TITLE: Fugue for the Forgotten - Part 1
AUTHORS: frogdoggie and Crash
E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com and/or lunagrl@peoplepc.com

CLASS: MSR

RATING: NC-17 for language, sex and violence...basically we've got everything here but cruelty to animals, but we aren't THAT sick. ; )

SPOILERS: Anything up to Emily in US Season 5

ARCHIVE: Anywhere you like as long as our name, disclaimer and addys stay with it.

SUMMARY: Scully has a crisis of faith after the death of Emily. She and Mulder then learn they have a child together. How? Read on and find out.

DISCLAIMER #1:

Drum roll please. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, the Lone Gunmen, the Cigarette Smoking Man, Marita Covarrubias, Alex Krychek and the X-Files are the property of Chris Carter, 10-13 Productions, Fox Broadcasting and the brilliant actors who portray those characters. No infringement is intended. No money was made. No animals were injured. No White House employees were harassed sexually or otherwise. No CFC's were used. No trees were burned. Fun was had.

DISCLAIMER #2:

If you are below the age of 18, please leave now. NO REALLY! I mean it! The following fanfic contains violence, foul language and the graphic depiction of consensual sex between our heroes. If this sort of thing bothers you, scram now. It also contains the graphic depiction of sex between a wrinkly old man and a really bitchy woman. That sort of thing bothers us, but we put it in anyway. You have been warned. We've also taken some liberties with certain elements of the X-Files mythology. All of us know Marita Covarrubias works at the UN in New York. For our purposes in this story, we have given her a temporary Washington, DC office...Nah, nah, booboo! Feedback of the constructive nature is greatly appreciated and shamelessly begged for. Please send it to frogdoggie@mcafeemail.com and lunagrl@mcafeemail.com. Frogdoggie will use flames to roast marshmallows. Crash will merely walk into a wall...AGAIN. (Ten, stop giggling.) "They throw people out for giggling."

NOTE: If you have missed a section of this epic through either the vagaries of e-mail or the cyberspace meddling of Invisigoth a.k.a. Esther Nairn from "Kill Switch", you are in luck. We have archived "Fugue for the Forgotten" on Three Way Stop under collaborations. So, go on over to: https://www.squidge.org/3wstop and follow the links until you find the story. Enjoy!

AUTHOR'S NOTES AT END...

Fugue for the Forgotten
By frogdoggie and Crash

fugue - n. 1 a: a musical composition in which one or two themes are developed in a continuous weaving of voice parts b: something that resembles a fugue esp. In interweaving repetitive elements. 2: a disturbed state of consciousness in which the one affected seems to perform acts in full awareness but upon recovery cannot recollect the deeds.
-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition

TUESDAY, JANUARY 6, 1998 3 AM

EPIPHANY? (Oh sure! Yeah! If things weren't so dismal, I'd laugh.)

How do I start these ramblings? Dear Diary? Wow, that's original. I'm finding it very hard to write here. I feel like I'm talking to myself. On second thought, what's so unusual about my talking to myself? It's practically an every day occurrence. They don't call me Spooky Mulder for nothing. Well shit. All right, look - I haven't kept a journal for years, but now I'm going to start with the true confessions because, if I don't, I'm going to go stark raving mad, thank you very much - and I'm afraid I might take Scully with me.

Scully and I just got back from San Diego last Thursday. We were traveling on New Year's Day, yessiree, after all we didn't have much to ring in this year. Jesus - Scully, she, she's so...it's just too hard. I AM still railing to God over that trip which is a stretch for me since I don't really believe in Him. But I could ask if I did believe - Please deliver her, deliver us? No, just her, I don't want to ask for too much. I haven't asked for anything in so long...

I feel like...well I can barely let myself feel because when I do, I feel like I'm going to die, and I can't feel that way because it's not going to help Scully. For once I have to be the anchor. She's been a rock for me time and time again. I'll turn to stone now for her. I'll be freaking Mount Rushmore if it'll help. I have to hold it together.

Dear God.

Scully had a child, a little girl. Her name was Emily. She was an alien human-hybrid with blood that killed and Scully's beautiful blue eyes. Emily's dead. That sums up our trip to San Diego in very simplistic terms, of course. A simpler term would be one word: AGONY. And I knew. In the back of my mind I knew when I saw her ova. I knew deep down it could come to this, but I denied it, and I didn't tell her.

