From: "beduini" Date: Sat, 3 Nov 2001 11:05:38 -0800 Subject: An Alluring Indiscretion Source: direct *X*X*X*X* CHAPTER SIX Others because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine; Yet always when I look death in the face, When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, Suddenly I meet your face. - W. B. Yeats, "A Deep-sworn Vow" "What is it." Skinner punched the intercom button with irritation. "Sir, Agent Scully isn't in the lab. Danny said she returned with them after lunch but he doesn't know where she is now or what time she will return." His assistant's voice was apologetic. He let out a short breath. "Did you try her on her cel?" "Yes, but she's either out of a service area or has it turned off. I left a message on her voice mail." Sonofa..." Skinner took a deep breath. "Thanks, Kim." He said, turning off the intercom. First Mulder, now Scully. How surprising. Where the two of them had run off to was anyone's guess at this point, but he vowed he'd have Mulder's ass in a sling if he'd skipped out in the middle of an investigation because somebody reported seeing strange lights in the sky. He'd do the same to Scully if she went with him. The intercom buzzed again, and Skinner sighed. "Yes?" He said, mustering all of the patience he had. After all, it wasn't her fault that Mulder and Scully were unreachable. "Sir, a Detective McCracken with the D.C.P.D. is on the line. He says its regarding Agents Mulder and Scully." Skinner closed his eyes and sighed. D.C.P.D. Of course. "Ok, put him through." "Skinner." He growled into the telephone when it rang in on his extension. "Assistant Director Skinner, this is Detective McCracken with the D.C.P.D. I've got a situation down here at the Willard that you Bureau guys might want to handle. It involves Agents Mulder and Scully and...well, you might want to get down here right away." "What kind of situation are we talking about, Detective?" Skinner asked. "You might want to see for yourself, Sir." McCracken replied with hesitation. Skinner sighed again in defeat. Of all of the agents under his supervision, Mulder was a one-in-a-lifetime talent, but at the moment he was nothing more than a pain in his ass. "Alright, I'll be right down." Skinner noted the two squad cars and ambulance in front of the Willard Inter-Continental as he pushed inside, showing his credentials to a uniformed officer near the check-in desk and asking for Detective McCracken. He was directed to the tenth floor, and he maneuvered toward the elevators through the curious spectators that had gathered in the opulent lobby. Up on the tenth floor, he noticed an unmanned hospitality desk and down the hall to the right an older man he assumed was Detective McCracken was standing with another younger, greener looking detective just outside of a room. He looked up as Skinner approached, sensing who he was by his demeanor. "What's going on, Detective?" Skinner asked, flashing his I.D. at the man. "Assistant Director Skinner." McCracken offered his hand, shaking hands quickly before nodding toward the room. "He won't say a word and he won't let go of her. I figured you'd have better luck, seeing how it's one of your own. We've got to get a statement from him and..." he paused, "...so on." Skinner looked toward the doorway just as a paramedic stepped out, his hands smeared up to the elbow in blood. He shook his head at the Detective and Skinner's eyes widened as he looked back at McCracken. The detective's face was grave, even for one who had probably seen a lot in his long tenure. It sent a chill through him that he'd known intimately since he was eighteen years old, fighting for his country in Vietnam. Death. He shuddering involuntarily and stepped toward the door. The first thing in his line of vision was the bed, the bottom corner shoved against the wall and the decorative comforter rumpled, pulled off on one side. Another paramedic stood near some emergency medical equipment toward the back of the room with a look of uncertainty on his face, watching the man on the floor in the middle of the room. Mulder sat in profile, his face contorted into a mask of extreme pain and grief as he sobbed silently. In his arms he cradled a petite redhead, her still, ghostly white form covered in blood. There was a trail of blood leading in from the bathroom, saturating the woman's dark business suit, pooled underneath the woman's body and smeared over Mulder's face, arms, shirt and trousers. Skinner sucked in a deep breath and bent at the waist, grabbing his knees. "Oh sweet Jesus..." he whispered, his eyes closed. McCracken had stepped in behind him, his eyes on the couple in the middle of the room. "What happened here?" Skinner asked softly, his face displaying his shock and disbelief. "Don't know." McCracken said. "A 911 call came in from Agent Mulder at this location at 4:32 p.m. stating that a woman had been murdered. We found them this way. He was rocking back and forth, whispering something like 'wake up' over and over but we couldn't get anything else out of him. After a while, he just stopped talking altogether. He won't let go of her, though." At that moment, Mulder looked up. His pallid cheeks were wet with tears and his eyes were black from shock. "She won't wake up." He said hoarsely to the Assistant Director, swallowing hard. He turned his face back toward the woman in his arms and tightened his hold on her. Skinner walked over and crouched down next to him. "What happened to her?" He asked gently, more than familiar with trauma-induced dissociative disorder from his tour of duty in Vietnam. He looked down at the lifeless body of Dana Scully, something in her face seeming different but he couldn't say what. Perhaps it was the mask of death. He turned his head away and closed his eyes, giving himself a moment to bury his personal feelings before they got the better of him. The air changed as another person entered the room, the stillness punctured by an audibly quick intake of breath. Skinner looked up over his shoulder to see Agent Scully standing just inside the doorway, her face drained of color but very much alive and struggling to gain control over her emotions as she took in the sight before her. He let out an involuntary sigh of relief. McCracken and the paramedic were both looking at her with a little more than disbelief, and the other detective and paramedic had stepped inside the room behind her, both curious about this new player in the scenario who bore a shocking resemblance to the victim. McCracken's face softened as if some of his tension had been relieved and he nodded at her in acknowledgement. Scully's questioning gaze left the detective and locked with Skinner's shocked and confused gaze, and he turned back to look once more at the woman in Mulder's arms before standing and facing the agent. She crossed the room and stood close to him as he told her in a low voice, "he's unresponsive. The detectives have been unable to get a statement from him. Judging by his reaction, I think he believes that's you." He looked back over at Mulder a moment, his jaw clenched. "Agent Scully, what the hell is going on?" She looked up at him, then over at Mulder, who hadn't noticed her enter the room. She couldn't hide the distress and the horror she felt as she looked at her partner cradling the body of a woman who could have passed as her identical twin, his face twisted from unbearable grief. "I don't know." She told Skinner honestly, then stepped close to Mulder and crouched down, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "Mulder." She said soft and throaty, with no response. She took a deep breath. "Mulder, it's me." His breathing changed, his nostrils flaring as he turned his head and looked at her, his eyes dark and wild. He blinked several times and the wildness seemed to abate. "Scully?" He asked, his eyes boring into hers intimately, looking for and finding evidence of her soul inside the pale blue orbs. She held his gaze, and gave him a quasi-smile, her hand tightening on his shoulder. "Yeah." His expression changed to something that could be described as relief, and she ran the back of her fingers over his temple tenderly. He looked back down at the woman in his arms, and he began to tremble, his face crumpling. "God, Scully..." he sobbed, the tears starting anew. Scully gently pulled Mulder's head down to her shoulder, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and stroking his hair with her free hand. "Shhhhhhh, I know, Mulder. I know." No one in the room watching the drama unfold before them could have a flicker of doubt about what the two players center stage meant to each other. Skinner looked to the other occupants of the room, feeling like a voyeur. "Let's give them a minute." He said quietly, efficiently ushering them out into the hallway. Scully stepped wearily into the hallway, drained of all emotion and energy but somehow able to take a breath and straighten her shoulders before speaking to the Assistant Director. "He's asking for you, Sir." She said, her eyes telling him that both she and Mulder had both recovered some measure of control. Skinner looked at her with respect, highly aware of the personal strength it took to deal with the situation. There had been some intense whispering coming from the room just moments before. He nodded and stepped toward the door, turning again when he saw she was headed off down the hallway. "Agent Scully..." She turned back toward him, her eyebrows raised in question. "Don't go anywhere." He told her, then stepped inside. Mulder was standing off to the side now shifting his weight from foot to foot, his hands on his hips as he stared at the woman on the floor. When he looked up at Skinner his eyes were dark with anger. "I don't want Scully involved in this." He said, giving a quick nod toward the body. Skinner looked down at her a moment, marveling again at her strong resemblance to the agent. He glanced at the bed and sensed with dread that Mulder was involved personally as well as professionally in this one. "Just tell me what happened." In the hallway, Scully leaned back against the wall, her eyes closing as the weariness washed over her. Detective McCracken hovered nearby, an ear focused on the room trying to hear what was being said between Mulder and Skinner while he kept one eye on the red-headed agent in the hallway. "You ok?" He asked her, his eyes kind and sincere. "Yeah." She said, a brief smile passing across her face without reaching her eyes. "How about letting Markowitz buy you a cup of coffee while you wait." He said warmly, nodding toward the uniformed officer standing nearby. Scully took a deep breath. Mulder had made it clear that he didn't want her here but she was forced to wait on Skinner's orders. A cup of coffee sounded like the way to go. She nodded and looked at McCracken with gratitude before glancing at Markowitz and heading down the hallway toward the hospitality area. McCracken watched her with warmth and respect, shaking his head at the physical similarities between the two women, then joined Mulder and Skinner in the room. There was a coffee pot tucked into an unobtrusive spot in the hospitality area near the elevators. Markowitz handed Scully a styrofoam cup and sat across from her in one of two rich, berry-colored chairs. Markowitz was a nice but ordinary guy, married with a small son and liked to talk, which suited Scully just fine since it was all she could do to sip her coffee and nod once in a while. She sensed that he was nervous, maybe from the scene in the hotel room, or the overtly elegant hotel, or perhaps from her presence. Regardless of the reason, it only served to make him that much more talkative. He was engaging, though, enough to keep her mind from dwelling on Mulder - for the time being. The Coroner arrived, wheeling a stretcher down the hallway, the pristine decor none the worse for the wear. Markowitz's topics of conversation had run out and they both sat quietly, Scully's beverage turning cold as her thoughts turned inward. She wondered about the rumpled bed, the woman's identity, and what Mulder was doing in a hotel room with her, dressed just like his partner right down to her little gold cross. After about ninety minutes Mulder strode down the hallway, his skin scrubbed clean but the blood dried into dark rufescent stains on his shirt and trousers. "Mulder!" Scully called, jumping up to following him as he passed her by. He didn't slow at her voice, and she had to grab his arm to get him to stop at all. "Dammit, Mulder!" She hissed, trying not to cause a scene as Markowitz wisely studied the inside of his long-emptied cup. Mulder was on edge, shifting from one foot to the other as he clenched his teeth together. He looked at her but his eyes held a warning; Don't ask. She dropped his arm and with a deep, ragged breath, took a small step back. "What is going on?" She asked, crossing her arms in front of her. He ran a hand through his hair. "Not now, Scully." He said shortly, his body language screaming flight as he leaned over and punched the call button for the elevator. She drew in another deep breath, rose to her full five-foot-three-plus- heels height and stuck her chin out. "You look terrible, Mulder. When was the last time you slept? Or ate something, for that matter?" His shoulders slumped a moment, and she briefly thought that he was going to open up and tell her as he closed his eyes. "I'm fine." His voice came out close to a whisper. But just as quickly as it had turned, his expression turned back and he stiffened when he saw Skinner approaching. She looked at him a moment, her blue eyes wide as they searched his hazel eyes for an answer. Not finding any, she nodded, the pain evident in her face as she took another step back. The elevator doors opened and Mulder looked her over from head to foot and then stepped into the carriage. He turned and faced her, a haunted look in his eyes as the doors shut between them without another word being spoken. Skinner watched Mulder retreat and took in Scully's expression as he approached. He stopped in front of her, facing her profile as she stared at the closed elevator doors. "How does he seem to you?" He asked, his voice low for privacy. Scully took a deep breath through her nose, her chest rising and falling as she continued to stare at the doors. "He says he's fine." She said, turning toward him. Her eyes seemed a bit watery and she held her mouth in a thin line. Skinner sighed. "He says you aren't involved in this. What brought you here, Agent?" Scully looked him in the eye. "I had a message to call you. Your assistant told me you were here with Mulder so I came here." "You have no idea what Mulder was doing here with that woman?" She stiffened, pulling her chin up higher. "No Sir." She paused. "Is he being held accountable for her death?" Skinner put his hands on his hips, looking down at the ground. "It doesn't look good at the moment. Mulder was the last person with her when she died. They've recovered his and her fingerprints from one of the glasses in the room, and there appears to have been a struggle before she