From: "beduini" <beduini@justduckies.org>
Date: Sat, 3 Nov 2001 11:05:38 -0800
Subject: An Alluring Indiscretion
Source: direct

'An Alluring Indiscretion' by beduini and M. Taylor Harrison

An X-Files story in thirteen chapters plus epilogue.

Category:  S, A, MSR

Rating:  NC-17 for extreme consensual heterosexual situations, 
disturbing images and adult language.

Spoilers:  All over the place.  Up through "Field Trip."  Heavy on the 
"Milagro."

Keywords:  Case File, Mulder/Scully Relationship

Timeline:   Summertime, supposedly 1999.  We, like many others, are 
assuming that "Biogenesis" happens in the middle of November so it just 
doesn't count.   It makes it so much cleaner that way.  In case anybody 
wants to know, beduini started this story way back in February, then 
went off to Italy with the family and left it sitting on the hard drive 
until after Milagro aired.  With Marty's help, an outline was bashed 
out, followed by a chapter by chapter summary.  This is the final 
result, finished late August 1999. 

Summary:  A working girl, a senator, and murder.

Disclaimer:  The X-Files and its characters are the copyright of 
Twentieth Century Fox and Chris Carter.  Marty wants to add that Mulder 
and Scully belong strictly to each other.  Beduini wants to add that 
the characters NOT created by Chris Carter are ours.  We are in no way 
making any money off of this story.  It's just for fun.

Archive:  Not without permission!

*X*X*X*X*

CHAPTER ONE

How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
And tasted all the summer's pride,
'Till I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide!

He shew'd me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.
- William Blake, "Song"


Situations such as these are always difficult.

So thought Dana Scully as she blew a stray crimson lock of hair out of 
her eye.  It had been a long day and an even longer night that didn't 
promise to end soon.  She picked up her feet and rotated her ankles one 
at a time, followed by a quick twist of her neck.

The owner of the "establishment" sat on an expensive puce sofa to her 
left, Scully catching her looking her over with an appraising eye when 
she thought she wasn't looking.  She had exhausted every possible line 
of questioning and the woman wouldn't talk, causing her to consider 
hauling her down to the Baltimore P.D. and having them book her for 
solicitation.  It would be a futile attempt, she knew, considering the 
woman's obvious clientele.  Still, she'd get some satisfaction out of 
it.

Mulder had gone upstairs to question one of the working girls.  As he 
ascended the staircase, Scully looked up at him bemused.  She was 
thinking he pulled this assignment just so he could interview the 
girls. The look on his face was one of a boy entering a candy shop with 
a credit card and told her what he was thinking about the duty he 
pulled while she stayed downstairs to question "Madam Freezer Burn".  
But she really couldn't have been further from the truth.  He had the 
distinct impression when he entered the house that these women held all 
the answers they needed to solve this puzzle.  If only they would stop 
disappearing long enough for them to ask the questions of the right 
girl.

This place was really amazing - like something out of one of those 
"Playboy After Dark" videos.  Tasteful - if your taste ran to sumptuous 
furnishings, dark wood and long-legged scantily clad beauties.  One of 
every flavor to choose from.  In the large vestibule at the top of the 
second floor landing, there was an arrangement of chaises, settees and 
club chairs.  The room was lit softly and there were flowers, lots of 
flowers.  The scent of roses and jasmine hung thick in the air.  You 
could hear the golden tones of Barry White coming from one of the rooms 
off the hallway.

Reclining in the chairs was every fantasy Mulder had ever had at one 
time or another.  The tall blonde closest to him was wearing only the 
skimpiest of merry-widows as she swayed up to greet him.  He was glad 
Scully was downstairs to miss this particular interview.  He wasn't 
really in the mood to hear her chastise him about his video collection 
just now. 

Her body language was saying "hello" very loudly, but Mulder was 
maintaining his cool detached facade - at least for the moment.  This 
was pretty tempting stuff.  She was a vision in white, with little blue 
silk roses at each tantalizing intersection.  The investigator in him 
couldn't help but notice that the tattoo inscribed with a flourish atop 
her left breast read "Honeysuckle Rose."  Her shoulders were draped by 
a flimsy chiffon peignoir, covering nothing but the sheer hint of the 
garters holding up her stockings.  She was perched upon four-inch satin 
mules of the softest shade of baby blue decorated with maraboo which 
tickled her jungle red toenails.

"Are you looking for someone special?"  The honey fairly dripped from 
her voice.  She couldn't have been real.  He felt he must have been 
thrown into another one of those virtual reality chambers when he 
wasn't paying attention...and someone had turned up the thermostat.  
But on the outside, you couldn't tell.  The consummate professional, 
the FBI Special Agent didn't have much patience for the 'working girl' 
profession.  Even though he had a fascination with women of this type, 
he felt that paying for it was below both him and them.   "Uh, uh, no, 
actually.  I'm looking for anyone who can give me information regarding 
the death of one of your associates.  Karen Darby...?  He flipped open 
his badge for her to see.

Suddenly he was alone on an iceberg.  Honey's demeanor shifted from 'I 
want you, baby' to 'I want you to leave'.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to help you.  Too bad, I love tall men with 
green eyes."

"They're hazel, really.  I was hoping you could tell me about any 
possible connections between Miss Darby and an aid on Senator Harman's 
staff, Steven Hoyt."  He persisted with his questioning while he worked 
to suppress his breathing.  "Have you ever met Mr. Hoyt, or seen him 
here with Miss Darby?"

"No, I'm sorry.  Our schedules are pretty tight here and I'm booked up 
solid most evenings.  Besides, I couldn't tell who's a senator's aid 
and who's not.  People don't really carry resumes around here.  I do 
have an opening right now though, if you're interested."  She sidled up 
to him, resting her hand across his heavily padded shoulder.  With her 
heels on, they were almost eye to eye.  He looked down and saw the 
tattoo pressed against the arm of his suit jacket.

Pursing his lips, he watched her tattoo as it rode the swell of her 
breathing.  "I would have thought that the visit of someone on the 
senator's staff would be cause for some special treatment around here, 
no?"

"Not really.  We try to treat all of our guests special.  Even though 
I'm on my own time right now I'd treat you very special if you wanted 
to find out first hand."  She gently twisted her golden ringlets around 
her finger and down his lapel as her other hand traced the lace atop 
the merry-widow.

"I bet you would."  His eyes were beginning to glaze over and she knew 
it.  She took a step closer, if that was possible.  He could almost 
taste her toothpaste when he heard another woman clear her throat 
behind them.  Her voice was sultry, yet business-like.  He quickly 
remembered who he was, where he was and immediately became cognizant of 
the fact that Scully was very likely standing behind him with one 
eyebrow cocked and ready to fire.  He took a breath, stood a little 
taller, closed his eyes and turned.

What he saw before him took his breath away. There she was, but it 
wasn't Scully.  She looked like Scully, and sounded like Scully - but 
she wasn't.  Same height, same cinnamon hair, similar hairstyle, only 
less severe.  She even had a little mole under her left nostril - but 
this one wasn't covered up by makeup.  In fact, she wore only the 
slightest hint of gold powder across her azure eyes.  Her lashes were 
the same color as her hair and, Jesus, she looked soft.  This woman was 
his fantasy-Scully.

This fantasy-Scully was wearing a fine silk negligee - the color of 
aubergine, the thinnest spaghetti straps holding up the flimsy fabric 
as it draped across her ample breasts.  Her shoulders were dusted with 
gold.  In this light she glimmered like a jewel - one of those antique 
ones you see in the shops - extravagant, evocative of good living.  
Even with high heels, she appeared very petite next to the Amazon that 
still had hold of his shoulder.

Sensing his distraction, Honey circled around him, brushing her hands 
across his shoulders all the while sighing in his ear, "I see Leslie is 
more your flavor."

He barely noticed her departure.  There was nothing that could have 
torn his eyes away from the woman standing before him.  Except the 
voice of the woman heading up the stairs to fetch him down.

"Mulder, what the hell is taking so long?"

Mulder quickly came to his senses and headed for the stairs.  He 
brushed past the fantasy Scully and rushed to meet the real deal about 
to make the landing.  Tossing a quick look over his shoulder, he 
grabbed real Scully by the elbow and ushered her quickly down the 
stairs.

"Nothing.  Dead-end.  Let's go, Scully."

She stopped, looking at him.  "What happened?"

Mulder's voice was louder, more forceful.  "Let's GO, Scully."
 
His grip on her elbow was firm and his pace was quick, but there was an 
unmistakable gentleness to his actions.  She wasn't sure but she 
thought she saw Madam Freezer Burn smirk from her seat in the foyer as 
she was hurried out the door.



She waited silently, staring out the passenger side window into the 
early morning darkness as they drove down the 95, giving Mulder time to 
offer his narrative on his interrogation of the witness before she had 
to pull it out of him.  His only offering was the occasional crack of a 
shell between his teeth as he grazed on sunflower seeds, or a twist of 
the air-conditioning vents to reap the maximum amount of cool air from 
the Bureau-issued sedan's straining compressor. 

Of course, it wasn't unusual for Mulder to keep information to himself, 
timing its release to what always seemed to be the worst possible 
moment.  She didn't like that herself, preferring to lay all of the 
cards out on the table where they can be seen.  Well, maybe she'd 
learned to hide a few up her sleeve after six years of being 
professionally joined at the hip with Fox Mulder.  But those few cards 
were of the emotional suite and weren't necessary when dealing with a 
case such as this.

She turned her face toward him, taking a quick inventory by the 
dashboard light of his features and the expression he wore.  He 
appeared emotionless but that was another thing she'd gleaned from 
their six-year partnership - how to read Mulder's body language.  To 
the untrained eye he appeared relaxed and ambivalent but she could see 
an anxiety behind the cool fa=E7ade.  How he managed to look so cool in 
the unbearable humidity was another matter.  She broke the silence, 
speaking in a soft, non-confrontational tone.

"You gonna tell me what went on back there?"

He cracked another shell before responding, fiddling with the vents 
again and blinking as his mind processed his reply.  "The witness I 
interviewed turned out to be of no help.  It seems she was...otherwise 
occupied...at the time the incident occurred.  She didn't know 
anything."

Scully sighed silently and looked down at her hands, realizing that 
this was one of those times that Mulder was choosing to not share.  She 
squirmed against the car seat, sticky and warm in the unseasonably 
humid June air.  After all they had been through together it seemed 
that they were destined to keep revolving in circles, growing closer on 
the upswing and moving away on the downside.  The past year had been 
remarkable as far as their relationship goes - as close as they'd 
become the potential for an equally remarkable distancing was imminent. 

She sighed again, laying her head back against the headrest and closing 
her eyes against the frustration she felt rising within her.



Mulder pulled the car up to the curb in front of Scully's Georgetown 
apartment and put the gearshift into "park" without cutting the engine. 

He turned in his seat toward his dozing partner, allowing his eyes to 
run over her face and torso a bit longer than he would have if she were 
awake.  Reaching over he tenderly slid the back of his fingers down the 
side of her cheek.

"Scully.  Wake up, sleepyhead, you're home."

Her eyes flew open and she sat up straight, a startled look on her face 
quickly transforming into the everyday Scully mask that she wore so 
well.  She blinked a few times with a swallow and a low hum.  "What 
time is it?"

"Four a.m.  You've got time enough for a couple more hours of sleep 
before we're due in Skinner's office for an update."

She tilted her head from side to side with a series of soft pops and 
took in a deep breath.  "Mmm-kay.  Are you gonna be alright driving 
home?"

He grinned playfully.  "Is that an invitation to sleep over?"

She let out a light snort, a brief smile crossing her face.  "If you 
find my sofa enticing, then I suppose it is."  She opened the door and 
stepped out onto the sidewalk, turning back to face him.  "Goodnight, 
Mulder."

"See you in a few."  On cue his body betrayed him with a loud yawn 
which earned him a smile and a wave.  Hopefully that was the only thing 
she'd noticed about his traitorous body.  Mulder watched her disappear 
into the building before sliding the car into gear and pulling away.  
He groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat with a grimace.  It was 
getting harder and harder to stick to the rules and edicts of their 
partnership.  'Thou shall not make unwanted sexual advances on thy 
partner.'

God, after spending the better part of the night interrogating the 
'employees' at Hansen House, discovering much to his delight and horror 
a Dana Scully lookalike that looked so much like Scully that it made 
his toes curl...and then the long, hot drive back from Baltimore...she 
had no idea what it did to him to have her wriggling around in her seat 
mere inches from him, sans jacket wearing that form fitting-black silk 
tee and slacks, smelling all warm and Scully and more delicious than a 
fresh cinnamon roll just out of the oven.  All the while she made those 
little Scully noises, breaths and hitches - and she's a loud breather 
(although it would mortify her if she ever heard him voice that fact 
aloud).  Her little breaths and sighs distracted him to no end as much 
as they comforted him after one of the particularly close brushes with 
danger that they experienced far too often.  He'd never realized how 
dependent he'd become on the little noises she made throughout the day. 

And then there was the matter of the cold air from the air-conditioning 
blowing across her chest as she slept...oh, no, no, no...mustn't think 
about that one if you plan to get any sleep tonight, he told himself.  
Being in love with your partner and making light hearted passes at her 
is one thing, not seriously doing anything about it to screw it up is 
quite another.  And it was the not being able to do anything about it 
that was getting to him.  He felt his innuendoes were becoming 
increasingly brazen and something was going to have to give to relieve 
the tension.  It was only a matter of time now before he lost complete 
control and did something really stupid.

Mulder reached over the seat and grabbed his suit jacket off of the 
back seat, pulling his note pad out of the pocket.  He flipped through 
to the page of employee names.

Leslie Martin.  Her makeup was different, so was her nose.  Her eyes 
were a similar shade of blue but lacked the Scully spark behind them.  
But her mouth, her physical appearance, the shade of her hair - it was 
downright spooky.  And considering her chosen profession, oh so 
tempting, even for a law enforcement agent who didn't personally 
approve of prostitution.

As his higher self struggled to overcome the baser urges of his lower 
self, his cel phone trilled.  No doubt it was the true source of his 
internal debate.  "Hey Scully, you should be floating off in dreamland 
by now."

There was a short pause, followed by Scully's soft alto chuckle.  "I 
thought you could use some company on your drive home."

Higher Self high-fived Lower Self as his heart pumped a surge of warmth 
through his chest.  God, he loved her and her precious little 
considerate heart.  "You should have told me you wanted to come home 
with me before I dropped you off."

There was a rustling noise and Scully breathed against the telephone, 
making herself comfortable before replying.  "Thanks, but I've slept on 
your sofa."  He was silent, biting back a less appropriate comment.  
"Mulder, where are you?"

"Not far, actually.  It's amazing how quickly you can get around this 
town when the roads are all vacant."

"Sure, if you want to drive around at four in the morning."  She 
paused, both of them silent for a moment.  "Mulder...what are we doing 
on this case?  It's a straightforward murder investigation involving a 
dead prostitute and a vague reference to a rather indiscreet aid of a 
United States senator.  I see no X-File here."

Mulder slid a sunflower seed between his lips and sucked on the salty 
shell.  "I think there may be more here than meets the eye, Scully.  So 
does Skinner, apparently, which is why he assigned us to this case."

"Can it be that this case happens to hit a little close to home for the 
Assistant Director?  Surely the memory of his involvement in a similar 
situation two years ago hasn't escaped him.  What's his connection to 
the Senator?"

"I don't know but that's something I definitely plan to ask him."  His 
sentence was punctuated by the crack of the sunflower seed between his 
teeth.  She heard him turn off the engine and the door of the car open.

"Are you there?"

"Safe and sound."  There was a long pause of silence, just the two of 
them breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets when Scully moved.  
He climbed the stairs two at a time, avoiding the elevator lest he 
should lose his connection.  Reaching his door, he inserted the key in 
the lock.  "You still with me?" He asked tenderly.

"Mmm, yes.  Barely.  Are you inside?"  Her voice was rough and sensual 
and he knew her choice of words was unintentional, but it affected him 
all the same.

"Yeah."

"Goodnight, Mulder."

He laughed softly.  "What, you're not going to tuck me in?"

"... too sleepy ..." was her reply.

His response was whisper soft.  "Sweet dreams, Scully."  Mulder punched 
the end button on his cel phone and ran a hand through his hair with a 
sigh before dropping the phone down on the nightstand next to his bed.


