From: Nikki <menageri@linkline.com>
Date: Thu, 16 Aug 2001 22:41:59 -0700
Subject: NEW - Tine Rua - WIP - Part 25 of ?
Source: xff


PART TWENTY-FIVE - RATED PG-13 for language


Scully smacked the talk button on her cell phone and threw
it on the couch in a fit of pique.  She was at a dead end.
Four o'clock was looming on her watch dial and still no word
from Mulder or Phoebe.  Even as their absence tickled the
back of her brain, she had been juggling two phones, setting
the Gunmen and Skinner on to the question of who the man
masquerading as John Milling really was.  Both sides were
pulling DMV, passport and NYPD records as fast as they could
and she knew it wouldn't be long before she had a timeline
from when the switch was made. Which still left the question
of just who the hell was this man?
 Her eyes wandered to the screen of her laptop where the
license for the First Defense Detective Agency was framed.
The agency was the last interest of Millings in the States.
Maybe his partner could answer some questions.  She
retrieved her cell phone and dialed information for Queens.
The operator gave her the number and she punched it in,
hoping that it wasn't too late in the day to catch someone.
 The phone rang twice before a recorded message sporting a
young woman's voice came on, giving instructions on how to
leave a message.  Scully listened to the whole message on
the chance that someone would pick up the phone and then
hung up as the beep sounded.
The agency was still in business, and she had double checked
the address with the operator. Gumshoes kept unusual hours
like most law enforcement people did.  There was a chance,
albeit a slim one, that if she went by the offices, that she
would find someone.  Rush hour traffic on a Monday meant a
long taxi ride, but it beat sitting around twiddling her
thumbs.
 She put her hands on her hips and let her gaze wander over
the suite.  As long as she had her cell phone, she was
reachable by both Skinner and the Gunmen.  Whenever Mulder
decided to make an appearance, he would be able to reach her
as well.  She chewed on her lip and tried to not think about
where Mulder was.  Although Mulder had never made an
ironclad promise, she was sure they were past the ditching
thing.  He knew how absolutely furious it made her.  And to
ditch her with Phoebe was suicide.  He knew that.  Didn't
he?
 She shook her head and snatched up a pen to write down the
agency address.  There wasn't time to stand around and
ponder Mulder's motives or his current whereabouts.  There
were nine million people in NY and she had absolutely no
idea where to start looking.  In the meantime, she could and
would do something about solving this case and the identity
of the erstwhile John Milling.
 Scully scooped up her room key and phone and glanced
around.  She had already put the laptop in sleep mode, which
meant it was password protected.  Still, if Phoebe really
wanted to crack it, she probably could.  Scully unplugged
the laptop and picked up all the files on the Milling case.
Things were not going to disappear this time.
The concierge was blandly helpful about putting the files
and computer in the hotel's main safe and assured her that
no one else would have access to it.  Scully envisioned the
older man's smile as Phoebe turned on the charm and leaned
forward to afford him a better view of her cleavage while
she wheedled him into opening the safe for her.  Scully
flashed her badge at the man and watched his eyes grow wide
at the FBI symbol.  'No one' Scully had repeated grimly.
Phoebe may have the ta tas, but I can put your ass in
prison.
 The cab ride was excruciating.  How is it, Scully wondered,
that no matter the outside temperatures of the time of day,
that cab drivers could manage to make the inside of their
ride smell like a Porta-Potty in Juarez during August?  The
occasional breeze through the barely cracked windows just
enhanced the aroma with strains of rotting garbage and
diesel fuel.  Why the hell does anyone live in this city?
Scully mused, staring unseeingly out the window.  Everytime
I'm here, I can't wait to leave.
 She nibbled on the inside of her cheek as she looked down
into her lap.  Of course, she had never really come to the
city just for pleasure.  There was always some case or
another and people shooting at her or chasing her.  This
time could have been different.  She and Mulder could have
been working together, gathering information, putting the
pieces together during the day, and spending their nights
having fun.  A wry smile quirked her lips.  Fun that had
nothing whatsoever to do with the Big Apple.  And if they
got tired of that (in what century?) there was always the
Met and Broadway and Times Square.  I've never seen a
Broadway play, Scully thought sadly.  How pathetic is that?
 By the time the cab ground to a halt in front of the
beat-up brownstone, Scully was thoroughly and utterly
depressed.  She hated this city, hated her job, hated her
life and most of all, hated Phoebe Green.  It was all her
fault.  Not a reasonable conclusion, but the one she had
reached nonetheless.  Remembering Skinner's tidbit about
Phoebe being broke injected a ray of sunshine into her
brooding. She paid the driver and turned towards the front
door of the building.  Maybe I'll offer to buy some of her
Donna Karan's to help her get by, Scully smirked to
herself.  That ought to sting a bit.
 She walked up the steps and through the open door and
stopped at the dingy directory in the entryway.  At the
bottom, under Basement, she found First Defense Detective
Agency.  After a quick cast around, she found the stairs
leading down and took them gingerly, noting the significant
layer of dirt on them.  Apparently a cleaning service was
not part of the tenant's rent.
 She made her way carefully down the dim hallway noting the
complete lack of placards on any of the doors.  Either the
offices were empty or the people who rented them wanted a
lot of privacy.  She unsnapped the top of her holster and
settled her jacket back over it.  After five or not, it was
too quiet.
 Midway down the hall she found the First Defense suite.
She tried the door; locked.  She jiggled it for good measure
and then knocked.  Maybe someone was inside working.  She
knocked again, harder this time.  Come on, give me a break
here, she whispered.  I need to find out who this guy is.

 Mulder heard a noise beyond the door and his head snapped
up, his eyes focused on the doorknob set in the worn wood.
He was sure it wasn't Phoebe and he hoped like hell it
wasn't Milling.  Phoebe's assurances that Milling wouldn't
come back or harm him didn't bring him any comfort.  Milling
had a hair trigger temper and Phoebe seemed to the fastest
way to set it off.  Mulder had no doubt that if Milling
opened that door to find Phoebe missing, hell would be paid
in Mulder's blood.
 He strained to hear and after another moment, heard another
muffled sound, almost like a knock.  He felt his heart skip
a beat.  What if someone else was at the door?  What if
Phoebe had sent someone to free him?
 "In here!"  Mulder yelled.  "Help!"  His voice, buffeted by
the plaster walls and lead glass, bounced back at him.  He
had tried yelling in the direction of the window earlier but
had given up, realizing that his voice wasn't carrying far
enough to be heard on the sidewalk.  But with someone just a
few feet away, it was worth another shot.
 "Help!"  Mulder bellowed.  "In here!  Back office!"

 Scully sighed and put her hands on her hips.  She looked up
and down the hallway hoping to see someone coming towards
her.  She looked down the far end of the hallway and saw
another door on the same side as First Defense.  A back
door?  She strode towards it.  No placard, but back doors
were usually unmarked.  And sometimes unlocked.
 She tugged at the doorknob and was momentarily thrilled
when it turned. The door swung open and she was confronted
with a mishmash of mops and brooms and buckets.  All covered
with a nice layer of dust, she noted.  So much for luck.
 She grabbed the door to pull it shut when she heard a
sound.  She leaned into the closet.  It sounded like a voice
in the distance.  A voice inside the office?  She listened,
her ears straining to pick up any sound. Come on, say
something again.  Just let me know you're in there and I'll
knock on the door 'til it falls off its hinges.

 Mulder sighed and licked his lips.  He would kill for a
drink right now.  Preferably a 48 ounce ice cold Mountain
Dew. Scully had once informed him that there was enough
caffeine and sugar in his cup to simultaneously kill a
diabetic and keep them up for three days.  "Good thing I'm
not diabetic, " he had countered with a grin, slurping
happily at his Big Gulp while Scully daintily sipped her
bottled water.  What Scully didn't know was that later he
had caught her taking a sip of his drink when her water was
gone and she thought he wasn't looking.  Oh yeah, she had
her vices and he was going to exploit them all.
 He licked his lips again and decided it was better not to
think about a cold drink.  Concentrating on something you
couldn't have was the first downfall in a situation like
this.  Think positive.  Think about good, happy things.
Like Scully in jeans and a short T-shirt.  Or Scully with a
big diamond twinkling on her finger.  Or Scully, straddling
him on the couch
 No, let's not think about that, he decided hastily as his
body roused at the memory.  No use adding another
frustration to the list.  Being chained to a radiator with a
pissed off serial killer apt to walk through the door at any
minute was more than enough on his plate.  Oh, but the
memory was so tempting.  Sometimes his eidetic memory was
truly a gift and damn was he glad he would have that
particular scene flitting around his brain for the next
forty years or so.
 Provided Milling didn't bash his brains in or drill them
with a bullet.  He closed his eyes.  Damn Phoebe anyway.  He
still didn't know why she had dragged him into this and he
was starting to think there was no reason other than she
wanted to play with him again.  He frowned at the unwelcome
memory of her hand on him.  Phoebe was not one to beg or
cajole.  She never had to.  But from the start, she had made
it crystal clear that she wanted him back, one way or
another.  Was that her excuse for pulling him into this
case? To get back into his bed?
 He chewed his lip as he thought about it.  It didn't track
with the Phoebe he knew, but then again, she had always been
one step ahead of him in the mind games department.  Who
knew what level this was in some bizarre adventure she had
planned for him?  Just thinking about it was making his head
start to hurt.
 He heard another thump, this one closer and his eyes flew
to the far corner of the room.  As far as he could recall,
there was not another office on the other side of the wall.
The suite of offices had extended to the end of the building
and a narrow hallway within the suite was all that lay on
the far side.  He narrowed his eyes, the shadows from the
sunlight creeping over the yellowing paint on the wall.
Something was not quite right about the wall.  There was a
slight bump on part of it.  A line, barely perceptible in
the waning light.
 His eyes went wide.  A door!  There was a doorway there
that had been covered over.  Whoever had done it hadn't
gotten the edges quite flush.  And someone was on the other
side of the door.
 "Help!"  he screamed.  "I'm locked in here!"

 Scully swore as a bucket, nudged off its perch by her
shoulder, clanked to the floor.  She stooped to pick it up,
her fingers barely grazing the dirt encrusted edge as she
placed it back on the top of the mop.  A faint smell of
Pinesol wafted into her nostrils and she grimaced.  It had
been years since this mop had seen use or she wouldshe
froze as she heard the noise again.  This time she was sure
it was a voice.  A man's voice.
 She stepped further into the closet, pushing aside the mops
and bottles, reaching blindly forward in the dark.  The
voice had sounded urgent, like someone was in trouble.
 "Hello?" she called out, feeling stupid as her own voice
echoed back at her.  Oh I can just see the watercooler crowd
with this one, she thought grimly.  Standing in a broom
closet shouting at phantom voices.  "Is anyone there?'
Might as well give the docs at the funny farm something
unique to work on.

 Mulder sat up.  A voice!  And not any voice.  He shook his
head.  It couldn't be?  How in the world would she know
where to find him?
 "Scully?  Scully, can you hear me?"

 Scully jerked back and stared at the back of the closet?
Mulder?  She was hearing things!  God help her, she was
hearing Mulder's voice in a closet.  Just how obsessed was
she with him if every sound she heard was his voice?

 "Scully!  Scully, I'm in the office.  In the back."  He
yanked on the cuffs and winced as the steel bit into his
wrists.  Damnit, that hurt and he involuntarily thought of
Phoebe's wrists.  How many times had she had her wrists
yanked to have inflicted those cuts he had seen. The pain
would have been immense.
 "Mulder?"  The voice was muffled and bewildered, but it was
definitely her.  He heaved a sigh of relief.  His guardian
angel. A city of nine million people and ten thousand
nondescript brownstones and she had somehow found him.
 "There's a door.  It's been painted over."
 He heard faint sounds like things falling, banging into
each other and then a distinct thump against the wall where
the door should be.
 "That's it," he yelled.  "Right there."  He heard another
thump, followed by a stronger one and more banging noises.
Come on, Scully.  You can do it.  You can kick my ass any
day of the week, what's a little paint and plaster?

 Scully thumped the back of the closet again and felt a
slight give.  Mulder was right, there had been a doorway
there and it was boarded up on this side.  He had said
painted over, so it might be boarded as well on his side.
She pulled back and looked down the hall at the main
entrance to the suite.  The door was solid wood and the
fixtures heavy old brass.  She could try shooting off the
lock or kicking in the door, but didn't have much hope for
either.  As neglected as it was, the building had been built
in a time when things were meant to last, and she didn't
think the odds were on her side.
 She ducked back into the closet and started yanking things
out of her way.  Her fingers grazed over the boards in the
darkness.  They had been nailed over the doorway.  She found
an edge and pulled.  The board flexed but the nail held.
She exhaled in frustration and pushed another mop out of her
way.  The metal head rebounded back towards her and she
caught it in her hand.  The significant weight of it rested
against her palm and she flicked a glance over it.  Maybe.
 She stepped back out of the closet.
 "Hold on, Mulder.  I'll get you out."
 The mop was ancient.  Its handle was made of hard wood and
the head was made up of metal fasteners latched onto grimy
rope-like protrusions.  Scully pulled her penknife out of
the pocket and opened it. Prepared.  Just like any good Boy
Scout.  Or FBI agent.  She sawed at the dried out mop fronds
until they dropped off one by one.  Kicking aside the
debris, she pushed her way back into the closet and took aim
at the boards.
 Whether it was adrenaline or cheap wood, the boards cracked
on the first hit and Scully pulled back for another one.
Another crack.  She sneezed as the raised dust coursed into
her nose and mouth.  Crack. Crack.  Her arms ached from the
weight of the quasi battering ram but the effort felt good.
She was finally doing something.

 Mulder watched as the plaster shimmied under the pounding.
Tiny spider web cracks metamorphosed into larger ones until
chunks started to fall off.  Dirty brown boards appeared
under the plaster wire and he found himself counting
Scully's strikes.  Seven, eight.  A huge chunk of plaster
fell away and he could see that the board behind it was
splintering.  Nine, ten.  Two other boards were buckling now
and then a strange object popped through a hole.  He stared
at it, mystified.  It looked like a metal rendition of Bart
Simpson's head on a stick.
 Two more hits and he saw Scully's small hands in the hole,
tugging and pushing at the boards, knocking more plaster to
the floor.  Tiny particles suffused the air and he sneezed.
A drink and a shower.  A longcold shower.
 Scully was using her battering ram again and in moments a
hole three feet by three feet gaped in the wall.  Waving
away the dust and plaster, Scully stuck her head through the
hole.  White and gray particles covered her auburn hair and
her eyes were red with irritation.  But her blue eyes were
anxious for him and her soft lips were parted in a silent
entreaty.  She was simply the most beautiful thing he had
ever seen.
 "I'll have to pick a better spot the next time we play Hide
n Seek," he quipped and was rewarded with a famous Scully
eye roll.
 "Mulder, are you alright?"
 "Nothing a shower and a cold drink won't fix."
 Gingerly, she crawled through the hole into the office. Her
eyes swept the room and returned to Mulder.  "Where's
Phoebe?"
 His lips twisted into a grimace.  "She didn't mention where
she was going when she left."
 Scully was crouching in front of him now, looking at his
cuffed hands.  "She did this to you?"  She looked up at him
and the anger made her blue eyes sparkle.  He felt a surge
in his chest.  This woman loved him.  This incredible, sexy,
intelligent woman loved him and she wanted to defend him.
 "No," he said softly, cocking his head to the side.
"Milling did this.  She just left me here after I helped her
escape."
 Scully turned his hands in her own, her finger brushing
over the red marks underneath the metal.  "These aren't
standard issue.  I can't take them off."
 "They're British," he said.  "Milling's."
 Scully sat back on her heels, her lips pursed.  "I know
there are some Scotland Yard people in the city, but I think
it would be quicker to just have someone cut them off."  Her
eyes searched his face.  "Mulder, are you sure you're okay?"