collapsed." Scully's eyes dimmed but she maintained her stance. "I'd like to participate in the autopsy, or at least be allowed to observe. I can make sure that Mulder's best interests are represented." He drew in a breath, glancing over and noticing Markowitz for the first time. "What do you think killed her?" He asked, his tone becoming softer. He was still trying to get a grip on the situation, his emotions reeling from the initial impact of the scene. She took in a deep breath. "I can't say for certain of course..." Skinner nodded his head to the side, an impatient look on his face. He knew her opinion would be qualified with a disclaimer. She took in his look, let out a breath and paused. "Based on what I observed of the body, she clearly vomited the blood. I would guess the cause of death to be asphyxia, brought on by the ingestion of a toxic alkali." "You're saying you believe she was poisoned?" "That would be my guess, yes." She paused, considering. "This doesn't match the MO from the other murders that you and Mulder are investigating. It's too messy. Alkalis basically eat away at the stomach and burn the larynx. If this is your killer, he's either gotten sloppy or didn't have enough time to kill her cleanly." Skinner glanced at her, his teeth clenched. Although Mulder requested that she be excluded from the investigation, with her medical knowledge and forensic expertise Scully was an asset Mulder couldn't afford to push away. Neither could he, for that matter. She'd saved his ass a couple of times and he'd been damn lucky she was around to do it. "Alright. Let me know what turns up." Scully played diener to the D.C. Medical Examiner's prosector, assisting with the procedure as more than an observer, both taking direction and operating independently based on her extensive experience. As with any field of expertise, the number of Pathologists in the D.C. area was relatively small and Scully had come in contact with this M.E. several times over the past few years. If the M.E. felt any uneasiness over the eerie resemblance between the victim and his temporary diener, he didn't let it affect his work. They moved through the external examination, Scully's heart skipping a beat as they swabbed the rectal and vaginal areas for evidence of semen. She forced back the unbidden image of the tousled bed, reminding herself to stay detached, knowing that any emotional involvement on her part would compromise Mulder's chances as well as her ability to do a thorough job. They dissected the body, keeping detailed notes and gathering identical samples of stomach contents, body fluids and tissues to run through both the police Serologist and the FBI lab. Scully would run as many of tests as she could herself, since she was now assigned to the lab and could dedicate as much time as she could spare. The majority of the gross exam completed, the M.E. left to finish up his notes, trusting her to sew up the body and clean up, alone to her task. It was something she could practically do in her sleep, making it that much harder to stay focused on the tediousness of her work. Although it wouldn't be the official report, she would be writing her own report on the autopsy, of course. Forensics would tell much about the victim, whose name she now knew was Leslie Martin. She, of course, could list the many and varied differences between herself and the victim who so closely resembled her, from the lack of muscle tone in her calves to the lack of scarring on her abdomen. Although everything about the body had been noted and recorded, Scully spent extra time going over the victim's physical appearance, looking for any clues she might have overlooked. Skinner had allowed her to see the preliminary forensic report from the crime scene. There had been a struggle, and they had collected traces of hair, semen and saliva from the sheets on the bed. Mulder's fingerprints were on a glass containing four ounces of Scotch Whiskey, as were the victim's. The victim's fingerprints were also on another glass that contained seltzer residue and several of the bottles of alcohol in the room's bar. No one else had been on the floor at the time of the incident, and the hotel had no records of a concierge or hospitality clerk on duty at the time. She now knew that the victim had been employed at Hansen House. It was yet another one of those things that Mulder had kept from her, perhaps out of his chivalrous need to protect her, or for other reasons known only to himself. It was just one of many questions that now plagued her as she stitched the body back together. There had been implants. Not of the microchip variety, but of the silicon kind. She wasn't Pamela Anderson by any stretch of the imagination, and Scully imaged that she must have possessed next to nothing prior to the surgery. Still, with the implants she had more than Scully currently possessed, with or without her wonderbra. There was also evidence of collagen injections to make her lips fuller. Both procedures were hardly surprising given the woman's chosen profession, but take them away, along with the makeup, hair style, clothing and jewelry, and the victim looked no more like her than her own sister had. For whatever reason she had yet to discover, Leslie Martin had gone to a lot of trouble to make herself look like what she deemed to be just plain old Dana Scully. Scully sighed and rotated her head, groaning at the protesting pops from her neck. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and let it out, her shoulders lifting and falling with the action. Even with air- conditioning the air was stifling and heavy with humidity from the ongoing rain that had been pelting the city for the last several days. She couldn't stop thinking about Mulder. She'd neither seen nor spoken with him since the day at the hotel, and she felt disconnected, like a boat adrift at sea. He was always a part of her day-to-day life and she'd spent more than a large part of that time thinking about him, but she had been better at controlling her emotions then. Things were different now...had been different since the night they'd rather carelessly come close to consummating their relationship on her living room sofa. Their flirtation with physical intimacy had been entered into hastily, she had decided later on that same evening. She claimed responsibility for the indiscretion - she had initiated it. They had been circling each other, sizing each other up for years, and on that particular night her defenses had been down. She needed something familiar to hold on to and she needed assurance from Mulder that her reassignment was only a temporary one. That didn't mean that they were prepared for what they had been about to embark upon. Their relationship was intense to the extreme. But it was centered around work - she didn't know a whole lot about Fox Mulder the man. Not as much as she should have known, working so closely with him for over six years. She knew his character and she was fairly certain she knew his heart, but there was just as much she didn't know. Personal things, little things about his past, just like he didn't know hers. Not that she wouldn't like to share, of course, but it seemed like they never had the time or the opportunity to discuss those issues. It probably wasn't advisable, considering how closely they had to work together. Sometimes, in order to maintain a close working relationship, there needed to be a distance in the personal relationship to maintain balance. Still, in the big picture, who else was there for either of them but each other? She wondered...if they tried, could they really make both a professional and a personal relationship work without compromising one or the other? Mulder was obsessive and she'd already experienced his obsessing first hand. His behind-the-scenes manipulation to have her removed from the Harman case in a misguided effort to keep her out of harm's way was only the most recent example. In a more personal situation, how far would Fox Mulder go to protect her? She already knew the answer to that question. Mulder would stop at nothing to ensure her safety - it was an integral part of his character. The one thing that would change, the thing that she was most reluctant to give up, was her independence. She had always been self-sufficient, and needed a certain amount of time alone to regroup and collect her thoughts; shore up her battlements; refocus. It was something that had inevitably become an issue in the few relationships she had been in, although it was years ago. She was accused of being conditional, aloof, not completely invested in the relationship because she needed to keep a part of herself to herself. But she could no more change that part of her character any more than she could change Mulder's obsessing. The floodgates had been opened and the part of herself that had been too-long denied the physical touch and sensation of another human being reveled in the brief touch and feel of Mulder. Her partner. Her friend. Bad timing aside, the emotional and physical had collided that night and she was lost, up the proverbial creek without a paddle. The one blessing in it all, or perhaps the most unfortunate thing was that they didn't have sex. The question was, which opinion did she prefer? At some point during her self-absorption she had set about her tasks, and had just gotten the victim's body cleaned and dressed when her cel phone trilled. "Scully." She barked into the phone after struggling with her latex gloves. There was a burst of static, then the connection was gone. Scully looked at the phone then punched "end." It was the third time in as many days that she'd received such a call. She considered calling Mulder to see if he had been trying to reach her, then dismissed the idea. If Mulder wanted to speak with her, he would have. It had been three days, and she missed him. Scully sighed, made a mental note to take the phone in for servicing and checked her watch. It had been three hours since they started the autopsy, and more than nine hours since she'd had breakfast. Her stomach growled in response and she finished tidying up the autopsy bay so she could grab a very late lunch or early dinner and return to the lab to start running the tests. END CHAPTER SIX *X*X*X*X* CHAPTER SEVEN Thou canst not every day give me thy heart; If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it. Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart, It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it. But we will have a way more liberal Than changing hearts, to join them; so we shall Be one, and one another's all. - John Donne, Lovers' Infiniteness Mulder was becoming increasingly angered from the lack of any concrete evidence linking Senator Harman to the deaths of Karen Darby, Steven Hoyt, Lisa Lewis...and now Leslie Martin. Following Martin's alleged homicide nearly a week before, the pressure was on to wrap up the case, and he'd yet to discover the break he needed. He spoke to Skinner about taking a quick trip to Houston to investigate the possible connection between Harman and the Coltrane murders, but Skinner had emphatically refused, telling him that there wasn't enough to warrant reopening the investigation. Besides that, they were expecting the first of the toxicology results to come in confirming the preliminary autopsy report on Leslie Martin and the D.C.P.D. wanted Mulder around in case they turned up anything else from the investigation. He'd been sidelined for nearly two days, fuming as Skinner refused to allow him to move ahead with the investigation until he spoke with the Bureau's psychologist to make sure he was 'mentally fit' to return to the job. It was a load of crap - after all, he had a degree in psychology from Oxford, for chrissake. He more than anyone would know if there was anything to be concerned about. The session with Karen Kosoff, the bureau psychologist, began routinely enough. She asked him to rate from one to ten his appetite, sleeping patterns, ability to focus on tasks, his irritability. When asked if there had been any significant changes in his relationships, he hesitated. What had happened with Scully had certainly been a change, but it really wasn't something he wanted to discuss. Karen picked up on his hesitancy, though, and asked him point blank if there had been any recent changes in his relationship with his partner. When he sat dumbly and stared, blinking at her, she changed tactics. She knew about the relationships between partners, and she'd had sessions with Agent Scully on more than one occasion. "She's a very strong person." Karen stated, pausing to give Mulder a chance to respond. He didn't, so she continued. "I read in your files about the investigation you both worked on involving the removal of the victims hearts, and that your partner had nearly been a victim herself. You found her, didn't you?" "Yes." He nearly whispered. "She had lost some blood, is that right?" Mulder hesitated. "There was blood." He replied carefully. "She was unconscious when you found her?" She asked. "She...appeared to be." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "She wasn't injured, though." She posed the statement more like a question. "No." Mulder replied. Karen paused, taking a breath and looking down at her notes. "The incident the other day, at the hotel. The victim bore a striking resemblance to your partner." Mulder stood, walking over to a bookshelf. She watched him with concern. "Did it remind you of the previous investigation?" Her voice was soothing, her words sounding more like affirmations than questions. "Yes." He answered truthfully. "I had been...re-living the incident in my apartment through nightmares since the day it happened. Only the outcome was different." She nodded with understanding. "In your nightmare your partner isn't revived." Mulder swallowed. "No." "So during the incident in the hotel, your subconscious reminded you of the nightmare when you saw the blood on the victim lying before you." Mulder offered her a wry smile that had nothing to do with joy or mirth. "I wigged out, yes. Isn't that why I'm here?" Karen offered him a kind smile. "Do you trust your partner, Fox?" Mulder's eyes grew dark. "Of course I do. What's that got to do with it?" "Do you trust yourself?" His mouth fell open and he stared at her, realization washing over him. "You think I blame myself for the attack on Scully?" She met his gaze. "Have you asked yourself why you were having the same recurring nightmare?" He snapped his mouth shut, not replying. Karen looked down at her notes again. "You said earlier you hadn't been sleeping. How much sleep did you get the night before the incident at the hotel?" Mulder closed his eyes, recalling the scene with Scully and the subsequent night on his sticky leather sofa. "I didn't sleep that night." She nodded. "Sleep depravation can strongly affect our judgement. Combined with your ongoing nightmare and the similarity of the incident to the nightmare it's hardly surprising that you reacted the way you did. Are you still experiencing the nightmares?" "I haven't since the incident, no." "You were with the victim when she became ill, and yet you couldn't prevent her death - just like you were powerless to prevent the attack on your partner. Have you discussed your concerns with your partner? She may be able to add some perspective to the situation that you might not have anticipated." Mulder considered her words for a moment, but said nothing. He looked past her out the window, then down to his hands which were fidgeting in his lap. To Dr. Kosoff, the pain and conflict were obvious in his face. "Sometimes we have to accept that things happen that are out of our control, despite our best intentions." Mulder had always known she was a damned good psychologist, and a patient woman. He took a deep breath, and looked at her, smiling slightly to acknowledge to her that she'd hit the nail on the head. This had been his underlying problem ever since Samantha's abduction. He had worked on it while he was at Oxford as part of the introspective analysis which was required of him during his studies. But he never realized fully how he had been applying those same anxieties to his relationship with Scully of late. They talked together for another 40 minutes before they resolved to break for the time being. Karen felt confident enough to release him back to active duty, although she expressed her desire to continue their conversation in the future. Mulder flippantly replied to her request, indicating that he never knew if he would be around from one day to the next. But inwardly, he hoped they would continue also. He left the session with the signed release, and a lot to think about. He and Skinner had been interviewing neighbors of the victims to see if they could shed any additional light on their respective deaths, identify any visitors around the time of death, or provide first-hand accounts of any possible connection to the killer. So far, no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary, or could identify any unusual occurrences or visitors. Karen Darby and Leslie Martin were without any close family or personal acquaintances as they were relatively new to the city, so they focused on Lisa Lewis and Steven Hoyt. That afternoon they found themselves on their way to speak with Carrie Lewis, Lisa Lewis' sister, in Crystal City. Carrie Lewis lived in the Crystal Tower, a very elegant hi-rise with a 24-hour doorman and a price to match. The doorman had notified her that they were on their way up, and she was waiting for them in the open doorway when they stepped off of the elevator onto her floor. She was in her late thirties, attractive, and well-dressed, with dark brown hair and eyes that bore a strong resemblance to her younger sister. Despite her well-maintained appearance, Mulder could see the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and the haunted look she wore. It was similar to the look Scully wore following the death of her sister, Melissa. Mulder held up his badge. "Miss Lewis, I'm Special Agent Mulder with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, this is Assistant Director Skinner. We're here to talk with you about your sister, Lisa." "Come in." She said, stepping aside so that they could enter the apartment. She worked as an attorney with a well-respected litigation firm in D.C. and from the looks of it, was paid very well. Her apartment appeared as if it had been modeled in the pages of Architectural Digest, with sparse furnishings and not a thing out of place except for a box with a few items laid out on the coffee table. "The DC Police just gave me permission to take a few things from Lise's apartment this afternoon," she said gesturing toward the coffee table, "I've been going through them..." her voice trailed off. "I'm sorry. I'm not taking this well." Mulder nodded at her, placing his hand on her arm. "We understand that and we're doing everything in our power to get to the bottom of this. We appreciate you taking the time to speak with us." Carrie looked up at him and smiled weakly, then at Skinner. "It wasn't suicide, Agent Mulder. Lise didn't believe in taking aspirin, let alone a prescription strength painkiller. Somebody put that medicine in her." "Can you think of anyone who would want to do that?" Mulder asked. Carrie shook her head. "She didn't have many friends, just me, Steven, and a couple of girls she worked with. It wasn't because she wasn't friendly, but she was so busy with work that she just didn't have much time for the few of us who were already close to her, let alone anyone else." Skinner's face was subdued. "You were close, then." Carrie looked at him. "She was my baby sister." Skinner looked at Mulder, then back at her. "What can you tell us about Steven Hoyt?" Carrie took a breath, thinking. "Steven was good for Lise. He was as dedicated to his work as she was to hers, but when they were together they were happy. They had been discussing engagement. They had everything in their lives mapped out down to the smallest detail, including when they would become engaged. It was like a five-year plan for life, only they never got that far. Death didn't fit into that plan." Mulder's face was sympathetic. "Carrie, did Lisa ever mention anyone named Karen Darby?" Carrie thought a moment. "No, I don't think so. Like I said, she only had a few friends at work and I don't remember hearing her speak about anyone named Karen." "What about Hansen House. Did you ever hear her mention a place called Hansen House?" Mulder prodded. Carrie looked from Mulder, to Skinner, and back to Mulder. "Not that I recall. What is it, some sort of historical site?" Mulder glanced over at Skinner and gave her a wry, but embarrassed grin. "Not exactly." He looked over at the coffee table where Carrie had unpacked a few of Lisa's belongings. He recognized the photograph in the silver frame of the boating party and he picked it up. There was something about that photo that had prodded at the back of his mind, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it, even after he'd spoken with the photographer. "Carrie, do you know anything about this photograph?" He asked, holding it up for her to see. "That was taken last summer down at the Corinthian Yacht Club. Senator Harman takes his staff out on his boat a couple of times a year. Steven took Lise along." She ran a finger over her sister's image. "The Senator had been flirting with her and some of the other girls the entire day. She wasn't thrilled, but she put up with it for Steven's sake. So many Congressmen and career politicians are like that...it doesn't excuse the behavior, but it tends to make you more accepting, somehow." Skinner looked at the floor as Mulder studied the photograph. "Can you identify the other people?" He asked, angling the photograph back toward her. She studied it a moment. "That's Lisa, and the Senator, of course. Steven, Stephanie Curtis and Donald Mathers." Mulder studied the photo a bit longer. Of course, now that she'd mentioned it, he did recognize Stephanie Curtis from the tabloids. Curtis was directly on the Senator's left, while Mathers was on the other side of Steven Hoyt to the right. Mathers was looking at Curtis, or perhaps at the Senator. At that moment his cel phone rang, and he looked up apologetically at Carrie as he reached into his pocket. "Mulder." "It's me." Scully let out a breath as Mulder looked up at Skinner, moving to the far corner of the room for privacy. "What is it?" He asked, immediately concerned. They hadn't spoken since the day at the hotel and it wasn't likely she was calling to chat. She took another breath. "I've just finished the toxicology reports from the autopsy I performed on Leslie Martin." Her voice was as professional as it could get. Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, arching his back into it. "What did you find?" "She ingested sodium hydroxide, mixed with the alcohol in the glass recovered from the hotel room. There was alcohol in her bloodstream, as well as in her stomach. Quite a bit, in fact. Two point three." She paused, drawing a deep breath, her voice thinner as she continued. "Serology has determined the blood type of her last sexual partner based on the semen collected from the body and the hotel sheets." She paused. "I've begun the D.N.A. testing to see if we can determine the identity of that person...unless you want me to hold off on that a little longer to buy some time." Mulder was silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. "What is it you're saying?" He asked finally, his voice sharp and lethal. The silence stretched from Scully's end as she fought back the tears threatening to spill. "Based on the preliminary typing, both appear to match your blood type, Mulder." "Dammit, Scully!" Mulder hissed into the phone, causing both Skinner and Carrie to look at him with surprise. He glanced at them, then crossed the room in six long strides and left the apartment. "Am I going to be officially charged for a murder I didn't commit based on that?" He asked, his voice lowered as he passed a curious resident just stepping off of the elevator. "They're building a case based on the information at hand. It was enough to request a P.C.R. test against your D.N.A." She paused, drawing a shaky breath. "Did you have sex with her, Mulder?" She hated the emotion and the accusation already in her voice. Mulder's defenses went up and his battlements came out at the accusation. He hissed into the phone. "The woman was murdered and I'm the last person to see her alive. I was in the hotel room with her, covered in her blood. Whether or not I had sex with her is irrelevant at this point. She died, but I didn't kill her." He could hear her shallow breathing on the other end, hating himself for not telling her the truth to begin with. "For what its worth, I know you aren't responsible for her death." She said, keeping her voice even. "Your faith in me overwhelms me, Scully." He snapped caustically. She was silent, and he clenched his eyes and teeth together, instantly regretting his words. "I'll let you know the results from the P.C.R. test." She said quietly, disconnecting the call. Scully let the phone hang limply in her hand, leaning her forehead against the back of her wrist. The tears she fought against won the battle and one victorious drop rolled down her cheek before she swiped it away with her fingertips. "Dana?" She heard behind her, and her shoulders straightened. "Yeah." She replied, turning away from her computer monitor to see Danny standing with uncertainty in the doorway beneath the harsh fluorescent overhead light of her small office. "Sorry, Danny." She gave him a small smile. "What can I do for you?" He took a cautious step forward. "You okay?" She let out a self-conscious laugh. "Yeah, I'm...fine." She took in a deep breath and looked up at him. "Did you need me for something?" He smiled amicably. "I just wanted to give you an update. Mancina's contractions are seven minutes apart now." She smiled genuinely. "Is she heading off to the hospital?" "She's determined not to go until she gets to the five minute mark. She's out walking around her block." Scully laughed, sniffing back the residual tears. "Stubborn." "That she is." Danny looked at her a moment longer. "You know, Dana, you've really been a big help to us here." She raised her eyebrows. "Thank you, Danny." "We could use you on a permanent basis. I know it's not as exciting as working out in the field, but it does have its own merits." "Danny..." He held up a hand to stop her. "We need to hire someone anyway, but I'm giving you the first option. You don't have to give me an answer right now. Just think about it." Her mouth was set in a straight line as she looked at him and she nodded. "Thanks, Danny. I appreciate the offer." He nodded back in understanding, seeing her refusal in her eyes. "Yeah. Well, we can always use talent." He offered her a weak smile and turned, leaving her to her privacy. She breathed deeply and let it out shakily, looking down at the cel phone still clutched in her hand. Pushing the antennae in and tucking the phone back into her pocket, she wiped the salty residue from her cheeks and turned back to her monitor. Skinner found Mulder down on the street, leaning against the Bureau- issue Ford Crown Victoria. He was clearly agitated, evident by the way his legs twitched as he bit into a seed with a vengeance. The Assistant Director looked him over, moving to lean against the car next to him. "Agent Scully call you with the autopsy results?" He asked the agent, already aware that Scully had called him. Mulder gave him a look that told him exactly what he thought of Skinner giving Scully the go ahead to participate in the autopsy. Skinner crossed his arms and looked down the street before looking back at him. "Look, it's none of my business, Agent Mulder, but I'd like to offer you a little personal advice." Skinner said as he leaned in slightly, his voice lowered for private conversation. "Do I have a choice?" Mulder asked flippantly, sucking on a seed as his body continued to twitch. Skinner looked at him like a father would look at a petulant child. "I've been watching you and Scully dance around each other for years. If one of you is in even the smallest amount of trouble the other one starts bouncing off of the walls." "She's my PARTNER." Mulder stated, emphasizing the last word as if it would explain everything. "I know about the relationship between partners, Mulder. I didn't just crawl out from under a rock. You and I both know you and Scully go far beyond that." Mulder snapped his mouth shut, focusing on a spot down the street in the other direction. "You know nothing." "And yet you end up in a hotel room with a prostitute who happens to look like her twin." Skinner continued, undaunted. Mulder turned and glared at him. "I went there for information." "You thought she was Scully. You flashed back on the Padgett case, didn't you?" Mulder was silent, looking back down the street. "Is that why you set it up with Danny for her to help out in the lab?" Mulder turned again, surprised. "Wh..." "I know a lot more about what goes on than you give me credit for, Agent Mulder." He smirked. "I also know it was your problem with the Padgett case at the center of the issue, not Scully's safety." Mulder sneered, removing a shell and dropping it on the ground. "I was under the impression that doctor-patient confidentiality applied to Bureau psychologists as well as private practice." Skinner's eyes narrowed. "It does. I was a pretty good investigator before I moved up into management and my ass got soft, Agent." Mulder swallowed, his eyes closing briefly. The anger was momentarily replaced by a twinge of guilt. "It was my problem." He said, his voice rough. Skinner nodded, breathing in and out of his nose for a moment before responding. "So what are you going to do about it to make it up to her?" Mulder looked up at him, his eyes flashing darkly as the anger returned. "Flowers, candy...perfume?" He replied sarcastically, closing his eyes again. Skinner shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and looked at him for a moment. For such a talent, Mulder could be such