Jesus Scully can you ever forgive me? She shouldn't. I don't deserve it. Fuck me. If there is a God, He will surely damn me. Christ, if He does exist He's done that all ready, long ago. Now I'll probably fry in hell. Good.

I spent most of the trip in a state of numbness right up to that moment in the church when Scully took her crucifix out of her daughter's coffin. I went beyond numbness then. I died inside. And like I said I feel like I'm dying still. But I won't show it and I won't let her know it, no way in hell.

So, we flew back to DC. Scully was on autopilot just like the United Airlines flight. I took one look at her face when we got off the plane and I drove her home and stayed with her. I stayed at her apartment all weekend. I unpacked and even did my laundry at her place. I didn't have the energy to repack. Shit, the stuff can just stay here. I didn't want to risk taking it home.

There is no way I will leave her alone for long. She is too adrift and I'm afraid where she may drift off to if I don't watch her. She's suffering. She's got the soul sickness. Something I am certainly familiar with, dear journal. And the bad news is, I don't know how to cope with that illness myself. How in the hell am I going to get her through it? Prayer's out. Maybe I should try a human sacrifice - mine.

Skinner gave Scully some time off. Nice of him for once. I took a chance and went down into the Bureau basement on Monday for a short time. My plans for the work week? My plans are that we have no work week - Ha. Yeah, I've seen to it that we're between cases. I've called in every favor I'm owed by the Violent Crimes Division just in case something rears it's ugly head from that direction. The X-Files? - The A.D. finally told me to <work from home.> But you know what - screw The X-Files for now. I have the wheel on that out of control bus. Just call me Sandra Bullock, baby.

Tonight was one of the worst nights since we got back. She couldn't stop crying. It started out as a trickle and turned into a deluge. She gets angry when she cries as well, so by the time things were in full swing it was like Hurricane Andrew or (should I say Scully?), in the apartment. She threw some stuff around, and I was afraid she was going to hurt herself, so I finally just pinned her arms to her sides. She struggled a bit, but then she finally settled down and...thank God, she let me hold her close and still.

I got her to sit down on the couch then and I just...I held her for hours. You know, since this is true confessions I have to tell you - this is something I've wanted to do for years. Hold her close and know that she wanted me to do it, at last. And I ask myself...Why did it take something like Emily's death to give me the opportunity to do it? How fucking pathetic is that? How pathetic am I? Shit. Why am I even thinking about that now anyway? Another selfish Mulder wish? Maybe Scully was right - maybe I think this is all about me, all of the time. Grow up, grow up, grow up, Mulder!

At any rate, we sat and I stroked her hair. I tried to say words that would help, but all my efforts sounded so facile to me. She did seem to hear me, though, and appreciate the sentiments. We talked a little then. Not about Emily - just about things. I made some idiotic jokes and she smiled a little. She talked about her Mother - which was nice. I like Margaret Scully. She fell asleep in my arms. Her utter exhaustion was plain to see. I...I wanted to lay against her on the couch and drift off to sleep next to her. Sleep? What a fucking joke. I knew it wouldn't come. And also, sleeping next to her - well, it just didn't seem right tonight. It was another selfish desire for me, and I was royally sick of my self absorption by that point. So I laid her on the couch, and tucked her in with the afghan she had hung over the back. I think it's the one her Mother made for her years ago. It's white. Scully's face looked just like it. God.

I'm going to close now. I'm sitting in that nice overstuffed chair by Scully's couch writing this on a tablet I found in Scully's desk. You know, the legal tablet size? Yellow? Scully's sound asleep. She looks peaceful at last - at least for now. I know I'll sit here all night. But, I don't mind. I want (yeah, crap, I want to), need to watch her, to be on guard. She'll be safe and really that's all that matters now.

I'm going to hide you, little journal, in my suitcase as soon as I'm done here. I hope to write more soon (I have to write more soon). So until then, Good night.

XxX

SATURDAY, JANUARY 10, 1998 MORNING

Rain splattered the window outside Dana Scully's apartment. The sky was growing darker even though it was only 9 AM. She sat at her kitchen table starring out into the bleakness. A tear slid down her face and dropped into the murky depths of her coffee cup.