END CHAPTER ONE

*X*X*X*X*

CHAPTER TWO

What ship puzzled at sea, cons for the true reckoning?
Or coming in, to avoid the bars and follow the channel a
     Perfect pilot needs?
Here, sailor!  here, ship!  take aboard the most perfect pilot,
Whom, in a little row boat, putting off and rowing, I hailing you
     Offer.  
- Walt Whitman


For all outward appearances, Walter Skinner was the picture of calm.  
He had assigned his best investigators to the case and although they 
managed to get into more trouble than any other pair of agents in the 
history of the FBI, he was confident that they would solve the case 
quickly and tactfully.  However, a United States senator was involved 
and Skinner was all too aware of both Mulder's and Scully's unpleasant 
experiences with members of congress in the past.  When it came to 
Mulder and Scully and the X-Files he always felt that he was sitting on 
a time bomb that could explode at any moment.  He'd been so very close 
to detonation several times in the past and this situation was 
potentially lethal.  The thought made the vein at his temple throb.

"Agents, I don't have to tell you the extreme sensitivity surrounding 
this investigation.  Senator Harman is a respected member of Congress 
with a long-standing service record, including a tour in Vietnam that 
earned him a metal of distinction."  Skinner glanced from one agent to 
the other across the wide desk.  Scully sat stiffly on Mulder's right, 
the expression on her face as tight as Mulder's was laconic. 

Mulder spoke first.  "Sir, with all due respect, I don't understand why 
we've been assigned to this case.  Scully and I agree that this is a 
straightforward murder investigation that could be handled just as 
adeptly by Harper and DeLuca or Martinez and Cross."

Skinner squinted from Mulder back to Scully again.  "I have my reasons 
for assigning this case to you, Agent Mulder.  Is there some problem 
with your involvement in it that I should know about?"  His eyes rested 
on Scully.  She wasn't known for keeping her opinion to herself when 
she felt strongly about something and he knew from previous experience 
that she had strong feelings about prostitution.  He also knew that 
regardless of her personal feelings, she was a consummate professional 
and knew how to distance herself from her work.

Her eyes met his evenly, an eyebrow raised in question.  "The case 
doesn't fit the standard criteria for an X-File, Sir.  Is there 
something more here that *we* should know about?"

Despite her diminutive size, Scully's icy blue glare and raised brow 
could have him gnashing his teeth together quicker than any agent in 
the Bureau, Mulder included.  The vein began throbbing again.  There 
had been a time before their trust in him had been compromised when 
Mulder and Scully would accept an assignment on good faith alone.  
Skinner leaned back in his chair and squeezed the bridge of his nose 
between his thumb and forefinger.  "That's what I want you to tell 
*me*, Agent."  He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before 
replacing the spectacles.  "Steven Hoyt killed himself in his cell last 
night after spending four hours with Baltimore detectives asserting his 
innocence."

Scully glanced over at Mulder, who met her look before turning his eyes 
back to Skinner.  "Did he leave a note?"  Mulder asked.

"No, but his girlfriend did."  Skinner handed a photocopy of the note 
to Mulder and a photograph to Scully, who visibly reacted as she looked 
over the photo of a deceased woman laying on a bed next to an empty 
pill bottle.  With her brow knitted, she handed it to Mulder, whose 
mouth opened slightly in surprise.

"This woman is a dead ringer for Karen Darby."

"Dead being the operative word here."  Scully replied, looking at the 
photocopied note Mulder had handed her in exchange.  "This note left by 
Lisa Lewis clearly implicates Senator Harman in the murder of Karen 
Darby."

"She alleges that the Senator made unwanted advances toward her, and 
after she refused him he began boasting in explicit detail about his 
discovery of her "twin" - Karen Darby, and their meetings at Hansen 
House."  Mulder added.

Scully continued to peruse the note.  "She claims Hoyt was innocent of 
having any involvement with Karen Darby and was framed to take the fall 
for the Senator." 

"And yet he chose to take his own life."  Mulder mused.

"Or someone took it for him."  She looked up at him and their eyes 
locked.

Skinner leaned back in his chair, confident that he'd achieved his goal 
in captivating the two agents in front of him.  Once they began 
wrapping their minds around a puzzle they wouldn't stop until they'd 
found the solution.  There would be no more argument about this 
assignment.  "Senator Harman is expecting you in his office at 10:30 
this morning." 

Both agents rose and shuffled out of the office, focused on the trail 
of evidence and the investigation laid before them.  Skinner let out a 
sigh as the door shut.  He hadn't needed to appeal to them on a more 
personal level, keeping to himself the fact that an acquaintance at 
Capitol Hill had called in a favor and asked him specifically to assign 
the case to Mulder and Scully.  He was certain that the usual 
government conspiracy they were constantly up against was not a factor 
here and took his acquaintance's explanation at face value - word had 
gotten around that Mulder and Scully were a formidable investigative 
team and only the best would do.  But that didn't stop the vein from 
throbbing in his temple, nor did it relax the muscles in his jaw enough 
for it to completely unclench.  If Mulder and Scully were to find out 
that he'd assigned this case as a personal favor to somebody outside of 
the Bureau, he feared the last shred of trust that they clung to would 
be lost irrevocably. 



Things were quiet in the car as Mulder and Scully traveled to their 
appointment to interview the Senator.  Mulder munched on sunflower 
seeds, tossing the spent shells out the driver's side window while 
Scully sat in her usual seat, studying the case file.  She had been 
engrossed in the file quite a while when she realized that their trip 
to Capitol Hill was taking an unusually long time.  When she looked up, 
she found that they were heading out of town.

"Mulder, I thought you called and confirmed that we were meeting 
Senator Harman at his office on the Hill."  Scully seemed slightly 
annoyed at Mulder's seeming forgetfulness of their appointment with the 
Senator, but actually, she secretly wished they were off to any other 
location than a senator's office.  She didn't have much use for 
politicians.

"We're meeting him at his office, Scully, but not on the Hill.  He 
wants to meet at his home office at his estate in Old Virginny." 
Mulder's attempt at a Southern gentleman's accent was just a trifle too 
sardonic to be anything short of amusing.  He glanced over to his 
partner for what he assumed would be that beautiful Mona Lisa smirk, 
but Scully claimed no reaction to his attempt at patrician humor. 
Disappointed, he settled back into the business of steering the car. 
"We should be getting there soon.  His aide said it wasn't too far from 
Fall's Church."

Scully looked up from the case file and glanced out the passenger's 
window at the pastoral setting gliding by her view.  It was a beautiful 
day and she contemplated the beauty of what she saw.  Split rail fences 
draped with roses lined the roadway.  Thoroughbred horses grazing in 
verdant pastures paused to look up as the car passed.  Startled, they 
cantered off to another corner of the pasture, their peaceful 
environment invaded.  She thought once again about the turns her life 
had taken since she joined Mulder on the X-Files.  It must be nice to 
live out of the city at least part of the time.  It didn't seem like a 
country home was ever going to be in her future.  It used to be 
something she dreamed about as a young girl - land and horses 
represented the stability of a life so foreign to her nomadic military 
upbringing.

As the car rounded the next curve, an opulent pair of gates burgeoned 
out of an enormous rose arbor at the foot of a long driveway lined with 
dogwood trees.  Scully couldn't help a little gasp as she took in the 
grandeur of it all.

Mulder leaned into her and looked up at her from below heavy lidded 
eyes and asked in his most provocative voice, "Who says the Old South 
is dead, Scully?"  This time, he got the smirk.

A short, slender black woman dressed in the traditional black and white 
maid's uniform met them at the portico of the great house and led them 
around the side of the house and into the garden.  The smell of roses 
preceded their arrival before they rounded the corner of the mansion 
and caught sight of the storybook vision.  The garden was filled mostly 
with roses of what seemed to be every possible variety.  Tree roses 
lined the walkways, luscious climbing roses clung to graceful arbors 
and fences.  In the distance, the corner of a greenhouse was visible 
beyond the main garden.

The light was dazzling as it bounced off of statues and fountains as 
they passed along the garden walk, the bright light emphasizing the 
blues in Mulder's and Scully's suits and the copper of Scully's hair. 
Mulder donned his sunglasses to cut down on the glare and add an 
aloofness to his persona.  Scully just squinted, causing her demeanor 
to seem even more serious than before.  They walked with a relaxed but 
determined gait as they approached the rear of the garden where a 
gazebo came into view.

Senator Robert Harman was standing with his back to them, speaking 
loudly into the telephone.  He was a tall man, about 185 lbs., strong 
build with broad shoulders, but that may have been from the shoulder 
pads of his suit.  His wavy hair was almost completely silver, but it 
was obvious it had been a medium brown in his younger days.

"I don't want to hear any more of your excuses...I've hired you to 
take care of it, so take care of it!"  He snapped the clam shell of the 
phone closed to end the call just as Mulder and Scully approached.  As 
he turned and caught sight of them, he waived off the couple's escort.

"Ah! Agent Mulder, is it?"

Mulder nodded as he extended his hand in reply.  "Senator.  This is my 
partner, Special Agent Dana Scully."  Clearly distracted and failing to 
acknowledge Mulder's outstretched hand, the Senator turned his cool 
gaze and movie star smile toward Scully, his eyes finding and holding 
hers.  He was much younger looking in person, despite the premature 
gray of his hair.  According to his Congressional biography, he was 51, 
but up close he looked to be no older than early forties.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Scully.  Thank you both for meeting 
me out here away from Washington.  I apologize for the inconvenience, 
but it's difficult for me to get any peace in the city these days.  I 
come here whenever I can to work.  It comforts me to be near my roses." 
The genteel way he put his words bespoke of the bygone Southern era. 
When used properly, it was quite appealing and this man obviously knew 
how to use words to good effect.  He was quite charming.

As Scully surveyed the magnificent garden, the Senator admired what he 
saw of her and leaned in to get a little closer.  "Do you like roses, 
Agent Scully?"  The Senator asked with a slight smile, looking deeply 
into her eyes again.

"Yes, I'm very fond of roses, actually."  She offered him a polite, 
self-conscious smile. 

He studied her carefully, almost intimately.  "Yes, they suit you.  In 
particular, this variety."  Senator Harman gestured to her to join him 
at a blooming rose bush near the entrance to the gazebo.  "It's called 
a Sterling rose.  Note how the intense lavender color of the bud is 
almost bluish.  They're normally sold as long stem rosebuds, but I 
pride myself on developing large blossomed garden varieties."  He 
reached into his trouser pocket and extracted a small pocket knife. 

The Senator was tall - taller than Mulder.  So much so that Scully 
looked like a child standing before him.  Biting his lip, he gave the 
impression of shyness, belied by the flirtatious glint in his eye as he 
snipped the rose from the bush and handed it to her.  "Why Agent 
Scully, I was right.  In this light, this blossom brings out the blue 
of your eyes.  Bluer than the sea."  His eyes sparkled when he spoke to 
Scully with that soft, almost singsong Southern accent, his white teeth 
flashing when he talked.

It was still early and Mulder was already annoyed.  This guy was 
wasting time with his banalities and Old Southern charm.  He didn't 
like the way the Senator leaned into Scully's personal space to meet 
her eye to eye.  To any other outside observer, it was seemingly 
harmless, but Mulder felt that the Senator's body language had more 
sexual overtones to it than just plain kindness would. 

Mulder moved in a little closer to his partner, just a little to the 
left and behind her shoulder so that he was in line to make direct eye 
contact.  Taking off his sunglasses for added effect, he spoke directly 
to reestablish command over the interview.  "Senator, we'd like to ask 
you a few questions about Steven Hoyt."

Scully took in a silent breath of relief, audible to no one but Mulder. 
The Senator held his arm out in an invitation for the duo to join him 
on the gazebo benches.  He sat, shook his head, clasped his hands 
together and made ticking sounds to indicate his dismay before 
replying.  "Steven."  He said softly, a misty look on his face.  "He 
was a top notch aide, and an asset to my staff.  The assistance and 
support he's given me over the years have been invaluable.  My heart 
goes out to his family." 

"He'd been on your staff for almost seven years.  Were you very close, 
sir?"  Scully asked, sitting on the bench opposite the Senator.  Mulder 
remained standing, his knee slightly grazing Scully's hip.  Neither of 
them thought anything of it, but Harman's gaze was drawn to the place 
where they connected.

The Senator's voice sounded as if it might break at any moment.  "I 
thought so.  I consider myself fortunate to have been able to call him 
a friend."

"Were you aware of any involvement between Mr. Hoyt and a woman named 
Karen Darby?"  Mulder asked.

"Karen Darby?  No, I don't believe I've ever heard the name."  The 
Senator turned his gaze to Scully as he replied, his face open.

Scully raised a brow.  "Were you aware of any connections that Steven 
Hoyt might have had in Baltimore, Senator?"

"Baltimore?"  He looked as if he were pondering the question for a 
moment.  "No, I don't believe so."

"Could Mr. Hoyt have been representing your Office in Baltimore, sir?" 
Scully was intent on getting some kind of useful answer.

"Absolutely not.  Baltimore is in Maryland.  My constituency is in 
Virginia.  What happened in Baltimore, agents?"  The Senator seemed 
completely ignorant of the direction this questioning was taking.  He 
kept his gaze intent on the beautiful redhead before him.

Mulder was becoming annoyed that the man never looked past Scully for 
eye contact, his agitation beginning to creep into his voice.  He 
decided to turn up the heat just a bit.  "There is evidence suggesting 
that Steven Hoyt may have had some connection to a known house of 
prostitution in Baltimore.  Hansen House.  Have you ever heard of 
Hansen House, Senator?"

As if sensing Mulder's irritation, the Senator looked direct into 
Mulder's eyes.  "I can't say that I have.  Things here in Virginia and 
in Washington keep me much too busy to get to Baltimore more than once 
or twice a year."

"What about the girlfriend, Lisa Lewis? Did you know her?"  Mulder 
pushed. 

The Senator continued to look Mulder in the eye.  "We'd met a few 
times, a staff socials.  Nice girl." 

Scully also picked up on Mulder's tone.  "Were you aware, Senator, that 
Lisa Lewis was found dead at her apartment last night of an apparent 
suicide?"

Senator Harman looked surprised.  "I hadn't heard that.  This is very 
disturbing news.  She must have been distraught over Steven's death."  
He shook his head and stood, turning his back to them as he stared out 
across the grassy pasture beyond the garden.  His shoulders were very 
tense under his suit coat.

Mulder had had enough of this.  He knew he was dealing with a 
politician, but he sensed that the Senator's responses were too well-
rehearsed to be honest.  He replaced his sunglasses, looked at the 
Senator a moment, then said, "Thank you for your time, Senator."  He 
reached down and cupped Scully's elbow, urging her off the bench, and 
turned to leave.  Scully's look of surprise at the sudden end of the 
interrogation caught the Senator's eye as he turned back toward them. 
From his perspective, it looked as if she were disappointed to be 
leaving.

"I'd like to help out in any way I can."  He replied, his voice 
dripping sincerity.  "I wouldn't want the memories of such vibrant 
young people to be sullied by this.  And of course, it wouldn't do well 
to have my constituents hear of these ugly matters as relating to my 
Senate seat either.  I'd prefer to keep this matter quiet." 

"It is a very ugly matter, whether or not we're speaking politically, 
Senator."  Mulder spoke matter-of-factly.  "Agent Scully and I are here 
to make sure that the investigation leads us to the truth."

Scully glanced at Mulder, then offered the Senator a polite smile 
goodbye.  She remained quiet as they exited the garden, sensing the 
Senator's eyes on her retreating backside.  She finally spoke as Mulder 
opened the passenger door for her.  "I thought we came here for 
answers, Mulder."  They were standing close enough together that no one 
could overhear, but they kept their voices low out of practiced caution 
anyway.  "That was a pretty glowing recommendation for the Senator to 
give an aide suspected of committing murder."

"Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?"  Mulder looked down into his 
partner's eyes and smirked, happy to have her all to himself once 
again.  "He's hiding something, Scully.  There's nothing of any value 
that he would have told us today.  He was only trying to find out what 
we knew so he could rally his political defenses.  We need to get a 
little deeper into just what kind of things Steven Hoyt assisted the 
Senator with.  Once we find that out, we'll find out who's behind these 
murders."

"You mean murder/suicides, don't you?" 

"No, I don't think so.  I've got a feeling we're going to find out a 
lot more about the connection between these people to prove that Steven 
Hoyt and Lisa Lewis were murdered along with Karen Darby and that good 
ol' Senator Harman is connected somehow."