a pathetic son of a bitch. "Don't be an ass." Mulder opened his eyes and looked Skinner directly in the eye. Skinner chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded. Pathetic. "She'd do anything for you, you know." Mulder wore an indistinguishable look in his eye. It wasn't anger and it wasn't guilt. Longing? "It's complicated." "Of course it is. It's also very simple." He huffed, looking to the right for a moment before turning back to his subject. "I don't know what happened between the two of you. You only get so many chances, and you don't make a connection like that more than once or twice in a lifetime. I had a similar chance once and I blew it. Life is short, Mulder. Don't piss it away." Mulder looked up as Skinner walked around to the driver's side of the vehicle and unlocked the door. Their eyes met briefly and Mulder climbed in on the passenger side. Skinner didn't know if he'd gotten through to him or not, but he was willing to give it another try if the subject ever came up again. Scully answered her cel phone on the third ring. "Hey Scully." Mulder said, keeping his voice even but in an amicable way. She was silent for a moment. "Hey." Mulder shuffled his feet on the rug in his apartment, pacing in circles. "So I was thinking, it's been a long time since I've had dinner with Scully. I thought maybe if she didn't have plans tonight she wouldn't mind spending a few hours with a real horse's ass recently masquerading as her partner." "That depends. Would it be the horse's ass or my partner that I'd be dining with?" He swallowed. "Uh, let me check." He pulled out his wallet. "His Mastercard says Fox Mulder. Isn't that your partner's name?" "Yeah. Yeah, it is. So, Mulder, is this Mastercard what you'll be using to pay for my dinner?" He grinned. "As long as you don't order the most expensive item on the menu." "And is this Bobby's Beef-O-Rama we're talking about, or a sit-down, white tablecloth, order from a nice menu restaurant without any ghosts, aliens or shadow government conspirators?" "A real class joint with no paranormal activity within my control. And no discussing cases, past or present." His voice was hopeful. "Just you and me." There was a long pause. "You mean, like a date?" She sounded dubious. He grinned over her obvious attempt to make him work. "I prefer to think of it as a don't ask, don't tell private meeting between two federal employees, complete with chintz floral knee cushions for groveling and ass-kissing." "I may be available for ass-kissing, if you're driving." Her voice betrayed the smile on her face. "Seven-thirty?" He asked, sounding both relieved and happy. "Seven-thirty. And Mulder..." "Yeah?" "When you bring me flowers, they'd better not be Sterling roses." He grinned as he flipped his phone off. He knew they had some serious talking to do, but that didn't diminish the connection he felt with her. Perhaps that cognizance hadn't disappeared altogether, but had simply been stretched very thin, and like an elastic band was now returning to its original shape. Mulder was waiting for her outside of her apartment when she got home from work, leaning against the wall and cracking seeds between his teeth. She smiled inwardly at the sight of him and his unflappable ability to appear completely at ease regardless of the turmoil constantly swirling around his head. He was wearing a suit that looked too fresh to have been worked in, his lack of five o'clock shadow the obvious proof of the fact. And he'd recently gotten a haircut. She was reminded that even though it had only been a little more than a week, she'd missed him even more than she thought possible considering how mad she'd been over his manipulation to have her removed from the Harman investigation. He looked up at her as she approached, a slight twitch of his lips betrayed by the full-blown smile that lit his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I hope you haven't been waiting long." She said sincerely, stopping in front of him and shifting her portfolio from one shoulder to another to dig for her keys. "Long enough to consider letting myself in." He quipped, his eyes serious. He was fighting the urge to wrap his arms around her and greet her with a warm hug. Instead, he held out his left hand to offer her the required bouquet. She gave him a look in response to the quip, her eyes resting on his barely a moment before she spied the bouquet. Even though she'd expected one she was surprised. Long-stemmed chocolate chip cookies. She grinned and let out a little laugh. "Mulder..." He grinned in response as she brushed past him, his eyes on her as she turned the key in the lock and preceded him into the dim apartment. She felt a faint humming like a low voltage electrical charge in the pit of her stomach. "Do you want some tea to go along with those cookies?" She asked, nodding at the bouquet in his hand. "Whatever you're having." He replied from behind her, handing her the cookies with a flourish. They'd had the desired effect and he was feeling encouraged. She dropped her briefcase in a chair and laid the bouquet on the kitchen table, breaking off a piece of cookie and popping it in her mouth as she walked over to the stove, picked up the kettle and carried it over to the sink. Mulder had planted himself against the wall between the kitchen and the living room, watching her go through what he was sure was probably a daily ritual. Scully liked her small comforts and in that way she was a creature of habit. It was her way of attempting to live a normal life. Compared to his, hers WAS normal. She felt him watching, recognizing the look he wore. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she fought against the heat, reminding herself that this was just an ordinary night in Mulder's presence just like any of the other nights that they had shared in each others' presence in their long partnership. Had what they been doing with each other the last time they were alone in her apartment changed that? Their eyes locked for a moment, then she looked away. "Long day in the lab?" He asked conversationally, noticing her flushed cheeks. Picking up on her fight against her attraction to him, he smiled inwardly. Somehow, he knew she knew that he knew. "A lot of backlog." She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and moved back over to the stove, placing the kettle down on a burner and turning the fire on underneath. "I want to take a quick shower before we go, so...make yourself comfortable, Mulder." She gestured toward the sofa. "I'll bring the tea in when its ready, 'k?" She gave him a half-smile, trying to sound more casual than she felt. Nodding, but opting not to comment, Mulder wandered into the living room and sat down on the sofa, switching on the television and flipping through the channels, pausing from time to time to check out a score or a headline. 130 channels and nothing to watch. As he made his third pass through he felt Scully slide onto the sofa next to him, smelling of English Breakfast tea and that undeniable clean Scully scent. She was wearing a simple but stunning dark red dress that bared her arms and a significant amount of her upper back and deep red lipstick. He knew he'd never seen THAT dress before. "So what's happening with Senator Harman?" Scully said with a slight but inviting smile, handing him his tea. Her hair looked soft and full from the humidity of the shower and she avoided looking him directly in the eye. Eyes wide, he looked her over quickly, but less subtly than he might have a week ago. Then he took a quick sip of tea, swallowing the too- hot liquid quickly. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to discuss work." Scully pursed her lips, the telltale crease forming in the middle of her brow as she glanced sideways at him. "You agreed, Mulder. Did Lisa Lewis' sister give you anything more to go on?" Mulder shrugged. "Mmm, good tea, Scully." He said, giving her a sarcastic smile in response. "Is that a new TV?" He asked with mock surprise, changing the subject. She looked over at the television, understanding that he was not going to discuss business with her...at least, not yet. "Yeah." She replied absently. They sat in silence for a moment, both staring at the television and sipping their tea, suddenly awkward. Since they weren't going to discuss the investigation and having spent little time working together lately they had a warped sense of continuity. Small everyday things, like a haircut a new television purchase had happened, both consciously aware that life goes on independently of each other. Their close physical proximity on the sofa was growing into an uncomfortable awareness and Mulder's leg began to twitch. He stood before his leg began bouncing uncontrollably. "Hey, are you getting hungry? Our reservation is for eight." She looked up at him with a slight frown, still pondering the issue of passing time. "Um, sure." Her eyebrows raised as if in question, he followed her as she silently stood and made her way toward the door. END CHAPTER SEVEN *X*X*X*X* CHAPTER EIGHT Time and tide nothing and no one can stop us now for better, for worse this time I'm sure it's gonna last gonna last forever we've got time baby, there's no rush gonna be a better day for us hang on and I will wait for you our love will always stay as good as new - Basia, Time and Tide The weeklong rain showers had helped to cool things down, the draught worn-soil temporarily saturated with moisture, leaving large shiny puddles in respite. Mulder cracked his window and breathed in the fresh smell of wet pavement as he pulled up in front of a small, elegant Italian restaurant with a brick facade and potted trees dressed with small white lights that reflected off of the glistening pavement. Scully looked over at him as a valet ran around to the driver's side of the car. "Have you ever eaten here before, Mulder?" She asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. "No, but my good buddy, Walter, told me they have great calamari." He flashed her a grin as he slid out of his seat, taking the ticket from the valet as another valet opened the door and helped Scully out of the passenger side. He jogged around the front of the car, placing his hand on her back to escort her inside. The restaurant was dimly lit, most of the ambient light coming from more small sparkling lights on potted ficus trees in the corners and soft glowing candles on the tables. Each table was draped with crisp white tablecloths and the waiters wore starched white shirts with black pants, vests, black bow ties and long white aprons. The music was old jazz - Sinatra and Rosemary Clooney crooning gently in the background to the sound of silverware scraping against china and soft conversation. Scully raised an eyebrow as the maitre'd lead her to a small table in the back corner near one of the ficus trees, Mulder following directly behind. Skinner had suggested that Mulder bring her here? It raised the question as to what exactly Skinner thought was going on between them. She wished she knew herself. Mulder watched her closely as she navigated between the tables, noting how the environment seemed to shift around her, the patrons watching her with admiration as she passed, keeping her the moving center of the room. She truly was beautiful, but he was biased on that subject. She packed a powerful presence in that petite frame and she knew she was intelligent, she even knew she was attractive, yet she had no idea just how attractive she was when you considered the whole package. For him, her lack of total self-awareness was part of her collective charm. He sucked in a breath and blew it back out, wondering if he was in a little over his head. He hadn't been on a date in years and this wasn't just a date, it was Scully. He had everything to gain if he did this right. They were seated and handed menus, and Mulder ordered two glasses of Chardonnay from the bar. Behind her menu Scully drew in a nervous breath. The air between them was still slightly awkward; it had been since they left her apartment. They were both relieved to have something to divert their attention to, the waiter giving them ample time to peruse the menu before returning to take their order. Mulder asked for a calamari appetizer out of respect for Skinner's recommendation, and the linguine pescatore for himself. Scully opted for the chicken piccata with vegetables on the side. When the waiter had left they looked at each other once again. Scully broke the silence first. From his choice in restaurants and his behavior it was clear that Mulder wanted to set things right between them. She hoped that they would be able to do so. "I'm sorry I tried to ignore you at Agent Mancina's luncheon the other day, Mulder. I was...still angry with you, and there were so many people there from Forensics..." He shook his head. "It's okay, Scully. There were things I wanted to say to you, too." His eyes wandered over her face as she spoke and he could see that she wanted to work things out as much as he did. He took a deep breath and dove in. "You look good. Great, actually." She looked back at him a minute before replying. "So do you, Mulder. Better than the last time I saw you." He cleared his throat, sitting straighter in his chair. "About that...I'm, uh, sorry for my behavior at the hotel. I know you were looking out for my best interests and despite my bizarre way of showing it, I do appreciate the effort." She nodded slightly, looking into his eyes and reading his sincerity. "Apology accepted." She looked down at her wine glass a moment, her breathing shallow. "Mulder..." his name stretched slowly, taking a deep breath before continuing, "why didn't you tell me about Leslie Martin the night we were at Hansen House?" He chewed on his lip, looking at his own wine glass before looking up at her. "I don't have a good reason for that. Would you believe me if I said that I didn't think it was significant at the time?" She kept her gaze on him. "What about after we found out about the Lisa Lewis and Karen Darby connection? After I received the flowers and the invitation from Senator Harman?" Mulder fidgeted a bit. "I didn't make that connection until the day we met with Skinner and he reassigned you to the lab." He paused. "Leslie Martin came to see me just as I was getting ready to come to your apartment. She was dressed just like you. I thought she WAS you for a minute. She told me to tell you to cooperate, that we didn't know the kind of people we were dealing with. She was frightened for her own safety, I think. With just cause, obviously." Scully looked down again. He had been at her apartment that same evening but still hadn't mentioned the woman or her visit. She felt her stomach sinking, the familiar let down that occurred whenever Mulder dropped one of his omissions on her. She knew he thought he was protecting her by not telling her, but it didn't stop the sting of the truth as it continued to slap her in the face. "But you didn't tell me, Mulder." Mulder could see her hurt at his confession and he closed his eyes, letting out a breath before looking back at her. "Scully..." She