"Why?" she asked herself, silently. <Haven't they taken enough already? Why did they have to take her too?>

"Christ, it's still raining," Mulder thought as he looked out the tiny window over Scully's kitchen sink, "only a little after 9 AM and it looks more like 9 PM," he sighed drying another plate and placing it in the drainer to dry. "I guess it suits the mood," he mused dismally, glancing over towards the small kitchen table next to the larger kitchen window, where Dana Scully sat, coffee cup in front of her and back to him, lost in thought.

Scully clenched the gold cross she normally wore in her right hand. Emily had worn that cross, but now Emily was gone. A life taken with no more care than that for a lab rat. But Scully cared.

Emily had a name. She was flesh and bone. Despite the green blood that coursed through her veins, she was still a person. Not some test subject. A person who had a mother. A mother who didn't know until it was too late. A mother who had her child taken away as simply as they had taken the ova.

Mulder could just see that she was fingering her gold cross. The cross she usually wore around her neck. The cross that only recently had rested inside Emily's coffin. The cross Mulder had been upset to see Scully holding now instead of wearing. "God, Scully, I am so sorry," he thought.

Scully's pain over the loss of her daughter, the rape of her body's precious ability to create a child naturally, and now the obvious danger of her losing her faith, made Mulder want to take his fist and punch a hole through the window in front of him. His frustration, anger, and grief were almost too much to weather. And much like the storm outside his feelings threatened to turn violent. But he held his emotions back, breathed to calm himself, and struggled to remain on an even keel for Scully's sake. "This would be more easy, if it was me and Samantha again," he thought, "instead of her." He put the last glass into the drainer to dry.

Scully swore loudly and slammed her fist on the table. The coffee cup shook and spilled some of it's contents. She made no move to clean it up, continuing to stare blankly out the window. She didn't even flinch when a large hand holding a dish towel appeared to clean up her spill.

Scully kept her back to him. She was so angry and she didn't want to be angry at Mulder. He at least understood. He had stood by her through all of this. He'd done a remarkable job of keeping his concern in check, giving her space but being within arm's reach if she needed him. But she sensed it was getting harder and harder for him to hold back.

Mulder was startled from his reverie by a sudden loud bang as Scully swore and slammed her fist against the kitchen table top. He whirled around to see coffee spilling out of her cup and Scully's back and head tense and upright. She seemed to be staring out the window, unmoving, and the coffee was winding it's way to the table's edge. Mulder walked over quietly, dish towel in hand, and bent to clean up the mess.

"Why don't you talk about it if it upsets you so much?" he asked.

"She's really angry," he observed as her back became even more straight and her jaw muscles clenched tight. "All right, I've given this woman her space for days now. I've been here, practically living on her couch, and she still hasn't discussed anything with me. I think it's time we do something about this situation," he considered grimly as Scully remained mute.

Mulder had stayed with her off and on since she'd left San Diego. Scully had begun to think it was weird to wake up and not find his lanky form draped across her sofa. She'd also grown to like having him there. His presence seemed to make the hurt seem less. When it got to be too bad she could simply walk over and touch him, just squeeze his hand, and that seemed to make her feel better.

San Diego seemed like eons ago, Mulder thought, as he continued to stare at Scully's back. He wanted, needed, desired to be with her now. There had been no other decision for him. He wouldn't have left her to her own devices after Emily's death. He knew his mere presence made her feel better - she showed him that much with a gentle squeeze of the hand, a touch, a hug. It was all he expected and it was comforting to him as well.

"Scully?"

"What Mulder? What can I say? Nothing I say will make this go away. They took my ova and then they took my child. They say they gave me back my life but what the hell kind of life is it anyway?" She spat, instantly regretting the bitter words. She wasn't mad at Mulder. She was mad at "THEM." Whoever "THEM" was.

Mulder winced. He couldn't see her face, and her words stung, but he bore her no malice, only sympathy, and compassion, and understanding and in the back of his mind a little, familiar, voice said - love.

"I'm sorry Mulder...I'm not upset with you. God, I wish I knew who to be angry with."

He sat down at the table next to her. Scully looked into his eyes and drank in the sadness they held. He was sad for her. She idly thought he was probably blaming himself for this too.