Scully furrowed her brow and nodded as she got into the car, all the 
while looking up at her partner.  She had the distinct feeling there 
was more to it than that, but decided to withhold her comment until she 
had some hard evidence to use in the debate.  "So where to now?"  She 
smiled at him, already knowing the answer.

Mulder crossed behind the car and sat in the driver's seat with a 
slight grin.  "I've got an overwhelming curiosity to see what the 
D.C.P.D. overlooked at Lisa Lewis' apartment."

They drove off down the long drive, unaware that someone had been 
observing them and the body language of their private exchange with 
more than a passing interest from a terrace on the second floor above. 



Lisa Lewis' apartment was on the 1400 block of 21st Street N.W., a 
quick walk from one of Washington D.C.'s main hubs, Dupont Circle and 
just a few minutes from Scully's apartment.  It was a nice area to live 
in.  Trees lined the streets and the people who resided in the pleasant 
brown or white stone buildings led nice lives.  Mulder found a parking 
spot down the street and the partners casually walked over to the crime 
scene.  The day was still hot and humid, so Mulder left his jacket in 
the car and sauntered over to the crime scene in shirt sleeves, hands 
in pockets.  As usual, Scully looked cool and perfect.

As they approached the building, they caught the eye of one of the D.C. 
police detectives assigned to the Lewis case.  The agents had known the 
detective for some time.  He was a good enough guy - a little caustic 
at times - but a good detective nonetheless.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. and Mrs. Spooky."  He squinted at them.  "I knew 
the FBI had a special interest in this one, but I didn't know they 
considered it an X-File.  What brings you two here?"

Nodding to the man, Mulder answered while surveying the area around the 
entrance to the building at the same time.  "Just here to keep you on 
your toes, McCracken.  The Bureau doesn't want you guys in blue to take 
all the glory on this one."

"It's a simple suicide, Mulder.  She couldn't take the agony of losing 
her boyfriend, so she opted to take the Long Nap.  She said as much in 
the note that your boys made off with earlier this morning."

Mulder squinted at him, nodding slightly.  "Well, we're gonna take a 
quick look around if it's all the same to you."  He placed his hand at 
the small of Scully's back and ushered her under the police tape and up 
the stairs to the door.

Detective McCracken watched Scully as they ascended the stairs, 
enjoying the view.  "Damn lucky fella", he snuffed as he shook his head 
and found his attention drawn elsewhere down the street.

Upon entering the Lewis apartment, Mulder appreciated that the windows 
had been opened allowing a cool breeze to enter.  Showing their badges 
just inside the door to the detectives already at work, Scully and 
Mulder split off to look for clues.  Scully headed for the bedroom, 
where the body had been found, the tape outline of the corpse in place 
diagonally atop the unmade bed.  The body had been removed some time 
before, but the coroner was still there wrapping up the evidence.

Mulder had found Lewis' desk in the living room and was going through 
it, hoping to find anything that would help them.  It was obvious that 
the D.C.P.D. had done a thorough job in their investigation of this 
suicide - the papers had already been gone through.  Mulder waved at 
them as they indicated they were leaving, and continued to shuffle 
through the papers on the desk.  Nothing.  He sat back and looked 
around slowly. 

The woman had lived well.  Good furniture, crystal chandelier, 
expensive computer and stereo equipment, pictures framed in silver.  A 
long narrow table extended behind the sofa.  It was covered with 
personal mementos and framed photos.

The light from the window glimmered off the silver frames, one in 
particular catching his eye.  It was a group photo.  From the police 
photos, Mulder could recognize Lisa Lewis and Steven Hoyt standing 
together in the picture, but another person in the image Mulder knew 
from personal experience.

Senator Robert Harman.

"Hey, Scully. Look at this."  Mulder was holding the picture up for his 
partner to see as she left the bedroom and joined him by the window.

"It looks like it could be from one of those staff socials the Senator 
mentioned."  Scully commented, unimpressed with the magnitude of 
Mulder's discovery.  She questioned him with her look.

"You're probably right.  Check this out."  He pointed at the image of 
Senator Harman.  The occasion looked like a boating party, everyone 
dressed in short pants, deck shoes and windbreakers.  Steven Hoyt and 
Lisa Lewis were prominent in the photo, but they were not Hoyt's arms 
wrapped around his girlfriend, they were the Senator's.

"No sign of Mrs. Harman here.  Doesn't it look to you like the Senator 
knew Miss Lewis just a bit better than he let on, Scully?"  The look on 
Mulder's face confirmed his distaste for the Senator's reputation of 
being a lady's man. 

"I fail to see anything significant here, Mulder.  There could be a 
dozen reasons why he had his arms around her."  When Mulder was like 
this, she felt more than obliged to be the voice of reason.

"But Scully, just think...you've got a dead woman attesting to her 
fiance's innocence in the murder of a prostitute who looks JUST LIKE 
HER.  You've got her deathbed accusation that that fiance was involved

with the prostitute to protect a United States Senator from 
embarrassing press.  A senator who swears he barely knew either of 
these women, and this photo that certainly indicates he knew at least 
one of them well...you have to admit, it's worth investigating."

Mulder turned the frame over in his hand and unhinged the back. 
Gratefully, the photographer's name and address had been stamped onto 
the back of the photo.  He patted his chest, realizing he'd left his 
notepad in his coat jacket in the car.  Instead, he grabbed a piece of 
blank paper out of the computer printer sitting on the desk and jotted 
down the information, then folded the paper and put it in his pants 
pocket.

As Scully watched him write down the photographer's name, she noticed 
the printer.  "Mulder, wasn't Lisa Lewis's suicide note typed out and 
initialed rather than hand written?"

He looked up, and immediately following her line of thinking, called 
one of the forensics team over.  "Send this printer over to Danny in 
the FBI Sci-Crime lab."  He threw Scully a gleam that said, 'nice 
catch' and reassembled the picture frame, putting it back on the table.

"Well, while you follow up on that photo, I've found something else to 
investigate."  Between her fingers she held a plastic bag containing a 
pill bottle. 

"This is the medication that Lisa Lewis allegedly used to kill herself. 
The label on the bottle is lacking the proper pharmaceutical 
registration numbers - it came from an unlicensed source.  And the 
funny thing is, she has no other chemical medications in her medicine 
cabinet.  Everything in there is homeopathic, herbs and root powders. 
Not even aspirin.  It doesn't seem right to me that a woman who appears 
to be so committed to natural remedies would use a barbiturate to kill 
herself, let alone an illegally obtained one."

"It looks like we've both got some leads to check out."  Mulder 
replied, leaning in close.  "Why don't we split up, we can cover more 
ground that way.  I'll give you a call later on this evening and we can 
discuss the details."  



Contrary to his usual pattern of running off and leaving his partner 
stranded, Mulder left Scully with the keys to the Bureau vehicle and 
went off up the street on foot to catch a taxi along Massachusetts 
Avenue.  On his route, he knew he would pass by the Phillips Memorial 
Gallery - home of the famous Renoir painting "The Boating Party."  A 
niggling sense of something undiscovered about the Senator compelled 
him inside for a few minutes to view it once again.  Perhaps a moment 
of inspired contemplation would help him gather his thoughts.

As he had remembered, the light and pattern emanating from the painting 
was staggeringly beautiful, but it was the grouping of the figures in 
the painting that drew the agent's interest this time.  The legend on 
the wall next to the painting identified the mixed group of subjects. 
Many were friends of the artist, some were artists themselves, and some 
were the regulars who frequented the quasi cafe by the water. 

What intrigued Mulder was that the associations of the group were 
unclear.  It took a guide to determine the relationship the 
participants in the pose shared.  At least two of the people in the 
painting were married or romantically paired, yet the artist chose not 
to put them together in the pose.  Not that this understanding was 
necessary to the enjoyment of the painting, but that the additional 
knowledge served to enrich the viewer's appreciation of it.  Just like 
the people in the painting, there was something more to the 
relationships between Steven Hoyt, Lisa Lewis, Karen Darby and Senator 
Harman.  Like me and Scully, he thought to himself.  So many layers 
below the surface.

After admiring the artists' detail and use of color up close, he sat on 
a bench in the center of the room, viewing the painting from a 
distance.  It was amazing how something could look so confusing up 
close and became clearer once you stepped back.  Stepping back wasn't 
one of Fox Mulder's fortes, but he had to admit that there were times 
when it was definitely advantageous.

Mulder had been alone with the painting for some time but as he sat in 
contemplation another patron entered the room, evident by the sound of 
hard shoes hitting the hard floor.  It was getting late and the gallery 
would be closing shortly.  The other patron didn't move on to the next 
room and the next group of paintings, but stayed to the back of the 
room, silent except for the sound of breathing.  He knew that sound as 
well as his own.

Scully.

Turning to look at her, Mulder saw she was deeply concentrating on the 
same painting he had been staring at.  She had changed from her work 
clothes to more casual navy blue slacks and white t-shirt, looking more 
like an art history student than a doctor or an FBI agent.  Sensing his 
eyes on her, Scully met his gaze, offering a warm, Mona Lisa smile of 
amusement that they would both end up there.  He returned the look and 
patted the seat next to him.

Scully sat down, her shoulder lightly brushing against his arm as they 
faced the painting together.  Like Mulder, she had needed some time to 
reflect on the day and the information they had gathered.  That she and 
Mulder would choose the same place and method was not surprising to 
her.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both looking at the painting.  
Finally, Mulder leaned back on his hands and looked over at her.  "Come 
here often?"  He asked.

She looked to the side at him, her eyes studying him for a moment.  
"Sometimes.  Sometimes I go other places."  She looked at her hands a 
moment, pain passing over her face before she took a deep breath and 
looked back up at the painting.

"What?"  Mulder asked, leaning forward so he could look directly into 
her face.

She looked back down at her hands, took another breath then looked back 
at him.  "I was just remembering...after I found the Milagro charm, I 
was drawn to a painting that I'd recalled seeing in a church.  It was 
an image of Christ holding a burning heart in his hands.  It 
was...beautiful.  You had asked me to do an autopsy on the latest 
victim, but couldn't get the image of that painting out of my mind and 
I'd gone to see it instead.  I..." she paused a moment.  "That's where 
Padgett first spoke to me."

Mulder's mouth opened slightly in surprise, and he looked at the Renoir 
a moment before looking back at her.  Scully hadn't discussed much of 
the Padgett case with him other than the facts as they related to the 
investigation, but he recalled a passage from Padgett's unfinished 
novel about her that described that very situation.  Mulder had been 
both fascinated and repulsed by Padgett's depiction of his partner, his 
words describing in intimate detail things about her that even Mulder 
didn't know but somehow felt were eerily close to the truth.  "I 
remember how frightened you were that he'd been able to get inside of 
your head."  He said evenly, trying to keep his own emotions about the 
case in check with the hope that she would continue to open up to him.

Looking at the painting again, Scully replied softly.  "I couldn't 
believe it.  Even as I was reading his novel, it was like I was outside 
of myself looking in.  The reality of it didn't hit me until you found 
me on the floor of your apartment after nearly having my heart ripped 
out."

Mulder watched her face, searching for signs of stress.  Although it 
had been an incredibly painful experience, she had learned to deal with 
it.  Better than he had, perhaps.  The memory of seeing his partner 
lying still in a pool of blood on the floor of his apartment was as 
fresh and tender as the memory of her sobbing in his arms as he held 
her close.  Reverting back to his familiar defense mechanism for 
painful situations, he smiled and quipped, "Put you off of art for a 
while, did it?"

She smiled warmly back at him, holding his gaze.  "I don't think I ever 
thanked you for being there for me, Mulder."

He placed a hand on her back and rubbed gently.  "You're my partner, 
Scully."  He was only stating a fact, but they both knew that the 
meaning went far beyond a working relationship.


END CHAPTER TWO

*X*X*X*X*

CHAPTER THREE

Twice or thrice had I loved thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame,
Angels affect us oft, and worshipped be;
- John Donne, Air and Angels


Scully arrived at Headquarters before 8 a.m. and went straight to the 
Sci-Crime Lab to retrieve the results from the tests on the trace 
chemicals in the pill bottle recovered from Lisa Lewis' apartment. 

"Standard prescription pharmaceutical.  I'm still working on 
determining where the label came from though.  With no pharmaceutical 
registration marks, it gonna be tough."  Danny handed her the report 
and gestured to the bottle Scully was holding in the evidence bag. 
"Like the coroner said, the bottle was clean of fingerprints.  So I had 
Mancina check the childproof cap through spectral analysis to see if 
she could lift any traces at all.  Nothing.  Sorry.  Still, who opens a 
pill bottle and doesn't get any fingerprints on it?" 

"Someone with something to hide."  Scully replied, her eyes still 
scanning the report.  "I'll send over the forensic and autopsy reports 
for you to look at later on this afternoon.  I suspect the body will be 
clean as well."

"Not the standard M.O. for someone trying to kill herself."  Danny 
commented.

"No, its not."  Scully closed the report and smiled graciously. 
"Thanks, Danny."

"Don't mention it."  He replied, sticking a pen in the pocket of his 
lab coat.  "Who knows, I may be asking for your help some day."  As if 
on cue, Agent Denise Mancina wobbled into view, unaware that she was 
being observed by the other two agents.  She kept a hand over her 
swollen belly and she was mumbling something under her breath.  Danny 
turned back toward Scully.  "Maybe even sooner rather than later."  He 
added.

Mancina looked up and smiled.  "She's kick-boxing again.  Either that 
or she's the reincarnation of Fred Astaire."  

Scully smiled.  "Not long now, huh?"

"Not soon enough."  Mancina replied.

Scully offered her a parting smile, and with a nod in Danny's direction 
she headed for the elevator.  She punched the 'down' button and took a 
deep breath as the doors opened to reveal several of the ladies from 
the FBI clerical pool already inside.  Steeling herself, she stepped on 
board.

She was acquainted with two of the passengers.  As women in a male-
dominated field, most of the other female agents at the Bureau were as 
concerned as she was about proving themselves based on ability.  But 
some of the clerical staff - the two who happened to be sharing the 
elevator with her - were less than subtle about trying to sleep their 
way up the ladder to success.

"Agent Scully."  One of the girls greeted her with false sincerity when 
the doors closed.

Scully nodded politely, well aware that the girls were staring daggers 
at her back.  These two had their sights set on her partner.  'Over my 
dead body' she thought, even with the knowledge that unless they 
happened to answer to the names "Susie Slit" or "B.J. Slowly" in their 
off hours that their chances of Mulder even glancing their way were 
next to nil.  Mulder was unmarried and easily the most attractive male 
agent at the Bureau.  So naturally, everyone assumed that she had the 
inside track on getting into his pants.  'If they only knew.'  She 
thought to herself.  Seven years of partnership and not even one real 
kiss.  Lots of glances, touches, innuendo and a near-miss, but no kiss.

She and Mulder cared deeply for each other, of that she had no doubts. 
But the nature of that caring was confusing - sometimes she felt 
maternal towards him, sometimes she felt as if she was a poor 
substitute for his missing little sister.  She was able to respond when 
she sensed his desperate need for her approval and at other times she 
thought he didn't even like her at all and was merely tolerating her 
presence.  Often it seemed she could hardly breathe for the unresolved 
sexual tension flowing between them.  The truth was, she just couldn't 
figure it out.  She had tried for years and still, it alluded her.  So 
she pushed it aside and tried to ignore it.  The way Mulder looked at 
her sometimes though, it wasn't always easy.

The elevator stopped at the first floor and Mulder's groupies 
disembarked with a giggle and a "say hi to your foxy partner."  Scully 
released a sigh of relief, riding the rest of the way down to the 
basement in welcome solitude.


 
As she opened the door to the office her olfactory sense was assaulted 
by the aroma of fresh flowers.  Amongst the files and stacks of paper 
in the middle of Mulder's desk sat an obscenely large arrangement of 
Sterling roses surrounded by dark lacy fern leaves in a stunning 
crystal vase.  The roses were every bit as beautiful as the roses in 
Senator Harman's garden and Scully caught her breath at the sight.  To 
see such a beautiful thing in the middle of Mulder's fire-trap of an 
office this early in the morning was a mild shock to the eye.

Mulder had the same thought as he walked in behind her, only his eyes 
were on his partner.  "Breathtaking, isn't it?"  He asked mildly as he 
edged around her to plop himself down in the chair behind the desk.  He 
wove his fingers together and laid them in front of him on the desk, 
looking at her like an eager professor expecting a good book report.

She looked at him with eyebrows raised, trying to gauge his reaction.  
There wasn't a card - were they sent to him?  They were certainly too 
elegant for the elevator sharks she rode down with.  Did *he* buy them? 