licked her lips and met his gaze. "Mulder, I know why you feel like you have to keep things from me, but..." she paused a moment, thinking. "I can't continue to work with you like this. Not if I have to wonder if you're telling me everything or if you're keeping things from me because you're worried about my safety or whether I can handle the truth." His eyes became dark and fixed on her at her words, his mouth opening in surprise. "What are you saying? You would leave?" "No. Not leave. I'm as invested in the work as you are. But if we are no longer able to operate as a team, then we need to look into other ways of getting the work done, separately." "Scully," he said softly, "that's not what I want. Look, I admit that my judgement in this case was way off. I never should have manipulated the situation to get you removed from the investigation. But when it comes to you and your safety, I have to trust my instincts. Ninety percent of the time I've been right." "What about the other ten percent, Mulder? Do I get relegated back to the lab? That's not my definition of a partnership." He snapped his mouth closed. "Alright." He licked his lips. "Look. I am sorry that I went to Danny and asked him to recruit you into the lab. It was my problem with the Padgett case that left me feeling vulnerable about my ability to protect you, and I overcompensated by trying to tuck you away where you couldn't get hurt. It had nothing to do with your ability as an agent. You're a great agent, and there's no one, NO ONE, that I would trust more working beside me." He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, his eyes intense and his voice full of passion. "We're a team, Scully. You and I. Nothing can change that. Not Skinner or Cancerman or Senator Harman or anyone else." At that moment the waiter reappeared with their appetizer, and they reluctantly pulled their hands away, the power of Mulder's intensity still hanging in the air. Scully was left feeling a little out of sorts and she reached out for her water glass, taking a sip and forcing her breathing back down to normal. She glanced around the restaurant, looking at the faces of the other patrons enjoying their food and their companions. In the background, Barbra Streisand was wailing about people who need people. Wasn't that the whole point? She looked at Mulder sipping his wine. His face was slightly flushed and their eyes met as he put his glass back down on the table. "You could have told me you were having difficulty with the Padgett case, Mulder." She said softly. "I didn't know. If I did, we could have dealt with it together." "You had enough to deal with on your own." He reached over and grabbed his wine glass again. "I thought I could handle it." She nodded, watching his face. "So what changed your mind?" He sighed and sat back, looking into the glass. "Seeing you, or what I thought was you, lying on the floor of that hotel room covered in blood. I knew it was Leslie Martin, I had been speaking with her, but at some point something snapped. For weeks I had been reliving the moment I found you on the floor in my apartment, only in the replayed version, you didn't wake up." He took a sip of wine, then looked at her sorrowfully. Her eyes were full of empathy. "Mulder..." she said gently, "you were under a great deal of stress." He took a deep breath. "Skinner sent me to Psych Services." He stated. "He wouldn't let me continue with the investigation until I spoke with someone about it." Scully took a breath and let it out slowly. "You spoke with Karen Kosoff?" He nodded. "Psychologist heal thyself." He grinned wryly. "I thought I didn't need to speak to anyone, let alone a professional. But she helped me to see through a few things." He let out a soft laugh. "She also focused my attention on some behavioral patterns that were damaging the significant relationships in my life." Scully forced back the smile that was playing on her lips. He'd been through quite a lot in the last week and he really was trying very hard to make it all come out right. "Such as?" She prompted. "Trying to handle everything myself, for one thing. Not that I can change overnight, but I should be able to recognize it better when I'm doing it now." He smiled at the smile she was no longer able to conceal. "She thinks quite highly of you, you know." She raised her eyebrow in response. "You spoke about me with Karen?" He laughed. "Of course. You're my partner. What, you didn't talk about me when you went to see her?" She smiled demurely. "Maybe...in passing." She looked up at him in embarrassment, a slight flush coloring her cheeks as she reached for her own wine glass. "How did you know I'd seen her, Mulder? I've never mentioned it." He shrugged. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Scully, you can't tell me everything, I understand that. I'd like it if you trusted me with everything, but it's more important that you have someone to talk to when you need to." She took in a deep breath and a sip of wine. "I'd like to be able to tell you everything, Mulder." He paused, watching her closely. "But..." She raised her eyes to his a moment, then looked back into her glass, shaking her head. He watched her face. "What?" She sighed. "Sometimes, Mulder..." she looked up at him, then paused. "You're not always available." His face wore an expression of hurt and acceptance. "When?" He asked. She looked at him, but didn't respond. "When, Scully? Tell me." She watched his face, knowing he would accept a certain amount of undeserved guilt over any admission she gave. "Forget it, Mulder. It's not important." His eyes narrowed in assessment. "The Pudovkin case." She raised her eyebrows but didn't look at him, taking another sip of her wine. Leave it to Mulder to start big. She wasn't about to touch that one. He paused, watching her. "Ruskin Dam." He said with conviction, his voice faltering. Her eyes were wide and she swallowed back the lump sitting in her throat. "Mulder..." she paused briefly, "it's really not important. Let's just eat, ok?" She glanced up at him briefly, then reached for the calamari. Mulder sat back in his chair, watching her the way he watched a suspect during an interrogation. "Talk to me, Scully." She put the calamari back down on the table and rested her hands in her lap, her face turned down toward her hands. She began speaking without looking up. "Mulder, there are a lot of things we should say to each other, a lot of things we probably should have said long ago. I don't think we're prepared to have this conversation right now." She turned her face up to look at him. "Not without getting into subjects that are currently closed for discussion." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and considered her words carefully, knowing exactly to what she had been referring. She was right, among other things, Diana Fowley and her involvement in his past was a subject he wasn't ready to discuss with her. There was still a great deal of tension between them over that subject, and it would take more than just a reconciliatory dinner to get through. He sat up straight, nodding slightly, then reached across the table and wrapped his fingers around hers. "Then let's just say we'll work toward it." She looked down at the table where their hands were tentatively but powerfully connected, then back at his face, nodding. "Small steps." "Small steps." They smiled briefly at each other, then he reluctantly let go of her hand and reached for the appetizer, serving her first before helping himself. They made it through dinner chatting comfortably about less important things; summer blockbusters and office politics, baseball, tennis and women's soccer. After dinner they drove back to Scully's apartment. She didn't offer and he didn't ask to come in, it was already assumed that he would. Things felt right, like they'd come back to the same page, he realized as he strolled past her through the open doorway and stopped in the middle of the room, staring without seeing at something outside of the window. "Do you want anything? Coffee?" She asked, cracking the windows and the blinds to let the cool evening air into the stuffy room. He didn't reply and she looked over her shoulder at him, realizing that he was lost in thought, so she moved over to sit on the sofa and wait. After a moment, he looked over at her. "There's something I want to tell you, Scully." His voice was low and serious. She looked up at him, her brow furrowing as concern covered her face. "What is it?" She asked softly, her voice coming out higher in pitch than usual. She never knew what to expect, she only hoped that whatever it was, it wouldn't leave her feeling lost and alone again. He looked at her intensely, his desire for her to believe him pouring off of him in waves. "I didn't meet with Leslie Martin to have sex with her." "Mulder..." she paused, holding his gaze and licking her lips again. "Whatever your reasons..." she paused once more and took a breath to start again, then let it out. "Mulder, it's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked you what I asked this afternoon." She closed her eyes, then looked back up at him. "I'm sorry." He chewed on his bottom lip, watching her face. "You know, Scully, I'm not much different than any other guy. I do have the same temptations." After a moment he drew in a deep breath, fixing on her with wide, open eyes. "I'll be the first one to admit I haven't exactly been a saint." She looked to the side, suddenly unable to look at him as tension coursed through her. She swallowed, waiting for him to continue. He looked her over, sensing her discomfort. "Still, you of all people should know that I wouldn't resort to something like that." She met his gaze and regarded him for a moment before dropping her eyes. "Do I, Mulder?" Her voice was nearly a whisper. "Your fascination with adult entertainment aside, there are a lot of things about your personal life that I don't know." "You know the most important things." He continued to stare at her with a focused intensity that made it difficult for her to reciprocate. Her pulse was racing and she couldn't remember a time when the tension had been this thick between them, even when they were arguing over a case. He stepped up to the sofa and placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face up toward his. Their eyes met and he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "However attractive I might have found her, she wasn't you, Scully." His eyes were warm and his voice soft. "And you do have the right to ask. You've had that right for a long time." Scully stared back at him, her hand coming up to grip his wrist tightly. He stepped closer, gently pulling her to her feet. With his free hand he reached out to draw his index finger over her lips, dipping into the indentation just below her nose, over her full upper lip and down to her lower lip, caressing gently. Her breathing had become shallow and her eyes never left his as she tightened her hold on his wrist. Mulder watched her for a sign to stop, or at least to slow down. "Is this okay?" He asked softly. She gave him a slight nod, and he cupped her face between his hands, bending his face to hers as she rose up on tiptoe to meet him. Their lips touched softly, lightly grazing against each other, then pulling apart. His hands slid down her shoulders, caressing her bare arms. "I don't want to ignore this anymore, Scully." He whispered, his eyes on hers. She let go of his wrist and slid her arms up his chest, linking her hands behind his neck. Her breathing labored, she moved to kiss him again and he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, deepening the kiss. When they broke for air her hands slid back down his chest to clutch little handfuls of shirt. His hands moved sensually up and down her back and over her bottom, pressing her body firmly into his. "We should talk about this." She rasped breathlessly as she laid her forehead against his chest. He nuzzled his nose against her temple. "Okay. You first." She drew in a shaky, cleansing breath and let go of his shirt. "I can't do this with your hands on my ass, Mulder." He let go with a grin and she stepped back, reclaiming her objectivity. Glancing up at him, she couldn't help but smile in response to the glint in his eyes. She took in another breath. "We seem to be in agreement about where this is heading. The question now is, what are we going to do about it?" "I think that's obvious." He replied with a slightly sarcastic smirk, his eyes shining brightly as he reached out and slid his fingers down her cheek once more. She closed her eyes to the sensation, a soft hum escaping her lips. "Mulder..." she whispered. "You know it's not that simple." She looked up at him. He drew his fingers into her hair, combing gently. "That pent-up on- the-job tension won't bother us so much anymore." Looking down, he saw her staring up at him without humor. "That might not be such a bad thing. We'd probably get more accomplished that way." She stated clinically. He grinned self-consciously, and she snickered softly despite herself. Placing a kiss against her temple, his voice grew serious. "If you really think about it, Scully...it will change very little, and then only the small stuff." She was silent, her eyes closing as she reveled in the feel of his hands in her hair. She wanted this - him - so very much. That he wanted her in that way was still amazing to her, in spite of the fact that she'd had several days to dwell on it. Contrary to her usual pragmatic behavior, she just wanted to take a leap of faith, live for the moment and trust that it would all work itself out later. If only she could allow herself that simple pleasure. Mulder slid his fingertips down her back to lightly caress the skin exposed through the thin straps of her dress, feeling the goose bumps rising on her as she drew in a shaky breath. He grinned at her reaction, leaning in, his lips brushing her ear as he continued intimately, "C'mon, Scully...we're already friends." She caught her breath. "Mmmm hmmm..." she replied with a shiver. "We know each other well enough to recognize the times when we'll need to focus on the work." He placed a kiss on her forehead, "and the times when one or the other of us needs a little private space..." he placed soft kisses on her cheeks, running his lips lightly down her jawbone. "We have that now, Mulder." She stated, pointing out the obvious. He raised his head just slightly and looked at her under hooded eyelids. She gazed back at him, her eyes shining in an unspoken challenge. "But I want so much more, Scully." His mouth hovered over hers, teasing, until she let out an impatient little sigh. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips briefly before slanting his head and covering her mouth with his, his tongue pushing between her teeth while he gathered her in his arms, pulling her close. Just as she was melting into the kiss he broke it, grinning with wet lips. "We'll have to work at finding a balance, of course, considering we have six years of catching up to do." She looked up at him with eyebrows raised. He knew exactly what he was doing and what her concerns would be, which shouldn't really be surprising, considering his formidable talent for getting inside people's heads. After six years together, how could he not know a thing or two about the machinations of Dana Scully's mind? His hands were resting loosely on her hips and she laid her hands on his forearms, squeezing gently as she looked down. "I want you to stay here tonight, Mulder..." when she looked up, he was beaming at her. "Scully, I know you've been hot for my body since the day we met..." She flashed him a reproachful look. "I'm not finished." He closed his eyes. "I hear a big 'but' coming. Don't tell me you're throwing me out again." She gave him her no nonsense look that he knew was just covering her amusement. "I want you to stay here tonight because I don't want to feel that there is pressure to end this evening any particular way." Mulder looked relieved and he nodded with understanding. "I'm going to leave that completely up to you, Scully. Whatever you want." Her eyebrows arched briefly and she looked a bit surprised. "Mulder, you've got just as much input into this as I do." He looked at her with intensity. "You KNOW what I want." His voice was nearly a growl it was so low. She closed her eyes and smiled before drawing a breath and looking up at him. There was a light flush covering her face and she said, "Well, without forcing the issue, let's try talking things out and see where that takes us." Mulder sat down on the sofa and looked at her with a smile as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button and cuffs of his shirt. "Mind if I at least get comfortable?" She gave him a smile as she slid off her shoes and sat down next to him, tucking her legs up under her. Mulder's arm wrapped around her shoulders and she was both surprised and pleased by the action as he let out a long, satisfied sigh of contentment. She looked up at him with amusement and he grinned back at her. "So tell me...the day we met, what WAS your first impression?" He asked casually, as if the question had suddenly popped into his head. She smiled to herself. "You're not serious." "You thought that?" He asked, acting surprised, his mouth falling slightly open. "No, I mean about this topic of conversation." She wore her skeptical look. "Answer the question, Scully." She sighed, and glanced at him sideways. "I thought you were...cute." "You did not." He feigned humility, enjoying the topic way too much to hide his grin. "I did." She burrowed into his side, resting her hand on his chest, just over his heart. His hand came up to cover hers, holding it in place. She closed her eyes, soaking in the forgotten sensations of physical intimacy - he was tracing light patterns up and down her arm with his fingertips, leaving her skin tingling. "Aren't you going to ask?" He asked her after a long moment, his breath ruffling through the hair at her crown. "I'm not sure I want to know." She replied, eyes still closed, before tilting her face up and looking at him. "You didn't like anyone invading your turf." "I questioned your assignment to the X-Files, but that didn't mean I wasn't excited to have someone with your credentials to help me out." He moved his hand from hers and cupped her cheek, caressing with his thumb as he grinned at the memory. "Although you were such a smartass..." She sat up again. "ME?" Her voice was sharp. She glared at him as he continued, "...so fresh, and so very pretty." He watched the moisture rise in her eyes and he continued, his voice whisper-soft. "I've always thought you were beautiful, Scully. Even more so as I got to know the person inside." She looked down and swallowed back the lump in her throat. He could be so damned sweet when he wanted to, saying just the right thing. Of course, she knew that on occasion he found her somewhat attractive - she'd have been blind to miss the stolen glances and off-handed remarks accumulated over the years. She was sure he'd noticed the same from her. Still, it was nice to have it acknowledged, even if it was conveniently timed. She grinned and looked back up at him. "Nice try, Mulder, but you're still not getting me to admit that I was hot for your body." He laid his head back against the sofa and sighed in mock defeat, then lifted it up and smiled at her. "Really, Scully. You need to learn how to take a compliment when it's offered to you." She rolled her eyes and he continued. "You see! Repeat after me..." "Mulder..." "Just go with it, Scully. Go on...now I'm going to give you a compliment." He looked into her eyes and said, "Scully, you're beautiful. All you need to say is, 'thank you, Mulder.'" "Mulder..." she sat up straight, pulling her face back to look at him fully. "...thank you, Mulder. Go on, say it." Her voice was flat as she glared at him. "Thank you, Mulder." He shook his head. "Let's try it again. Scully, the evening sky weeps with jealousy over the color of your eyes." She let out a short laugh. "Come on..." "Scully! This isn't a joke." "The sky weeps, Mulder?" He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Will you just stop? Just stop! I'm not giving up until you take this seriously." She sighed. "Oh, alright." He chewed his lower lip, seriously studying her. "Thank you, Mulder." She let out another impatient little sigh, picking uncomfortably at a thread on the sofa cushion. "Thank you, Mulder." She mumbled. "Alright." He turned his face and leaned in closer to hers, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Scully, you light up my life." She looked up, half expecting to see him smirking at her. But his face was serious and his eyes were warm as he gazed at her tenderly. A breeze blew through the open window and caressed his hair. "Thank you, Mulder." She replied softly but audibly, reaching out and placing her hand against his cheek. "You know, Scully..." he looked down, then back into her eyes. "You give me hope to carry on." She blinked at him and he continued, "You light up my days and fill my nights with song." A spark flickered in his eyes, and she rolled hers, pushing against his chest with her hands. "Mulder! You can be such a jerk." She laughed and he grinned, taking her hands in his. "It's true, you know." He turned her hands over and kissed each upturned palm. She sat back against the sofa wearing a smug grin, then looked sideways at him. "Uh huh." He was looking at her expectantly. "I'm not singing it back to you, Mulder." "But you're so good at it." He said seductively, leaning in closer to nuzzle her ear. She gave him her most threatening look and he grinned, wrapping his arms around her, gently pulling her with him as he laid back horizontally across the cushions. She struggled briefly to find a comfortable position, tucking one arm between the cushions at the back of the sofa and wrapping the other over his abdomen. "You're the ONLY ONE I'd sing for, Mulder." She said through her exertion as she shifted once more, laying her cheek against his chest at last. "You know what I like." He said warmly. "Although..." She waited for him to continue, and when he didn't she raised her head and looked at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "What?" His eyes were solemn. "I wish you'd be a little more forthcoming." He watched her eyes as they changed from clear to clouded, blue to gray. She knew he wasn't talking about her singing. "We discussed this earlier, Mulder." "No, Scully, that was about personal problems and other issues. I'm talking about emotional accessibility." His fingers were playing with the hair at the nape of her neck. "I'm talking about you putting a wall around your emotions to keep me out." She tried to sit up, but Mulder's arms held her against him. Instead, she looked away, across the room. "That's not to keep you out, Mulder. It's to keep me in." He raised his head and watched her face, the stoic expression and the distance in her eyes. "You don't have to hide from me, Scully. I know you think you've got to be a good soldier and pretend it doesn't get to you, but you don't have to pretend for my sake." "I've got to deal with my emotions in my own way and on my own time, Mulder. I've got a job to do. You know that, you're a part of that job." He lowered his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. "What about right now?" She looked down at him, admiring the way his eyelashes rested against his cheeks. Such a handsome face, she thought, running her fingertips along the side of his face. "Right now it's just you and I. I don't have anything to hide." He opened his eyes and looked at her for a long moment, his eyes burning a deep emerald green. "Padgett said you're in love." She held his gaze, fighting the years of habit and the urge to look away. "I am." He was fighting the urge to pull her to her feet and over to the window, shouting it out gleefully to anybody in Georgetown that might listen. Instead, he swallowed and held her gaze. "Were you ever going to tell me?" She closed her eyes, then looked down. "Probably not." With those two words he felt his heart shatter, closing his own eyes against the emotion. He didn't want her to see it - she had merely been honest. Wasn't that what he was asking her for? Scully laid her chin down on his chest and looked up at him. "I've been waging an internal battle with it for years, Mulder. I believed that there wasn't room for those feelings...that they would get in the way of the work. I'd reached a place where I thought I could live with it." He couldn't fault her for that, either. He'd tried to do the same thing, only she was obviously better at it than he was. "Didn't you ever wonder..." he looked down at her, his eyes shining dark and green. "...if maybe I might have felt the same way?" "I thought...maybe. Sometimes." She laid her cheek against his chest again, facing away from him. "Other times I thought...no. Or maybe it was the nature of it that I found confusing. To be perfectly honest..." she looked at him again, "the nature of my own feelings haven't always been clear." He held her gaze and they looked at each other silently, sharing the question on both of their minds. Could they manage both a working and a personal partnership? "I want to try this." Mulder said at last, his eyes full of the desire to succeed and his voice breaking with emotion. Her gaze softened and she allowed him to see all of the love and respect she felt for him in her eyes. "So do I." She replied, then gently laid her cheek back against his chest. They were silent for a while, sinking into each other, each listening to the other breathe and growing drowsy from the wine and the heat and the warmth of the company. Mulder's voice was soft and rough when he finally spoke. "Whatever happens, promise me you'll never leave." He said, drawing in a shaky breath. Her voice was throaty and low. "If I were going to leave I'd have done it a long time ago." "Just...promise." She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. It was impossible for anyone to make such a promise, and yet, she believed herself to be answering truthfully when she whispered, "I promise." Mulder let out a long, slow breath as if he'd been holding it, and she felt him relax underneath her. Within minutes she dozed off, content and wrapped securely within her partner's arms. END CHAPTER EIGHT *X*X*X*X* CHAPTER NINE And now good morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear; For love all love of their sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere. - John Donne, The Good-Morrow It was a strange sensation for Mulder, waking up to sunlight streaming across his face; his partner tucked tightly between his chest and the back of the sofa. He blinked a few times and looked down at her upturned face, her soft, even breath escaping parted lips and eyelids fluttering. The strangeness lay in the fact that for the first time in a very long time he'd slept through the entire night, uninterrupted. The bonus was the sight of Scully completely relaxed and uninhibited laying in his arms. The only thing that would have made it better was if they'd both been naked. His body didn't care, though, and he reminded himself that he was going to let her set the pace for the progression of physical intimacy. He carefully extracted himself before he was too tempted to act on his primal urge, padding off to the bathroom with a yawn. He scrounged up a new toothbrush and a fresh razor refill in Scully's well-stocked bathroom cabinet, taking a quick shower and giving himself a shave before returning to the living room to wake Scully for work. His internal clock rarely failed him, and as if on cue, he heard the clock radio click on in her bedroom. Scully was on her stomach on the couch, one arm still tucked between the cushions and the other arm stretched up over her head. The hem of her dress had ridden up and bunched around her waist, exposing a hint of lacy white bikini briefs and a fair amount of well-toned porcelain ass and thigh. The side of her face was mashed into the cushion and he grinned, tugging her dress down and squatting next to her. He tucked her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, her eyes fluttering opened and resting on his face. "Rise and shine." He said with a smile. She looked like a twelve-year-old that had played dress up and fallen asleep in her mother's cocktail dress as she pulled her arm out from between the cushions and sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. "What time is it?" "Six. Your alarm just went off." He gently brushed away another stray strand of hair from her face. She stretched and groaned softly, then looked back at him. "You've already showered and shaved." She commented. "You want some coffee?" He shook his head. "I'm gonna go home and grab a clean suit. How 'bout I meet you at work with coffee and bagels? My treat." She smiled. "Gee, and I didn't even have to put out." He grinned, leaning in and kissing the side of her mouth. "Let's not ruin my reputation by spreading that around, alright?" She smiled and brushed a hand against his smooth cheek. "Your office or mine?" "Mine. There are too many watchful eyes near yours and I may have the uncontrollable urge to grab you, you never know." She smiled, knowing he was kidding, and looked up at him quietly for a long moment. He stood, holding a hand out to help her up. As she rose to her feet, he pulled her into his arms in a warm hug. "Sorry I fell asleep in the middle of our talk." She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, feeling warm and fuzzy and not fully awake. "Mmmm...I thought I was the one who fell asleep." After a long moment, he planted a kiss on the top of her head and pulled away. "I promise we'll talk more later, okay?" He stepped around the sofa to grab his suit jacket as she nodded her reply. They smiled at each other, Scully watching him close the door behind him before padding off to the shower with a yawn. Mulder balanced one cup of coffee on top of the other, a brown paper bag between his teeth as he unlocked the door to his basement office. He nearly stepped on a large manila envelope