 He thought about Phoebe's kiss, her touch, and mostly her
eyes.  There was no point in telling Scully about it.  She
already felt an unnecessary disadvantage with Phoebe and
telling her would just make her angrier.
 "I'm fine," he said, looking her straight in the eye.
"Just collateral damage to my ego.  Nothing new."
 She smiled at him but the smile didn't quite reach her
eyes.  He had taken too long to reply.  Something had
happened but for some reason he didnt want to talk about
it.  Yet.
 She pulled out her phone.  They would talk, after she got
Mulder out of those cuffs.

Continued in Part 26...

PART TWENTY-SIX - RATED R for sexual situations and language



It had been with considerable effort that she had remained
in the main room of the hotel suite while Mulder showered
and changed.  He had been uncharacteristically silent on the
cab ride back to the hotel and she was dying to know what
was going on behind those pensive hazel eyes.  What have you
done now, Phoebe?  Scully mused as she stared out the
window.  And why won't he tell me?
 There was a soft tap on the door and she pulled her gun
reflexively.  Her eyes shot to the bedroom door.  Mulder was
still in the bathroom.  Quietly, she made her way to the
door and looked through the peephole.
 "Room service," the young man said as if sensing her gaze.
Scully holstered her gun but kept her jacket pushed back.
It was a cliched trick, but she wouldn't put anything past
Phoebe.  Or Milling.
 The waiter wheeled the table in and Scully directed him to
put it by the window.  He extended the leaves, rearranged
the dishes conventionally and turned to go.  Scully dug into
her pocket for a tip and saw his eyes widen as the butt of
her gun came into view.  His eyes, round with wonder and a
tinge of fear, flew to hers, and she offered him a small,
reassuring smile.
 He nodded silently as she pressed the money into his hand
and guided him out the door.  Well, if her little badge
waving at the concierge desk hadn't spread the word that
there were Feds in the hotel, this would certainly move the
rumor along.
 She heard Mulder moving around in the bedroom as she closed
and chained the front door.  She went to the bedroom doorway
to tell him that dinner was ready.
 He had on a soft gray T-shirt and jeans, his feet bare and
his hair damp.  A white hotel towel was slung around his
neck as he buckled his watch back on.  She paused in the
doorway, drinking him in.  He looked so young and guileless
right now.  Like any man just out of the shower after a long
day.  You had to look beyond the handsome face and the lean
body to the gun and badge tossed on the bed to understand
how an hour ago he had been handcuffed in the basement of an
abandoned office.
 He turned his head to look at her and their eyes met in
silent communication.  He felt guilty for worrying her
today.  She felt guilty for even thinking he had ditched
her.  The silence stretched between them until she felt a
lump growing in her throat.
 "Come here," she said softly.  So softly, she didnt know
if he could hear it.  But he moved toward her easily,
stopping in front of her, their bodies almost touching.  She
looked up at him, his hazel eyes open and warm, waiting for
her to take the lead.
 She reached out and touched his chest, letting her fingers
slide up along the cotton until she reached the warmth of
his neck.  She could smell his aftershave and the hotel
soap.  Her fingers ran over the smoothness of his newly
shaved cheek and across the plains of his face.
 "What aren't you telling me?"  she asked softly and then
bit her lip.  She hadn't meant to ask, but there it was,
hanging in the air between them.
 Something flickered in his eyes.  They closed to her, just
a little, but she caught it and felt her heart sink.  It was
too soon.  She shouldn't have asked.
 "It's not important," he said.  His hands were on her arms
now, caressing her through the material of her blouse.
 "If you won't tell me, then it's important," she replied.
He started to speak, but she placed a finger over his lips.
"Later.  I didn't mean to ask.  It just slipped out.  The
food is here. Let's eat."
 He kissed her finger and nodded.  She stepped back,
intending to go into the living room, but his hands stilled
her.  She watched, her breath catching in her throat, as he
leaned forward and ever so tenderly, kissed her.  Her eyes
fluttered closed at the feathery touch of his lips on her
and she sighed.  When he pulled back she opened her eyes to
gaze into his.
 "Let's eat," he said.  "Then we'll talk."

 Mulder frowned as he read the printouts about Milling.  The
local FBI office had delivered a printer and everything
Scully had learned in his absence was strewn over the coffee
table. Scully sat back and watched him, knowing that he was
already weaving the strands of information into a
recognizable pattern.
 On the desk, Scully's laptop trilled three times as new
emails arrived.  She rose from the couch to check them.  Two
more from the Gunmen and one from her mother.  Scully
grimaced.  She was going to have to call her mom and explain
away yet another bizarre trip.  She could just imagine the
conversation. Well, Mom, you see Mulder's ex-girlfriend
showed up on the Vineyard.  Yeah, I was there trying to work
up the courage to go to bed with him.  Then the police got
involved.  No, not with us trying to have sex, they were
looking for Phoebe because she attacked a cop.  Phoebe,
that's his ex.  And then they thought Mulder was involved
and Phoebe stole my gun.  So now we're in New York City and
do you realize I haven't ever seen a Broadway play?  What?
Oh, no. We haven't had sex yet.  No time.  But I'll keep you
posted.
 "Scully?"  She turned to see his quizzical countenance.
"You okay?"
 She shot him a smile.  "Yes.  My mother emailed me,
wondering where I am, I'm sure."
 He gave her a sympathetic smile.  More than once he had
witnessed her trying to spoon-feed her mother a vanilla
version of their latest exploits.  Maggie Scully was no
dummy, though, and she knew a PG version when she heard it.
 "Maybe you could tell her we just ran up to the city to
catch a play," he said helpfully.
 Scully stared at him with her mouth open.  How the fuck did
he do that?  Did this nifty little implant in the back of
her head connect to a viewing screen in his?
 "I've never seen a Broadway play," she said dully.  There
it is.  Im an uncultured geek.
 He smiled at her.  "Really?  I loved to go when I was a
kid.  I've seen everything Arthur Miller has done."
 "All My Sons, Mulder?"  She smiled at him.  Hey, she had at
least read them in college English classes.
 He nodded solemnly.  "Actually one of my favorites.  The
father was a total fuck-up.  I could relate."
 She tilted her head at him and offered him a sad smile.
"He had the best of intentions, Mulder.  He killed himself
because he let his sons down."
 Mulder scowled.  "How noble."
 She sighed.  She really didn't want to dredge any of this
up now.  They had too many other things to worry about.  She
turned back to the computer and pulled out the chair.  Time
to see what the Gunmen had found.
 She heard Mulder come up behind her as she opened the first
email.  It was Millings DMV records, complete with drivers
license photo.  It was the same record Skinner had already
sent them.  She smiled.  She was going to have to tell the
boys that Skinman had beat them to the punch.  That ought to
light a fire under them.  She could see Langley's
indignation now.
 The second one was new.  A New York Post photo of the real
John Milling and his then wife, Julie at a society event.
Milling was straining the seams of a tux and looking very
uncomfortable.  Julie was looking like the cat that ate the
canary.  Scully checked the date; less than six months after
they married, when Julie still thought he was going to be
rich.
 "Nothing that helps," Scully murmured, moving the cursor to
close the window.
 "Wait," Mulder said.  He reached around her and pointed at
the upper right hand corner of the picture.  "Can you zoom
in on that man there?"
 Scully squinted at the slightly out of focus man in the
background.  He was burly, like Milling, but the picture was
too small to make out the face.  She saved the picture and
opened another application.  Click by click, she zoomed in
on the man in the background.
 "That's him," Mulder said firmly.  "That's the guy
impersonating Milling.  Whoever he is."
 Scully squinted at the picture.  He did have the right
build as the man from the English newspaper, but the picture
was still too fuzzy for her to tell.
 "Are you sure?"  she asked dubiously.  Mulder had spent
time with him up close, but the picture was such poor
quality.
 "I'm sure," Mulder said more firmly.  "That's him."
 Scully sighed.  "The big question still is, who the hell is
he?"
 Mulder started to pace and she turned to watch him.  He
always paced when he was working something through his
mind.  Whether it helped him focus or just expended his
extra energy, she didn't know.  She watched as his long legs
ate up the length of the room and back.  He was still
barefoot and for some reason that made her smile.  There was
a time when that would have bothered her, when her jacket
would still be on and she would be mentally chiding him for
his unprofessional appearance.  Professional decorum had
certainly gotten pitched out the window.
 "So, we now know that whoever this man is, he knew Milling
as much as nine, ten years ago."
 "If that's the man in the picture," Scully said slowly.
They had to stick to facts, not guesses.
 Mulder ignored her caveat and continued.  "So they knew
each other.  This guy knew about Milling's grandfather,
about the fortune.  He would have also known that Milling
and his grandfather had never met."
 "Mulder," Scully warned.  "You don't know that."
 He stopped and looked at her.  "No, I don't know that, but
I can surmise it.  You said both of his ex-wives mentioned
that he was obsessed with building a relationship with his
grandfather.  He convinced the second woman to marry him
because of it."
 "They didn't say obsessed," Scully said, thinking back over
the conversations. Or had they?
 Mulder waved her objection away. "Still, it was important
to him.  It was his goal, his dream.  From what he know
about Milling," he grimaced, "the real Milling, he was not
the type of guy to keep things bottled up.  He just let it
all hang up.  It's reasonable to assume that any friend of
his would know about the grandfather."
 "Okay," Scully said carefully.  It was better not to
belabor a point at this juncture. Mulder made some wild
leaps in his theories, but the truth was, he usually landed
in the right spot.  She didn't want to throw him off.
 "So, we know that the real Milling was still in the picture
as late as '96 when he retired from the force and opened the
detective agency.  He was divorced by then, probably living
alone.  He finally convinced his grandfather to let him into
the family business and he makes plans to go to England."
 "But before he does, the friend steps in and assumes his
identity," Scully finished.  She folded her arms.  "So, what
happened to the real John Milling?"
 "Dead," Mulder said simply.  "This man has proven that he's
a killer.  Milling may have been his first victim."
 Scully shook her head.  "But how could he pull it off,
Mulder?  Letters, conversations, family history?  How could
he know enough of that to fool the grandfather?  And what
about appearance?  The two men look similar, but not
identical. It's reasonable to assume that Milling sent his
grandfather pictures."
 Mulder threw himself on the couch.  "Not necessarily,
Scully.  Men don't do pictures like women."
 "They don't?" she stared at him. He wasn't going to come at
her with the Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus thing
again was he?  She admitted there was some truth in the
book, but some of it made her wonder if the author wasn't
really from Mars.
 Mulder shook his head.  "No.  I can't imagine sending a
picture of myself to a relative, much less a male relative.
Men don't care what other men look like?"
 She smiled at him.  So, he was camera shy, was he?  Another
tidbit to stash away for future use.  "Okay, maybe there was
no photo.  What about conversations?  Letters?"
 "We don't know that they had conversations, Scully.  Both
wives said he wrote to his grandfather.  They may not have
used the phone."
 "Mulder!" she protested.  "We live in an electronic age.  I
would say they not only used the phone, but probably the
computer as well."
 Mulder wagged his finger at her.  "Think about it, Scully.
Grandpop's in his eighties, pushing ninety.  He's old
school, blue blood, all the way.  He's not going to go in
for those new fangled things."
 Scully rolled her eyes.  "He's also a businessman, and a
very successful one from what I've read.  He'd have to have
kept up with the times, Mulder.  And phones have been around
for more than ninety years."
 He grinned at her. "Yes, but Scully, some recluses just
don't like them.  Milling's grandfather is considered a
quasi-recluse.  Doesn't like to go further than his office
and then back home.  It is conceivable that he and Milling
didn't talk on the phone, or not much if they did.  Besides,
a voice is distorted over the phone, especially overseas."
 "There are still a lot of holes," Scully muttered.
 Mulder shrugged.  "Yes, but if Milling had done the hard
work and gotten the old man to agree to meeting him, then
all the imposter had to do was keep the ball rolling.  Once
the door was open, it would be hard for the grandfather to
close it."
 Scully sighed and dropped onto the couch next to Mulder.
 "But we're still no closer to knowing who this man is."
 Mulder leaned back into the cushions and let his eyes
wander over her.  Scully watched him out of the corner of
her eye as his gaze traveled from her breasts to her stomach
and legs and back up again. She felt a hot tingle wash over
her as the heat from his gaze caressed her skin as surely as
his touch.  She struggled to keep her composure.  Don't
blush, don't blush, she chanted to herself.  Don't let him
know that your stomach is doing cartwheels.
 "Maybe," Mulder said, sounding distinctly distracted.
"Maybe not."
 She looked at him then and felt her mouth form into an "O"
at the desire she found in his eyes.  His mouth was still
discussing the case but his eyes were leading an entirely
different conversation.
 "Scully," he said, reaching for her.  His fingers curled
around her arm as he leaned in to her.  "I think we've
discussed the case enough for tonight.  What do you think?"
 She was staring at his parted lips and words flew out of
her mind.  What did she think?  She thought that seven damn
years was a long time to not get laid and seven years of
looking at this man and not touching this man all over had
just about used up her lifetime supply of self-restraint.
 "I think," she croaked, as his lips touched her neck where
it joined her shoulder.  "That Phoebe could come in that
door any minute."  His tongue was tracing her collarbone and
her eyes sank shut.  Oh God, that felt so good.  He hadn't
had any more practice at this in recent years than she had,
how could he be so good at it?  His lips were sucking at her
skin and she felt a pool of warmth form in her center.  Oh
yes, this boy knew what to do.
 "She won't," he said, moving up her neck to just below her
chin.  She tipped her head back to give him better access.
"She indicated that she was going back to England once she
caught up with Milling."
 "Hmm," Scully murmured.  His tongue was running along her
jawline and she reached up to caress the side of his face,
curling her fingers around his ear and luxuriating in the
softness of his hair.  "I wonder why she went from running
to chasing?"  She crinkled her fingers in his hair and ever
so slightly pressed against his head, urging him to kiss her
harder.  She had chained the door, right?  And if Phoebe
wasn't going to come back
 But Mulder's movements had stilled and slowly he pulled
back to look at her with serious eyes.  Her stomach sank as
she saw Aroused Mulder replaced with Working Mulder.  Fuck
me, she thought.  Why did I have to go and open my mouth?
 "Why is she chasing?" he asked, his mind spinning in a
thousand different directions.  "What did she find in those
files that changed her mind?"  He sat back against the
cushions and Scully bit back a disappointed groan.  So much
for tonight.
 He looked through her as his eyes skated around the room
and Scully reclined into the cushions, watching him.
 "What was in the files?"
 "Nothing, there was nothing there.  No medical records."
He tugged a hand through his hair.  "She made copies of his
original application, next of kin information.  She didn't
even look at the excessive violence reports."
 Scully's eyes narrowed.  "So something else changed her
mind.  Something Milling did, or said, when he kidnapped
both of you."
 Mulder shook his head.  "I don't think so, Scully.  I
didn't see anything change in the dynamic between them.  He
threatened, she rebuffed."
 "Fear can be a motivator," Scully said.  "If he pushed her
too far, it could have turned her fear into anger."
 Mulder nodded.  "Yes. She is angry.  Very angry.  But I
don't think that's it.  I watched them together and I just
don't think that's it."
 He was on his feet now, striding around the room.  "It was
the files, Scully.  Something about the files. She was
frantic, desperate, even to get to those medical files."  He
went around the couch and paced to the window and back.
"She was very concerned about what you were learning from
the ex-wives."
 Scully snorted.  "Well, she shouldn't.  I didn't learn
anything."
 "You got the picture that told us this guy isn't Milling,"
Mulder said.  He stared at Scully, realization dawning.
"She knows, Scully.  She knows he isn't really John
Milling."
 Scully frowned at him.  "Why do you think that, Mulder?"
 He was back on the couch now, leaning in, excitement
lighting him from within.  He looked 25 and heart stoppingly
handsome.
 "Why else would she want those records?  Why else be
worried about what you would find?  I've thought this whole
hepatitis thing was a hoax from the beginning.  I don't know
a lot about English law, but him dating all four of the
victims has to be enough to get them a warrant to take a DNA
sample from him, execute a search warrant on his apartment.
Phoebe wants those files because they can prove that this
man is NOT John Milling."
 "But why?" Scully asked, puzzled. "Why would that make a
difference?"
 "I dont know," Mulder said.  "But I know I'm right.
Phoebe as much as admitted she was hiding something from me,
and this is it."
 "So, now what?  She didn't find any records."
 Mulder nodded.  "And that's what she wanted to find,
Scully.  But she had to be sure they weren't there, in his
file."
 "But there are medical records out there, in the doctor's
office," Scully protested.  "The proof is still there."
 "Yes," Mulder said. "But it's damn hard to get to and why
would Scotland Yard try to find it?  They don't know that
he's not Milling.  If the hepatitis thing is Phoebe's
invention, they aren't even looking for medical records."
 "But something in them might tip off the Yard," Scully said
slowly.  "It could be anything from a birth mark to a
congenital condition."
 Mulder nodded.  Scully looked at him.
 "But there are photos of him, Mulder."
 He shook his head.  The only photo of him in his personnel
file was from when he joined the force, twenty years ago.
Think about it, Scully.  How many times have you had your
picture updated with the Bureau?  The two men look enough
alike that any differences would easily be written off as
age difference."
 "It's risky."
 He nodded.  "Yes, but I'm also willing to bet that the
photo I saw in his file isn't even there anymore. I bet
Phoebe swiped it when I wasn't looking."
 "Now what?"
 Mulder chewed on his lip.  I love it when he does that,
Scully thought.  I want to be the one nibbling on it.  She
blinked hard.  God, what a sap I'm becoming?  What's next,
sonnets?  Mulder was looking at her and she brought herself
back to the present.
 "The photo of Milling and his wife.  We need to print it
out and take it to her.  See if she recognizes the man in
the background."
 "Mulder, it's pretty fuzzy and it was almost ten years
ago."
 "It's worth a try."