Mulder almost squirmed in the chair because he finally got a chance to look into Scully's eyes. "Oh my God," he thought, "She, she looks like I look when I, when I'm thinking of Samantha," He was profoundly sad. He knew his emotions were playing all across his face and he tried to contain them so that she wouldn't worry that he was so worried for her.

"The sons of bitches," he thought, "if there is any way in hell I can..." he let the thought go because it was only serving to shake him up even more, and he wanted to maintain his composure at all costs now. He decided to try another tack - something that came all too easily to him, but it was all he could think to fall back on at the moment. He reached across the table and laid his hand protectively over Scully's small delicate one, the small hand that tightly clenched the golden cross.

"It's OK if you're angry with me," he said quietly.

Scully's voice broke on a sharp, bitter laugh. "Mulder. I'm not going to use you as a surrogate punching bag. This isn't your doing. Do NOT blame yourself for this or I really will be mad at you." She looked down and then pulled her hand from underneath his. She turned it over and stared at the gleaming cross in her hands.

Mulder watched her, searched her face, knowing that she had seen his badly concealed worry, and guilt, and sadness, "Lord," he thought, "why do I wear my emotions on my sleeve? Shit," he cursed silently and then he followed her head as Scully started to rise.

Scully stood and walked behind Mulder. She unclasped the chain and dropped the cross down Mulder's neck and then fastened it again. He turned and gave her a confused look. She laid a reassuring hand on his head.

"I don't have faith in many things right now, Mulder. But I do have faith in you. I want you to keep that for me until I find my path again."

<Oh God, here it comes.> Mulder struggled to swallow. He was close to tears and he bit them back. <She's lost her faith, she's, she's abandoning God, she's letting it all go...> His mind fought for the words to say to her.

She was starting to walk away. Mulder rose abruptly and caught her wrist, pulling her body around. "Why, Scully?" was all he could bring himself to ask.

"Because you're here and you understand, or at least try to." Her voice cracked and a tear slipped down her face. "Because you care. Because I trust you and this is a time when I don't feel like I can even trust myself. But I trust you." She let her head drop until she felt his finger push her chin back up to face him. She noticed he'd begun to cry too.

"God, what do I say?" he thought. His tears ran down, hot and salty and they hit his upper lip. <Not a thing,> he decided, looking into her tortured eyes and he leaned down and kissed her, gently and chastely, on the lips. Scully pulled away. He could tell she did so reluctantly and then she allowed him to simply hold her. Scully sobbed into his chest and clawed at the material of his t-shirt. Mulder wished she would hit him, pummel his chest even, scream her anger and grief to the world. He didn't care. He tightened his grip and whispered into her hair, "It's all right, Scully, I'm here, just, just lean in against me, let me hold you."

Her sobs slowly subsided but she didn't let go. For once in her life she needed this. She needed to be held. She wanted it, especially now, especially from Mulder. She remembered the time he'd held her like this after the Phaster case. A shiver ran through her body. It had felt good to have him hold her that night, to help her piece herself back together. Mulder could do that for her. She shivered. Always Mulder.

Mulder was glad to see her sobs slowly ebb. He was also relieved that she didn't let go of his waist. She seemed to want to be held, and Mulder sighed as she leaned against him. A thought came almost unbidden into his mind, "God, this feels so good," he mused, "It feels so great to have her in my arms, so right." But he passed the thoughts into some other area of his brain rather quickly because a shiver suddenly ran through Scully's body.

He moved apart from her and looked down at her. She blinked up at him, saying nothing.

"She looks so tired," he thought, studying the dark circles under her eyes. "I've got to see to it that she gets some rest before she collapses," he added, his lips tight.

He took her hand and led her to the couch. He laid across it and patted the space in front of him. She laid down on her side in front of him and he draped one arm over her, using his free hand to stroke her hair.

"You need to relax a little Scully. It's Saturday and we've got no case to deal with or paperwork or anything. You haven't slept the last two nights, so I want you to relax and just sleep. I'll be right here."

She started to protest but his soothing hands running through her hair quieted her. She was exhausted and the nightmares she'd had the last few nights afforded her little sleep. She felt him press his lips to her hair again. Her mind drifted back to the soft kiss they'd just shared in her kitchen. She wished he'd do that again, but explore it further. The thought crept unbidden into her mind. She stamped it down.