Her pulse sped up a bit at the last thought and she took a breath to 
slow it back down.  Mulder wasn't known for his extravagance with 
gifts, but then again, he possessed the ability to surprise her when 
she least expected it.  An impromptu baseball lesson not too long ago, 
she and Mulder gripping the bat, his body wrapped around hers as they 
swung at balls for a good hour came directly to mind.  Still, it wasn't 
likely she'd be receiving flowers from her partner unless she was in 
the hospital. 

"I've just seen the results from the pill bottle we recovered from Lisa 
Lewis' apartment."  She said coolly, expertly covering her less than 
professional train of thought.

"What was it?"  He asked, a bit of dark lacy fern from the arrangement 
brushing against the side of his face.  He moved to the right, but not 
enough to thwart the fern.

"A prescription drug called Norco, also known as Hydrocodone 
Bitartrate/Acitaminophen.  It's a painkiller approved by the FDA in 
February 1997 for the treatment of moderate to moderately severe pain."

"Is it commonly prescribed?"  He moved from the fern again, but still 
not far enough.

She crossed her arms, ignoring his battle with the fern.  "It's fairly 
common, yes.  I won't know how much she ingested, if she did ingest it, 
until the autopsy is performed.  And there was something else, Mulder.  
The bottle was completely free of prints."

"Not even Lisa Lewis' prints were found on it?"  He asked vaguely, 
staring at the offending greenery.

"No."  She gave up on the discussion and gestured at the enormously 
obvious object adorning his desk.  "Ok, Mulder, I'll bite.  What is 
this?"  She asked at last.

"You tell me."  He looked at her evenly, his eyes intensely holding 
hers for a moment before he opened his top desk drawer and tossed a 
small envelope at her.  "It seems somebody is quite taken with you."

She looked at him for a moment, still trying to read his expression, 
then opened the card:

     'Beauty deserves to be surrounded by beauty'
          - Robert

Scully's brow furrowed.  Robert?  She wasn't acquainted with anyone 
named Robert.  Her heart began beating wildly at the thought of another 
secret admirer...it was too soon after the Padgett case she wasn't sure 
her heart or her sanity could handle it.

Mulder must have sensed where her mind had drifted and rose to his 
feet, placing a hand on her shoulder.  "Scully?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Scully...Robert Harman.  *Senator* Harman.  The roses, remember?"

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, shoulders visibly dropping with 
relief as she let out her breath.  Then she realized the magnitude 
behind the gesture.  "Oh!"  She looked up at him again and moaned, 
tilting her face to the ceiling and closing her eyes.  "Oh, God."

"It seems I'm not the only one who appreciates your charms, Agent 
Scully.  New shampoo?"  He grinned, silently pleased with her less than 
enthusiastic response as she rolled her eyes and groaned.  Pulling a 
card-sized ecru envelope out of his inside jacket pocket, he placed it 
face up between the index fingers of his two hands and held it out to 
her.  "There's more."

She eyed him warily as she took the envelope from him, noting the 
special seal reserved only for members of Congress embossed on the back 
flap.  Inside was an invitation to a private dinner at the Senator's 
residence the following Saturday evening - in her name only.  Scully's 
mouth dropped open as she read the invitation.  "I don't believe 
this..."

Mulder was watching her closely, seriously taking in her reaction.  
"What?"

"It's an invitation to dine privately with the Senator this Saturday."  

She raised her head and looked at him, asking with her eyes why she 
should be the recipient of such an obvious come-on.  He scanned her 
face, then biting his lip, looked away, his expression unreadable.  
"Maybe you should go.  You might be able to get a little more 
information out of him if he's in a more relaxed social setting."

"Mulder, he's too smart to give away anything more than what he has 
already told us, and I don't feel comfortable with this.  There are 
more effective ways of getting information."

He nodded, inwardly happy about the choice she'd made.  Mulder didn't 
like to share his partner with anybody, even if it was related to a 
case.  She picked up the telephone and dialed the RSVP number, sending 
her regrets.  Glancing at her watch, she grabbed her briefcase off of 
the nearby chair.  "I've made arrangements with the M.E. to sit in on 
the Lisa Lewis autopsy this morning."  She said over her shoulder, 
"I'll see you later, Mulder."

"Call if you find anything interesting..." he called after her, 
flopping back down into his desk chair and scowling at the flowers as a 
bit of fern grazed his ear.  They really were very beautiful - and they 
really annoyed him.



Melvin Frohike unlocked seven layers of deadbolts to be greeted with a 
pair of long, dark olive Hugo Boss trousers topped with an enormous 
bouquet of lavender roses.

"You shouldn't have," he quipped, closing the door behind Mulder as the 
much-taller man strode into the room.  "What gives?"

"These are Scully's."  He replied, setting the arrangement down on top 
of a flatbed scanner next to the computer monitor where Ringo Langly 
was working, inadvertently poking Langly in the nose with a fern leaf.

"Ooooo, finally getting up the nerve, eh, Mulder?"  Frohike snickered, 
wagging his furry eyebrows at his friend.

"They're not from me, they're from an admirer."  Mulder replied flatly.

"Department of Defense?"  Langly asked, his pushing his black glasses 
up his nose, beady eyes watching Mulder over the top of the computer 
monitor.

"No."  Mulder looked up.  "Why'd you ask?"

Frohike shot Langly a look and Langly turned back to his computer 
screen.  "No reason."  Frohike mumbled.  "So you want us to do a 
background check on the guy who sent them?"

Mulder shoved his hands in his pockets.  "In a manner of speaking, yes. 

They're from Senator Robert Harman."

"Horny Harman."  Langly quipped, glancing over at Frohike.  "How 
unfortunate for Agent Scully."

John Byers entered the room from the back with a computer motherboard 
in his hand, having completely missed the previous conversation.  "Nice 
flowers."  He commented politely, looking at the roses and then to 
Mulder, blanching at his scowl.  "Are they yours, Mulder?"

"They're Scully's."  Langly replied.  "Mulder wants us to pull up some 
background on the Romeo who sent them to her."

Byers raised his eyebrows, looking back at Mulder.  "Somebody at the 
D.O.D.?"

Frohike cleared his throat loudly and Langly coughed "shuddup" into his 
hand while Mulder rolled his eyes in irritation.  "What is it with you 
guys and the Department of Defense?  And you call ME obsessive?"

Frohike looked at Langly and then at Byers.  Unable to help himself, he 
grinned like the Cheshire Cat.  "That is a question you should be 
asking your delicious partner, my friend."

Mulder scowled at him, not in the mood for riddles.  "Down, Fido.  I 
want you guys to see what you can find out about Senator Harman.  
Public records, news articles, whatever you can come up with."

"I know he's coming up for re-election next year."  Byers offered.

"Great.  I also want to know who's on his staff and who his financial 
supporters are.  I want every stone unturned."

Frohike grinned lasciviously and rubbed the palms of his gloved hands 
together.  "Does that include 'unofficial' records?"

"Everything."  Mulder turned to leave, speaking loudly as he walked 
toward the door.  "Oh, and you can keep the flowers.  A gift from 
Scully."

That earned him a small, private smile from Byers as Frohike and Langly 
exchanged smirks behind his back.    



D.C. traffic at 5:00 p.m. was always the pits.  Mulder had always 
considered himself fortunate to be a field agent, frequently out of 
town, and not trapped into the 9 to 5 commuter grind as were so many of 
the other men his age.  Working in the field and setting his own hours 
had always been one of the perks of the job - it was rare when the 
current monster or gray space alien kept banker's hours.  When his cell 
phone rang, he was glad to have a diversion while he sat in the 
sweltering parking lot usually referred to as the Beltway.

"Mulder."  He expected it to be Scully.

"Mulder-man.  How's it hangin'?" A deep voice growled at him.

Disappointed, but amused nonetheless, he responded, "Frohike, what are 
you doin' calling me?  You're supposed to be collecting data on the 
Senator."

"Never fear, fearless leader.  We're on it.  I just wanted to tell you 
we're sending some encrypted data to your home PC this evening.  Be 
there to catch it, ok?"

"Right, MEL-vin.  Thanks."  He heard the abusive protestations 
regarding the inappropriate use of his given name from the caller as he 
disconnected the line with a grin.  It felt good to give some back on 
that score once in awhile.

The call ended just as he had broken free of the traffic and pulled up 
to the studio belonging to Ronald A. Dobbs, Photographer - the man who 
had taken the picture of Senator Harman and Lisa Lewis at the staff 
social.

The studio was indistinguishable from any of the other buildings in the 
area.  Located in an old warehouse district of DC, the streets were 
pretty much deserted at this hour, aside from an occasional truck or 
car parked on the street and a few dumpsters lining the sides of the 
brick buildings near their fire exits.  In this heat, you could smell 
the dumpsters from a block away.

Mulder approached the door of Dobbs' studio and rang the buzzer.  After 
a few moments, a voice answered. 

"Who is it?"

"Sir, I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI.  I'd like to ask you a 
few questions regarding a photo you took of Senator Robert Harman some 
time ago at a staff get-together out at the Marina."

"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, but I can't let you in just now.  I'm 
processing a large volume of film today, and I've got to keep the 
studio dark and dust-free.  Can you come back?"

Mulder didn't feel like having to track after this guy again.  "I'm, 
I'm sorry to be bothering you, sir, but if you could just tell me 
something about the photo...do you remember the event?" 

"Oh yeah, how could I forget?  It kind of made my blood boil."

Mulder could hear the clanking of steel canisters and clips in the 
background.  Obviously, the guy was on a speakerphone.  "What do you 
mean exactly?" 

"Well, the Senator's a married guy, right?  Has quite a nice wife, in 
my opinion.  Real class, you know?"

"Yes, sir, but how does that relate to my question?"  It was beginning 
to frustrate him to have to talk through the speaker.

"Well, the Senator just couldn't keep his hands to himself.  He admired 
one girl in particular at that party, and her boyfriend was right there 
watching.  Made me sick.  They just let it happen."

"Let what happen, sir?"

"Just because a guy's got some power, he's allowed to use whoever he 
wants and doesn't care who gets hurt by it."

"Who was the girl, Mr. Dobbs?  Do you know the woman's name?"  Mulder 
was insistent.

"I think I heard her boyfriend call her Lise, or something.  I'm not 
real sure.  I got out of there as soon as I could."

"But not before you took this woman's picture with the Senator..." 
Mulder was trying to lead this guy to the point.

"Oh no, he wasn't gonna let any of us leave until I took that picture. 
The girl wanted to get out of there, too.  She was only humoring him, 
from what I could tell."

"And how would you know that, Sir?"  Mulder was humoring this guy a 
little himself.

"Because as soon as I snapped that photo, she was out of the Senator's 
arms and back over to her boyfriend so fast, my head was spinning, 
that's how!"

"And what did the Senator do then?"

"He seemed a little pissed, if you ask me.  He just moved on to some 
other girl after that.  There were plenty of girls there willing to 
provide companionship to the Senator, if you know what I mean?  I felt 
mostly sorry for Mrs. Harman.  She doesn't deserve that kind of 
treatment."  From his tone, it was clear Mr. Dobbs was relishing the 
opportunity to share his opinion.

"Where was Mrs. Harman during all of this?  Was she at the staff social 
as well?"  Mulder played along, assuming his best 'Joe Friday' persona 
for the photographer.

"I had heard she was there, but I never saw her.  Maybe she stayed 
aboard the yacht.  I never went on board myself, there was no need.  Do 
you have any more questions...Mr. Mulder, is it?  I've got some film 
that needs to go into a rinse now."

"Thank you, Sir, that'll be all for now.  I'm gonna leave one of my 
business cards here in your mailbox.  If you can think of anything else 
that might be useful concerning the events of that day, please contact 
me."  Mulder stuffed his card through the little vent in the mailbox 
door and heard the intercom microphone go off.

As he turned back toward the street, he caught a glimpse of a figure 
rounding the corner at the end of the block.  Where that person had 
come from was strange - he was certain the street was vacant when he'd 
arrived.



Scully rapped decisively on the door marked with a '42,' giving Mulder 
a raised eyebrow when he opened the door.  Stepping aside, he let her 
pass and shut the door behind her.

Mulder noted how tired she looked and that she smelled faintly of 
Betadine solution, quickly deducing that she must have just finished 
with the Lewis autopsy at the D.C. Medical Examiner's office.  From 
behind, her shoulders looked drawn up and tight, but he resisted the 
urge to reach over and rub away her tension from standing at the 
autopsy table for so many hours.  She never wanted to appear needy or 
weak and although he wished she'd allow him to do more for her, he 
respected her resolve.

"I wondered why you hadn't called with the autopsy results.  You just 
finished, huh?" 

Turning towards him, her arms swung heavily at her sides and her eyes 
were half lidded.  She twisted her head from side to side with a 
decisive crack and sighed.  "Mulder, we found no evidence to the 
contrary that Lisa Lewis committed a typical drug-induced suicide.  
There was enough Norco in her system to kill a man three times her 
size, and there were no signs of struggle - no abrasions, bruises or 
fractured bones, no fibers, no hair, no skin cells other than her own.  
Nothing.  The only odd thing was the presence of what appears to be a 
health food drink made from orange juice and banana with high levels of 
spirulina and algae, among other things.  She drank nearly one liter 
along with the medication."

"Echk!  That's enough to kill a person right there.  That was it?"

She signed again.  "We're still waiting for the lab to give us the 
entire list of ingredients from the drink."  She stared impassively at 
her partner, crossing her arms in front of her and waiting for the next 
leap in deduction; but none came.  "So Mulder, what was so important 
that you couldn't tell me over the telephone?"

Mulder wrapped his hands around her arms just below the shoulder, 
giving her a subtle squeeze as he slid around her toward the front 
window, reeling the mini blinds against the illumination from the 
street lamp below until the room was dark.  Motioning her towards him, 
he slid into the desk chair in front of his computer, perched his 
glasses on his nose and began typing.

"The Gunman sent this over a couple of hours ago.  I had them pull 
everything they could find on Senator Robert Harman.  It seems the 
handsome Senator has a weakness for the ladies.  The photographer I 
spoke with this afternoon corroborated that fact."

Scully looked over his shoulder at the computer screen.  "That's hardly 
news, Mulder.  Even if we weren't investigating his involvement with a 
high-class house of prostitution, rumors of his infidelities have 
circulated around Washington for years.  It wasn't until the 
President's indiscretions became public that the Senator seemed to 
clean up his act."

"But there's more."  Mulder clicked the mouse, the flashing screen 
playing off of his lenses.  Scully crouched down and leaned in closer, 
trying to get a clear view of the small type on the screen without her 
own glasses.  "Three young women, late twenties to mid-thirties, all 
alleged professional call-girls, all murdered.  Two in the Senator's 
home state and one in Houston, Texas.  Who do you suppose happened to 
be campaigning on behalf of his party's Texas incumbent in that very 
city on that very same day?"

Scully's eyes quickly scanned the document.  "Mulder it says here that 
these women were all the victims of a serial murderer.  I remember that 
case - he was killed in a shootout with local law enforcement near his 
residence just outside of Houston."

Mulder leaned against the back of his chair with a grin.  "Jim 
Coltrane, not to be confused with John 'Trane' Coltrane, brilliant jazz 
sax player.  No, this Coltrane was killed while resisting arrest.  His 
last words were spent professing his innocence."  Mulder turned his 
head to the side, their noses nearly bumping.  He looked into her eyes 
a moment and whispered, "You like sax, Scully?" 

Scully stared back at him, then gave him the required eye roll and 
stood up straight, choosing not to respond to his last comment.  It was 
all part of the familiar dance they went through on nearly every 
investigation, although Mulder's little jokes and flirtations always 
made her smile when she took them out and reflected on them in moments 
of private contemplation.  "Are you saying that Senator Harman killed 
those women and Coltrane was the cover up?  Mulder, you've got 
absolutely nothing here to prove that.  The fact that the Senator 
happened to be in the same city at the same time as the murders is 
circumstantial at best.  You've got a United States Senator with no 
murder weapon tying him to the victims and no clear motive."

Mulder turned back to the screen, tapping his fingertips against his 
bottom lip.  "He's involved, Scully.  I may not have the evidence to 
prove it yet, but I'm sure he's involved."

"I'm not so sure."  Scully leaned in again, reaching across him to hit 
the scroll down arrow on the keyboard, quickly perusing the rest of the 
document.  "One of the victims was attacked in her car."  She said 
absently, her eyes glazing over as she stared at the screen, recalling 
something from earlier that day.