Continued in Part 27.....


PART TWENTY-SEVEN - RATED PG-13

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Sorry for the dealy.  Real life had the
unmitigated audacity to intrude this week.  This WIP is
finished.  Parts 27-29 will be posted today and the
remaining three parts (including an explanation of the
title) will be posted in a few days.  Thank you to all who
have hung in there.  Please let me know what you think of
the ending!



Scully stretched up on her toes and bounced on the balls of
her feet as she waited for Mulder to pay the taxi driver.
She had spent way too much time being jounced around in the
back of taxis today.  The subway was starting to sound more
and more appealing.

 Mulder stepped up on the sidewalk with her and she tipped
her head back to smile up at him.  He had put on a fresh
suit at her request.  Julie had not been thrilled at being
called on again, much less so when her husband and children
were sure to be home, but Scully had promised to make the
visit brief and painless, hinting that a delay would make it
less of both.  Julie had given in with an irritated sigh and
Scully had urged Mulder to dress the part of an FBI agent.
She wondered if Julie Stanz even owned a pair of blue jeans
and the thought of her padding barefoot around her ornate
sitting room made Scully chuckle.

 The climbed the steps in tandem and Scully pushed the
doorbell.  They were obviously expected as a servant opened
the door almost immediately and ushered them into yet
another posh room.

 Scully sat on the couch and looked at the obviously old
book under the sealed glass of the coffee table.  She didn't
have to ask to know that it was worth a fortune.  Mulder
wandered around the room restlessly, straightening his tie
in the reflection of another display case.

 "Agent Scully," Julie said as she wafted into the room.
Scully noted that she was dressed to go out, her coifed hair
even more refined and perfect than that afternoon.  "I'm
sorry I kept you waiting.  My son is very insistent about
his bedtime stories."

 One point for the socialite, Scully thought.  So she does
spend time with her bargaining chips.

 "It's no problem.  Im sorry to disturb you again, and at
such short notice," Scully said smoothly, coming to her feet
and taking Julie's proffered hand.  "Mrs. Stanz, this is my
partner, Agent Mulder."

 Julie turned as Mulder walked up and offered his hand.
Scully watched as the other woman's eyes widened and took in
the handsome, well dressed man in front of her.  Her mouth
opened slightly as she tilted her head to look up at him.

 "Mrs. Stanz, a pleasure to meet you," Mulder said, on his
best behavior.  He was already pouring on the charm and
Scully was amused to see that it was working.  Julie might
like money, but she clearly had no trouble appreciating a
working man.  Even one without a fortune waiting in the
wings.

 "Agent Mulder," she murmured.  "Likewise."  Mulder held her
hand for a beat longer than necessary, looking deeply into
her eyes, and Scully had to resist the urge to snort at
him.  He was really laying it on thick, but more credit to
him.  Julie was flushing and dimpling at him.

 "I'm sorry to interrupt your evening plans," Mulder
continued smoothly. "But I was hoping you could take a look
at a picture for me."  He removed the print out from his
breast pocket and unfolded it before handing it to her.

 Julie tore her eyes away from his mouth to look at the
photo in her hands.

 "The Black and White Ball," she said automatically.  "A
charity fund-raiser.  This was," she paused, frowning at the
photo.  "1992, I think."

 "Yes," Mulder said.  He tapped the corner of the photo with
one long finger.  "Do you recognize this man here?"

 Julie pulled the photo closer and squinted.  "No, I can't
make out his face."  She looked up at him.  "I'm sorry.  Is
it important?"

 Mulder smiled easily at her and Scully felt her heart do a
flip.  Damn, but he was good at that.  She was going to have
to watch him.  There had been too many lovelorn women in
past cases.  She hadn't been involved with him then and it
had made her crazy.  She didn't imagine getting to finally
taste the forbidden fruit was going to improve her outlook
on the matter, either.

 "Yes."  He pulled out another photo and Scully's eyebrows
rose.  What was he up to now?  "How about this photo?"

 Julie's reaction to the photo, the one showing 'John
Milling' leaving his grandfather's offices in London, was
visceral.  She scowled and her fingers clenched the paper.

 "Yes, I know him.  The bastard."

 "Who is he?"  Scully asked, coming closer to Julie.  Her
eyes met Mulder's over the woman's bowed head.  Julie was
glaring at the paper as if willing it to go up in flames.

 "That's Mike Cole.  He was a friend of John's and a real
sick fuck."

 Scully stared at Julie.  Sick fuck?  She couldn't imagine
Mrs. Julie Stanz saying such a thing.  Two points for the
socialite in the evening dress.

 "Michael Jacob Cole," Mulder said.  "They owned a detective
agency together."

 Julie snorted.  "I guess. John went into business with him
after he left the force, but I wouldn't call it a detective
agency.  Blackmail scheme was more like it. They used to
track their clients sordid activities and then blackmail
them with the findings."

 "Do you know how they met?" Scully asked, her mind whirling
with questions.

 Julie tossed her an angry look.  "Mike was a former cop,
too, only he didn't last as long as John did.  They kicked
him out years ago."

 "Why?" Mulder pounced.  She looked up at him.

 "For beating the shit out of everyone he got his hands on.
He beat a kid to death with his billy club when he was still
a rookie.  Used to brag about it like a hunter who bagged a
deer."

 "Were he and John partners?" Scully asked.

 "They went through the academy together.  When Mike got
ousted, John said he started working as a private
bodyguard.  A goon is more like it.  I wouldn't be surprised
if he didn't do hits for the Mafia."

 "They don't normally use outsiders," Mulder said, almost as
an aside.  "So he and John were old buddies."

 She shrugged.  "I guess you could say so."  She gestured at
the first photo.  "Mike was at the ball.  John got him a job
as security.  Mike got plowed and made an ass out of
himself.  And us."

 Scully watched as Julie screwed up her face as she talked.
"You really despise him, don't you?" she said with clinical
detachment.  There was something more to the story and she
needed to know what it was.

 Julie turned on her and Scully was surprised to see hatred
flashing in the other woman's eyes.

 "Let me tell you something about Mike Cole, Agent Scully.
He's slime.  He's vermin.  He IS the scum of the Earth.
There is nothing that man holds dear, except his own skin.
He will do anything to get his own way."

 "Including murder?"  Mulder asked, watching her carefully.
Julie's eyes flicked to him.

 "Like I said, I could see him as a professional hit man."

 "What did he do to you?" Scully asked softly.  Julie was
close, very close to telling her secret.  Her eyes snapped
back around to Scully.

 "What you would expect.  John went on a fishing trip with
some guys from his precinct, oh, about a year after we were
married.  Mike was definitely not invited.  The other cops
wanted nothing to do with him.  I doubt John was outside the
city limits before Mike was on my doorstep, checking on me,
making sure I "was okay" with John gone.  He came right in,
made himself at home."  She paused, her eyes narrowing.
"Tried to make himself right at home in my bed, as well."

 "He tried to rape you," Scully said evenly.  Julie flinched
at the word, her eyes slipping away.

 "I suppose you could say that.  He had me down on the bed
when my neighbor came knocking on the door, wondering what
all the noise was about.  I've never been so grateful for
flimsy apartment walls in my life."

 "Did he bother you again?" Mulder asked softly.  She shook
her head.

 "Notlike that.  I told John."  She sighed wearily.  "He
didnt want to hear it.  They never want to hear it."  Her
eyes sought Scully's for understanding and Scully nodded.
The old boys' club. She knew it well.

 "But John did say something to him.  It was enough to keep
Mike at bay."  She rubbed at her perfectly outlined lips,
smearing the liner.  "He used to touch me, rub up against me
every chance he got, but he never tried anything beyond that
again."

 "Do you know where Mike Cole is?"  Mulder asked slipping
into another topic.  Julie had clearly had enough of that
one.

 "In hell is all I can hope," she said, offering him a wan
smile.  "I haven't heard from him since John left for
England."

 "Have you heard from John since he moved there?" Mulder
asked and Scully held her breath.

 "A couple of times, by email.  Nothing big, just hi how are
you."  She frowned.  "He did give me a scare once, though.
Wrote me this bizarre email with all sorts of sexual
innuendo.  It gave me the creeps."

 "Did you keep it?"  Mulder asked.  She shook her head.

 "No.  I deleted it right away and didnt write him back.  I
dont think I heard from him after that."

 "Do you know if Mike Cole was ever married?"  Scully asked,
her eyes flicking quickly to Mulder.  She felt that Julie
was getting to the end of her rope.  They were pushing on
too many old wounds.

 Julie shuddered.  "I can't imagine any woman marrying him,
but yes, I think he might have been.  John once said
something about his ex-wife.  Megan something.  I think they
had a son, but Mike never saw him, or couldn't find him.
Something like that."

 Scully put her hand on Julie's arm and saw the woman
stiffen.  Scully dropped her hand.

 "Julie, thank you for taking the time to talk to us.
You've been very helpful."

 Julie nodded, her eyes thoughtful and wary as she looked at
Scully.

 "Mike is mixed up in this trouble that John is in?"
Scully's eyes flew to Mulder's and he nodded slightly.

 "Yes, we think so."

 Julie rubbed her arms briskly as if suddenly cold.  Her
eyes swung to Mulder and she pinned him with a stare.  "Am I
going to be getting a visit from Mike Cole?  Because if I
am, I want to know.  I have two small children."

 Mulder met her eyes straight on.  "I honestly don't know,
Mrs. Stanz.  But, I don't think it's out of the realm of
possibility."  This time Mulder's eyes sought Scully's and
it was her turn to nod.  "We know he's in the city.  If he
shows up, I would advise you not to let him in and call the
police immediately."

 Julie nodded grimly and sighed heavily, her eyes fluttering
shut.  "Damn," she said softly.  "We never really escape our
past, do we?"

 Scully felt Mulder's eyes on her and was surprised to see
the pain in them when she met his gaze.

 "No, we don't," he said quietly.

Continued in part 28...

PART TWENTY-EIGHT - RATED R for sexual situations and
language




Mulder was quiet on the way back to the hotel.  Scully
wanted to talk to him about his comment.  About the past.
But she sensed that yet again, he wasn't ready to talk.  She
looked out the window at the bright lights of New York and
resigned herself to wait.  It wasn't their normal M.O. to
talk about these things right away.  They often went weeks
or months before discussing the things that hovered in the
air between them.  She smiled wryly.  In some cases, they
waited years.

 So, she wasn't sure why she was so on fire to change that
pattern, to talk to him now and get it all out in the open,
but she was.  From a relationship perspective, their old
habits hadn't been necessarily successful.  Yes, they were
friends.  Closer friends than she could ever have imagined.
But their relationship was very dysfunctional in many ways.
Despite their closeness and the trust between them, they had
both harbored feelings for each other that neither had been
able to express.  That was understandable over a span of
weeks or months.  But years?  What did that say about them?

 She glanced at him under lowered lids and watched him
watching the city go by.  He was a million miles away and
she had no idea what he was thinking.  Phoebe was in the mix
somewhere, she was sure of that. Whatever had happened that
afternoon between them was weighing heavily on his mind and
he still wasn't comfortable sharing it.

 She shifted in her seat and blew out a soft puff of air.
Maybe she was reading too much into this.  Heaven knew if an
ex of hers showed up and caused them this much trouble,
she'd be embarrassed and reticent about it.  Having past
mistakes and poor judgement from years ago come along and
slap you in the face in front of the most important person
in your life would not sit well with her either.

 Mulder's fingers brushed the back of her hand and she
turned to him, a smile automatically curving her lips.

 "Penny for them," he said softly and she shook her head.

 "Nothing and everything," she said lightly.  "Wondering
where we go now."  It was a white lie and she sent a plea
for forgiveness heavenward.  She was not going to hit him
with all of this now.

 He sighed.  "We go back to the hotel."  He paused.  "Get
some sleep, and start again in the morning."

 She twitched an eyebrow at him.  "You're going to sleep in
the middle of a case?  Mulder, do I need to take your
temperature?"

 He gave her a grim smile.  "Being a hostage takes it out of
you."  A phantom flickered in his eyes and Scully felt her
stomach lurch.  There it was again.  She tightened her jaw.
She was not going to ask.

 "Sounds good to me."


 When they got back to the hotel there was an email from
Skinner outlining the official reasons for Phoebe's
administrative leave and a list of the Scotland Yard
Inspectors in the US working on the case.  Scotland Yard was
requesting notification of any sightings of Phoebe
immediately.

 Mulder sighed and pulled out his cell phone.  Scully
watched grimly as he hit the speed dial for their boss.
What a way to end the day; getting your ass chewed by
Skinner.

 The conversation was brief.  Mulder related the facts in
his famous monotone and Skinner, knowing by now that he
would get precious little beyond what Mulder had already
told him, obviously kept his replies short as well.  After
less than five minutes, Mulder was hanging up and shrugging
at Scully.

 "My ass is grass. Again."

 "It really shouldn't be, Mulder," Scully said.  "I'm the
one who talked to him today and neglected to mention that
Phoebe was in the city.  I made that decision, not you."