<This is my friend. My best friend and my partner. He's just comforting me and dammit I deserve this now.> Soon she was drifting into the soft recesses of sleep.

Mulder stroked her head, shushed her, and she was quiet. He pressed his lips to her hair. Her hair was so soft and smelled faintly of her perfume. He drank in the sensation and the smell. He closed his eyes. Scully seemed to relax at last and he continued to stroke her hair as her breathing slowed. <Thank you, Jesus,> he sincerely prayed for once, for Scully, as she began to fall asleep.

XxX

Bright light surrounded her and the air tasted stale. She tried to move her arms and legs but couldn't. She struggled. She tilted her head forward and her eyes grew wide when she saw the table next to the cot she was on. Shiny metal implements pointed at her. She tried to speak but words would not come. She was helpless and didn't know why. She wanted to scream.

Faces appeared above her but they were covered by masks. All she could see were their black eyes. She struggled and then a flash of light blinded her. She felt like she was floating. Her eyes slowly flew open and she was lying in a bed. The air smelled sweet. She rolled over and bumped into something hard. She was able to move and looked up and saw Mulder sleeping peacefully next to her. She was suddenly aware they were both nude. She became aroused.

His eyes popped open and he reached out to her, pulling her closer. He was touching her and she was touching him and the next thing she knew she was filled with a sense of fullness and bliss. She felt like she was floating again. She was in a park. The green of the foliage seemed almost too green, it was bright. The sun was shining and she watched two children chasing each other around a small playground. A boy and a girl. They ran to a merry-go-round and started spinning it. Running in a long worn trench around it. Round and round in circles they went until the creaking metal toy was going as fast as it could and they both jumped on. Their faces and bodies blurred as the merry-go-round spun.

She looked down at her side and saw Emily looking up at her. She reached for her but Emily stepped away. Scully tried to move closer to her, but again, the child stepped away. Scully started to cry, each time she reached for Emily she moved just out of her reach. She found her voice and cried, "Please."

Emily shook her head and pointed a small delicate finger across the playground to a swing set. A brown-haired girl was swinging by herself. Scully felt Emily finally take her hand and the little girl pulled her in the direction of the swing set. Scully heard Missy's voice, "She needs your help, Dana."

They reached the swing set and Scully looked at the girl on the swing. Dozens of brown curls framed her face and two expressive hazel eyes gazed back at her. Scully thought she saw red highlights in the girl's hair. Her smile seemed familiar too. She smoothed her skirt down and walked towards Scully. The child looked up at Scully and spoke.

"Mommy where's Daddy?"

Scully's mouth fell open. It suddenly dawned on her who she thought the child was. The child looked like the pictures she'd seen of Samantha, only the nose was slightly different, smaller in a way. Her nose looked a lot like...

XxX

Mulder was half dozing when Scully's body jerked violently against him and she let out a startled gasp. He moved to grab her as she almost fell off the couch. She would have if Mulder hadn't caught her. He pulled her back up and rolled her over to face him. <What the hell?> He was dazed as he struggled to focus his eyes on her face.

"Scully, you all right?"

"I...I had a dream..."

He sighed heavily. "A nightmare?"

"Please, no more nightmares," Mulder thought, pressing his eyelids tight and holding his breath.

Scully looked into his eyes. "Look at him," she thought. <I can't tell him what I was dreaming. Not now. He...we've been through enough. He deserves to rest and I know I need to sleep.>

"No, Mulder, it, it wasn't a nightmare - I just dreamt about my brother Bill, a Bill argument," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"You want to tell me about it?" he asked softly.

"No, that's OK, it was pretty much your typical Bill dream - I whipped his butt," she tried to smile into his t-shirt.

Scully felt Mulder relax. She could feel the slight chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

"Good, whup him for me too next time," he said snuggling closer to her again. Soon he was asleep and breathing gently into her hair. Scully lay awake staring at the living room ceiling for quite some time.

XxX

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

Scully slowly woke up. Glancing at the clock she realized she'd been asleep for over three hours. It was knocking on 1 o'clock in the afternoon. Mulder was sleeping peacefully behind her. In their slumber, their legs had become tangled and one of Mulder's arms was wrapped protectively around her waist. She sighed. It felt good to have him hold her like that.