Mulder watched her, unaware that he'd been holding his breath as she 
leaned across him, her breast pushing against his upper arm.  "Uh, 
Scully?"  His mouth was dangerously close to her ear and he fought the 
urge to brush his lips against the shell.

She replied with an odd, faraway expression.  "Hmmm?"

"D-do you have a theory about the attack in the car?"  He asked 
nervously, trying to keep his brain from following in the direction his 
body wanted to move in from their brief but intimate contact.

She stared at the screen a moment longer, then sat back, turning her 
full attention to him.  "What happened to the roses, Mulder?"

He fidgeted, adjusting his breathing space.  "I, uh, sent them to be 
analyzed for trace materials."

"You didn't leave one in my car at the medical examiners' by any 
chance?"  Her expression was unreadable.

"No, why?"  He wished he'd thought of it, though.

"It's just that...well, when I got into my car this evening, there was 
a long-stemmed Sterling rose lying across the seat.  I was sure I had 
punched the electronic lock on my key chain when I parked, but 
maybe..." 

she was cut off by the ringing of his telephone.  He reached over and 
picked up the receiver.  "Mulder."

"Agent Mulder."  The voice was male, unrecognizable.  It had the same 
effect as a cold shower as far as getting Mulder's focus away from his 
partner and back on target.

Mulder waited a beat.  "Yeah?"

There were a few more beats of silence.  "Tell your pretty partner she 
should consider her refusals more carefully."

Mulder motioned to Scully to listen in.  "Who is this?"  He asked as 
she leaned down, her head pressed lightly against his.

"You seem fond of her.  You could lose a lot more than the X-Files if 
she doesn't learn how to cooperate."  The line disconnected and turned 
to dial tone before Mulder could ask another question.

Scully was silent as Mulder threw the telephone down in disgust.  
"Fuck!"  He said, almost a whisper, his hands going in his hair.

"What was that about?"  She asked quietly.  When he didn't reply, she 
leaned against the desk so that she was facing him.  "Mulder?  Who was 
he talking about?  Unless who cooperates?"

Mulder crossed his arms and regarded her.  "You."

"What?"  She looked at him in disbelief.  "Cooperate with what?"

He looked down and chewed his lip a moment.  "Senator Harman's personal 
agenda would be my guess."

She frowned with irritation.  "Just exactly what did the caller say?"

"Basically, that if you continue to dismiss overtures made to you we 
could lose the X-Files, amongst other things."

"What other things?"  Her words were clipped, an edge creeping into her 
voice.  She was getting very tired of being jerked around, having her 
work threatened and being played as somebody else's pawn, either to get 
at Mulder or to serve some other person's insidious purpose.  

Mulder looked up at her, a hint of anger in his eyes.  "Scully, we're 
investigating multiple murders."  He stated, flatly.  As tired as 
Scully was of being the target, Mulder was even more tired of watching 
it, his heart aching both out of the fear of losing her and out of 
empathy for the pain it caused her.  He still had nightmares from the 
Padgett case, only in his nightmares Scully is lying motionless in a 
pool of her own blood on his living room floor and she doesn't wake up. 

Maybe that was why he was taking this far more seriously than she was.  
"Five women are dead because of this man.  I'm not going to watch you 
become the sixth."

"Mulder, there's no proof..."

Mulder rose to his feet.  "Dammit, Scully, its Harman.  The roses at 
the office.  The invitation to dinner.  The rose in your car.  What 
more do you need?  It's you, Scully.  He.  Wants.  YOU."

She was silent, staring at a spot on the opposite wall.  When she 
finally turned her eyes up at Mulder, they shone with the start of 
frustrated tears.  "Why?" was all she could ask.

He regarded her with a familiar gentleness that gripped at her heart.  
"Scully," he started tenderly, but was unable to find the words.  
'Because you're the most beautiful person in the universe' wouldn't be 
a lie.  Instead, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her 
ear, his hand lingering at her shoulder.  They looked at each other a 
moment, then Mulder dropped his hand back to his side.  "I think we 
should talk to Skinner about getting some backup on this."

Scully licked her lips and took his hand, speaking slowly and 
carefully.  "Mulder, why is it that when its you on the line we keep 
Skinner in the dark but when it's me you want to go by the book?  We 
don't have any proof that Harman made that phone call or put the rose 
in my car.  Any fingerprints that might have been left behind were 
effectively ruined when I opened the car door.  We don't even have any 
solid proof at this point that the Senator did, in fact, have anything 
to do with the deaths of Karen Darby, Steven Hoyt and Lisa Lewis."

Mulder looked down at his large hand encased in her small hand, 
choosing his words carefully lest his anger should flare up again.  The 
truth was, he was a lot more willing to take chances with his own life 
than he was with hers.  "I received a threatening telephone call about 
you, Scully.  I have to take it seriously, just the same as you would 
if the call had been about me.  Proof or no proof, there are 
implications pointing to this case and as your partner, I think that 
Skinner needs to be made aware of that." He knew that appealing to her 
sense of equity would win her over.  He kept his voice even, but his 
eyes were pleading with her to accept his request.

She held his gaze a moment, then sighed and released his hand.  "Okay, 
Mulder, we'll do it your way this time.  But only if you agree to stick 
to the facts in hand."  There was no sense in jumping to conclusions 
and raising a red flag just yet.  And no sense in bringing sex - the 
fact that she happened to be female - into the middle of this 
investigation.  She was every bit as competent as any other male agent, 
and the last thing she needed was to be coddled or given special 
treatment.

Mulder nodded and looked again at their hands entwined.  'Facts in 
hand,' he thought.  Fact is, he loved her, and he'd had his fill of 
seeing her suffer.  There was no way in Hell he was about to allow her 
to be put into another situation like the Padgett case.  His concern 
for her safety was the only thing he could wrap his mind around, far 
outweighing the consequences of any displeasure she may have with him 
over what he planned on saying privately to the Assistant Director 
tomorrow morning.

He looked back up into her bright blue eyes and saw her entreaty still 
unanswered.  "Sure, Scully.  Just the facts."

Relief swept over her face as she heard the answer she sought.  She 
rubbed her thumb across the top of his hand, by way of thanks, then 
dropped it softly and changed the subject with the unexpected growl of 
her stomach.

"So, do you have anything to eat in this place that hasn't expired or 
turned wild, Mulder?"


END CHAPTER THREE

*X*X*X*X*

CHAPTER FOUR

go go go go now out of the nest it's time 
go go go now circus girl without a safety net
here here now don't cry
you raised your hand for the assignment
tuck those ribbons under your helmet
be a good soldier
first my left foot then my right behind the other
pantyhose running in the cold
mother the car is here
somebody leave the light on
green limousine for the redhead
dancing dancing girl
and when i dance for him 
somebody leave the light on
just in case i like the dancing
i can remember where i come from
 - Tori Amos, "Mother"


Agents Mulder and Scully sat directly across from the Assistant 
Director, in opposite chairs from the ones that they had been seated 
in two days before.  Scully spoke for the both of them, her 
expression stoic, while Mulder wore his heart on his sleeve.  Or on 
his face, in this case.  He was sitting down but that didn't keep his 
body from its state of perpetual motion.  He flipped his tie, sat up, 
slouched down, crossed his legs - anything but sit still.

"...although all evidence against the Senator at this time is 
circumstantial.  Based on the comments of the photographer, the lack 
of forensic evidence available at the crime scene, the autopsy I 
performed on Lisa Lewis and the lack of fingerprints on the 
medication bottle, foul play does seem to be the more plausible 
explanation."  Scully explained, her body perfectly still and erect.  
"The fact that both Lisa Lewis and Karen Darby died from narcotic 
overdose could merely be a coincidence.  The narcotics were different 
in each case.  But the profile Agent Mulder is developing indicates 
the killer is middle- to upper middle-class, someone obviously 
acquainted with Hoyt, Lewis and Darby.  He's fastidious.  He doesn't 
like to get his hands dirty, that's why he used narcotics to kill his 
victims.  The Senator definitely fits the profile." 

Skinner was leaning to his side, his arm resting on the arm of his 
chair.  "I thought Steven Hoyt died of strangulation."

Scully looked over at Mulder, then back at Skinner.  "He did.  We 
haven't uncovered any evidence to suggest that his death was anything 
more than a suicide, despite the absence of a note."

Skinner shifted in his chair.  "What did the Senator have to say when 
you went to see him?"  He didn't bother to look at Mulder for a 
response.

Scully looked over at Mulder again.  He was letting her run this show.  
"He denied any knowledge of Karen Darby or Hansen House, of course.  He 
claimed to count Steven Hoyt among his friends and said he only knew 
Lisa Lewis in passing."  She returned her gaze to Skinner.  "Although 
he did seem genuinely surprised when told that Lewis was dead, his 
answers seemed more or less practiced."

Skinner leaned back in his chair, his eyes holding hers.  "So you're 
saying you think he's lying?"

"A lie of omission, at the very least."  She replied after a moment.

Skinner let out a huff of air, closing his eyes.  "Alright, Agents.  
Is there anything else I should know about?" 

Mulder looked at Scully, who caught his look out of the corner of her 
eye.  She pursed her lips, her brow furrowed.  When she didn't 
respond soon enough, Mulder spoke up.  "Agent Scully received a very 
large, very elegant arrangement of flowers from the Senator 
yesterday, along with an invitation to dine with him privately."  He 
looked over at his partner, hoping to gauge her reaction as he 
proceeded.  "She declined."  He then re-addressed his commentary to 
the Assistant Director.  "I received an anonymous telephone call last 
night warning me that unless Scully cooperates, there could be serious 
repercussions."

Skinner looked at Scully.  She was rigid, her eyes cast down on her 
hands clasped in her lap, an expression of irritation on her face.  
He grimaced.  "Cooperates with what?  What kind of repercussions?" 

"Among 'other things'...reassignment."  Mulder was obviously pissed 
off by the information he had to relay, his eyes dark as he met 
Skinner's eyes.

"Reassignment by whom?"  Skinner didn't like his authority usurped, 
and his irritation was evident.  "What 'other things' are we talking 
about, Agent?"  Skinner peered at the agents over his spectacles, 
then rested his question on Agent Mulder.  With these two it could be 
any number of things.

"They made a personal threat against Agent Scully."  Mulder's eyes 
were intensely focused on his Assistant Director.  "The message was 
very clear."

Skinner kept silent, taking a deep breath as he leaned way back in 
his chair, tapping his pencil insistently on his desk as he regarded 
the two agents.  "Mulder, step outside a moment."

Mulder looked at Scully.  When she didn't meet his gaze he stood, 
glanced at the Assistant Director, then walked out of the room, 
closing the door behind him.

Skinner was silent, gathering his ammunition.  When he finally spoke, 
his voice was softer and quieter than before.  "Agent Scully, given 
that this is a murder investigation into the deaths of three people, 
I have to take a threat made against one of my agents in conjunction 
with this investigation very seriously.  This is not the first time 
you've been in a position like this and I know you are trained law 
enforcement officer capable of handling yourself.  You've got Mulder 
covering your back as well.  But there are a few things about this 
situation that concern me."

Scully swallowed and looked up at him.  "Such as?"  She asked 
hoarsely, her eyebrow raised.

"Timing, for one.  It's only been a few weeks since the Padgett case, 
not to mention the injury and trauma you sustained up on Brown 
Mountain in North Carolina.  I'm not convinced that this is the best 
thing for you to have to deal with right now."

"I'm fine, Sir."  Scully replied firmly.  "Padgett is dead and the 
case is over.  This is a completely different situation.  As for 
Brown Mountain, I've been given a clean release, both by my physician 
and on my psych evaluation by Karen Kosoff."

"I'm aware of that, Scully, but I also have Mulder to consider.  He's 
worried about you, it's written all over his face.  He may let that 
concern cloud his judgement when he needs to be thinking clearly.  
I'm sure I don't have to remind you that we're dealing with a very 
powerful member of Congress.  Senator Harman has friends in places 
that make the Friends of Bill look like prep school."

Scully looked at him a moment before responding.  "So this is about 
Agent Mulder?"

Skinner looked down at his desk, his lips pursed.  "This is about the 
both of you."  He looked back at her, silently holding her gaze.

"What is it you're saying exactly?"  Her eyes were fixed on his.  
"That our concern for each others' well being is interfering with our 
ability to do our jobs?"  She paused.  "Are you splitting us up?" 

Skinner looked to the side, then back at her.  "You and Agent Mulder 
are an effective team.  No matter how happy it may make certain 
factions outside of the Bureau if you were reassigned to separate 
areas, splitting you up would be like shooting myself in the foot.  
But I think you need to step away from the current situation and give 
yourself some time to put the events of the past year, the past few 
months in particular, behind you."  With the hurt look he saw in her 
eyes, he found he was unable to hold her gaze any longer.  Pulling a 
piece of paper out from under a stack on his desk, he handed it to 
her.  "There's something else.  I received a request from the Sci-
Crime Lab today.  Agent Mancina will be going out on maternity leave 
any day and they haven't hired a replacement for Ludwig so they're 
extremely short staffed at the moment.  Your name was on the top of 
their request list for temporary help within the Bureau until more 
permanent arrangements can be made."

Scully took the paper, looked it over then looked back up at him.  
She knew Danny had done her a huge favor by analyzing the chemicals 
in the pill bottle so quickly, seeing as they were short-staffed.  
She also knew just by looking at her yesterday that Mancina wouldn't 
go full term on her pregnancy.  Still, it all seemed just a little 
too convenient.  "Do I have any say in the matter?"  She asked 
pointedly.

She could be goddamned obstinate when she wanted to.  The Assistant 
Director gritted his teeth and continued.  "You can help out in the 
lab until the Harman case wraps up, or you can sit at home on leave 
without pay.  It's up to you, Agent."

Scully sat quietly, her shoulders lifting and falling gently with 
each breath.  She took in a deep breath, held it, then let it out 
slowly.  "What about Mulder?"  She asked.

He softened, understanding the feeling behind the question.  "I'll 
personally keep an eye out for him and help out with the 
investigation as much as I can.  Under the circumstances, I'm sure 
he'll be spending a lot more time in the Sci-Crime Lab than usual."

Scully chose not to respond to the somewhat scurrilous assumption he 
made in his last statement.  She stood, took in a deep breath, and 
said, "Is that all?"  She didn't look at him, neither did she bother 
to hide her irritation from him.

Skinner stood as well.  "I know how you feel about this, Dana.  
Believe me, this is in no way a reflection on your abilities as an 
agent."  He paused.  "Take the rest of the day to do whatever you 
need to do.  I'll let Danny know he can expect you in the lab 
tomorrow morning."

Scully looked up at him then, her expression slightly softer, and 
turned and walked over to the door.  Skinner was right behind her, 
holding the door as she went out into the waiting room.  His 
assistant was not at her desk and Mulder was standing in the middle 
of the room, a look of apprehension on his face as they exited the 
office.  He and Scully looked at each other, and although her back 
was turned to him, Skinner was sure that Mulder had seen the full 
force of her displeasure with that one brief look.

Before they could speak, Skinner broke the silence.  "Mulder, a 
word."

Scully turned and shared one more look with Mulder, then Mulder 
stepped past Skinner into the office, the door shutting behind them 
to leave Scully alone on the outside.



She had gathered up all of her information on the Harman case and 
left it in a neat stack on Mulder's desk with a post-it note labeled, 
"Harman" on top.  She gathered up some personal items, turned off her 
cel phone and left the Hoover building, deciding to spend the rest of 
the day alone to silently contemplate the most recent turn of events.  
Skinner had said that taking her off of the case was in no way a 
reflection on her abilities as an agent, but she felt as if it were.  
If she had done something to indicate that she wasn't up to par 
emotionally or physically then it was the same as an error in 
judgement or reaction in her own estimation.  The bottom line was, 
she'd been through everything that Mulder had, and yet she was the 
one getting pulled off of the case.  She tried to keep a tight reign 
on her attitude, but she was a little more than tired of having to 
work twice as hard to prove that she was equal and up to the task.  
Circumstances as they were, she could understand the reasons Skinner 
gave her for his decision, but a small part of her deep down took it 
as another slap in the face by the system that she constantly fought 
for and was denied approval.

There was also Mulder.  She felt she was letting him down as well.  
She wouldn't be there to cover him, to pull him back when he became 
too obsessed and ask the right questions to keep him grounded to the 
facts.  A more private part of her self mourned the loss of the day-
to-day contact.  He was such a large part of her life and already she 
felt detached from him.  They were still friends, of course, but for 
the remainder of this case, at least, they were no longer partners.
  