 Mulder tilted his head at her.  "Okay, you get the next
reaming, then. No matter who is at fault."

 She twitched an eyebrow at him.  "Mulder, I am not taking
the blame if you accidentally blow up the Empire State
Building."

 He made a pouty face.  "Whatever happened to 'stand by your
man', Scully?"

 She pulled off her jacket and wandered towards the
bedroom.  "I believe the phrase is 'until death do us part,'
Mulder.  And we're not married," she threw over her
shoulder.

 "Yet," Mulder said, not quite sotto voce and Scully felt a
tingle zip down her spine as the single word reached her
ears.  She wanted to turn around and look at him, but did he
want her to?  His voice had been so quiet.  Maybe he had not
meant for her to hear him?  She paused in the bedroom and
looked over her shoulder.  He was standing in the living
room watching her, his hazel eyes unreadable.  She smiled,
her stomach doing flips, and turned away.  Heard and
acknowledged.  Another conversation to have in the near
future.


 She spent a long time in the shower washing away the city's
grime and turning over the events of the last few days.  On
Friday she had been in D.C., expecting to spend an
uneventful (boring) weekend doing domestic duties.  Then
that night she had had an epiphany over furniture and
invited herself into Mulder's weekend and with any luck,
into his bed.  Saturday they had dared to take their
relationship to a new level only to be interrupted twice.
Another near kiss aborted, this time by Phoebe and then
their much more intense encounter on the couch abbreviated
by Deputy Sanger on behalf of Phoebe.  Scully slid her soapy
hands down over her body as she thought about her and Mulder
on the couch. His mouth and hands all over her, devouring
her.  The way she had ground against him, straining for the
ultimate connection between their bodies.  The feeling of
his hardness thrusting up against her.

 She shook her head vigorously, sending water spraying
around the shower stall. She had to clear her mind.  They
were going to share a bed together again tonight, but things
had to stop there.  This was not the time or the place.  And
whatever was bothering Mulder, it had to be aired before
they consummated this relationship.  She didn't know why
that was so, but she felt sure of it.

 She emerged from the bathroom in her nightshirt, her damp
hair curling around her ears.  She would have to wrestle
with those curls in the morning, but tonight she didn't feel
like doing time with a hair dryer.

 The TV in the bedroom was on and the reality show "Cops"
was jiggling all over the screen as the cameraman ran after
the fleeing suspect and the shouting police officers.
Mulder was under the covers on his side of the bed.  The
remote was in his hand but his eyes were closed and his
breathing deep and even.  She smiled at him and reached out
a hand to push back the ever errant lock of hair that fell
across his eyes.

 Carefully, she extracted the remote from his grip and
turned off the television.  She moved through the suite,
turning off lights and checking the locked door yet again
before coming back into the bedroom and climbing into bed.
She turned off the bedside lamp and slid down under the
covers.  A crack in the curtains let in enough light that
she could see his chest as it rose and fell with each
breath.  She wanted to be close to him, but didn't want to
wake him up.   She turned on her side and inched closer
until she could feel the heat from his body.  Her hand fell
across his bicep and she closed her eyes and sighed.  In
just a few minutes her breathing slowed and deepened as she
slipped into slumber.  Mulder opened his eyes and turned his
head to watch her sleep.


 The six thirty wake up called jangled her into
consciousness and she blindly turned and reached for the
phone.  Before she could pick it up, the second ring stopped
midway and she heard the click of the phone in the other
room as Mulder put it back on the hook.

 She sat up and looked at the empty pillow beside her and
wondered how much sleep he had gotten.  She reached out and
stroked the material.  It was cool to the touch. He had been
up for a while.

 She felt eyes on her and looked up to see him lounging in
the doorway.  He was already showered and dressed, his white
dress shirt still unbuttoned at the collar, a tie carelessly
slung around his shoulders.  A smile slowly spread across
her face.  If she couldn't wake up in his arms every
morning, this would be a nice substitute.

 "Mulder, have I ever told you that you have ruined me for
ever appreciating another man in a suit?"

 He grinned and advanced on the bed.  "I thought you liked
the leather jacket, Scully."

 "Oh, I do," she purred, leaning back against the headboard,
noting that he watched with great interest.  "I like you in
both."

 He sat on the edge of the bed.  "Anything else you like?"

 She grinned at him.  "I'm sure I'm going to like your
birthday suit just fine."

 His eyebrow twitched and he leaned across the bed.  "I know
you're not going to let me kiss you because you haven't
brushed your teeth."

 "That's right," she said primly, watching with concern as
he leaned closer and closer.  "Mulder."

 A cat-that-ate-the-canary look was on his face and she
narrowed her eyes.  What was he up to?

 "Don't worry, Scully," he said lightly.  "I'm not going to
kiss you against your will."

 "Then what are you doing, Mulder?  You seem to--oh!"

 He tackled her, pushing her sideways down onto the bed.
His mouth latched onto the side of her throat, his tongue
darting out to paint circles on her skin.  She shrieked and
laughed in surprise and delight, her fingers sinking into
his hair and he growled and nipped his way up and down her
neck.

 "You smell wonderful," he murmured behind her ear, his
teeth nibbling on her lobe.  "I think you should go brush
your teeth so I can ravage you properly."

 "We have work to do, Mulder," she gurgled, fighting back
the laughter.

 "Fuck work," he muttered, sucking on the soft skin on her
neck.  "Let's spend the day doing this."

 "Mulder," she warned.  If he kept that up he was going to
leave a mark.  "Mulder, no hickeys.  We're not in high
school anymore."

 Reluctantly he relinquished his hold on her skin.  "I feel
like I am.  I feel like I just got my driver's license, an
invitation to the prom and a weekend with my mother out of
town all at once."

 "Ooh, Mulder.  A weekend with your mom out of town.  Who
was she?  Did you do it till you dropped?"

 He pulled back and looked at her, amusement dancing in his
eyes.  "I don't kiss and tell, Scully."

 Her eyes danced at him.  "I'm glad to hear that, Mulder.
Although I plan to give you plenty to talk about."

 He groaned.  "You are going to be my undoing.  Go brush
your teeth Scully or I won't be responsible for my actions."

 She grinned and tossed back the covers.  "Two minutes.
I'll be back in two minutes and then you get two minutes
before we go to work."

 He flopped back on the bed and watched as she walked to the
bathroom.  "You'd be surprised what I can do in two minutes,
Scully."

 She tossed him a look.  "I'm counting on it, Mulder."

Continued in Part 29...
<HTML><HEAD><TITLE>TINE RUA - WIP - PART 29 OF 32</TITLE></HEAD><BODY><PRE>
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TITLE:    Tine Rua (WIP)
AUTHOR:  Menagerie
EMAIL:    menageri@linkline.com
ARCHIVE:  Anywhere except "worst of" lists, I guess.  Just
tell me so I can visit!
SPOILERS:  Everything through Season 7 except the last ep.
Season 8 has not happened, Mulder has not been abducted.
RATIING:  PG through eventual NC-17  Rating will be posted
at the top of each part
CLASSIFICATION:  S, UST, eventual MSR, some H
KEYWORDS:  M,S, Sk, LGM, O
DISCLAIMER:  I don't own Mulder, Scully, Skinner, LGM or any

other X-Files regulars.  They belong to many many lawyers at

Fox, 1013 etc.  I'm not making a profit, just having fun.
Mr. Sevigny, however, is all mine!
SUMMARY:  Phoebe Green is back and Scully isn't having it.
Phoebe tries to enlist Mulder's help with a case and gets
the agents engtangled in an international crime.

PART TWENTY-NINE- RATED PG





Of course, they never got to the two minutes.  No sooner had
she replaced her toothbrush in its travel case than there
was a loud pounding on the suite door.  She scurried out of
the bathroom and leaned around the bedroom door. She could
voices in the hall. Voices with British accents.  She closed
the bedroom door and dressed as fast as she could.

 Inspector Lowe and Inspector Raines managed to both meet
Scully's expectations for Scotland Yard and defy them all at
once.  Lowe was tall and wiry with a strong Roman nose and
no chin.  Raines was exactly what Scully thought Watson
would look like were he a real person.  Competent.
Reserved.  Average.

 They stated their case, as it were, and sat back to wait
for Mulder and Scully to do the same.  They were greeted
with silence.  Mulder looked from one to the other, managing
to convey an air of utter boredom, before turning to look at
Scully.

 "I'd say that about covers it, wouldn't you, Scully?"  He
turned back to the Englishman.  "We don't know any more than
that."

 Lowe scowled. "You were held hostage by the man for hours
yesterday and you can't add anything?  What about his state
of mind?  His intentions?"

 Mulder shrugged.  "His state of mind is manic.  Pissed.  As
to his intentions, I don't know.  To cover his tracks?"

 "What do you know about this Cole?"  Raines asked stiffly.
Clearly, he was displeased that the Yanks had ferreted out
the man's true identity first.

 "Not a lot," Scully jumped in.  She really didn't see why
Mulder was being so reticent, but all she could do was play
along.  "He was also a former New York cop.  He was fired
from the force in 1988 and has drifted from job to job since
then.  He and Milling opened a detective agency six months
before Milling - or Cole posing as Milling - went to
England."

 "Family?  Friends?"  Raines persisted.  Scully shook her
head.

 "The Bureau is still working on it.  Apparently even before
he disappeared to become John Milling, Cole spent most of
his time under the radar."

 The two Inspectors shared a look.

 "Do you have any idea where they went?"  Lowe asked,
looking from agent to agent.  "Any idea at all?"

 "No," Mulder said, and Scully knew it was the truth.  "They
left separately.  Phoebe seemed to think she knew where he
was going, but she didn't share it with me."

 "You don't think they're working together, then?"  Raines
asked, the skepticism evident in his voice.  Mulder looked
at him as if he were a mosquito buzzing around the room.

 "No.  Cole's intention is to kill Phoebe.  He didn't do it
yesterday because he wants to torture her first."

 "And what about Ms. Green's intentions?" Lowe snapped.
Scully noted that he did not refer to Phoebe as Inspector
Green.  Apparently as far as he was concerned, she was
tried, convicted and quit of her position at the Yard.
Interesting.

 "If I knew Inspector. Green's intentions, I wouldn't be
sitting here chatting with the two of you."  Mulder rose to
his feet.  "And since we've established that none of us
knows more than the others, what say we adjourn this meeting
and get on with solving this case?"

 Lowe and Raines came to their feet and Lowe made a show of
standing close to Mulder, using his four to five inches of
superior height to his advantage.  Even as guilt tweaked
her, Scully bit back a smile to see Mulder fighting the urge
to back up, to have to tip his head back to meet the other
man's eyes.  Walk a mile in my shoes, Mulder, she couldn't
help but think.  Not so much fun, is it?

 Lowe handed Mulder a business card.  "This is how we can be
reached.  We're meeting with the New York police department
today about Milling and Cole to see if they can give us any
leads."

 "I'll share if you share," Mulder said with a tight smile
as the two men preceded him to the door.  Lowe nodded
sharply as Mulder opened the door and ushered them into the
hall.

 After the door clicked shut, Mulder strode back to the desk
and sat down next to Scully as she booted up her computer.

 "Waste of time," Mulder murmured, watching her fingers fly
across the keyboard.

 "They were more forthcoming than you were," she said
absently as she typed in her password.

 "Not likely," he said.  "They know more than they're
saying. Did you notice they don't refer to her as
'Inspector'?"

 "Mhm," Scully said as her emails started to download.

 Mulder sat back in his chair and eyed her quietly.  She
pulled her eyes away from the catapulting files on her
screen and looked at him.  He tilted his head, a winsome
smile on his face.

 "You got a kick out of Lowe getting in my face, didn't
you?"

 Her eyes widened a little.  How the hell?  But then, she
should be used to it by now.

 "It's not something I see very often."

 He studied her, his tongue flicking back and forth over his
teeth under his lips.

 "I do that to you a lot, huh?  Get in your space and tower
over you?"

 "Yes," she said simply and turned back to her computer as
it chimed that her emails had all been received.

 "Does it bother you?"  He asked.

 "Sometimes."

 "When?"

 "When I know you're doing it intentionally to try to
intimidate me."  There were several miscellaneous messages.
Why had she ever given her cousin her email address?  One
more chain letter or friendship rose and she was going to
excommunicate the woman from the family.

 Mulder barked out a laugh. "Me?  Intimidate you?  Surely,
you're joking, Scully. When have I ever intimidated you?"

 She gave him her best Mona Lisa smile before going back to
her email.  "I didn't say you did intimidate me, Mulder.  I
said you tried.  Most of the time you just wind up pissing
me off."

 He was chewing on his lip now. "Because I invade your
space?"

 "No.  Because you use your height to tower over me.  You
use your physical presence to try and coerce me into doing
something I don't want to."

 He frowned.  "You make me sound like a bully."

 She gave him a genuine smile.  "But you are a bully,
Mulder.  You bully and argue and shout and pout until you
get your way."

 His eyes were wide now.  "I do not!  I do not bully.
You're the one who always argues.  I rarely shout and I
never, ever pout."

 She laughed at him outright, her blue eyes sparkling.  "Oh,
Mulder.  Psychologist, heal thyself?  You are always pushing
people, pushing me, trying to convince us that you're right,
that we should believe you."  She paused and arched an
eyebrow at him.  "And you argue, shout AND pout to
accomplish that."

 "So you think I'm obnoxious?" he said, trying another
tact.  She shook her head.

 "You can be.  Of course.  But not overly, no."

 He continued to chew on his lip and she wanted him to stop
it.  At this rate, there'd be nothing left for her to nibble
on and she had plans for that lip.  Lots of plans.

 "Are you sure you like me?" Mulder whined but his eyes
danced at her.  "I sound like a regular ogre."

 She grinned and reached out a hand to stroke his cheek.  He
quickly turned his head and kissed her palm.

 "Maybe.  But you're my ogre."

 He kissed the inside of her wrist, then, his eyes never
leaving hers and she felt a flash of heat flush her face.
In typical Mulder style, when he couldn't win an argument he
just created a distraction.  He'd never created this
distraction before, however, and it was certainly on its way
to working.

 Scully watched his lips press against her forearm and all
she wanted to do was drag him back into the bedroom.  Her
eyes drifted to the computer.  But they had a case to solve
and one pain-in-the-butt Englishwoman to get out of their
hair.  She bit her lip and then straightened her spine as
she gently extracted her hand from Mulder's gentle grip.

 "Let's get this over with," Scully said, surprised when her
voice trembled a little.  "I don't want another
interruption."



 They were pouring over the information on Mike Cole when
Scully's phone rang.

 "Scully," she said, her eyes still glued to the screen
where a copy of Mike Cole's private pilot's license glowed
in sharp relief.  It seemed Cole had been doing something
constructive with his life post-NYPD.

 "St. John's Hospital and Clinics just reported a B&amp;E in
their record department," Langley said, skipping the
formalities.

 "Where?"  Scully asked, furrowing her brow.

 "St. John's.  Where Milling's doctor practices medicine."

 Scully stood up abruptly.  "When was the break-in?" She
could feel Mulder's eyes boring into her and she met his
gaze briefly before grabbing a pad of paper and taking his
pro offered pen.  "Uh huh.  How did you get this?"  She
rolled her eyes at Langley's response.  "Great.  Thanks."

She put the phone on the desk and eyed Mulder.  "It looks
like either Phoebe or Cole or both were busy last night.
Someone broke into the records department at St. John's
where Milling's doctor practices.  Their computer system was
hacked and they the paper files were broken into."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully.  "No sign of either of them?"