shoved underneath the door, and caught the coffee before it tumbled out of his hands when he sidestepped the envelope. "Shit!" He muttered, the bag falling to the floor. Luckily, the contents didn't tumble out of the bag. He sat the coffee down on his desk and went back to retrieve the bag and the envelope. He jostled it gently, determining that the contents included photographs and a videocassette. Other than the words 'Agent Mulder' laser printed in Courier New typeface across the front of the envelope, there were no markings on the outside to identify the source. Sitting in his chair he opened the envelope cautiously, taking care not to disturb the contents too much in case he needed to have them analyzed. History taught him to be wary of envelopes without return addresses slid underneath doors. The photos were 8x10, black and white glossy, taken with a 35mm camera with a telephoto lens. They were too close to have been taken with a standard lens without the subject knowing about it. The first one was taken in the Italian restaurant, he and Scully smiling and holding hands across the table. He grinned at the image. They looked like a couple. Tangible proof that last night really happened. Even Scully couldn't deny that. The next photo - Leaving the restaurant, standing on the curb waiting for the valet, his hand on the small of her back. They still looked like a couple. He flipped to the next photo - Entering Scully's building, his hand on her back again. His unease was growing, then he got to the next one... ...thin black lines equally spaced running horizontally across the image - Venetian blinds. They were in Scully's living room, standing very close and gazing intensely at each other. Their height difference was noticeably evident from that angle - It had obviously been taken through the window of her apartment. The last photo was of Scully's living room in daylight. The two of them were asleep, wrapped together on the sofa, legs entwined. That one couldn't have been taken more than two hours ago, he reasoned. He grabbed the telephone and punched the number for security, anxious to learn who had left the envelope. The security officer had just come on duty and didn't remember receiving any envelopes, but promised he would check with the officer on duty before him. Mulder slammed the receiver down on the phone and swore, "Goddammit!" Looking at the images once again, he dropped his forehead to the desk and tucked his face in the crook of his arm. It seemed like they were never going to be able to catch a break. He looked at the unmarked videotape with dread, then slipped it into the VCR on the A.V. cart behind him and punched 'play.' There was no sound, only grainy, black and white art-house style footage of the two of them in Scully's apartment. His hands were on her face, and they leaned in to kiss, pulling away quickly and looking at each other. Her arms went around his neck and they kissed again, more passionately, and his arms wrapped around her and pulled her against him, giving the illusion that he was trying to devour her. To his horror he was aroused by the image on the screen, seeing with his own eyes the passion that he'd felt the night before. That was obviously something he had no intention of sharing with Karen Kossoff the next time he spoke with her. The phone on his desk ran and he punched the 'stop' button on the VCR, reaching over and grabbed the receiver. "Mulder." "Did you get the package?" The voice was male, but indistinguishable. He sat back in his chair, a look of annoyance on his face. "I'm much more photogenic in color." "You didn't take my advice." "I don't take advice from strangers. My mother taught me that a long time ago." He said sarcastically, looking up to see Scully standing in the doorway, a look of concern on her face. He nodded once and she nodded back, pulling out her cel phone and stepping into the hallway and speaking softly into her phone to have the switchboard operator start a trace on the call. The voice continued. "It would be a shame for her to end up like the others." Mulder tamped down his anger. "That would be a very, very big mistake." He said, his voice low and dangerous. "You have the power to stop it." "Oh, believe me, I will." He looked up at Scully, catching her eye. There was a burst of static on the other end of Mulder's phone, and then silence. She snapped the mouthpiece shut on her phone and tucked it back into her pocket, looking irritated. "Not enough time." She said with a sigh as she walked over to his desk. "Was it the same voice from the last time?" Mulder bit the inside of his cheek. "I think so." He looked up at her, then down at the pictures on the desk. "This one came with visual aid." He picked the pictures up and held them out to her. When she looked at him she saw the exasperation in his eyes. She stepped up to the desk and took the pictures from his hand, flipping through them, pausing once or twice. She looked a little sick. Her expression mirrored his own when she looked up again. "What did he say?" "He said I have the power to stop it." Mulder stood, walking around the desk. "There's more." He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Looking up, they saw Skinner standing in the doorway holding up a manila envelope. "I assume you got the same thing I did?" Mulder and Scully exchanged a look, Scully looking down and Mulder turning toward Skinner. "You can't tell from the picture, but we really enjoyed the calamari." He quipped. Skinner entered the office. "Maybe you can explain to me why I found these shoved under my door this morning?" He tossed the envelope on top of Mulder's desk. To Mulder's relief, there didn't appear to be a videocassette in Skinner's package. Mulder and Scully exchanged another look. "There's been another anonymous call in conjunction with those." Mulder said. "I think whoever it is, he's trying to throw us off balance by threatening Scully's safety or by trying to drive a wedge between us." "For what purpose?" Skinner asked, his eyes narrowing. "I think he's trying to buy himself some time." Mulder replied. "Leslie Martin told me 'timing is everything.' There must be some event or time frame that he's trying to hit. I haven't been able to pinpoint what, exactly." Skinner crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Frankly, I can't figure out what any of this has to do with a United States Senator and the deaths of two prostitutes and two yuppie workaholics." Mulder sucked on his lower lip and looked at Scully. "I don't think Senator Harman is our man." Scully looked up at him at the same time as Skinner. "Mulder..." she started, but he interrupted her. "No, Scully, he no longer fits the profile. If Lisa Lewis wouldn't accept the Senator's advances so he found a prostitute who looked just like her as her note indicated, why kill them? These weren't crimes of passion. They were calculated, planned ahead of time." "Maybe he killed them because he couldn't control them." Scully replied. Mulder shook his head. "I don't think so. Carrie Lewis told us that Lisa told her that the Senator had been coming on to all of the girls at the yacht club the day that boating party photo was taken. When one girl didn't warm up to his advances he moved on to another one." Scully watched his face, scrutinizing. "You think the Senator is being set up." She surmised, looking to Skinner and then back to Mulder. "Even if someone were trying to discredit him, why murder? If he's that much of a philanderer then they could have easily found someone to tell their story to the tabloids." Mulder grinned. "The President admitted to having sexual relations with an intern in the White House and he's still there." His face clouded over. "I wonder if that had anything to do with the 'timing' Leslie Martin had been referring to?" It was clear to the Assistant Director his two agents were back in sync as a working team. There was presently no need for him to hang around and watch, although it was a good show. "You may be on to something." Skinner said. "I'd like to stay and find out, but I'm late for O.P.R." He turned to leave. "Agents..." They looked up, and he hesitated. "...I don't know what whoever sent that package was trying to accomplish by sending those to me." He gestured toward the envelope still lying on Mulder's desk. "The Bureau's official policy is there is no policy forbidding agents from becoming personally involved. Still, I'd take those home and keep them there." There was a hint of a smile on his lips as he turned and walked out the door, and Mulder grinned at Scully. Her forehead wore the familiar crease that appeared whenever she was concerned or deep in thought. "Mulder, if Senator Harman isn't involved, then why did he send me those flowers and an invitation to dinner?" Mulder looked at her warmly for a long moment before replying. "I didn't say he isn't involved, Scully, I just don't think he's the one behind the murders." "Well, maybe I should talk to him again." Mulder leaned back against his desk, crossing his legs at the ankles and his arms in front of him. "Think you can handle old Horny Harman's Southern charms?" She crossed her arms in response and assessed him coolly. "Why not? I've had plenty of practice fielding the odd remark and flying innuendo over the past seven years." He grinned and reached out to take hold of her hand. "You've thrown a few out there yourself as I recall." She smiled and they looked at each other, feeling the warmth envelope them. After a moment, Mulder dropped her hand and stood straight. "Hold off for now on visiting the Senator...maybe we can go together, schedules permitting." She took a deep breath and stood straight. "I'd better get up to the lab." Her voice was softer and higher than usual, betraying her desire to stay. "Hang on a minute, Scully." She looked up at him with curiosity and he stepped back around the desk, his face troubled. "There's something you need to see." He punched the 'play' button on the VCR and the image of the two of them returned. She saw herself and her partner in black and white, thin vertical lines running across the picture. Mulder's hands were on her ass and they were staring at each other, speaking but without the accompanying sound. He reached up and caressed her face, and then his hands went into her hair. Scully turned and looked at Mulder with wide eyes as he hit the 'stop' button once more. Mulder was biting his lower lip, watching her. "I never thought I'd say this, but it's a good thing we didn't do anything besides talk and sleep last night. I may have received this as a Triple X video of the month selection if we had." She drew in a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly. "Other than the sick feeling I have over knowing that such an intimate moment was not only witnessed, but recorded..." she paused, looking up at him, "...it gives me the creeps to think that it happened in my own apartment." Mulder stepped up to her, placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned close, his voice dropping to the low, intimate tone he'd used the night before. "I would feel better if you came to stay with me, in my apartment, until we catch whoever is doing this." She was about to decline when he placed the tips of his fingers over her mouth, silencing her. "I know you can take care of yourself, Scully. Just...humor me. Consider it your part of the therapy on Fox Mulder's new twelve-step mental health program. Unless you tell me otherwise I won't maul you in the middle of the night, Scouts honor." He held up two fingers as an oath. She looked into his eyes and nodded slightly. "Alright Mulder, I'll stay with you tonight. But only if you let me help you out with the case while I'm there. I need to be doing more on this than starring in somebody's twisted idea of entertainment or sitting in the lab proving your innocence in the Martin investigation." He smiled. "For which I am again indebted to you and to your science." She returned his smile and moved to leave. "Scully..." She stopped at looked at him, an eyebrow raised in question. He was holding up the paper bag and one of the coffee cups from his desk. "...breakfast?" She accepted the small offering with a smile of gratitude, taking a sip from the cup and closing her eyes in satisfaction, then giving him a pleased look. He grinned at her as she backed out the door and disappeared into the hallway, remembering something Ginger Rogers once said... 'I did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in heels.' He would have bet his life that Fred didn't fully appreciate his partner for all that she went through for him. He, however, would not make that mistake and planned on doing whatever he could to make sure Scully knew it. Scully had the P.C.R. results from the Leslie Martin case by mid- morning. Although it didn't reveal the identity of the last man she would ever have sex with, it did prove that that man was not Mulder. She had let out a sigh of relief, knowing that the results would go a long way toward convincing the DCPD of Mulder's innocence in the murder. She knew from the M.E.'s report and her own notes that Leslie Martin must have ingested a highly concentrated amount of sodium hydroxide several hours prior to the time of death from the damage done to her esophagus. Detective McCracken and the D.C.P.D. had done a thorough search of her apartment and had discovered drain cleaner containing sodium hydroxide, but there was no evidence of other chemicals that indicated that the poisonous chemical had come from that source. Without a note or proof that her death had been the victim's own hand they couldn't call it suicide. As for the source of the sodium hydroxide, it was also found in aquarium products and Mulder owned a few fish, but that wasn't enough to charge him with the murder, either. The plain truth was, there just wasn't any motive on Mulder's part other than to interrogate her on the Harman case, so it wasn't likely that he would remain a suspect for long. She had figured out a way to prove his innocence, anyway. Security cameras in the hotel lobby recorded with time and date stamp every person who entered and exited the building. She had called up hotel security and requested all of the videos from the day Leslie Martin was murdered, and they agreed to send them over to FBI Headquarters before the end of the working day. She was certain that Mulder hadn't been with her more than twenty minutes, half an hour tops. She was also certain that whoever she had had intercourse with that day would be on the tapes as well. All she had to do now was figure out his identity...and quite possibly she'd find the killer of Karen Darby, Lisa Lewis and perhaps even Steven Hoyt as well. Mulder grinned at the sight of the woman in the white lab coat. She always appeared so capable sitting behind a microscope. As she slid the paper under the lens one more time, her placed a hand atop her shoulder. She immediately knew it was Mulder, and she smiled. As she turned to look up at him smiling back at her, she was drawn into those green eyes that she loved so much. "Why Agent Mulder, what