It was ironic, really.  When she was assigned to work with Mulder on 
the X-Files she tried to prove herself on merit, holding herself to 
the highest standards of conduct.  Still, it was generally assumed by 
those who only knew her in passing, knew just bits and pieces of her 
history with Mulder, that they were sleeping together.  The funny 
thing was, if she were sexually involved with Mulder, at least she knew 
she'd be seeing him regularly.  If she were honest with herself...if 
what everyone already assumed was really true...she wouldn't have as 
strong a reaction to Skinner pulling her off of the investigation and 
throwing her into the lab.  At least in that scenario the terrible 
emptiness she felt from the reassignment and separation from her 
partner wouldn't consume her as it was doing now.   



Mulder looked for Scully when he finally left Skinner's office, but 
she wasn't anywhere to be found within the Hoover Building.  After 
trying her cel phone and getting her voice mail, he went down to the 
garage and checked the usual area for her car, but it was obvious 
that she'd already left.  She'd already removed the few personal 
effects that she kept in a spare drawer in his basement office.  A 
comb.  A lipstick, shade watermelon blush.  A toothbrush and 
toothpaste.  A nail file and clear nail polish (she claimed was to 
stop runs in her nylons but he was suspicious of that).  An extra 
pair of pantyhose, size A, nude sheer-to-waist.  Mulder had the 
contents of the drawer memorized, the presence of those few items a 
constant reminder of her place in the basement with him whenever he 
felt alone or lost out of her physical presence.  Once, alone in the 
office late one night, he'd even gone so far as to dab the lipstick 
on his lower lip and lick it off with his tongue, followed by the 
toothpaste, wondering if she would taste the same.

The removal of those few small items hidden away in an out of the way 
drawer now made the entire office seem hollow and cold.  But she had 
left behind the extra black jacket she always kept hanging on the 
back of the door - that was probably just an oversight due to the 
sticky, warm climate.  Or maybe, just maybe, she'd left it behind as 
a message to him; I'm coming back.  It was proof that she had been 
there, that she belonged there, and it smelled like her, so its 
discovery was a small victory as he stood behind the closed door, his 
nose pressed into the dark fabric, his guilt assaulting him.  It was 
a partner's responsibility to look out for the other one.  This was 
only temporary.  And it was for her own good, he reminded himself.  
Besides, she never had to know that he was the one behind it.



It was no surprise that she ended up at the Tidal Basin, sitting alone 
near the Jefferson Memorial on a bench shared many times with Mulder 
in the past.  It was a place they used to meet when they were 
reassigned and separated the first time the X-Files had been closed 
down.  Today it was less than peaceful, though.  Several large tour 
buses brought hoards of tourists, yellow, red and blue bandanas tied 
around their necks, braving the sweltering humidity to see the 
historical Jefferson Monument.  People laughed and called to each 
other enthusiastically, enjoying the sights and each other, snapping 
photographs while oblivious to her solitary musing.  

The simplicity of the bandanas intrigued her.  A plain, bright-
colored scrap of cloth tied around the neck as a beacon for all of 
the others who belonged.  Married couples wore wedding rings.  Did 
she have anything so obvious?  She didn't belong to any groups and 
she wasn't married.  But there was Mulder.  They had matching ID 
tags.  They had his and hers cel phones.  But those were generic FBI 
accoutrements.  No, except for gunshot wounds and battle scars, they 
wore their markers internally.  Sometimes she'd look into the mirror 
and see a look staring back at her that she'd never seen in another 
human being.  

Except in Mulder.  

It occurred to her then that she hadn't even spoken with Mulder that 
day except for their brief moment in Skinner's office.  He'd been out 
of his office all morning, up until their meeting.  Reaching into her 
pocket she powered on her cel phone and checked her voicemail, 
smiling as Mulder's concerned voice asked her to phone him as soon as 
she received the message.



Mulder was in his bathroom shaving when the knock came on the door, 
and he didn't hear it over the running water until the second, or 
maybe the third time.  Maneuvering over the difficult chin area, he 
shouted "IT'S OPEN" loudly and rinsed the razor, peeking his head out 
the door to see the tiny redhead standing in his living room.

"Sorry 'bout that, I'll be out in a second."  He called.  "I thought 
we agreed I would come to your place."  He wiped his face and stepped 
bare-chested out of the bathroom.

She was looking out the window, her back to him.  When she turned 
around he froze, a look of disbelief on his face.  Perfectly coiffed 
page-boy, tailored black skirt suit, three-inch heels, tiny gold 
cross...he had to do a double take to make sure he wasn't 
experiencing problems with his vision.

Leslie Martin.

Mulder stared at her, his mouth opening and closing several times 
before he finally managed to ask, "What is this?"

She looked at him appraisingly from head to toe, her eyes lingering 
over his bare chest in a way he only dreamed that Scully would do.  
She finally looked into his eyes and took several steps closer.  
"I've been asked to give you a message," she said.

"By whom?"  He asked, his eyes taking in the subtle differences 
between the woman standing in front of him and his partner of nearly 
seven years.  Dressed like that, the physical differences were hardly 
perceptible.

"Drop the investigation."  She said, stepping even closer, her hand 
coming up to touch his chest.

He took a deep breath and grabbed her by the wrist.  "Who sent you 
here?"  He asked.  "Who told you to dress like that?"

She wrenched her arm away from him and took a step back.  "You don't 
get it, do you?"  She asked, continuing to back away.  "These people 
will bury you."  Her eyes held a glimmer of fear and she turned, 
running out the front door.

Mulder followed her into the hallway.  "Wait!" He called as she 
punched the elevator button.  "Who?  Tell me who sent you!"

She looked at him once more, shaking her head as the elevator doors 
opened.  "Tell her to cooperate."  She said, backing into the 
carriage.  "Tell her."  She said one last time as the doors closed.

Mulder stood in the hallway with his hands on his hips, staring at 
the closed elevator.    



When Mulder arrived at Scully's apartment it was just after ten p.m., 
having spent several hours on phone calls back and forth with Frohike 
trying to get information on Leslie Martin.  He'd showered earlier, but 
by the time he got to Scully's he was already feeling sticky and damp.  
She looked cool in the late evening humidity, casually dressed in soft 
chinos and a crisp white button down blouse.  There was one floor 
lamp illuminated in the corner of the living room, and the television 
was on low.  Scully didn't watch much television, being more of a 
book person, so he raised an eyebrow at her in question.

"I guess I wanted the company."  She said simply, reaching over the 
back of the sofa to grab the remote and shut it off.  She turned back 
to face him and he looked her over, assuring himself that she was the 
real deal and noticing again, like every other time he'd seen her in 
casual clothing, how young she looks when she's not wearing one of 
her standard work suits.  

"How are you doing?"  He asked, sensing something was up but seeing 
no visible signs of stress other than the television.

"Fine."  She said automatically.  She drew in a breath, then let it 
out slowly.  She wanted to talk, had wanted to talk since she left 
the Tidal Basin.  Looking up at him, she said, "No, not fine, 
actually.  I'm having a little trouble accepting this."  She said 
honestly, searching his face as if the answer would be there.

"That's...understandable."  He replied, wearing concern across his 
brow.  "It wasn't done to punish you."

She watched him a moment longer.  She had expected Mulder to be 
angry, like she was.  His acceptance wasn't something she had 
anticipated.  "You agree with him."  She stated.

He took a deep breath.  "I want to get this over with so you and I 
can get back to investigating X-Files."

She stood firm.  "But you agree, nonetheless."

He bit his lower lip, steeling himself against the hurt in her face.  
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he bent down closer.  "You know I 
would rather have you working next to me than anyone else in the 
world, Scully.  I know this is hard for you.  It's tearing me up, 
too.  But it's only temporary."

She stood close in front of him, staring directly at his chest but 
not seeing it.  The pose was similar to Leslie Martin earlier that 
evening, but the effect it had on him was quite different.  He could 
feel her warm breath through his t-shirt as it escaped her lips.  He 
raised one hand from her shoulder and smoothed the hair down at the 
back of her neck.  

Scully looked up into his eyes.  "Then why do I feel like I've 
failed, Mulder?  I've let you down."

He closed his eyes to her heartbreaking words and the pain in her 
eyes, feeling the guilt over his role in the whole scenario even more 
sharply.  "Never."  He whispered, pulling her into an embrace.

They had been here before, holding on to each other, slightly 
rocking back and forth.  They both needed the connection, the 
reassurance that their partnership was still intact.  Scully buried 
her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the clean scent of him.  
She could feel his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, and after a 
moment she pulled back a little, her hands resting on his chest.

Mulder placed a chaste kiss against her forehead and she closed her 
eyes, not moving as she relished the tenderness of the gesture.  
After a moment she looked up into his eyes, seeing the conviction of 
his last statement as he looked back at her.  He bent down and kissed 
her cheek, closer to the side of her mouth.  When he moved to 
do it again on the other side, she turned her face slightly and met his 
mouth full-on, her fingers flexing against his chest as their lips 
pressed together softly.  He pulled back slightly, his lips barely 
hovering over hers tentatively.  Her breathing was shallow, soft puffs 
of warm air caressing his face.  Funny, he thought, because he couldn't 
breathe at all.

They stood that way for a long moment, the tension thick between them 
until Scully whispered in wonder, "Jesus, Mulder."

His lips came down on hers then, sliding over and around, between and 
back over as he pulled her closer, claiming her, a hand coming up to 
cradle the back of her head while his fingers wove through her soft 
strands of hair.  She slid into him, her arms wrapping around his 
neck and her lips responding to his with equal enthusiasm.  Shifting 
angles, short, passionate nips.  The need for air came too quickly 
and he held her tightly, his face buried in her hair, her warm breath 
panting against his ear as his heart pounded through his chest.

She loosened her embrace and took a step back, her hands slowly 
sliding down his arms to catch his hands.  She watched as their 
fingers entwined, a pleased smile on her face.  She took a deep 
breath, her eyebrows raising and falling briefly. 

"What?"  He asked softly, placing a kiss on her forehead with a grin.

Her smile grew wider and she blushed like a schoolgirl.  With a 
slight shake of her head, she said, "It's just...unexpected.  Not 
completely surprising, but the timing is unexpected nonetheless."  
Her voice was husky and she kept her eyes on their hands, avoiding 
his eyes. 

Mulder was charmed at her apparent shyness.  He leaned down, turning 
his head to the side to see her face better.  "Didn't you ever..." he 
started to ask but stopped, chuckling softly.  "Scratch that."

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide and shining.  "Of course."  
She said honestly.

He grinned at her, letting out a breath he didn't realized he had 
been holding.  "Scully," he said, her name sounding both seductive 
and adoring as it left his lips.  He drew in a deep breath.  "So..."

The word hung in the air, his fingers tracing circles on her wrists 
as they both waited for the other to say something or make the next 
move.  Finally, she grasped his fingers and tugged on his arms, 
pulling him over to the sofa.  "Let's sit down.  I want to tell you 
something."

He followed, more than willingly.  "Are you going to tell me how hot 
you've been for my body since the day we met?"  He whispered as he 
leaned over and stole a kiss on the descent.  She responded with a soft 
moan and emboldened by her obvious interest in making their 
relationship much more personal, his tongue swiped across her lips, 
making them shine in the soft light when he pulled back.

She licked her lips and grinned at the action.  "Shut up, Mulder.  
I'm serious."

"So am I" he replied, leaning in for another kiss.  His tongue was more 
insistent until it found hers and they both whimpered their approval 
while the urgency increased.  She moved her head to the side to break 
the kiss, resting her forehead against his cheek and panting in short 
breaths.  "Really, Mulder.  I want to finish discussing what happened 
today with Skinner."

Mulder took in a deep breath, looking down at their entwined hands as 
their fingers moved against each others' in playful caresses.  He was
still feeling some guilt over her removal from the case, but in the 
large scheme of things it seemed much less important in light of recent 
developments between them.  He thought he had a little insight on how 
he could make it up to her, though.  "We'll definitely have to see each 
other more in our off hours until the case is over."  He leaned over 
and placed a kiss on the side of her neck, nuzzling her ear with his 
nose.

She tilted her head and smiled as Mulder licked her neck.  Had she 
not been pondering that exact scenario that very afternoon?  "We can 
work on that idea later."  Gently pushing his face away from her neck 
she gave him a stern look, and then caressed his cheek.  "Although 
the outcome of the meeting was not what I had hoped for, Mulder, I 
appreciate you sticking to the facts with Skinner.  I know it was 
hard for you to hold back your theories about Harman's involvement in 
the Coltrane murders.  Thank you."

Her eyes were wide and warm and she looked so incredibly soft that he 
once again pushed back the guilt over her words of praise.  He slid his 
hand behind her head, holding her in place as his mouth slowly covered 
hers.  His kiss was slow and deep, her eyes closing and her hand coming 
up to his waist as he gently laid her back into the cushions of the 
sofa.  His fingers caressed her face, sliding down the front of her 
throat and over her breast, his thumb circling the firm nipple before 
he broke their kiss.

"God, Scully."  He whispered, his lips traveling down her neck to her 
collarbone.  "If you want me to stop tell me now, otherwise..." he 
sucked on the skin over her collarbone, his hands moving back up to 
unbutton her blouse.

She rolled her head back, giving him better access to her neck.  
"What makes you think I have any intention of stopping?"  She asked 
breathlessly, a coquettish smile forming at his sharp intake of air.

He watched with wide-eyed surprise as she pushed him off of her, and 
sliding a leg over his thighs, straddled them, holding his gaze with a 
look that left no doubt as to her intent as her mouth came down on his. 

His hands parted her shirt and slid inside, around her waist and up her 
back before traveling back down to rest on her bottom, pressing her 
into his arousal while their tongues tangled against one another, 
establishing a rhythm.  "Sculllleeee" he whispered when her lips moved 
down his chin, placing open-mouthed kisses under his jaw in-between 
soft bites of tender flesh, which sent electrical jolts directly to his 
inflamed groin.

"Mmmmmmm?"  She replied, her eyes half-lidded as her lips grazed a 
line up his neck.  She hummed, fascinated with a spot her lips found 
just behind his ear as she flicked her tongue out for a taste, 
chuckling softly as he swallowed hard.  Her hands slid down his 
chest, the backs of her fingers grazing up and down over the soft 
cotton covering his tight nipples.  She looked into his eyes, her eyes 
black with arousal.  He saw a flicker, as if an idea was forming.  "You 
know, Mulder, I could still help you out with the case."

His hands slid around to her front and covered her breasts, gently 
kneading.  "Danny has way too much work for you in the lab.  Besides, I 
have other things planned for you in our free time."  He slid a little 
further down the sofa so that she was positioned directly on top of his 
erection, her softness pressing firmly into his hardness.

"When did you speak with Danny?"  She asked, her lips grazing up his 
temple and over his forehead as she began to grind against him 
slowly.

"Jesus!" Mulder hissed, engrossed in the motion of their lower 
bodies, unable to resist the soft skin of her throat just within 
reach of his mouth.  It had been way too long since he'd been with a 
woman this way.  As much as he'd wanted to physically express his 
love with Scully he hadn't allowed himself much in the way of sexual 
fantasy where she was concerned, so he hadn't expected her to be so 
enthusiastic - so fuckable.  His conscience to come clean with his 
duplicity was losing the battle against his libido, and he was just 
about to pick her up and carry her in to the bedroom to find out how 
many sexual fantasies she would be willing to fulfill.

But she pulled back gently, her fingers tracing lines down either side 
of his jaw.  "Tell me."  She said with a soft smile, looking directly 
into his eyes.

He took a deep breath as he stared into her adoring, aroused, 
bottomless blues.  "What?"  He asked, breathless.

Her fingers continued to caress his face.  "Before our meeting with 
Skinner I couldn't find you.  Where were you this morning?"

He was silent a moment longer and she stiffened at his refusal to 
answer, seeing hesitance in his eyes.

"Mulder..." she said more sternly, her voice carrying a tone of 
warning.

"I was with Danny."  He said at last, watching the colors change in her 
eyes as she processed the information, running through the probable 
scenarios and hitting the jackpot.  She slid off of his lap and stood 
in front of him, crossing her arms in front of her.

"It was your idea."  She said flatly.

He was hesitant.  "Not entirely.  Danny really does need your help."

She took a deep breath, eyes flashing in anger.  "But you initiated 
it."

He looked back at her defensively.  "Come on, Scully, we both 
remember all too well what happened with Padgett.  The Senator is way 
over the line, here."

