Scully on a stretcher, being given 
fluids and having her arm bandaged, and Mulder standing over her.  The 
red-haired agent was not awake, but Mulder was talking as if she was.
	"Oh, Scully, I was so scared.  This was worse than the last time," he raised his 
hand to stroke her hair, "I wanted to see you so much.  I needed you, Scully.  
Oh, God, how did you survive?  You're so much stronger than I am."  He bent 
over and gave her a kiss on her blood-smeared forehead.  Blumenthal went 
over to him.	
	"Excuse me?" Mulder turned around, but kept his hand on Scully's.  She 
continued, "They lost Flores.  He died of massive blood loss and brain trauma.  
She really did a number on him."
	Mulder shook his head, "They won't charge her.  No jury in the world would 
convict her."
	"Excuse me, Agent Mulder," said one of the paramedics working on her.  
"We're going to take her to the hospital.  She's had exposure to unknown 
toxins, she's severely dehydrated and has been raped.  Her pulse and 
breathing are good, but her blood pressure is too high.  We need to get her to 
a hospital where we can repair her."
	"Will she live?" He stomach coiled at the thought he could lose her forever.  
He had just gotten her back.
	"If we get some fluids into her and get the toxins out of her system, she will 
live.  Do you know what she could have been given?"
	"He might have been keeping her on a home-made sedative.  He's a 
chemistry teacher, and he used to work at a pharmacy," Mulder said, a stupid 
grin plastered across his face.  Those three words had brought him new hope, 
"She will live."  How many sentences could make you feel as good as that one?  
"Can I ride with her?"
	"Yes," said the paramedic.  Mulder turned to Lesley, who was watching the 
scene with a detached, wary, eye.
	"I'll ride with Scully.  Thanks for your help,"  He smiled.  It was a complete, 
one-hundred percent turnaround in his demeanor.  "I'm sorry if I ever 
offended you.  Good luck," he stuck out his hand and she raised a blond 
eyebrow.  Then she nodded and shook it.
	"Good luck to you too," he began to get into the back of the ambulance when 
Blumenthal caught his hand again.  "Does she know, Mulder?  Have you told 
her?"  He closed his eyes.
	"I've never told her, but she knows.  I'm sure."  
	"Make doubly sure.  There's nothing worse than missed chances," she looked 
back at Chris, who was walking with the other set of paramedics, writing 
down information.  "You keep wondering what if?  All the time, 'What if?'"
	"Yeah.  Bye," he said, leaping into the vehicle.  Lesley watched them drive 
off, and felt a tear come to her eye.  She laughed at her foolishness, but she 
was actually jealous.  She was married, with wonderful children, but she had 
settled.  She could have gone after any Ramierez that came through her life, 
but instead she had run from it, and settled for Mr. Blumenthal.  She knew 
that Mulder and Scully wouldn't settle, though.  Not for anyone but each 
other.
*******
	Mulder paced in the waiting room with Skinner.  As soon as they had 
reached the hospital, they had taken Scully off to intensive care.  Mulder had 
called Skinner, and the AD had left his office right away.
	"They should be done by now.  It's been two fucking hours.  I need to see 
her," Mulder growled.  
	"Calm down.  Why don't you go get her something from the gift shop.  
Flowers or something."
	"No.  I'm staying right here."  The assistant director held some sunflowers 
he had brought for his female agent.
	"Fox, really," Mrs. Scully stood behind them.  "She's still going to be here, 
and besides, I think she'd appreciate the gesture."
	He thought for a minute before shaking his head.  "I don't know what to get 
her."    They paced for another forty minutes before the doctor came out.
	"Dr. Scully is out of intensive care.  You can all see her now for a little 
while," the sturdy, balding doctor looked at Mulder, "Are you Mulder?"  
	He regarded the doctor warily, "Yes."
	"She's been talking in her sleep non-stop about you."  He smiled.
	"Good things or bad?" he asked with a laugh.
	"She's been pleading for you to help her," Mulder's face fell.  What pain 
Scully must have gone through, he thought.  The doctor continued, "Mrs. 
Scully, we'll need you to sign the insurance forms."
	"Of course.  Let me see my daughter first."  Mulder, Mrs. Scully and Skinner 
made an unlikely threesome, especially with Skinner uncertainly clutching 
a bouquet of flowers in his hand and Mrs. Scully holding an action figure.  
They entered the room, and found the pretty red-head only half awake.
	"Mulder," she murmured.
	"See," said the doctor, "I told you."
	"Mulder, help me," her voice was so distant, so sad.  She was almost crying.
	"There's no place like home, Mulder.  No place.  Help me, please."  The 
assistant director stood in the corner as a nurse took the flowers from him.  
	"Maybe I should go," he said.  
	"No, Mr. Skinner," said Scully's mother.  "Stay.  She would want you here, 
too, but maybe not now."  She walked over to her daughter and gave her a 
kiss, her hands shaking.
	"Honey.  I almost lost you again.  I'm so glad you're home.  I brought you 
your soldier toy.  Remember?  Here you go," she placed the action figure near 
her daughter.
	"There's no place like home."
	"My baby girl."  She looked at Skinner.  "Just say you're here, and then we'll 
leave Fox alone with her."
	"Hi, Agent Scully.  I brought you some flowers.  You really gave us a scare, 
there.  I'm glad you're back."  He wrung his hands, he had never been good 
with emotion.  "Very glad."  He turned and left, Mrs. Scully following him 
wearily.  Mulder closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
	"Hey, Scully," he said.  She cried out.  He held her hand and stroked her 
forehead with his hand.