brings you to my part of the world today? As if I didn't already know. You've come to whisk me away to that romantic lunch you always promise, but never deliver on, right?" "Sorry, Henderson. I've got a lot of stops to make today, and lunch, unfortunately, isn't one of them. We'll keep that raincheck open though, ok?" He gave her arm a little squeeze and stepped around her work table to sit across from her and in front of the other lens of her microscope. Mulder liked working with Agent Henderson. She was quick witted and one of the few agents around who didn't consider him "spooky," so of course, he enjoyed playing with her. She would definitely earn that lunch if she could determine if the initials on Lisa Lewis' suicide note were genuine. He peered into the viewfinder, not entirely sure what he would be seeing. "What do you have for me?" "Well, it's not a lot to go on. The person who wrote this was left- handed. But you probably already knew that." She looked over the eyepiece to see if he was really listening, then she continued playfully. "But I think I've got it narrowed down to points indicating that it was written by a man in his mid-forties, using a Mont Blanc fountain pen with a mother-of-pearl barrel and that he had a complex about his teddy bear when he was young." Mulder looked up from the microscope and blinked once slowly. And waited. "Ok, so I don't know anything about the teddy bear. But it was written by a male, I'd say early to mid-forties and it was written with a Mont Blanc fountain pen, with or without the mother-of-pearl barrel. Distinctive ink." "Can you tell me anything about the paper the note was printed on? It's computer paper, I know, but is there anything special about it?" With so little to go on, Mulder felt like they were grasping at straws. "Nothing really special in and of itself. But from what I read on the ME's report about the evidence collected at the scene, and what I saw of the evidence that they brought in, the paper that was in the paper tray of her computer's printer doesn't match this. Besides, when Danny tried to get the printer to print a sample we could compare to this, he discovered that the printer was broken, and it had old toner dried into the jets. It looked like it was out of commission for quite some time." "Anything else?" "Just that the guy who wrote this could be considered a little 'anal' in my book. Even as he tried to duplicate the victim's handwriting, his attempt at it couldn't hide an overwhelming tightness and rigidity to his script." "Well...I don't suppose this sample indicates where I might find him, does it?" "You might want to try that little bar down the street. I hear they have the best martinis in town. I could go with you to do some extensive testing." Mulder flashed her a grin and touched her shoulder briefly as he turned to leave. "Thanks, Henderson. I owe you." "What else is new?" She shot back with a smile as he opened the door, a look of gratitude on his face as he grinned at her once more before stepping into the hallway. It was already mid-afternoon when security called and notified her that a package had arrived for her from the Willard Intercontinental. Scully finished the blood typing she was working on for the V.C.S. and headed down to the reception area. Mulder was standing in the lobby with one of the secretaries she'd encountered on the elevator a week or so ago, his arms crossed and a blank look on his face. The woman sent out enough body language to clue even the casual observer into the fact that she was practically begging for him to take her home and fuck her senseless. There were at least twelve videos in the box - more than she had expected. It would take the better part of a day to go through it all. She sighed as she signed for it and tucked it under one arm, glancing at Mulder once more before heading back to the elevator. Mulder caught her eye over the secretary's shoulder as she punched the call button. Without taking his eyes off of Scully, he mumbled something and walked away from the woman in mid-sentence. She turned to see the object of her affection taking the box of videos from his partner's arms and gently guiding her into the elevator with a soft touch to the small of her back. Scully saw the enraged look on the woman's face just before the elevator doors shut between them. Turning to Mulder, she smiled. "Investigating a new lead, Mulder?" He grinned at her. "Jealous?" She looked him over. "Should I be?" She already knew the answer to the question, but she wanted to hear what he had to say. "I have a videotape in my office that answers that question if you really need reminding." Her face clouded over. "Did you find out anything more about the person who left that for you?" "No, I was just checking with the security guard to see if he'd heard back from the guard who was on duty with the package was delivered. He said it was dropped off by a Caucasian male at the same time as Skinner's package, but he couldn't remember much about his appearance. The guard did say he was the one who slipped it under my door when his shift ended." The elevator doors opened to the third floor and they stepped out together. "What's in the box?" Mulder asked as they entered her office, setting the box down on her desk. She answered over her shoulder as she walked behind the desk. "Proof of your innocence." Her voice was just a trifle smug. Mulder reacted with a surprised expression and a glimmer of delight in his countenance for his partner's brilliant proclamation. Scully looked up at Mulder and rewarded him with a huge smile. At that moment there was a knock on the door and Danny poked his head in. "Sorry for the interruption..." they both gave him a polite smile and he continued, "A.D. Skinner called next door looking for you, Agent Mulder." At that moment, Mulder's cel phone trilled. He threw Scully a look of apology and pulled the phone out of his pocket, sliding past Danny out the door. Scully looked at Danny. "Any news?" Danny shook his head. "The contractions are still inconsistent. Her doctor won't let her come in until she's had them five to seven minutes apart for at least an hour." Scully closed her eyes and sighed with a soft smile. "How's she holding up?" Danny grinned. "She said she's ready to rip it out with her bare hands. She asked if you have any experience performing a C-section on a living person and if there might be an open autopsy bay you could use." Scully chuckled. "I can only imagine what her doctor is going through, then." "Quite frankly, I'm more concerned about her poor husband." He offered a parting smile and left her alone to peruse twenty-four hours worth of security video. Assistant Director Skinner's call was to confirm a time when they could go over to Leslie Martin's apartment in Gaithersburg to search for any leads. Mulder gave Skinner the update from Henderson about the handwriting analysis on Lisa Lewis' forged suicide note, and agreed to meet with his surrogate partner just after 7:00 p.m. when his afternoon O.P.R. meetings were finished. Phoning Scully later than afternoon, Mulder suggested she head over to his apartment whenever she was ready as he'd most likely be late. She let out a small sigh of resignation then told him about the D.C.P.D.'s continuing search for suspects in Leslie Martin's death. "You've been taken off the list, Mulder." She said, a smile coming into her voice. "The security video from the hotel confirms you arrived at 4:06 p.m. I've had a copy made and sent it over to Detective McCracken. He said that they weren't seriously considering you as a suspect, anyway, but the proof on the video confirmed your innocence." Mulder let out a long-held breath. "What about the D.N.A. on her last customer? Any ideas?" "Trying to find a match is going to be a lengthy process with no clear suspects to compare the results to. I'm going to go through the rest of the security video this evening and see if anything or anyone stands out." "Frohike sent background files on several of the key players to my home computer. Take a look at them when you get there, they may give you a little more to go on." They were silent a moment. "Scully, I'm sorry about going off with Skinner and leaving you on your own tonight. I know I promised..." "Mulder, it's okay. It's my work too, remember?" She sighed. "I just wish I were going with you." "So do I." He said seriously. "Do me a favor? Call Detective McCracken back and tell him that the handwriting analysis on Lisa Lewis' suicide note came back as a fake and let him know that we're officially including it in our investigation into the murders of Karen Darby and Leslie Martin. Not that what we've been doing these last few weeks hasn't been official, but they'll probably want to open an investigation of their own." By the time Mulder and Skinner arrived in Gaithersburg, it had already been another long day for the FBI. Leslie's townhouse was part of a multi-unit complex fronted by a large man-made lagoon. It was in one of the trendy new "communities" that were springing up around the country to entice baby boomers and young professionals who didn't want to live in urban high-rises anymore. All the townhouses faced the lagoon with views of the water and birds and the little sailboats or kayaks which were attached to each dock. By the time Mulder and Assistant Director Skinner arrived there, the sun was setting picturesquely on the horizon. Skinner looked around the area as Mulder opened the door with the keys the homeowner's association had given them. "Betcha fifty dollars none of these nice middle- class neighbors know what Leslie Martin really did for a living." He commented. "I wonder what the C.C.& R.'s say about high class call girls." Mulder grimaced slightly as he turned the key in the final lock and popped open the door. As they stepped into the foyer and looked around, there was nothing to immediately indicate anything of the oldest profession. There were signs that the Gaithersburg and D.C. police had thoroughly searched the condo for clues to her murder. But it was still apparent, even after the search, that Leslie Martin had made a home for herself, apart from her profession. So much like Scully, Mulder thought. The large, open floor plan was arranged to take best advantage of the view off the deck. It was very comfortable with a quiet mix of taupes and ivories on the furniture and walls. One wall was covered with shelves of books: novels and poetry, mostly, disheveled by the police investigators. As the two men looked around, they both got the feeling that this had been a private sanctuary. They immediately saw the differences between Leslie Martin and Scully, but they recognized the similarities as well. As a result, they moved through the apartment with a different sensibility than they might normally have on an investigation. Somehow it felt as if they were prying. As they worked their way around the room, Mulder remarked, "Have you noticed there are no photographs anywhere?" "You'd think she'd have some of friends, if not family." Skinner started up the staircase to the loft above. "Like this life was hers alone - to be alone." As Mulder followed his boss up the stairs, he reflected on what kind of life Scully had been living since she joined him as his partner. How often does she find herself all alone in her apartment, wrapped up in a book or a case file? The loft up the stairs was Leslie Martin's bedroom and dressing room. A king-sized bed was placed in the center of the room with small skylights running along one side of the ceiling to let in morning light. Skinner spotted the desk, computer and filing cabinet at the Southern end of the room and began his search there. She was a meticulous record keeper. All receipts neatly catalogued. All banking records immaculate. But nothing out of the ordinary stood out as he looked through it all. "There's a make-up kit in here that would make Tammy Faye Baker jealous." Mulder commented as he stepped out of the bathroom. "Did you check the closet?" "No, I'm still going through the papers here. She was quite a bookkeeper. Didn't you say she was an investment counselor in San Francisco?" Mulder nodded. "You could take some lessons from this woman's record keeping skills." The Assistant Director didn't look up as he spoke, his message getting through without eye contact. Mulder rolled his eyes and opened the walk-in closet door. "Jesus, look at this." At that, the Assistant Director did look up to see Mulder flick the switch to turn on the revolving clothes rack inside the massive closet. It ran like a professional dry cleaner's rack, full of clothes. It was clear where Miss Martin's tastes ranged, for as neutral as her surroundings were, it was evident that she liked colorful clothes. Mulder and Skinner stood at the closet door in awe as a rainbow of fabric rolled by. "My, my, every woman's dream. My wife would have killed for a closet like this." Skinner commented. "I'd kill for a closet like this." Mulder stopped the procession when something caught his eye. He sent the rack into reverse a few feet and saw a black suit still wrapped in plastic, slightly set apart from the rest of the clothes. "A sore thumb." Mulder commented, pulling the suit out of the closet. "That looks more like something Agent Scully would wear." "Yeah, I'd have to say it's damned close to her style. Look at the cut of the jacket." Mulder held it out for Skinner as he pulled at the hem to make it hang better on the hanger. "Don't they call this a 'duster'?" He pulled on the hem again to allow him to look at the cut of the fabric more acutely. "No, 'dusters' are longer than this, I think this is called a 'three- quarter length', or something. Scully claims it makes her look taller. See how it goes down to about mid-thigh?" He held the small jacket, still on the hanger, up to his torso and smoothed it down to give Skinner a better look. Suddenly, the two men looked at each other awkwardly. Mulder pulled the outfit away from his chest and held it up for inspection at a distance. "She must have just bought this to use in her impersonation of Scully. The tag is still on it. Loffredo of Milan is the store name. I'll run a check on it in the morning." Mulder turned to see that Skinner had returned to the desk across the room. He held up a business card with the store name printed on the front and an address on the back. "The store's in Georgetown." Skinner crossed the room again to compare the logo on the card to the tag attached to the suit. Mulder looked solemn. "Scully lives in Georgetown." He walked over to the file cabinet they'd gone through earlier and pulled open a drawer. "I'm sure the immaculate Ms. Martin would have kept a receipt. That should tell us when she bought it or if someone else bought it for her." Skinner, knowing that they may be in for a long haul, picked up on Mulder's apprehension. "We'll book this suit into evidence in the morning, along with the receipt, if we can find it. In the meantime, let's see if we can come up with any records that might indicate who was encouraging her to emulate Agent Scully." END CHAPTER NINE