She turned over and shook him lightly. His eyes slowly blinked open. He seemed to start a bit at their close proximity. Scully's mouth was just inches from his. She dimly wished he'd kiss her again. She touched his face.

"I've got to go to my mother's for a little while, Mulder."

"Mmmm..." he responded sleepily.

"I'm only going to be gone a couple of hours. You can stay here if you want to. We can get dinner, if you like, when I get back?" she offered. She knew she didn't need an excuse to get him to stay, but her practical side insisted she come up with one anyway.

"You sure you don't mind?" he asked.

"No...I...I want you to be here when I get back," her voice was barely a whisper. The dream she'd had earlier was still haunting her but, some how, Mulder's presence made it easier to handle. She cursed herself inwardly for becoming dependent on him, but not so much she was willing to do something about it.

She glanced up into his eyes and he cupped her face with his palm. "Are you sure you're all right, Scully?"

"I'm fine, Mulder. I just don't want to be alone."

He nodded at her and kissed her forehead. She sighed when he broke the contact. She moved slowly off the couch and he caught her hand. She turned and looked into his eyes again. He looked like he was going to say something but he remained silent and stroked her hand. She gave his a light squeeze.

"I'd better go. I don't want Mom to worry."

He nodded and let her hand go. She walked down the hallway and went into her bathroom. Her face in the mirror didn't look like her own. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and her face seemed gaunt. She'd lost a lot of weight with the cancer. She'd started to gain it back but she was still too thin.

She splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth. She went so far as to put on a small amount of make up to hide her tired eyes. She was not in the mood to deal with her mother's overwrought concern today. She walked into her bedroom and found a denim shirt to throw on over her t-shirt. She pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped into her sneakers.

As she walked back down the hall into the living room, she had a thought.

"Hey, Mulder if it's more comfortable you can sleep in the..."

She came around the front of the sofa and stopped short. He'd fallen asleep again. She laid a protective hand on his head briefly and then quietly walked out of her apartment.

XxX

SATURDAY, JANUARY 10, 1998 4 PM

When Samantha and I were kids - the summer just before she was taken from us - she had this little diary she used to write in. It was small and bound in dark oxblood leather. I think GrandMa Mulder had given it to her. I used to tease Sam about it a lot because she was always so careful to keep it locked up tight and hidden somewhere when she was done writing in it. Even though I teased her I would never have dreamed of taking a look in that book. It was her private world and I never wanted to encroach on her privacy. I regret that I never, I may never, get a chance to tell her about that respect. Sam...

So, I have my own little book now. I didn't feel stupid buying it - I did it to honor my sister. It's a little larger than Sam's book but it is leather bound and it also has a lock and key. Well, it beats the yellow legal pad, all right.

So, now I'm writing in it, in script, because it's faster - and just in case someone does have a chance to see it they certainly won't be able to read it. HA!

We had a bad morning. That doesn't quite convey how utterly hurtful it was and I can barely write about it even now. I'm fingering her gold cross on it's chain. It's around my neck. Scully took it off and put it around my neck this morning. She said, "I don't have faith in many things right now, Mulder. But I do have faith in you. I want you to keep that for me until I find my path again."

I cried. I couldn't help myself. To think she's lost her faith now profoundly disturbs me. Scully had just found that faith again during the cancer and now...she's lost it? I would cry out to God myself over this development, if I believed in Him. I'd cry out to Him if I thought he'd listen. I'd beg him to bring her faith back. I need to give her this cross back and tell her to...to what? And if I knew what, how will I tell her anyway? And the cruel irony? She has faith in me!? That's a fucking joke. More about that later.

I finally got her to rest. I made her lay down next to me on the couch and finally got her to sleep by stroking her hair. It helped to soothe us both I think. It felt so good to have her finally relax, in my arms, in my arms....

She had a dream this afternoon. She said it wasn't a nightmare. She said it was some idiotic dream about her brother Bill. Why don't I believe her, God Damn it? I don't want NOT to believe her. I mean, we're supposed to trust each other, right? Fuck.

Still - the look on her face, that tight pale face. I just don't know. I should try to talk to her about it later when she returns. But, I just don't think I can bring myself to do it. Why go over and over yet another horrible nightmare about Emily anyway? I just feel like it's pointless to dwell on all that anguish. Why rehash it all? Why think about an unending list of sad mysteries that totalled up equal her dead daughter.