"Yes, and this is an entirely different situation.  I could have 
handled this, Mulder."

His voice wavered with raw emotion.  "Are you sure?  Because I was 
there when you read the card that came with those flowers.  I saw the 
fear in your eyes, Scully.  The same fear I saw last night in my 
apartment after I received that telephone call."  He rose to his 
feet, towering over her.

His subconscious attempt to gain the upper hand by flaunting his size 
only made her more inflamed.  "I went through the same training that 
you went through, Mulder.  I.  Can.  Deal.  With.  It."  She was 
nearly shouting at him, her face flushed with anger.

He closed his eyes briefly, clenching his teeth, then looked back 
down at her, his eyes pleading her to understand.  "You're a great 
agent, Scully.  But we're not talking about ability.  We're talking 
about your safety."

"My safety is always going to be an issue of the job, Mulder.  Just 
like you."  Her words were spoken through clenched teeth, the audible 
sound of her tension seething underneath as she growled at him.  "You 
can't make decisions about my safety.  Decisions about MY safety are 
MY decisions to make."

"You're my partner, Scully.  Your safety is MY responsibility, too."

"That seems to be a one-sided rule in this partnership, Mulder."  Her 
words were sharp, cutting right through to the heart of the matter.

He didn't reply.  She had a point - he was constantly ignoring her 
warnings and getting himself into dangerous situations, keeping 
information from her.  For him to bring up Leslie Martin now would 
only make her angrier for not being told about the doppelganger when 
they left Hansen House.  She would take it to Skinner and then they'd 
have no choice but to bring her back into the investigation, setting 
her up as bait.

They both stood in the middle of her living room, breathing heavily 
as they looked at the floor, stealing an occasional glance at the 
other.  Finally, Scully moved toward the door.

"It's late."  She said, not meeting his gaze when he looked over at 
her.

"Scully..." her name whispered as a plea, he moved toward her, 
reaching out to take her into his arms but stopping when she finally 
looked at him.

She was angry and hurt and she was retreating inside herself, 
shutting him out.  He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.  
Looking over at her one more time, her arms crossed defensively and 
eyebrows arched, he let out a sigh and opened the door.

"Scully..." he tried again, but she cut him off.

"Goodnight, Mulder."  Her tone was final.

"Fine."  He said sharply, stepping out into the hallway.  When he 
turned to look at her one last time, all he saw was the white of the 
door as it closed.

Turning the deadbolt, she slid on the chain lest he use his key to 
re-enter uninvited, and let loose a loud breath accompanied by a long 
string of expletives worthy of a sailor's daughter.  She hadn't been 
that angry - or that turned on, which only made it worse - in a very 
long time.  She covered her face with her hands, trying to calm 
herself down but to no avail.  Stomping into the bathroom for a cold 
shower, she swore out loud and slammed the door behind her.

Mulder stood in the hallway with his forehead pressed against her 
door, the wood cool underneath his skin.  He traced a finger along 
the grain, listening to her muttering and stomping her little feet 
inside with a fury borne of red-headed origin.  He closed his eyes as 
"sonofabitch!" stood out clearly amongst her muffled protestations.  
He shouldn't have told her.  If he'd just kept his mouth shut, he'd 
been in there right now.  In HER.  God, he was so close.  His groin 
throbbed in response and he groaned.  "What an idiot.  What a FUCK-
ing idiot."  He slowly peeled himself away from the door, his head 
rolling back until his face pointed toward the ceiling.  He looked 
back at the door one last time, sighed with resignation and turned, 
trudging down the hallway.  


END CHAPTER FOUR

*X*X*X*X*

CHAPTER FIVE

In the wee small hours of the morning,
while the whole wide world is fast asleep,
you lie awake and think about the girl
and never ever think of counting sheep.

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
you'd be her's if only she would call.
In the wee small hours of the morning,
that's the time you miss her most of all. 
- sung by Frank Sinatra


The night was dark and ominous, the pressure building to an 
interminable level as the threatening thunderstorm continued to build. 
The air was so heavy it hung on the skin like a wet towel.  Mulder 
sprawled spread-eagle on his sticky leather sofa, clad only in pajama 
bottoms and an undershirt, staring at his own ceiling.  It was already 
3:18 - there was no way he would sleep this night. 

Scully. 

Something always happened. What was it about them?  They were so close 
in almost every way, except the physical.  And just when it appeared 
they were beginning to achieve real physical intimacy, something 
happened.  Something ALWAYS happened.

But tonight was different because she threw him out.  She'd been mad at 
him before.  They'd had plenty of arguments in the past, about a case 
or their quest for the truth about what happened to Samantha - or at 
least about their diametrically opposing methods for reaching their 
investigative goals.  Tonight, however, wasn't about work or their 
quest.  Tonight had been personal.

DEEPLY personal. 

Since the very first day they met, they'd been developing a method of 
communication so unique that even they couldn't put it into words. 
Their values and morals had been in synch from the start.  It was the 
basis for their friendship, and it was the basis from which the rest of 
their communication grew.  It grew stronger with time.  Often, there 
was a healthy agreement to disagree, but the foundation of respect was 
always there.  It didn't take long to recognize that theirs was a 
balanced partnership.

An EQUAL partnership.

At times they were so in tune to each other's thoughts that only a 
look, a shrug or a raised eyebrow could speak volumes.  They were 
comfortable in close proximity.  They had developed an appreciation of 
each other's habits and body language.  It became one of their 
strongest assets as a team - non-verbal communication was sometimes 
their only avenue.  On a stakeout or just before an arrest, silence was 
definitely a virtue.  It mattered to their very survival. 

But when it came to the personal aspects of their partnership, 
sometimes it just didn't make sense.  Scully had even said as much back 
on that rock in Heuvelman's Lake when they were looking for "Big Blue". 
She had compared him to Captain Ahab in that he was always obsessively 
searching - for his sister, for the so-called truth, for little gray 
space aliens, whatever.  Inwardly, he realized that, yeah, he didn't 
always make sense.  It seemed he always had to be moving forward on 
something in order to justify moving at all.

Regardless of his single-mindedness, she was there for him.  She had 
always been there for him, when he needed solace, when he needed care, 
when he needed to reach out to someone.  What was it she saw in him 
that made her stay?  She always seemed to know what he needed.

Hell, he always needed HER. 

Something happened to them in that underground mushroom cave in North 
Carolina that altered everything.  Whether it was the mutual terror and 
anxiety of almost being eaten alive by the giant fungus, or the 
chemical influences it had on them during its slow ingestion and
digestion of them, or their shared hallucinations - something between 
them intensified.  Now it was like they had a psychic link, a 
connection so strong that each felt the other's presence before they 
entered a room, knew when the other was needed.  Knew when the other 
was afraid or sad.  It wasn't like they could read the other's thoughts 
or anticipate each other's actions.  It was more of a cognizance, a 
heightened awareness of each other. 

Tonight had been the first real foray into establishing a physical 
connection to match their mental connection.  And what a connection it 
would have been.  He had no idea that Scully would be such a willing 
participant.  Well, he had hoped, had thought that maybe...but it was 
even more than that.  There was a completion, a closure, a joy and a 
finality to it.  If they had been able to finish what they'd started 
tonight, they would have been entering into a whole new plateau in 
their relationship - a good one.  One with a tangible future beyond the 
X-Files and the Bureau.

But then he screwed up, and now he was feeling woefully alone.  To make 
matters worse, he was left with the phantom memory of her touch, and 
way she tasted when they kissed...

He had allowed this case, this stupid case, to become personal.  It had 
gone from a simple murder investigation to an issue about Scully and 
saving her life.  How did he let that happen?  He had screwed it up by 
not coming clean with all the details like he should have.  He didn't 
tell her about the amazing likeness to that hooker, Leslie Martin.  Now 
there were threats against her safety if he didn't take an active role 
in insuring that Senator Harman had a "date" with his partner.  Well,
he'd be damned if that was going to happen.  He was going to have to 
resolve this case quickly.

He had let his opportunities slide before things heated up last summer 
and they were thrown into global conspiracy and frozen ice flows.  This 
time it would be different.  As soon as this case was over, he was 
going to finish what they started on Scully's living room sofa.

Lightening flashed, a clap of thunder boomed very close by and Mulder 
could smell the ozone.  He rolled over on his side, buried his nose in 
the Indian print pillow, and felt the pressure changes as the storm 
wore on...



...The camera equipment was set up next to the chair by the wall with 
fiber optic cable running up the wall through his heating vent.  He had 
left Scully on the couch, boots off, dozing lightly as she watched the 
monitor down her nose through half-lidded eyes.  He was making coffee 
to keep them both awake while they waited.  Waited for Padgett's next 
move. 

The whistle from the tea kettle was beginning to sound more like a 
shriek by the time he made it into the kitchen to turn off the stove. 
As he twisted the knob, shutting off the burner, he simultaneously 
reached for two cups from the shelf above.  Even though he hurried to 
return to the living room, he felt as if he were moving in slow motion. 
The instant coffee was "high octane" so they could better endure the 
long night ahead.  Stakeouts were always tedious, but knowing that your 
own bed was just in the next room made it more difficult to focus.  He 
would have preferred that he and Scully were there just to go over 
notes from a case or play Scrabble.  To have the suspect in the next 
apartment was unsettling.  Everything about this case was unsettling. 
The sooner they ended it, the better.

When they moved the coffee table over to one side to make way for the 
surveillance equipment, Scully had teased him that this was probably 
the only time he'd seen what was under the table since he'd moved in. 
Since it was only a few stray sunflower seeds and a ten year old book 
of matches, he wasn't really bothered.  It could have been anything 
from stray bullet casings to that phone number he'd misplaced for 
Fiona's Dial-a-Date. 

As he rounded the corner from his kitchen, mugs in hand, it was all 
wrong.  Scully was gone.  Suddenly the coffee was gone from his hands 
as he searched from room to room - frantically looking for Scully, 
calling her name.  Returning to the foyer, he called her name -
screamed her name.  She was nowhere. 

Then suddenly a light flashed - like a camera flash.  Men in heavy 
coats were brushing past him as they converged on a form covered with a 
white shroud in the middle of his Navajo rug.  He knew who it was.  He 
heard the men talking to him, but couldn't understand them as he knelt
down beside the body.  He had to see her.  He lifted the shroud - it 
was Scully.  She was covered in blood, her still-beating heart torn out 
and lying on the floor next to her.  He felt the pain in his chest as 
if his heart had been torn out as well.

Horror-stricken, he took her by the shoulders and began to shake her - 
trying to wake her.  He clutched her to his chest, soaking his own 
clothing with her blood, and he held her against him, rocking them both 
as he sobbed.  Suddenly - another flash - followed by a gunshot...



...Thunder.  Mulder awakened with a jolt, shaken and sweating, tears 
covering his face.  The smothering hot sofa was sticky with his sweat, 
damp where his tears had fallen on the leather.  The storm outside was 
raging fiercely. 

He got up and walked to the window, peering through the Venetian blinds 
as the rain fell in sheets into huge puddles on the street below.  
There was no sense in trying to get any more sleep.  It wouldn't
change things - and would probably only make them worse. Normally after 
a nightmare like this, he would call Scully for some innocuous reason - 
if only to hear her voice.  She knew why he called, but they never 
spoke of it.  The nightmares sometimes threatened her, too.  They
always had each other to get by them, though.

But not tonight.  He would not be a welcome intrusion tonight.

His only hope was to get working on the case again immediately.  Keep 
Scully out of harm's way long enough to solve the murders, and get 
Senator Harman out of his and Scully's lives.

Mulder checked his watch - 4:05 am.  He scruffed his hands through his 
hair and across his face and shuffled into the bathroom to take a 
shower.  



Ever since he ruined his marriage due to the cruelties of the job and 
the mysteries of the old woman creature - the succubus, Mulder had 
called it - that plagued his nightmares, Walter Skinner had been coming 
into work extremely early.  He was never alone at the Bureau, though.  
There was always some agent slunk down in his or her office pouring 
over evidence, struggling to put the pieces of their case together, 
abandoning or feeling abandoned by their own lives. 

By nature, investigators sleep little.  Cases take on lives of their 
own.  They drive the investigator to solve their riddles.  The amount 
of time and personal energy required to solve a case often takes on
monumental proportions and it wears thin in a marriage, especially with 
a spouse who doesn't work in law enforcement.  The ugliness and 
violence that plague many an investigation are often too traumatic to 
share with a spouse - fragments of an agent's life that he or she find 
difficult to share with anyone who isn't on the inside, the divorce 
rate running high. 

Skinner never felt he had the right to burden Sharon with the heinous, 
awful things he had witnessed.  It was too late before he realized he 
distanced himself from any comfort she could offer him to survive the 
ugliness himself.

As he made his way through the semi-darkened hallway leading to the 
elevator, he sensed a quiet movement approaching him from another 
hallway.  He turned to see his new "partner", Agent Mulder, padding up 
the hall toward the elevator, shaking the rain from his lightweight 
raincoat.  When they made eye contact, each knew the other's monster.

The Assistant Director was actually pleased to see a kindred spirit at 
this hour of the morning.  "Well, look what the storm blew in.  The 
rain break through your window, Agent Mulder?" 

"No, sir, I have enough tape residue on my windows to prevent that from 
happening.  Actually, I woke up thinking about this case, and wanted to 
get some more background on the victims.  The facts regarding Steven 
Hoyt's supposed suicide and his fiance's death don't make a lot of 
sense."

"What facts are those?"  Skinner asked as they fell into step on their 
way toward the elevator.  He had promised Scully he would keep her 
partner on track - now was as good a time as any to get started.  As 
they rode the elevator down to the basement, Skinner urged him to 
elaborate.

"Hoyt's fiance, Lisa Lewis, seemed to be a devout health nut.  Our 
search of her apartment confirmed that she used homeopathic remedies, 
organic laundry detergent, cleansers, etc.  It doesn't track that she'd 
ingest a strong chemical barbiturate to kill herself."

"Maybe she wanted to get the job done and threw her beliefs out the 
window at the last minute."

"I don't think so.  She seemed to be obsessed with it.  Too obsessed to 
change her beliefs at the final moment.  Besides, her suicide note 
didn't indicate any change in philosophy prior to her death.  You'd 
think she'd mention a resolve to go out in a blaze of chemicals, so to 
speak."

"Did forensics come up with anything on the note?"

"It's been sent down to Henderson for handwriting analysis, but the 
note was written on a computer and printed out.  Lewis only used a pen 
to sign her initials, so there's not much to go on."

"Any signs of a struggle?"

Mulder shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, feeling it come 
back damp.

The Assistant Director looked at Mulder over his glasses.  "You're 
right, that's not much to go on.  Where do you intend to go with this?"

Mulder responded with an uncharacteristic variation to his voice.  "I 
don't know.  I was hoping to forage around in the paperwork this 
morning to see if I could come up with something more substantial."  
The elevator doors opened to the basement and he stepped off, Skinner 
choosing to stay in the car to ride back up to his own office.  Mulder 
looked at him with focused determination.  "I want to get this case 
over with."

Skinner nodded silently, understanding perfectly that he was only a 
temporary surrogate.  Agent Mulder wanted his partner back, the quicker 
the better.



Mulder flipped the pages of the file over and started at the top one 
more time.  He'd been sifting through the pages since early that 
morning, and it was nearly lunchtime.  There had to be something in 
there that would give him a clue to follow.  He leaned back in his desk 
chair, sticking a sunflower seed between this teeth and propping his 
feet up on his desk.

Steven Hoyt was a fundraiser for Senator Harman.  He met Lisa Lewis six 
years ago at a conference on Zero Population Growth in Philadelphia, 
where she worked as a lobbyist.  She eventually moved to DC to be 
nearer to Steven and to work more closely with Congress on the Zero 
Population Growth problem.

Mulder pulled the spent shells out of his mouth and tossed them into 
the trash can, and sat up straight in his chair, picking up the phone 
and punching at the keypad.

"Lone Gunmen."  Frohike answered after two rings.

"It's me."  Mulder said, tucking the phone in between his ear and 
shoulder as he leaned back again.  "Did you come up with any more 
information on Steven Hoyt or Lisa Lewis?"

"Nada."  Frohike replied.  "There was one interesting little tidbit I 
came across, however."

Mulder stuck another seed in his mouth.  "What?"  He asked with a crack 
of the shell.