	"Mulder!  I hear your voice.  Help me, help me, please.  I love you.  You're 
the only one who can help me."
	He stepped back, shocked at the words.  "Scully," he moved closer.  "I'm here, 
Dana.  Can you hear me?"
	"Yes," she sobbed.  "I've been waiting for you.  I waited for you to help me.  
Then I had to kill him.  Oh, God, Mulder," she was still only semi-conscious.  "I 
stabbed him in the stomach and then I kicked him."
	"Dana, you did what you had to do."
	"Oh, Mulder."  Suddenly, her eyes opened.
	"Dana?  Are you with me?"
	"Yeah.  Mulder."  He trembled.  
	"Oh, Scully, I thought you were gone this time for good.  Once I found out--" 
he stopped.  Enough of that.  She was with him, and that's all that mattered.  
"I'm happy you're back."
	"I'm happy to be back.  Is Mom around?"
	"Yeah.  And Skinner.  He brought you sunflowers, you know?"
	She laughed, "Skinner?  Really?  How funny!  Will you bring them both in?"
	"Sure," he turned to go, but she held onto his hand.
	"Mulder?"
	"Yes, Scully."
	"The only thing that kept me alive that night in the woods was you.  I just 
wanted you to know."
	"The only thing that ever keeps me alive is you, Scully," he answered, his 
eyes closed.  "We have a lot to talk about when you get out of the hospital."
	"We do," she agreed.  She released him and he went and got her mother and 
her boss.
*******
	"What a case!" exclaimed Rameriez, who was back in he and Lesley's shared 
office.
	"Yeah," she agreed.  "Remind me never to work with Fox Mulder again."	
	"Tell me about it," he groaned.  "Although, it was sort of...enlightening."
	"Their relationship was amazing.  I think they keep each other going."
	"Sometimes, it seemed like she was the only thing that kept him sane.  I 
guess you would need something like that after working all those years on 
the x-files," he said.
	"Shows you how important a good partner is."  She lowered her eyes.  "I 
guess I never told you how much I appreciate you as a partner.  I don't show 
it that often."
	"I like you, too, partner," he smiled.  "Are you ever sorry that we never..."
	She smiled.  Better not to dwell in the past.  It was better to move on.  "I 
think we made the right choice," she nodded.  "We make a great team."  He 
reached out and grabbed her hand.
	"Yeah, Lesley, we do."
*******
	Dana was reclining on Mulder's couch.  She had not been able to bring 
herself to sleep in her new house, and was afraid she was going to have to 
move again.  She slept at her mother's house the previous night, and Mulder 
had called her that morning to ask her to sleep over at his house.  He wanted 
to have that talk.  She rolled her neck and stretched out as he handed her a 
glass of white wine.
	She took a sip.  "It's good."
	He smiled and took a drink of his.  "What I wanted to talk about was...what I 
was thinking about when you were gone."
	Scully lowered her eyes.  "And what was that?" she asked softly.  He touched 
her hand.
	"I thought I'd never see you again.  And I'd never get to tell you..."
	She laughed.  "This is turning out like a romance novel.  Mulder, I know.  
I've known for a long time.  You don't have to--"
	"Then let me do this for me, because if you had--if I had never seen you 
again, I would never have told you.  All this has made me realize that there 
are so many things people don't tell each other,"  he took a deep breath and 
let out a nervous laugh.  "You're right, this is getting sort of campy."  She 
squeezed his hand.
	"Say it, Mulder.  If you have to, say it."
	"I love you, and if anything ever happened to you, I would die.  You keep me 
alive," he pulled his hand away from her and shifted pensively away.
	"I love you too.  And I will never, ever leave you, not willingly, anyway.  
You know, the entire time I was...with Flores, when he...I felt like I was 
betraying you.  I hated him, not because he hurt me, but because he took me 
away from you, and I know what that does to you."  She grabbed his hand 
again and kissed his fingers.  "Now, are we done here?" 
	"We're done," he agreed.  "I'm glad we had this conversation.  Too bad I don't 
look like Fabio, eh Scully?  We could have sold a million copies."
	She laughed, it was good to see her smile.  "Naw.  Fabio doesn't do it for me.  I 
like men with badges.  And goofy hair.  And big noses.  Men who think 
they're macho. Men who--"
	"Okay, Scully, I get the point."  He pulled her close.  "You're welcome to sleep 
here for longer than just tonight."
	"Maybe for a long time."  She snuggled in closer to him.  His arms were 
warm, inviting, not like Flores' cold bony limbs.  Sitting there with Mulder, 
she almost understood how a man like Flores could want to be loved, and want 
love so badly that he would hurt people to get it.  Almost.  She would never get 
over what happened to her those long nights when she lay delirious and 
unconscious, when she hoped and prayed to anyone who would listen to send 
Mulder.  She would never get over having to plunge a knife into another 
human being, or lying face down in the mud in the woods.  But James Flores, 
if nothing else, had taught them both one thing.  They had each other.  They 
had love.  And sometimes, love was all that mattered.
*****
THE END
Hell-za cheesy ending, right?  But for me, the cheezier the better.  This was a 
long story, borne of too many nights about sleep.  E-mail me at for feedback. 
kristyn_collins@hotmail.com