Scully was powering down her laptop and gathering her
things.  "I don't know.  They got the tip from a friend at
NYPD.  We'll have to talk to the investigating officers, see
what they found."  She frowned as he stood motionless.
"Mulder, don't you want to go to the scene?"

He shrugged.  "Why?  We're not going to find anything.
They're both trained law enforcement officers, Scully.  They
know how to clean a crime scene.  Cole's committed murders
and not left any evidence at the scene."

She put her hands on her hips.  "I'll grant you that it's
not much to go on, Mulder, but it's better than nothing.
Criminals do make mistakes.  Even smart ones."

He tapped his fingers on the desk.  "I'm betting that if we
ask, we'll find out that Milling's doctor's office was
broken into as well.  Maybe even Cole's doctor as well."

Scully frowned.  "To prevent Cole from being revealed?"

"Yes," Mulder said.  "Phoebe and Cole want the same thing."

"But why?" Scully threw her hands in the air.  "What
difference does it make if he's Mike Cole or John Milling?
He's going to go to prison either way."

Mulder tilted his head.  "Scully, did you know that the
state can not prosecute someone if they don't know their
true identity?  There are hundreds of criminals sitting in
jails across the country who refuse to reveal their
identity.  Until that can be proven, they can not be charged
with a crime."

"Then why are they still in jail?" Scully countered,
although she suspected the answer.

"Obstruction of justice," Mulder replied.  "Contempt of
court.  A person can be held in contempt of court
indefinitely."

"So you think this is why Cole is trying to erase the
records?  It doesnt make sense, Mulder.  There are
witnesses, family members, pictures.  All we need is one
living relative of either man to prove who Cole is and who
he isn't."

He sighed.  "I know.  I don't think that's it.  Just an
interesting factoid." He smiled wanly as she rolled her eyes
yet again.  "I can think of a lot of reasons why Cole would
want evidence destroyed.  It's Phoebe that's stumping me."

"Join the crowd," Scully muttered, turning back to her
computer.  "I'll email the guys and tell them to track down
any other B&amp;Es at medical facilities."

Mulder shrugged and walked over to the window.  She stared
at him in exasperation before opening her email and typing a
fast note to the Gunmen.  She knew this mood.  It was
'introspective, pissed off because I don't know the answer
yet Mulder.'  Early in their partnership she had taken his
surliness personally, assuming that it had something to do
with her.  Now she knew it was just anger directed at
himself for not being fast enough, smart enough to catch the
criminal right now.

She sat, watching him watch the city below.  She loved this
man.  This complex, brilliant, mercurial, haunted man.
Whatever else she might complain about, and there were
plenty of complaints she had voiced and kept to herself, one
thing was certain.  He was never, ever boring.

A cell phone chirped and she reached for her phone.  The
display was blank.

"Yours," she said, picking it up and tossing it to him.

"Mulder," he said.  His eyes widened as he listened.
"Phoebe, where are you?  Phoebe-"  He stabbed the talk
button.  "She hung up."

Scully was on her feet.  "Mulder, what did she say?'

He sighed heavily.

"She's in trouble.  She says Cole is planning to steal a
Piper and fly to Canada."

"Where is she?"

Mulder walked towards the bedroom and she knew he was going
to get his back-up gun.  "I don't know.  She said Cole would
be at the Westchester airport.  It's a local airport just
outside the city."

Scully stuffed her phone in her pocket and slightly
repositioned her gun.  She didn't need to ask Mulder about
calling Skinner or asking for back-up.  This was personal
and it was up to the two of them to end it.




Continued in Part 30... This WIP will end with the next
series of three installments.  Thank you for reading!

PART THIRTY- RATED R for violence and language


They took the closest thing to a back road they could find
into the airport.  It was still a well marked road and their
car would be easily seen from several vantage points, but it
was less conspicuous than the main airport entrance.  Scully
had already narrowed down the areas where they would most
likely find Cole.  Several companies flew their corporate
jets out of Westchester, but there were also a handful of
companies that rented smaller planes to licensed pilots.

Phoebe had said that Cole planned to steal a plane, but
Scully didn't see how he could hope to.  Westchester was no
JFK, but it was still a decent sized airport with plenty of
security.  She was betting that Cole was going to go through
regular channels and rent a Piper or a Cessna.  Her careful
calls to all the rental companies on the airport had turned
up nothing, but she was not discounting Cole using an alias.

They pulled up to a cargo gate and flashed their badges.
Security waved them through, Scully having already spoken
with their chief about their imminent arrival.  Needless to
say, she had omitted any reference to a wanted serial killer
or a supposed intention to steal a plane. They didn't need a
posse of wanna be security guards forcing a confrontation
with Cole.

Mulder pulled over inside the gate and studied the map that
the security guard had waiting for them.  Mulder pointed a
far hangar on the north end of the field.

"This is where the last agency you called is at, right?"

Scully checked her notes and nodded.  Mulder worried at his
bottom lip, his eyes sweeping the outlines of the airport.

"I think he's going to go for that one.  It's the most
remote, and there are two gates that he could slip in and
out of if there was trouble."

"The guy at the agency said they only store their planes
there.  They have an office in the main terminal."

"All the more reason if he plans to steal one," Mulder said,
folding up the map and putting the car in drive.

"I still don't think he would believe he could get away with
it, Mulder.  There's too much security.  It's too hard.  If
this were a one runway airport maybe I could see it. But
Cole has played it safe all along, and this isn't safe."

Mulder nodded as he carefully steered his way across the
field keeping a nervous eye on the various planes that
dotted the landscape.  The ground shook as another plane
took flight down a distant runway.

"I agree. Something is fishy.  But what hasn't been for this
whole case?  I don't even know if Phoebe is telling me the
truth.  Cole may not be here at all."

"He's here," Scully said, grimly.  "I think Phoebe wants us
to be the ones that bring him in."

Mulder shot her a look.  Scully wasn't much on hunches and
she knew he was trying to figure out what had prompted this
one.

"You may be right," he said, slowly.  "That's one piece of
the puzzle I have yet to put together."

They found the hangar and pulled around to the side where a
sign hung over the door advertising Up And Away Plane
Charters and Rentals.  Mulder parked next to the building.

"No other cars," Scully noted and he nodded.  They went to
the door and Scully was surprised to find it open.

A set of barren offices, reminiscent of the First Defense
suite, greeted them silently.  Mulder reached back and
adjusted the gun in his holster and Scully touched hers
briefly.  They moved carefully through the empty room to a
hallway and a set of three other offices, all equally empty
and silent.  At the end of the hallway was a heavy metal
door and Mulder twisted the knob slowly, easing the door
open.  Scully felt a prickle of fear slide down her spine
and pulled her gun.

The stepped out into the main part of the hangar. In the dim
interior a handful of small planes sat hunched under the dim
lights suspended from the arched ceiling.  Each plane sat in
a pool of light, their bright colors splashing against the
darkness of the room.

They moved further out into the hangar, eye searching the
murkiness for movement. Scully felt a bead of sweat slide
down the side of her face.  If anyone was waiting for them,
they were easy targets out in the open space.  Her eyes
strained as she sought organic shapes among the lean lines
of the planes.  If Cole wanted to pick them off it would be
so easy

A loud thud from overhead made them both jump and they spun
in tandem to gaze up and behind them.  Above the door they
had entered was a loft, a set of stairs starting thirty feet
to the right of the door.  At the top of the stairs was
another heavy metal door.  Another loud thump echoed from
behind the door.

Mulder had his gun out and was already running for the
stairs before Scully realized his intention.  She rushed
after him, pushing herself until she was at his heels as he
mounted the first step.  The metal clanked under the heels
of her boots and she made an effort to step quietly.  They
didn't need to announce that the cavalry was coming.

At the top of the stairs, Mulder paused and listened.  There
were no other noises and he threw a look over his shoulder
at Scully who stood on the top step.  Their eyes locked and
she nodded sharply once.  Yes, she was ready.

The handle on the door turned with a grating sound and
Mulder eased the door open, his gun cocked and at the
ready.  Scully tightened her hand on her own weapon and
licked her lips.  How many times had they done this in seven
years?  A hundred?  Two hundred?  Guns drawn, pulses
hammering, not knowing what they would find ahead.  How many
times had they found exactly the trouble they had feared?
More times than not.

As the door creaked open and Mulder stepped over the
threshold she flashed on him lying on the floor, a gaping
wound in his chest.  His blood, hot and sticky, spilling
over the carpet, his eyes wide with shock and pain.  His
hands reaching out to her before falling limp in her grasp.
The sound of his last breath rattling in his throat.  The
rending of her heart as she lost the other half of herself
forever just as she finally allowed herself to accept that
truth.

Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed hard, almost
reeling as she blinked her eyes to clear her head.  Focus,
Dana, God damnit, she swore at herself.  Distract yourself
with melodramatic shit like that and you will get him
killed.  She swallowed again, her throat working reflexively
to keep what little breakfast she had eaten down.  Strong,
be strong.  Get through this.  We've faced worse.

Mulder was moving through the dark room like a cat on the
prowl.  She slid in behind him, her gun moving in an arc
before her as she swept the room.  It was another office,
only this one was still being used.  Desks and filing
cabinets crowded the room.  In the corner a computer monitor
glowed with a writhing fractal image, illuminating the room
into deep shadow.

Another loud thump and the low thrum of voices made them
both jump again and as one their guns were trained on the
door at the other end of the small room.  Quickly Scully
came to stand by Mulder, glancing up at him as she did so.
He flicked her a glance before stepping forward, his hand
reaching out for the doorknob as he kept his gun at chest
level.

His fingers grazed the knob before it was yanked out of his
reach and Phoebe Green fell against the doorway.  Scully's
eyes widened as she took in Phoebe's tousled hair and
disheveled clothing.  A deep red patch flared on her right
cheek belying a recently landed punch.

"Mulder!" Phoebe gasped.  "Help me!"

A shot rang out and all three of them hit the floor.
Phoebe's body blocked the door open and Mulder reached out
to pull her through to their side but before he could Phoebe
shrieked as she was yanked violently backwards into the dark
recesses of the other room.

"Mulder!"  Phoebe screamed, twisting as her captor pulled
her from their sight.

On his stomach, Mulder slithered forward only to duck back
as another shot ricocheted off the metal door.

"You should watch the ricochet, Cole," Mulder yelled.  "You
might take your own head off."

"You wish," Cole snarled from somewhere distant in the
darkness.  "Why don't you stick your head up again and see
just how good of a shot I am?"

"No thanks," Mulder said.  "You know you can't get out of
here, why don't you just put down your gun and give it up?"

Cole laughed deep in his throat and Scully couldn't help but
be reminded of a demon.  He sounded like something out of a
Wes Craven movie.

"Actually, it's your gun, G-Man.  I think I'll keep it if
it's all the same to you. I got plans.  Places to be and
people to see."

"Yeah, I here the prisons in England are pretty nice,"
Mulder countered, moving closer to the door.  He looked back
at Scully and gestured to the computer screen.  Its light
was the illumination giving Cole their location.  She bit
her lip but moved automatically towards the desk.  She
didn't like the idea of them fighting this battle in the
dark, but he was right.  They had to take Cole's advantage
away.

"I have no intention of finding out," Cole said.  "Phoebe's
going to, though."

"How do you figure that?"  Mulder asked, keeping him
talking.  Scully's finger touched on the power key on the
monitor and she pushed it.  The room fell into complete
darkness.

Cole was silent for a moment.  "Good move," he finally said,
a grudging respect in his voice.  "Now we're on equal
footing."

"Something like that," Mulder said, his hand closing briefly
over Scully's as she touched him to let him know she was
back. His arm brushed past hers as he gently pushed the door
farther open.

A shot rang out, hitting the wall next to the door and
Scully gasped as Mulder's hand closed over her forearm and
yanked her forward.  He pulled her to the right and she
crawled after him blindly keeping her shoulder pressed
against her hip.  He pulled her behind something - a book
case? They crouched there, breathing heavily.

"Come on out, Agent Mulder," Cole sang and Scully could tell
that he had moved further into the room.  Next to her Mulder
puffed out a breath of air and remained silent.  "Whatsa
matter, cat got your tongue?"  Cole taunted.  "Or was that
Phoebe who got it?  She's got quite an oral fixation,
doesn't she?"

Scully winced as Cole's words dug into her imagination.
Great, no wonder they had been attracted to each other.
What, did she do pistachios to his sunflower seeds?  Could
she do the tongue thing to pop open a shell, too?  Next to
her, Mulder shifted on the balls of his feet.

"So tell me, Mulder," Cole called out.  "Tell me about that
cute little redhead you call your partner.  She's very
nice.  Petite, nice blue eyes.  Maybe not quite the looker
that our Phoebe is, but still, not too shabby."  Cole
laughed.  "Is she as good in the sack as Phoebes, here?
Does she do anything you ask?  Does she do things you didn't
even imagine?"

Mulder's hand found Scully's and squeezed it.  For some
reason, a flash of fury burned through her.  She didn't want
his reassurance.  She didn't want him to tell her again that
Phoebe had nothing on her, that Phoebe was no threat.  She
was a threat, damnit.  She had a past with him and nothing
he said or did was going to erase that.  Nothing he said was
going to stop Cole from rubbing it in her face, either.  She
gritted her teeth to bite back the invective she wanted to
hurl at Cole.

"Tsk, tsk," Cole said, clicking his tongue.  "You two aren't
very talkative, are you?"

"You might as well stop," Phoebe's voice sliced through the
darkness with its acid sarcasm. "He's not stupid enough to
give away his location."

Phoebe cried out in pain.

"Hush up now, Phoebe," Cole ground out.  "Don't make me hurt
you again."

Beside her, Scully felt Mulder inhale a sharp breath.  He
was reaching the end of his patience and she knew he was
going to do something soon, and not necessarily something
smart.  She gripped his arm, her fingers digging into his
flesh.  Don't, she chanted in her head.  Don't be stupid.
She's not worth it.

Phoebe took the matter out of their hands.  Scully heard a
thud and a corresponding grunt and realized that Phoebe had
landed a blow on Cole's body.  A loud crash was followed by
a scream of rage from Cole and the sounds of two people
scuffling.

Scully dug in her pocket and fumbled with her flashlight. As
she snapped it on and pointed in the direction of the noise,
she realized Mulder was gone.

The beam of her light fell across Mulder as he moved across
the room, one hand stretched out in front of him, his gun in
the other.  With the light, he moved purposefully towards
the thrashing bodies at the far end of the room.

Phoebe and Cole rolled back and forth, struggling to gain
the upper hand.  Cole clearly had the advantage of size and
strength but Phoebe was agile and trained.  Cole pinned her
to the ground and brought up a fist to punch her but Phoebe
twisted one leg around his and yanked him off balance.  They
rolled over again and again.  This time as Cole landed on
top Scully saw Phoebe's hand snake around to the back of his
pants and yank out the gun tucked there.

Mulder grabbed Cole's arm and twisted it back, pushing him
off of Phoebe.  Cole whipped around, coming up on his knees
and punched Mulder with his other arm.  Mulder doubled over
but hung on, swinging his gun up to Cole's temple as the
other man surged to his feet and kicked Mulder's legs out
from under him.

Scully ran forward as Mulder went down, Cole leaning over
him, training Mulder's own gun on the side of his head.  She
brought her gun up, her finger slid over the trigger.

A shot exploded from her left and Cole jerked as the bullet
slammed into his body.  He lurched forward and fell, his gun
hand curling under him as he hit the floor.  Scully whipped
around to stare at Phoebe, leaning against a desk, her gun
following Cole to the floor.  Phoebe's finger moved on the
trigger.