"Just before the Monica Lewinsky issue got really hot, Harman was 
rumored to be having an affair with the Director of Guest Relations for 
the Ambassador Hotel, one Stephanie Curtis.  They met through Curtis' 
boyfriend, Donald Mathers.  Mathers was the Senator's Staff Assistant.  
They'd been dating nearly ten years, but broke up just after the story 
hit the tabloids."

Mulder removed the shell and licked his lips.  "Yeah, I remember that.  
Blonde, right?  What happened to her?"

He could hear Frohike typing in the background.  "She lost her job at 
the Ambassador and moved to Seattle to be near her family.  She's 
currently employed as a sales rep at the Seattle Convention and 
Visitors Bureau."

"That's it?"  Mulder asked, slightly put out that Frohike didn't 
deliver anything better.  His kung fu was usually better that that.  
"What about Mathers?"

"He resigned from the Senator's staff and took a position with a local 
public relations firm."

Mulder sighed, closing the file.  "Alright.  Did you come up with 
anything on Leslie Martin?"

Frohike chuckled.  "I got her DMV records.  You dog."

Mulder blinked.  "What?"  He asked innocently.

"Five foot two, blue eyes, red hair...she's Dana-licious, Scully-
umptious."

"Put your pants back on, will you?"  Mulder growled.  "You got anything 
useful?  Like where she's from?"  He stuck another seed in his mouth.

"San Francisco, but I'm still working on that.  I'm also working on her 
bank records.  There's some pretty sophisticated encryption there but I 
should have that info for you this afternoon."

"Email her DMV records to me, and call me when you get anything else."  
He started to put the received down.

"Hey, Mulder..."

Mulder moved the receiver back up to his ear.  "Yeah?"

His voice was somber.  "Just because she's got the looks doesn't mean 
she could hold a candle to that partner of yours."

Mulder spit out another shell with irritation.  "I'm hanging up now."  
Putting the receiving down, he stood, sucking on his lower lip, and 
stared at the file on his desk, hands on his hips.  The answer was 
there - it had to be.  He just wasn't looking in the right place.



Agent Mancina sat at the head of the table, surrounded by balloons and 
wrapping paper, holding her belly and laughing as her it changed shape, 
the large mound moving to the right, then flattening out a bit.

"What WAS that?"  Danny asked, grinning in wonder.  The entire table 
was captivated by the movement.

"I think it was her little fanny."  Mancina replied with a chuckle.  
"Tight quarters in there, eh, little one?"  She said to her belly with 
a smile, rubbing it softly.

Scully sat at her right, smiling and enjoying the floor show.  Mancina 
had made out like a bandit - receiving blankets, crib sheets, onesies, 
draw string sleepers, booties, stuffed animals, bottle warmers - she'd 
already had two other babies shower given by friends and family and 
they'd taken care of all of the larger stuff.  Danny had planned the 
shower ahead of time for the day before, but considerately moved it 
back one day to coincide with Scully's first day in the lab so that she 
could be a part of the celebration.

The baby items were a stark contrast to the rock and roll memorabilia 
on the walls of the Hard Rock Cafe.  Mancina was a closet Aerosmith
fan 
and as a gag Danny had a bakery make a cake shaped like a baby buggy 
with Steven Tyler's face inside, mouth open wide and tongue sticking 
out.  When the waitress brought out the cake, nearly all of the Cafe's

wait staff followed behind to watch with amusement.

Mancina laughed so hard, she nearly fell out of her chair.

"I'm gonna pee my pants!"  She wailed hysterically as the entire 
restaurant paused to watch, every face wearing a grin.  It was 
infectious.

Scully raised her head and looked toward the entrance, a frown passing 
over her face as her shoulders stiffened.  Not seeing anything, her 
brow furrowed a moment unnoticed before she checked herself and 
replaced it once again with a smile.  Mancina was examining the cake in 
detail, and looked up just in time to see Mulder walk in, a genuine 
grin on his face as he observed her in her delight.

"Hey, Mulder!  Sit down and have some cake!"  She pointed at the pastry 
and Mulder laughed out loud, biting his lip to keep from making the 
comment that immediately came to mind.  

"You're gonna EAT that thing?"  He asked, his eyes shining with mirth.  
He'd glanced at Scully, but she was purposely avoiding meeting his 
eyes.  There was a little yellow and pink two-piece outfit sitting on 
the edge of the table that suddenly caught her attention.  He couldn't 
control the rate of his pulse, however, although his educated mind told 
him it was the 'fight or flight' reaction causing the increase in 
adrenaline in his blood.

"You bet your cute little ass I am!"  Mancina beamed, reaching for a 
knife.  "Take a seat, I'll give you the tongue."

Mulder held up his hands.  "Charming offer, but I'm gonna have to 
pass."  He pointed over at the take-out counter.  "I've already 
arranged for my pick-up."  Grinning, he headed toward the counter as 
Mancina plunged the knife into the cake.

Scully pasted a smile on her face and watched Mancina dig into the 
cake, cutting hefty pieces to pass out to her coworkers.  As a piece 
was placed in front of her, she shook her head slightly and held up her 
hand.  "Just a small one, please."

Mancina tossed her a look out the corner of her eye.  "You look 
terrific, Dana.  Eat the goddamn cake."

Scully smiled sweetly.  "Thank you, Denise.  I'd like to keep it that 
way.  I'm not eating for two, so cut accordingly."

Mancina smiled.  "I should have delegated the cutting to you, since 
you've got so much experience."  She stuck a finger in her mouth, and 
handed Scully a small slice.

Mulder passed by the table again, giving Mancina a pat on the shoulder.

"Sure you don't want any cake?  I'll have it wrapped to go so the rain 
doesn't melt it before you can eat it."  Mancina smiled up at him.

"No thanks, I'm not eating for two."  He grinned, patting his stomach.

Mancina looked from him to Scully, her eyes wide.  "Jesus, you two ARE 
spooky, aren't you?"

Mulder and Scully's eyes met and froze, the familiar tension swelling 
between them.  Scully broke the connection, suddenly looking away.  
Mulder forced a quick, polite smile towards Mancina and mumbled 'see 
you later,' heading toward the exit with long strides.  Mancina looked 
at Scully with embarrassment.

"Jeez, Dana, I'm sorry.  I stuck my foot in good, didn't I?"

Scully put her hand on Mancina's arm and gave her a polite smile.  
"It's okay, Denise.  Mulder's just a little sensitive about his 
nickname."  She gave her arm a gentle squeeze.  "He'll get over it."

Scully glanced up to see Mulder disappear around a corner.

We'll get over it, she thought to herself.



It took some time before all the locks mere meticulously unlocked 
allowing Mulder entrance to the "Inner Sanctum."  When he entered, he 
was sure he could smell brownies baking, but didn't dare ask.  "Where's 
Larry and Curly this afternoon?  Out selling bugged Girl Scout cookies 
to the Young Republicans?"

"Ha ha, very funny, Mulder.  You slay me."  Frohike's delivery was 
nothing less than acerbic.  "Do you wanna know what I found out, or 
what?" His stubby little hands had trouble reaching the uppermost lock 
on the door, so he had to jump a little to reach it.  Mulder let him, 
watching with abject amusement.

The stocky little man finished his security check and turned to a PC on 
the table nearest the door.  Mulder sat, opened his lunch and took out 
a large hamburger, taking a less-than-healthy bite out of it before 
pushing the gooseneck lamp back a bit so he could get close to the 
computer screen.

"Jesus, Mulder.  You're going to give yourself a coronary one of these 
days."  Frohike watched him with disgust.

"Read."  Mulder commanded around a mouthful of burger, motioning to the 
screen.

Frohike began his report as if he were reading it off the screen before 
them, but when Mulder looked his way, he noticed that the little gnome 
had committed it all to heart.

"Leslie Martin left a promising job without reason.  Worked for 
Brackett & Weller Investments for a few years as an investment 
counselor in San Francisco.  Seemed to be really successful, had a 
noteworthy client list.  No family, few friends.  Worked long hours but 
the job was very lucrative.  I guess not lucrative enough, because she 
just up and quit in May of '98.  She moved to the DC area immediately 
thereafter.  She rented an apartment in Gaithersburg and now seems to 
spend most of her time there.  She doesn't spend much time at Hansen 
House, anyway.  She's only there once or twice a week."

Frohike reached out and tapped a key on the keyboard.

"Her banking records show that since she moved to the DC area, she's 
been making $25,000 deposits once a month.  Which is funny, because so 
was Karen Darby.  New trend in prostitution?  A draw against 
commission?"  Frohike looked at Mulder with a sick grin.  "Some piece 
of ass, huh?"

Mulder rolled his eyes and took another bite of burger.

"Karen Darby was a high school teacher in Cheyenne, Wyoming.  Pillar of 
the community.  Tragedy hit when she lost all of her immediate family 
in a freak fire at their homestead.  Folks say she just kinda snapped.  
A few weeks later, she left town.  The next time I can pick her up, 
she's in a Baltimore whorehouse.  Dead."

Mulder swallowed and pulled out his cel phone.  Looking at the screen, 
he punched in a number and let it ring a few times.  A woman answered, 
and he said, "Leslie Martin, please."  He could hear the line being 
transferred.  When he heard her voice, he sat up.  "It's Fox Mulder.  I 
want to see you."

"What the Hell are you doing?"  Frohike hissed at him.  Mulder covered 
the mouthpeice of the phone and glared at him.  Frohike stood with his 
mouth open as he watched Mulder pull out a notepad and write down the 
name of a hotel and 4 p.m.  "I understand that.  Alright.  No, it's not 
a problem."  Mulder finished and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

"The Willard?"  Frohike asked.  "I guess with 25 grand a month, you can 
afford certain privileges."

Mulder didn't reply, picking up his burger and taking another bite as 
he studied the information on the monitor.



The taxi pulled up to the front entrance of the Hotel and the doorman 
opened the passenger door with a flourish, welcoming the tall man to 
the Willard has he unfolded his long frame from the back seat.  Mulder 
hadn't wanted to have this meeting on any records at the Bureau, so he 
elected not to use a fleet vehicle.  As he stood at the entrance to the 
lobby, a flood of anxiety washed over him, making him feel even warmer 
than the muggy afternoon had already done.

He was hoping that this woman would unravel the mystery surrounding the 
uncanny resemblance of the women at Hansen House to the women 
romantically linked to Senator Harman.  He also hoped she would have 
the answer to why and how Scully would be tied into this case.

As he passed through the extravagant lobby, the stories of scandal and 
controversy rang in his ears.  The Willard had been the host to 
countless politicians and lobbyists over the years, visiting on 
official and not so official business.  The hotels proximity to the 
White House and its location at the heart of Washington politics placed 
it at the focal point of much unrecorded history.  Mulder wondered just 
how deep this political connection to the Senate ran.  He wouldn't have 
been surprised to hear that certain Presidents through the years had 
running accounts on the books.  Nothing much really surprised him 
anymore when it came to politics and the government.  He could safely 
say that he'd just about seen it all by now.

This thing with the Scully lookalike was a shocker though.  It really 
came out of left field.  He owed it to her to get to the bottom of it.  
Seeing her earlier that day only served to strengthen his resolve.

The elevator stopped on the tenth floor and Mulder stepped out into 
what appeared to be one of the concierge levels of the hotel, set aside 
for special guests with special needs, whether for services or just 
plain privacy.  A dark suited man - possibly Secret Service? - met him 
at a small desk stationed just to the right of the elevator, blocking 
further passage down the hallway.

"May I help you, sir?"  The man asked.

"I'm here to see Miss Martin."  Mulder stated.

"Yes sir.  Mr. Mulder, is it?"

Mulder wondered just how much this guy knew as he was directed to room 
1013 on the right.

Mulder tapped on the door and it opened to reveal Leslie Martin, 
dressed in a lavender chiffon negligee edged in plum colored satin.  
She seemed to be a little more than drunk and was holding an old-
fashioned glass filled with what appeared to be Alka-Seltzer.

She didn't look too much like Scully, her hair styled with a part on 
the side and the ends curled up at the tips more like a diminutive 
Ginger from Gilligan's Island.  She stepped aside to let him enter.

"So, Mr. Mulder, how about a drink?"  She said, stepping over to a 
small bar to pour him a glass of what appeared to be Scotch.

"Is that what you're having?"  He asked, gesturing to the glass in her 
hand.  It was evident that she'd been at it a long time.

"No, my last client gave me an upset stomach."  She handed him the 
scotch nervously and clinked her glass against his.  "Cheers."  She 
said flatly.

Mulder surveyed the room.  It was very elegant, seemingly custom-
designed, and no doubt very expensive.  "Spend much time here?"  He 
asked with a smirk.

"A fair amount."  She replied, the liquid in her glass threatening to 
spill over the sides as she waved her hand around while she spoke.  
"It's retained for clients such as yourself who can't make it out of DC 
to get to Baltimore.  It's a pretty full day when Congress is in 
session, but I don't have to tell you that, do I?"

Mulder watched her, his eyes running down her figure and back up again.

"Who owns Hansen House?"  He asked, and she shrugged.  "Who runs it?"

She seemed skittish, or perhaps it was the alcohol.  He couldn't tell.  
"You've seen who runs it.  Your partner spoke with her the day you 
visited."

Mulder nodded, still studying her.  "Is Senator Harman a client of 
yours?"

She smiled at him.  "I can't divulge that information.  Think of it as 
Doctor/Patient confidentiality.  You understand."  She stepped closer 
to him, placing her palm on his abdomen and running it slowly up his 
chest.  "Nice suit."

He looked down at her.  "Was Steven Hoyt a client?"  He asked, 
nonplussed.  She stepped even closer, pressing her body against his 
lightly, and Mulder swallowed involuntarily, firing questions at her.  

"Did you know Steven Hoyt, Leslie?"

"Was Karen Darby paid to look like Lisa Lewis?"

"Was she physically altered with plastic surgery to enhance the 
resemblance?"

She looked up at him, then tilted her head to the side, shaking her 
head drunkenly.

"Are you being paid to look like Scully?"

She laughed. "You want her?  I can give you her."  She stumbled 
slightly as she walked over to a large antique bureau, picking up a 
comb and brushing her hair so that the ends flipped under.  She picked 
up a small necklace and fastened it around her neck, then dabbed a 
concealer stick under her eyes and over the mole above her upper lip.  
A fresh coat of lipstick in a different shade completed the illusion 
and she turned to face him.

Mulder drew in a breath as he looked at her, and she laughed.

"This is what you came here for, isn't it?"  She crossed her arms, 
tilted her head back and gazed at him under half-lidded eyes, the 
expression so Scully that Mulder moved across the room to her, grabbing 
her by the wrists.

"Who hired you?!"  He asked, his voice raised.

She twisted, trying to free her wrists from his grip.  "Let go!"  She 
said, her voice close to a whisper.

"I want answers, dammit!"  Mulder hissed, leaning his face down to 
hers.

She saw the frustration in his face and laughed again.  "To drive a 
wedge between the two of you."

"Who?"  Mulder asked, still holding tightly.  "For what purpose?"

"Timing, Mr. Mulder.  Timing is everything."

Mulder's grip loosened, his face becoming slack.  "I don't understand.  
Is it colonization?"

She looked at him like he'd just spoken in a foreign language.  
"Someone fancies your partner nearly as much as you do.  Do you think 
your little tete-a-tete went unnoticed?  You two are very close, I'd 
say.  Not as close as you'd like to be, obviously."  She slid her hand 
down the front of his trousers, giving his flaccid cock a gentle 
squeeze, then stepping back.  "Will this help get you in the mood?"  
She crossed over to a closet and opened the doors, pulling out a 
tailored black suit.  "I'll even let you take it off of me."

Mulder's anger erupted.  "Who the HELL do you think you are?"  He 
growled, lunging forward.

The concierge had heard the occasional raised voice coming from room 
1013 since Mr. Mulder entered.  To be able to hear as much in the 
hallway when the rooms were supposedly soundproofed spoke volumes about 
how loud the argument had been.  He was glad when it was over so that 
he didn't have to knock on the door and ask them to keep it down.  Ms. 
Martin was usually a quiet guest compared to some of the others, and 
he'd hate to have to embarrass himself by asking her to be a little 
more considerate of the other guests.

After a moment he heard a loud thud, like furniture was being moved or 
something really heavy had hit the floor or the wall.  If they were 
doing any damage to the furniture, he would have to make a note and 
charge it back to Mr. Mulder.  Hell, it wouldn't be the first time 
something like that had happened.  But there was only the one sound, 
and room 1013 once again was quiet.


END CHAPTER FIVE    

*X*X*X*X*