"Phoebe, don't!" Mulder shouted, throwing himself at her.
Phoebe glared at him as he rose in front of her.  They faced
each other silently, the anger coming off both of them in
waves.  "Put the gun down," Mulder said through clenched
teeth.

Scully tore her eyes away from them to move to Cole.  Her
gun on him, she moved closer, the flashlight's beam playing
over the side of his face as it pressed against the
carpeting.  He was still breathing but she couldn't see the
wound.

"Mr. Cole?'  She stood in front of him.  "Mr. Cole, can you
hear me?  I'm armed.  I know you still have your gun.  Push
it out from under you slowly."

No response.  She nudged him with her foot and got nothing.
Keeping her gun aimed at his head, she rolled him over with
her foot.  A scarlet stain spread across his shirt front and
she could see a dark hole on his left shoulder.  Even in dim
lighting, Phoebe's shot had been true.

His gun - Mulder's gun - lay loosely clasped in his right
hand and she kicked it away before crouching in front of
him. Either he was really unconscious or he was great at
playing possum.  She placed two fingers on his jugular and
frowned.  His pulse was thready, he needed a hospital soon.

She turned to Mulder and Phoebe and felt her gorge rise
again.  They were still staring at each other but now
Phoebe's hand was resting against Mulder's chest and she was
looking up at him like a lost orphan.  Mulder's fingers were
curled loosely around her hand. Not welcoming it.  Not
pushing it away.

"Mulder," Scully said sharply.  "Cole needs an ambulance."

Mulder turned to look at her and Phoebe's hand fell away.
"He's alive?"

"Barely," Scully said grimly, coming to her feet.  "And not
for long without some help."

"I'll call 911," he said, moving towards the door.  As he
reached the doorway, he reached over and flipped the light
switch.  Scully blinked as the bright light seared her
eyes.  She eyed Phoebe warily as the other woman blinked and
frowned as well.  The 357 Magnum was still in the British
woman's hand.

"He's not going anywhere," Scully said to her, gesturing at
Phoebe's gun.  "You can put that away."

Phoebe eyed her suspiciously.

"I'm not putting this down as long as he's alive."

"He's more dead than alive," Scully snapped and then sighed
as Phoebe stared wordlessly at her.  "You don't have a
license for that gun.  I would suggest that it not be in
your hand when the police arrive unless you want an up close
and personal visit with a New York jail cell."

Phoebe's eyes narrowed.  "I'm going to get that anyway,
aren't I?  I'm still wanted for assaulting that other police
officer in Tisbury."

Scully arched an eyebrow at her.

"I'm certain that once you explain your story it will all be
taken care of."

Phoebe barked out a laugh.

"What makes you think they'll believe me?"

"Because Mulder and I will back you up," Scully said wearily
and felt a flash of anger at the thought of helping Phoebe.
It was the last thing she wanted to do, but there was no
choice.  She had no doubt that Cole had assaulted the
sheriff.  "You had clearly been victimized when you showed
up at the house that day and we both saw him try to kill you
just now."

"Victimized," Phoebe said slowly, her eyes going to Cole on
the floor.  "Yes."

Scully frowned as she followed Phoebe's gaze to Cole's prone
body.  What exactly had Cole done to her?  Phoebe seemed
almost in shock, as though she had been through a great
trauma.  Had Cole done something else or were the events of
the last few days finally crashing in on her?

She turned back to Phoebe and gasped as she saw Phoebe's arm
raised, the gun pointed once again at Cole.

"No!" Scully yelled, her own weapon swinging up as if by its
own violition.  She saw Phoebe's fingers tightening on the
trigger and Scully closed her eyes as she pulled her own and
two deafening blasts sounded simultaneously.

Her arm jerked at the recoil and Scully felt it reverberate
along her spine.  Phoebe's eyes were wide with shock as she
slid to the floor.  Her gun fell from her hand and bounced
on the floor at her feet.  She pawed at the wound in her
right shoulder, her mouth forming a perfect "o" as her eyes
slid shut and she slumped on the ground.

Scully felt tears burning in her eyes as the other woman
lost consciousness and Mulder touched her arm.  She raised
her eyes to him, not bothering to hide her pain and anger.
Behind her she heard the rattle in Cole's throat as he drew
his last breath.

Continued in part 31...

PART THIRTY-ONE - RATED PG-13 for language


The EMTs rolled the gurney up to the rear of the ambulance
and positioned it carefully before lifting it inside.
Scully watched half-heartedly, looking for any sign that
Phoebe had regained consciousness.  Behind her, she could
hear Mulder giving orders on processing the crime scene.
Agents from the local FBI office were conferring with him
and the local PD seemed more than happy to step back.

The ambulance was almost ready to go and she raised a hand
for them to wait.  She walked quickly to Mulder's side and
touched his arm.  His hazel eyes turned to her and she felt
herself swallow as she met their warm depths.  Please let
him know I didn't want this to happen, she prayed.  Please
let him understand that I had no choice.

He searched her face as she looked up at him and she did the
same.  There were no signs of rancor or suspicion.  His eyes
were warm, his face open and she heaved a sigh of relief.
They were okay.

"I'm riding with her to the hospital," Scully said softly.

He nodded.  "Good idea.  I'll be there as soon as I can."

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed his back before
walking back to the ambulance and climbing in.

The ER of the hospital was as different and the same as
every one she had ever been in.  Scully stood just outside
the exam room door and watched the hustle and bustle of a
metropolitan emergency room on a Monday night.  They had two
gunshot wounds, including Phoebe, at least one stabbing and
four domestic disputes complete with black eyes and broken
noses.  An elderly man in the first exam room was suffering
from dementia and dehydration and his frail wife sat by his
bed patting his hand and telling him they would go home
soon.  Scully doubted that he even knew he wasn't there
already.

She peered into Phoebe's room and watched as the trauma team
worked on her.  The shot had gone clear through and although
she wasn't in there to hear everything, Scully could tell
that Phoebe was not in any serious danger.  The wound was
high enough to avoid any major organs.  She had hit her
exactly where she had wanted to.

Wanted to.  Yes, that was the way to put it, although it
made her mentally wince to even think it.  She had not
wanted to shoot Phoebe.  There had not been any satisfaction
in it, not even the minute amount she might have thought
there would be.  It was not easy for her to admit just how
much she despised Phoebe.  It was harder for her to admit
that in the last several days she had grimly considered just
how much she would like to hurt her.

But there had been no pleasure in felling the other woman.
Only a sickening fear that she had somehow stepped over the
line and let her personal feelings overrule her
responsibilities.  Like she had with Donnie Pfaster.  She
had tried to forgive herself for that, to tell herself that
it had been in self defense, that he had already put her
through so much hell that she was deserved in killing him.
But she could only lie to herself for so long.  She had
killed Donnie Pfaster because she had wanted to.  She had
wanted him dead, never to haunt her again.  Her badge and
her gun had become her license for revenge and as much as
she regretted ever visiting that unholy shrine, she had made
up her mind to accept her guilt and move on.

And now this. Now another set of questions, more traces of
guilt to crowd her heart and trouble her soul.  Cole had
done terrible things to women.  He was a killer and a sadist
and he had already been seriously wounded.  The world was
undoubtedly going to be a better place without him.  Yet she
had defended him without a second thought.  Or had it been
an excuse to hurt Phoebe?  A way to strike back concealed
within the dictates of her sworn duty?

 Scully sighed and looked back into Phoebe's room.  They
seemed to have stabilized her now and she could see that
Phoebe's eyes were open and she was responding to the
doctor's questions.  Scully edged inside the door, standing
back to stay out of the way, but putting herself within
earshot.

 "You have a single gunshot wound in the upper shoulder,"
the doctor was saying to Phoebe.  "It doesn't appear that
the bullet hit any major organs.  It went all the way
through, but we're going to have to take you up to surgery
in a few minutes to repair the damage to your shoulder."

 Phoebe's blinked slowly, her eyes focused on the doctor's
face as he spoke.

 "The nurses are going to get you ready now," he said.
"I'll see you upstairs."

 The doctor made to leave but Phoebe raised her hand and he
paused.

 "Yes, Ms. Green.  Do you have a question?"

 She licked her lips, her eyes drifting shut momentarily
before opening again slowly.

 "My baby," she said softly.  "Is my baby okay?"

 As the surprised doctor swung into action, Phoebe's eyes
drifted across the room and her gaze locked with Scully's.
Scully struggled to meet her gaze evenly, to not betray the
shock and sickness that were sweeping over her at Phoebe's
question.  This woman was going to be a mother?  This woman
was going to have what she wanted so desperately and could
never have?  Scully swallowed hard and stared into Phoebe's
eyes.  I will not give her this victory.  I will not let her
know.

Phoebe stared back, a thin film of tears forming in her
eyes.  For all her bravada, Scully realized at that moment
just how alone Phoebe Green was.  Scully stared at her
nemesis, the woman she had wanted to hurt and had and
realized that she had won this battle a long time ago.
Whatever else Phoebe had she didn't have Mulder and that was
what she wanted.  Scully could see the acknowledgement
flicker in Phoebe's eyes before she shut them resolutely and
turned her head away.



 A shadow fell across her and without looking up she knew it
was Mulder.  She scrubbed at her temples as she regarded the
speckled linoleum floor between her feet.  She felt Mulder
sit carefully in the chair next to her and then felt the
tentative touch on her back.  She sighed again and raised
her eyes to his.

 "She's pregnant," Scully said simply.  "The bullet didn't
hit any major organs but they still had to take her to
surgery."

 Mulder swallowed.  His eyes never left hers.

 "Is she going to lose the baby?"

 Scully shrugged.  "It's too soon to tell.  She told the
doctor that she's about three months along.  That's right on
the edge of the second trimester.   With all the trauma, and
the anesthesia, it's hard to know what will happen."

 "It's Cole's?"  He was rubbing her back now, making lazy
circles from her shoulders to the small of her back and she
leaned back against his touch.

 "Yes.  The doctor asked if they should contact the father
and she told him that he was dead."  Scully pursed her
lips.  "It explains a lot, Mulder.  It explains why she
wanted those records."

 He tilted his head and waited and she realized that she had
not told him everything.  He was missing a piece of the
puzzle that she had been holding.

 "Phoebe's family lost all of their money.  It was
embezzled.  Her inheritance and her trust fund are gone.
She's not destitute, but her lifestyle is going to have to
change radically."

 "Go on," Mulder said, but she knew he was already putting
it together.  He would know it before she said it, but he
was giving this to her. Letting her put the last piece in
place.

 "When she found out that she was pregnant, she thought that
Cole was John Milling and about to be the heir to a
fortune.  During the investigation of the murders she not
only found out that he was the killer, but that he wasn't
John Milling. .Once Cole realized that he was a suspect in
the killings, he knew Scotland Yard would petition for
Milling's NYPD records. He had been careful at the crime
scenes.  He had every reason to think he could beat the wrap
and still inherit Millings' fortune.  He came to the US to
purge the records of anything that could tip off the
Inspectors. "

 "Like medical records that indicated Milling was sterile
which would fly in the face of the semen sample they took
from the last victim," Mulder said.  "Or an ID badge photo."

 Scully nodded.  "He didn't know about the semen from the
last victim. Remember Phoebe's crack about cheap condoms?
He thought he could still get away with it. It was a long
shot.  There are so many ways to prove he isn't John
Milling, but he was a cop.  But, he knew the Inspectors
wouldn't look any farther than they needed to.  They were
looking for incident reports, history of violence.  They
wouldn't want or need photos or medical information.  But he
didnt know what was in the files, so he had to get his
hands on them."

 "And Phoebe needed the files for the same reason," Mulder
said slowly.  "She didn't want the grandfather to find out
the truth."

 Scully sighed and reached out and took his hand.  "Yes. She
wanted Cole dead with his identity unrevealed so that her
child would inherit John Milling's estate."

 "That's why she killed him," Mulder said, disgust filling
his voice.  "For the money."

 "Yes," Scully said, softly.  "But they're may be more,
Mulder.  We don't know what happened between them after he
pulled her out of that police car in Tisbury.  We don't know
what happened to them after she disappeared yesterday."

 "Are you excusing what she did, Scully?"  He was
incredulous.  Apparently, she wore her feelings for Phoebe
very much on her sleeve.

 "No," Scully said slowly, holding his gaze.  "I'm not.  She
shot him in cold blood, Mulder.  He was unconscious,
helpless.  I'm saying that I don't think the money was the
only motivation.  There was somethingoff, about her."  She
struggled for the right words.  "It was like she was in
shock.  Like she was acting without thinking.  I don't
know," she trailed off, feeling that she had not
communicated her thoughts correctly.  "I don't know how to
explain it."

 His thumb traced the underside of her jaw and she felt
tears threatening again and blinked to push them away.

 "You're thinking of Pfaster," he said softly.

 Her eyes flew to his and her mouth opened but she didn't
have anything to say.  Just like that, he was inside her
head, ferreting out her deepest secrets and fears.

 "How do you do that?" she said breathlessly.

 He smiled and leaned in to kiss her ever so softly.  He
leaned his forehead against hers and she felt the soft expel
of his breath on her face.

 "I love you, Scully.  It's as simple as that."


 The ferry ride to Tisbury had been a rough one and Mulder
still looked a little green around the gills as he unlocked
the door to his father's house.  Scully smiled softly as she
swung the suitcase in front of her and followed Mulder
through the door.  It was good to be back. They were both
whipped.

 Mulder moved through the downstairs, turning on lights
against the rapidly approaching darkness.  She leaned
against the stair rail, too tired to do more than watch
him.  He made his way back to her, satisfied that everything
was fine in the house.

 "You looked as tired as I feel," he joked weakly and she
rewarded him with a smile.

 "I feel like I could sleep for a month," she admitted.
"And I don't have sea sickness."

 He shot her a look somewhere between amusement and
embarrassment.  The sea sickness had hit him badly enough
that she had driven the car off the ferry and the rest of
the way home and his male ego was smarting.

 "Did you want something to eat?"  He gestured towards the
kitchen.  "I think we still have the stuff for sandwiches."

 She shrugged.  "Yeah, I could eat.  But can you, Mulder?
You still look a little green."

 He shot her another look and she realized she needed to
leave that one alone.

 "Now that the world is not rocking and rolling under my
feet, I could probably keep something down."

 "It will probably help settle your stomach," she said,
already moving towards the kitchen.

 They ate the turkey on ryes at the kitchen table and Scully
found herself mentally summing up the case.  Phoebe was
resting comfortably in the White Plains hospital.  So far,
her baby was fine.  The FBI was looking into Cole's death
but Skinner had already told them that the powers that be
just wanted the case to go away.  Things had gotten ugly
enough and neither government wanted to extend matters by
charging Phoebe with murder.

 "They're saying Cole would have died from the first wound,"
Skinner told them on the phone.  "And you and Mulder both
support her story that she saved Mulder's life by pulling
the trigger the first time."

 Phoebe's career with Scotland Yard, however, was over.  She
had directly disobeyed an order by following Cole to the
U.S. and the evidence against her for withholding
information during the Yard's investigation was sufficient
to ask for her resignation.

 What Scully didn't know, and wasn't sure she wanted to
know, was Phoebe's reaction when she realized that Cole's
true identity was known.  Although Mulder had referred to
him as Cole in the hangar, she obviously hadn't caught it.
Mulder had been the one to tell her and Scully had declined
his offer to join him in Phoebe's hospital room this
morning.  She had nothing to say to her and Mulder would
tell her anything she needed to know.

 "I'll not only offer a penny, but a whole nickel for them.
Inflation, you know," Mulder said as he polished off his
second can of iced tea.  She smiled at him.

 "Running it all through my head," she said, finishing her
sandwich.  'Tying up loose ends."

 He nodded thoughtfully.  "Is it all labeled and cross
referenced in your head now?" he asked, teasing her for her
compulsive neatness.

 She rolled her eyes at him.  "Just about."  She paused.
What the hell.  "How did she take it when you told her you
knew it was Cole not Milling?"

 "She didn't say much.  Just looked at the wall.  She asked
me if other people knew and I told her they did."

 "She was going to ask you to keep it quiet," Scully stated.

 He nodded and sighed.  "Yes.  I think so."

 "So, what is she going to do?"

 "I don't know."  His hazel eyes bored into her.  "And I
didn't ask."

 She met his gaze evenly.  "Mulder, you don't have to
pretend that you don't care what happens to her.  It's
perfectly understandable that you do.  Whether I like it or
not, whether *you* like it or not, the two of you have a
history."

 Mulder jerked forward in his chair like he'd been shot.

 "Yes, and it's history, Scully.  That's the part I want you
to understand.  It was years ago.  A lifetime ago.  I am not
the same person that I was then."

 "No, you're not," she said, refusing to be sidetracked.
"And part of the reason you're not is because of what
happened between the two of you."

 "Scully," he groaned.  "It was a relationship.  It
wassex.  I was in college for God's sake."

 "I know that, Mulder.  I realize what you're trying to say,
and I appreciate it.  And I will get past this" she waved
her hands in the air,  "this hang up I have about Phoebe.
But I don't want you to put on the kid gloves around me.
You can admit that you're concerned about her."

 "I'm not as concerned about her as you think," Mulder said
flatly and Scully arched an eyebrow at him.  He held her
gaze.

 "What happened?" she said softly, knowing all at once that
he was telling the truth and that it had to do with what had
happened between them in Queens.

 He looked away and licked his lips.  His fingers flexed
around the empty can and a muscle in his jaw jumped.  She
reached out and touched his hand.  His eyes moved to hers
and she sent him a silent entreaty.  Trust me.  He sighed.

 "It's nothing, really.  I justsaw a side of Phoebe that I
had either forgotten existed or never really admitted was
there."

 "Go on."  Her fingers caressed his and he released the can
to take her hand in his.

 "After I helped her get free, I asked her to call you for
help.  She refused.  Shecame on to me.  She was touching me
and reminding me about how we had been together."  Mulder
looked up at her and Scully nodded encouragingly.

 "Milling--Cole--had groped her when she was tied to the
chair.  He was taunting her, taunting both of us.  He made
it clear that he was going to rape her before he killed
her.  Phoebe mimicked him.  I don't even think she realized
she was doing it."

 "She touched you?"  Scully asked softly, her breath
hitching in her throat.  She couldn't imagine what that had
been like for him, and how difficult it had to be for him to
talk about it.

 "Yeah.   When I didn't respond the way she wanted me to,
she grabbed me and started rubbing me."  He sighed.  " My
body did respond and she took that as a sign of
encouragement.  She wasn't very happy when I told her that
the same thing would happen if I rubbed up against a tree."

 "I'm sure she wasn't," Scully said lightly although she was
resisting the urge to grind her teeth.  Okay, she was back
to wishing she could hurt Phoebe.

 Mulder gave her a wan, half embarrassed smile.  "It's the
truth, Scully.  Phoebe hasn't done it for me in a long
time."

 She smiled at him.  "I know that, Mulder.  I also know that
it had to be difficult for you to deal with that."

 He shrugged.  "It was the helplessness that bothered me."
He paused.  "And knowing that she was capable to going that
far."

 She tilted her head and regarded him quietly.

 "Do you wonder why she was willing to take it that far?"

 He frowned.  "Because of Cole.  Her whole world was coming
apart and nothing was what she wanted.  She was striking
back in frustration."

 Scully shook her head.

 "There's one question we haven't answered, Mulder.  Why did
Phoebe pull you into this case?  Why did she come to you?"

 "I don't know. Because she knew me.  She thought I could
get her access to the records."

 "Think about it, Mulder.  The first morning in New York she
had a full wardrobe, money and a gun at her disposal.  She
has connections and obviously good ones.  She didn't need
you to get to those records."

 He frowned and chewed on his lip.  "Then why?"

 "The baby," she said softly.  "Think about it, Mulder.
What did you say at the cafi the other day?  You were the
one nice guy in her life.  The one that actually cared about
her when the others only wanted her body or her money.  Do
you think she didn't know that?   Mulder, Phoebe came to you
because she wanted you back."

 He was shaking his head.

 "No.  I don't believe that.  If she had gotten Milling's
money, she would have been right back where she started.
Rich, powerful--"

 "And alone," Scully interjected.  "Mulder, this was
different.  This is different.  Phoebe has always put
herself first.  She's only ever had to think of herself.
Now she has a child to think of.  And whatever peace she has
made with herself for the way she has chosen to live her
life, Phoebe knows what and who she is.  And I think it's
reasonable to assume that she knows she's not going to be a
great parent.  And I think it's reasonable to assume that
Milling opened her eyes as to what her future looked like."

 He sat back and shook his head, rejecting her logic even as
it was worming its way into his brain.

 "Scully, I just don't think--"

 His words were cut off by a thump on the front door.  They
looked at each other and he shrugged before rising from the
table.  God only knew who it was this time.

 They went to the door, Scully right behind him with a grim
set to her mouth.  If there was going to be more trouble
they were going to face it head on together.

 Mulder pulled open the door and pursed his lips at Deputy
Sanger.

 "Good evening," the sheriff said tersely.  "I'm sorry to
disturb you."

 "That never seems to stop you," Scully muttered and caught
Mulder's glance.

 "What can I do for you, Deputy Sanger?"  Mulder said
coldly.

 "I understand that you apprehended Ms. Green in New York?"
Sanger said, her eyes shifting between them.

 "Yes," Mulder said.  "She's in the hospital."

 "So I was told," Sanger said, her eyes landing on Scully.
"She killed the other suspect you were investigating?"

 "Yes," Mulder said shortly. His hand twitched on the
doorknob. "Is there something specific that you wanted
because it's been a very long day and--"

 "I've been told that you both vouched for Ms. Green's story
that this Mike Cole or John Milling or whoever he was, is
the one that attacked our deputy.  Is that right?"

 "Yes it is," Mulder said.  "Phoebe's injuries support her
story that he--"

 "Excuse me," Sanger snapped.  "But who the hell do you
think you are to help this woman off the hook? You don't
know what happened out there on the side of the road.  You
haven't investigated it.  You just used your influence to
help her get off."

 "I gave the investigators my opinion," Mulder ground out,
his knuckles whitening on the door.

 "Which happens to be colored by the fact that you have a
relationship with her," Sanger snapped at Mulder before her
eyes flicked to Scully.  "Or you did.  Whatever the case
is."

 Scully felt a flush steal across her cheeks and bit back
the urge to scream at the deputy.  Getting into a yelling
match wasn't going to solve anything.

 "Look, my opinion is based on facts and if you don't agree
with--"

 "He died, you know," Sanger said.  "They turned off the
life support.  But what do you care, right?  Mr. Big Shot
FBI, you can just go back to Washington with your little
'friends' and--"

 "That's enough!"  Scully roared and both Sanger and Mulder
started.  Scully stepped in front of Mulder and planted
herself right in Sanger's face.

 "I have heard enough of this shit from you, Deputy Sanger,"
Scully spat.  "From the moment you got involved in this
case, you have had a chip on your shoulder. I don't know
what your problem is, Deputy, but I think you need to get
your own personal feelings and issues in hand before you
start accusing others of having a personal agenda."

 "Now, listen to me--" Sanger spluttered but Scully cut her
off.

 "The hell I will. We've heard far too much from you
already.  You show up here unannounced and start tossing
around accusations and innuendoes like you have some right
to do so.  Agent Mulder has been nothing but cooperative and
courteous to you throughout this entire ordeal and you have
been nothing but a stone cold bitch."

 "Agent Scully!" Sanger protested.

 "Look, Sanger, I know it's tough to be a woman in law
enforcement. Trust me," Scully said. "If you think there's a
glass ceiling in Podunk Tisbury, you try life in the big
city.  You try it at the federal level.  The higher you go,
the worse it gets.  So let me give you a piece of advice.
Get over yourself.  Do your job and don't blame every man in
sight when you don't get the results you wanted."

 Sanger was openly gaping at her now, a dark flush on her
cheeks.  Scully felt the heat in her own face and could only
imagine what she looked like to the woman deputy.  But
enough was enough.  And then some.

 "I'm sorry about your colleague," Scully said, softer.
"I've been there.  I know how terrible that helplessness
is.  And I know you want to see someone pay for his death,
but someone already has.  Michael Cole killed that deputy.
That's the truth.  I have no doubt about that and neither
does Agent Mulder.  This is not about protecting anyone.
It's about what happened, whether we like it or not.  And
Mike Cole is dead, so whether you believe in the afterlife
or not, he has met all the earthly justice that he ever
will.  And there's nothing you can do about it."

 Scully sighed and glanced up at Mulder's wide eyes and then
back at the stunned deputy.

 "Go back to work, Deputy Sanger.  Put this behind you as
best you can and just do your job."  Scully tugged the door
from Mulder's hand.  "Good night."

 Sanger closed her mouth and swallowed.  She flicked a
glance at Mulder and then back at Scully before turning on
her heel and stomping down the steps.  Scully closed the
door and leaned against it, letting her eyes fall closed in
sheer exhaustion.

 Mulder let out a low whistle.

 "Jesus, Joseph and Mary," he breathed.  "And I'm not even
Catholic."

 Scully rubbed at her closed eyes and smiled wanly.  "You're
nothing identifiable."

 "I'm impressed," Mulder said and she smiled as he pulled
her into his arms.  She fell against his chest and rubbed
her cheek against the soft nap of his shirt.  Mulder's hands
roamed over her back and up into her hair, tugging it to
pull her head back.  Languidly she opened her eyes and
looked up at him.

 "Tine rua," he murmured.

 "Tine rua?"  she murmured back, arching an eyebrow.

 He leaned forward and rubbed his lips against hers, his
breath warming them.  He kissed her softly once, then twice,
nipping at her bottom lip.

 "It's old Irish Gaelic, Scully.  It means red fire.  The
brightest, truest part of the flame.  That's you."

 She smiled against his lips and kissed him back.

Continued in Part 32...

PART THIRTY - TWO - RATED NC-17 for SEX!



The morning sunlight streamed across the bed and lit up the
inside of her eyelids.  Slowly, Scully opened her eyes and
sighed deeply.  Her gaze wandered around the room, taking in
the sparse furnishings and the bare walls.  Ah yes,
packing.  They would probably have to finish that today.
Maybe.

 She turned her head against the pillow to look at the empty
one beside her. Even before she had opened her eyes she had
known that he was not in the bed with her anymore.  She
raised her head slightly and read the clock next to the
bed.  Oh yeah, Mulder had probably been up for hours by now.

 She stretched and smiled and rolled over on to her stomach.
She felt good and was surprised at that.  They had fallen
into bed last night too tired to do more than mumble a good
night at each other before spooning together and falling
into deep sleep.  She had been so bone weary at the time she
had figured it would take days before she felt rejuvenated.

 But the bed was immensely comfortable and the company had
been even more so. She grinned into the pillow.  They had
shared a bed for what, three nights?  She was already
addicted to it.  They were going to have to talk about how
this was going to work because she was sure of one thing.
It was okay to wake up alone as long as she hadn't slept
that way the night before.  Sleeping alone was no longer an
option.

 She rolled over and pulled herself up to sit on the side of
the bed.  Speaking of alone, she didn't feel like being
alone any more  Time to find out what Mulder was up to.  She
padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower.


 It was dij` vu.  He was working industriously at the stove,
making a feast that would burst her stomach, and she was
tripping into the kitchen with evil thoughts spinning
through her mind.

 "Good morning," he said, smiling at her as he turned away
from the stove.  "I went ahead and started cooking.  I was
afraid you were going to sleep all day."

 She rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his
waist.  "It's nine o'clock, Mulder, not noon."

 He grinned.  "Yeah, but I've been up for three hours
already so it feels like it."

 She arched an eyebrow at him.  "Six o'clock, huh?  Couldn't
stand to stay in bed with me longer than that, huh?"

 He leaned down and kissed her firmly on the mouth, his
tongue darting out to lick her lips.  Scully bit back a
groan.  Oh, she could definitely start every day this way.

 "I couldn't stay there any longer and still let you sleep,"
he said against her mouth and Scully shivered.

 "You could have woken me up," she whispered back, her
tongue caressing his bottom lip.  "I would have liked that."

 "Mmm," Mulder said.  "I'll remember that."

 They kissed again, his tongue probing her lips, pushing
past them and her teeth to stroke her tongue.  She did moan
then, running her hands up his chest.  His hands caught hers
and he pulled away.

 "Breakfast," he said, his eyes dancing and she pouted her
lips at him.  Fine.  She turned to the table which he had
already set and noticed a brown padded envelope in the
center.  She picked it up.

 "Mulder, what's this?"  It was addressed to Fox Mulder and
Dana Scully. There was no return address.

 "I don't know," Mulder said.  "It was inside the screen
door when I went to get the mail this morning.  It has both
of our names on it so I waited for you before I opened it."

 Scully felt along the lines of the envelope. There was
something hard and square inside.  She frowned.  What could
this be?  Her fingers went to the sealed flap.

 "Breakfast is served," Mulder said, presenting a plate
under her nose with a flourish.  Scully inhaled deeply as
she eyed the fluffy omelet. She tossed the envelope back on
the table.  The intrigue could wait, she was starving.

 They made short work of the breakfast.  Scully was still
amazed that he cooked and said so.

 "Only breakfast," he said, shrugging.  "And spaghetti."

 "So I can expect breakfast in bed every Saturday, right?"
Scully prompted and then felt a flush tingle her cheeks.  Oh
my, she was assuming a lot, wasn't she?  Her eyes went to
Mulder's and she saw that he hadn't missed her assumption
either.  He was smiling and looking at least ten years
younger than he was.  Her heart constricted.  Oh my, indeed.

 "If that's what you want," Mulder said, eyes twinkling.
"Your wish is my command."

 Scully's eyes widened and she gave him a sly grin.

 "Well, Mulder, if that's the case, trust me, I'll think of
something better to ask for than breakfast."

 Mulder leaned over the table and pinned her with his eyes.

 "Really, Scully?" he asked, his voice low and husky.  "And
what else would you ask for?"

 Her stomach tightened as his sexy voice and darkening eyes
washed over her like a warm wave.  Oh God, she was rapidly
losing the ability to think of witty rejoinders.  Couldn't
they just skip to the really good part?

"You'll have to wait and find out," she managed to croak
before hiding behind the rest of her glass of orange juice.
He grinned at her triumphantly, knowing he had won the round
and she felt a jolt of adrenaline zip through her.  Oh, he
wanted a contest, did he?  They would see about that.

They cleared the table and put the dishes in the
dishwasher.  She wiped down the table, moving the package
aside and rinsed the cloth in the sink.  Behind her, Mulder
put the remnants of breakfast back in the refrigerator and
then they were standing there looking at each other.

How do we do this?  Scully wondered, trying to remember how
to breathe.  How do you reach for something that you've
wanted for so long that it seems to have metamorphosed from
reality into fantasy?  It was one thing to find yourself at
the end of a journey and quite another to find yourself at
the beginning, wondering how to take the first step.  They
had been through so many things together that had shaped and
changed who they were.  But never had their intentions been
so plain.  She licked her lips and looked somewhere over his
left shoulder.  Just meet his eyes and you'll be okay, Dana,
she told herself.  It's him.  Its Mulder.

"We haven't opened the envelope yet," Mulder said, rescuing
her.  Her eyes flashed to his and then away, to the envelope
on the table.

"I guess we should," Scully said, then shot him an impish
grin.  "Just in case it's a bomb, or something."

He grinned back and picked up the envelope and tore open the
flap.

 "So far, so good," he quipped.  He reached in and drew out
the square object she had felt earlier.  It was wrapped in a
piece of fine linen stationary.  Mulder handed her the box
and opened the note.

 Scully held the dark red velvet box in her hand and felt
her heart start to thunder in her chest.  She had seen a box
just like this, many in fact.  At  Sevigny's.  She rubbed
her thumb along the velvet, pushing against the nap and
watching a pattern emerge in its wake.

 "It's from Sevigny," Mulder said.

 "What does he say?"  Scully asked, not meeting his eyes.
She couldn't stop staring at the box.

 Dear Fox and Dana,

  My safe is too full and I do not have room for this.  I
think it is better to be with you so that you will have it
when you are ready.  It will be soon, I think.
  All God's blessings on you.  Come to see me when you are
in town.

       Sevigny

 Mulder folded the note closed and looked at her.  Scully
raised her eyes to his and licked her lips.

 "Open it, Scully," he said softly and she thought her heart
would jump out of her chest.  She bent her head as her
fingers slowly pried the box open.  The diamond, nestled in
maroon velvet, twinkled up at her and she drew in a shaky
breath.  It was so beautiful. It was a whole world in one
little gem.

 Mulder was standing so close to her that she could feel the
heat of his body through her t-shirt.

 "Scully," he said, his words caressing her.  "Scully, look
at me."

 She closed her eyes and swallowed.  Oh no.  Not now, not
here.  It wasn't right.  It wasn't the time.  She wanted it,
yes, she did.  She wanted him and a life and all the
craziness that came with it.  But it was just so much, so
soon.  It was rushing in on her and the warm wave was
crashing over her head and she wasn't sure she could do
this.  She would say yes.  Of course she would. She loved
him.  She wanted him.  But it was all so new

 His fingers tipped her chin up and she found herself
drowning in his hazel eyes.  Oh God, I love him so much.  If
he's ready, I'll be ready.  I'll do it.  Throw caution to
the wind and just do it.

 "Scully, I know we're not ready for this," he said, his
fingers stroking her face.  "And I know you want dinner and
flowers and me on bended knee when we are ready."

 "You forgot about the string quartet," she warbled.  He
smiled and caressed her lips with his thumb.

 "And the string quartet," he amended.  "And I promise you,
Scully, I will give you all of that. When it's time."

 "Yes," she murmured.  "When it's time."

 He leaned down and kissed her tenderly.   "We have plenty
of time."

 She put the box on the table and pulled his mouth back down
on hers.  His arms encircled her waist, pulling her against
him and she melted there for a moment, reveling in the feel
of him before pulling away and taking him by the hand.

They stopped at the foot of the stairs and she turned to him
with a question in her eyes.  He squeezed her hand and they
started up the stairs.

The wooden steps creaked under their weight and each
footfall echoed in her head.  It was surreal, climbing these
stairs with Mulder, knowing that they were going to the
bedroom to make love. She felt every stimulus burn itself
into her memory.  The feeling of her heart pounding in her
chest, the sunlight splashing against the white walls, the
warmth weight of Mulder's hand in hers, the smell of dust
and furniture polish in the air.  At the top of the stairs
he took the lead, guiding her along the hallway to his
father's room, to the mahogany heirloom bed and the tousled
sheets she had fantasized about.

He stopped at the foot of the bed and turned to her.  His
eyes were dark with desire and she knew her own were the
same.  They drank in each other, savoring the silent
understanding, the sweet frustration that was about to be
realized.  She reached up and stroked his cheek with the
back of her hand.

"I will never forget this moment," she whispered.  He turned
his head and kissed the back of her hand, then her wrist,
the crook of her elbow, just below her sleeve.  She brushed
the top of his head with her other hand, reveling in the
silkiness of his hair.  He raised his lips from her bicep
and their faces were inches apart.  Their breath mingled for
a moment before he lowered his mouth to hers.

Scully opened her mouth to his and her tongue darted forward
seeking his.  They twined and caressed each other, repeating
the fervent dance of the times before.  Slowly, Scully
pressed herself up against his chest, her hands grasping
against his t-shirt as their mouths plundered each other.
Her fingers swooped and crawled until she found his
hardening nipple and she pinched it, rolling it under his
fingers.  His breath jerked and he moaned in his throat.  A
flash of heat flared between her legs at the sound.

His hands were on her ass now, kneading and stroking and she
felt the wetness between her legs surge.  God she wanted
him.  Every cell in her body screamed out for him.  She slid
her fingers under the hem of his t-shirt and stroked her
fingers over the wiry hairs that decorated his navel.  Her
fingers dipped and rose over the outline of his six pack and
suddenly she couldn't wait to run her tongue over the same
route.  She bent and quickly did so, her tongue bobbing and
weaving over his muscles as they quivered. Her hands slid
upward, over his rib cage to his chest where she dragged a
thumbnail over both nipples simultaneously, earning another
quick breath and a jerk of his hips.  He pulled her back up
against him and she smiled as his mouth sought hers and she
nipped his lower lip before sucking it into her mouth.
Mulder groaned again.

His hands were under her shirt now, sliding up her back,
lifting the shirt until it was over her head and gone.  With
a deft movement, he undid her bra.  He swept along the tops
of her shoulders, his fingers pushing the straps until they
fell.  His hands trailed back down around her ribs and then
around to the front, lifting her bra away.  Scully gasped as
his hands closed over both of her breasts, capturing them
and taking their weight in his palms.  She moaned as palms
grazed over her taunt nipples, hardening them further.  He
rubbed against them, first up and then down slowly, dragging
an electrical current throughout her whole body.

Scully felt the ache between her legs burgeoning and cupped
Mulder's ass with her hands and yanked his hips against
hers.  She ground against him, and felt a jolt scream
through her gut as his erection slammed against her stomach.
She shoved his shirt up and he grabbed a corner, yanking it
over his head and tossing it.

He pulled her against him and she pressed her naked breasts
to his bare chest.  A shiver rocked both of them and she
attacked him with her mouth.  She kissed his shoulder, his
collarbone, her teeth nipped at his Adam's apple before
grazing over first one nipple and then the other.  Mulder
was keeping pace, his mouth sucking at the side of her neck,
his tongue swirling inside her ear then painting a hot wet
trail down to her breasts, sucking first one nipple and then
the other into his mouth.

Scully arched and tossed her head back as the room started
to spin.  Every nerve in her body was tingling and none more
than where his mouth lips were joined in sucking on her
flesh.  She tugged her fingers through his hair until his
head raised and their lips met again.  She pulled his tongue
into her mouth and sucked.

By unspoken agreement the rest of their clothes were tossed
to the floor.  Mulder pulled back the tumbled covers and
pressed her back against the mattress, following her on to
the bed.  Scully's eyes raked over his naked lean form, his
dusky erection and the maelstrom of desire in his eyes.  She
pulled him to her, one hand stroking his hardness, the other
curled around his neck.

Mulder slid down on top of her, his body covering hers and
she parted her legs and lifted her hips to cradle him.  His
erection pressed against her hip and she arched against him,
a whimper in her throat.  Now.  There was time for the rest
later.  She had to have him before her body melted into a
pool of fire.  Their eyes met and she let him see her raw
need, seeing it mirrored in his.

 Mulder's hand slid between their bodies as he took himself
in hand. The tip of him brushed against her opening and she
arched up against him, straining for more.  His eyes seemed
to devour her and she couldn't look away from their depths.
He plundered her soul with his need and then she gasped as
he thrust up inside her with one strong stroke.

 "Oh God!" Scully moaned and pushed up against him as he
filled her.  "Oh, Mulder."  Oh God, how had she known it
would feel this good? He came to rest deep inside her, his
breath coming fast and ragged. She was complete, stretched,
filled, her body closing in around him, melding them
together.  She groaned as he pulled back and pushed into her
again.

 "Scully," he whispered and it sounded for all the world
like a prayer.

 They moved in point and counterpoint, their bodies rising
and falling to a shared cadence.  He stared down at her, his
eyes dark with passion and she gazed back up at him, willing
the incredible emotions insider her to play across her face.

 He reached down and stroked her nub and Scully closed her
eyes as her muscles clenched around him and her hips thrust
upwards.  His teeth were nipping at her collarbone and she
slid her nails along his sides, making him gasp.  A ball of
blazing heat was forming in her midsection, every muscle in
her body tensed and she arched against his fingers and his
hardness, willing it to grow.  She tossed her head as it
did, gasps escaping from her lips.

 She grabbed his hips and pulled him against her.

"Harder," she whispered and he responded instantly, his hips
slamming into her, his tip bumping her cervix with every
stroke.  Brilliant light exploded behind her eyelids.  "Oh
God, yes.  Yes.  Mulder."

 She was close and she could feel that he was, too.  His
thrusts came faster and harder until they couldn't go any
further and she grabbed him with her slick muscles, pushing
him further and further over the edge.

 His fingers rubbed her in a tight circle and then the
fireball in her gut was exploding and red flashes blinded
her as her orgasm overtook her.  She went rigid as the
pleasure swept over her, her muscles spasming around him,
gripping and pulling him into her paradise.  She clenched
him, milking him, willing him to join her.

"Scully.  Oh God.  Scully."  He thrust hard once, twice more
and then a low cry tore from his throat as he jetted into
her.  She clenched her legs around him as they rode the
crest together, transported beyond the gravity of the Earth.

 Mulder collapsed onto her and they lay entwined and
panting, coming slowly back to themselves.  His lips brushed
the side of her neck and she kissed his temple and nuzzled
him.  Gradually, their heartbeats slowed and their breathing
evened out.  Mulder went to move off her and Scully
whimpered a protest.

 "I'm too heavy," he said hoarsely, grazing her brow with a
kiss.

 "No, I like it," she said softly.  "It makes me feel safe.
Loved."

 He smiled then and kissed her again.   She tightened her
arms around him and closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of
their bodies together.  Her fingers wandered over the planes
and angles of his back.  She was going to learn about each
and every one of them and memorize them like a map.

 They lay together for several moments before she finally
tapped his shoulder and he shifted off her.  They both
murmured as his softened cock slipped out of her.  Mulder
rolled onto his back and pulled her to him.  She snuggled
against his chest and looked up into his eyes.

 "So, Scully, I have a question," he said.  She wrinkled her
nose at him.

 "You're not going to ask me how it was, are you?  Because
if you don't know"

 He laughed.  "No, I wasn't going to ask.  I think I have a
pretty good idea, my insecurities withstanding."  He stroked
her shoulder with his fingers.  "No, my question is, why
now? Why this weekend?"

 She smiled slowly and put her cheek down against his
chest.  Why, indeed.

 "I don't know, Mulder.  I really don't.  Something just
clicked, I guess."

 "Between us?"

 She shrugged.  "Between us.  Inside me.  Mostly inside me,
I think."  She tossed her head back and smiled at him.  "You
were waiting on me, right?"

 "Yes, for about seven years now, thanks."

 She grinned.  "Was it worth the wait?"

 He captured her mouth in a hungry kiss and she wondered
just how soon he was going to recover.  They did have seven
years to make up forHe broke the kiss and tilted his head.

 "Answer your question?"

 "Yes."

 "Good."  He let his head fall back against the pillow and
closed his eyes. Scully watched him for a moment.

 "A nickel for them," she said, watching as his eyes slowly
opened.

 "Hmm, nothing really.  Drifting."

 "I didn't really answer your question, did I?"

 "Yes, you did."

 "But it wasn't what you expected?"

 "It's not that.  I just" he sighed and eyed her warily.
"I was just hoping this had nothing to do with you-know-who
showing up."

 Scully's eyes widened and she felt him tense, worried about
her reaction.

 "It has nothing to do with her.  I swear."

 "Okay.  I was justwondering."

 Scully smiled languidly and planted a kiss on his chest.

 "I understand why you would think that, especially after
what I said last night.  But this is just about us.  I don't
know what changed, or when I decided.  Actually" her voice
trailed off.  Yes, she did know when she had made her
decision and how, but it was too silly, too strange to tell
him.

 "What?" His eyes bored into her, the questioned etched in
his face.  She had really piqued his curiosity now.

 Scully was appalled to find herself blushing and chuckled,
trying to hide her embarrassment.  Oh hell, nothing was too
strange to Mulder.

 "I decided on the phone the other night.  When I was in the
bath."

 He twitched an eyebrow.

 "You decided to sleep with me over the phone?  I give good
phone, huh?"

 She punched his stomach lightly as he laughed.

 "That wasn't it, Mr. 900 Number.  It was, well, if you want
to know the truthit was talking about your parent's
furniture."

 "Furniture?" he asked, bewildered.

 "Yes.  You were talking about selling your furniture and
how it was all this antique stuff and I could see in my head
exactly what it looked like.  Big, solid, elegant furniture
and I could see just the kind of house it would go in and
how everything would look.  And then," she paused, her blush
deepening.  "Then I realized that the house I was
envisioning was the same house that I always envision living
in some day."

 "And that made you want my body?" he teased, although his
eyes said that he understood.

 "No, that made me want your furniture," she deadpanned and
then kissed his chest again.  "I'm going to inherit some
nice pieces from my parents.  Mom's been pushing me to take
some of it now, and I figured your furniture and my
furniture would probably go together--"

 "In this nice big house in your head."

 "Yes."

 "So that's why you insisted that I put it in storage
instead of selling it?"
 She bit her lip and ducked her head. "Yeah."

 He kissed the top of her head and chuckled deep in his
throat.

 "So, you're matchmaking between our furniture.  Now that
you've seen mine, do you think they'll get along?"

 She peeked at him from under her lashes.  "Yeah," she said
softly.  "I think they will."

 He hugged her tightly and kissed her softly.

 "I think so, too.  I love you, Scully."

 "I love you," she whispered against his lips and then she
kissed him fiercely.  He responded at once, their tongues
dueling for position.  She slid her hand across his abs and
pulled herself up on one elbow, letting her other hand
wander south.  He gasped as her fingers danced lightly over
him and she smiled as he twitched and hardened under her
touch.

 "Mulder, you do know that women in their mid-thirties are
at their sexual peak, don't you?"

 "I seem to remember reading that, yeah," he said, gasping
as she slid her hand up and down his shaft.  "Why?"

 She smiled.  "Just making sure you're prepared, that's
all."

 "I was an Indian Guide, remember, Scully?  I'm always
prepared."

 She nipped at his nipple and his hips jerked against her.

 "That's good to know, Mulder.  Because we've got the rest
of the week off and I don't plan on letting you out of this
bed."

 He grinned as she rose above him, her red hair tumbling
over her face, her blue eyes sparkling.

 "Your wish is my command," he breathed, stunned anew at her
beauty.  She grinned back at him as she leaned down to
capture his lips.

 "You better believe it," she murmured and set about telling
him exactly what she wanted.


The End.


Author's Note:  I want to thank all of you who have hung on
through this epic and wrote to offer me support. Tine Rua
has truly been a labor of love and I hope you have all
enjoyed it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.  This was
my first foray into an extended story and into smut.  I hope
I did both justice! A reader has generously offered to help
me put up a web site so all of my stories will soon have a
home where you can visit them.  If you liked what you read,
please let me know. Feedback only encourages me to write
more!

Menagerie