Scully's daughter, Scully as a mother....and...and...God - did Emily even have a father? I never even considered the other half of the equation. What about the father? Somehow that thought deeply disturbs me. Immaculate conception just isn't in my vocabulary. But any possible alternative makes me want to vomit. Good Lord. I suppose, no, I hope this part of the mystery will be an unsolved puzzle. The answers are too horrible to contemplate. Damn it. It's all such a waste!

Scully left to visit her Mother at around 2 PM, I think. I'm not really sure because, God Bless her, she left me asleep on her couch. I, I was glad to think she might feel good enough to go see Margaret. I think Margaret Scully can be a big comfort to her. I just hope Scully lets her help.

And, if Scully IS starting at last to turn things around here (she seemed happy about paying her Mom a visit), then once again I ask - how can I belabor yet another possible bad memory about her dead daughter? And at any rate, I have to believe she was telling the truth about the Bill dream. I don't have much of a choice. The alternative is too dreadful to contemplate.

Besides - and here's where I tell you why it's a fucking joke that she has faith in me. Why? Because - I, I'm starting to doubt my feelings in this situation anyway. And my feelings may betray us both.

This afternoon when Scully said "I want you to be here when I get back," and then "I'm fine, Mulder. I just don't want to be alone," it pierced my heart. Jesus, I want to be here too. She...I almost think I could be helping her. God, I hope it's true. I know that when I woke up on that couch this afternoon and we were so close, it felt so good...She was so warm and...these are dangerous thoughts. I know it. I can't help them.

I...I kissed her forehead but I wanted to kiss her mouth. God help me I grabbed her arm and I wanted to pull her back down into my arms. I wanted to tell her...I wanted... Damn it - I just wanted to hold her close and tell her that I'd make...that things would be all right.

But, I'm afraid of what may be happening between us here. I, I'm afraid that my comforting her, and my caring may be going in a direction that isn't going to be safe, isn't going to be advisable for either of us. Christ. I don't want the emotional closeness over Emily's death that we are feeling now to turn into something we both may regret later. I can feel it in my heart - the more dangerous emotional connection between us spreading there. I think I can see the same thoughts on Scully's face. We may be playing with fire now - or maybe it's spontaneous combustion.

Heaven help us.

But, God, I know I have feelings for her. I can barely admit it but I know. And...I don't think it's right that I should have these feelings. It's not professional and it's not good for anything and...I just don't think I ever want her to know either because I don't think Scully...I have to maintain control. I need to shove these feelings back, way back and deep down into my mind, into my soul, and never think of them in Scully's presence. She's not stupid - she's preternaturally perceptive as a matter of fact. She'll know and then....what would we lose? The loss of her friendship would be more than I could stand.

Could she care for me? She couldn't possibly, except as a friend. Yeah, it's too much to even believe anything else. Too much to ask as well.

Fuck this. I'm going to close this bastard book now. I'm going to lock it up and if I was smart I'd throw away the rotten key. This is not helping! For crying out loud - how could I ever imagine that Scully would even entertain the thought of caring for me? Loving me? To quote the Latin - " aegri somnia" a sick man's dream. Yeah - that more than fits.

So, enough is enough. Scully will be coming home soon and I want to be calm and clear, and ready to lend an ear, just in case. Later, *torture* book - maybe.

XxX

SUNDAY, JANUARY 11, 1998, 10 AM

Dana Scully snuggled down under the comforter on her bed, pulling it up around her ears. The fluffy down warmth was wonderful and for the first time in weeks she actually felt a bit more calm, almost peaceful.

Saturday afternoon at her Mother's house had surprisingly helped to lift her mood. Margaret Scully had gone out of her way to be less clinging and obsessively worried, and more simply supportive, loving, and upbeat. Margaret's mood was infectious and finally her efforts succeeded in buoying her daughter's spirits.

Scully spent more time at her Mother's than she originally planned and called Mulder to let him know she was going to be a bit late so that he wouldn't worry.

"Oh, that's all right, take as long as you like," Mulder said, a grin in his voice, and Scully hung up the phone with a quizzical look on her face.

The first thing Scully noticed when she opened the apartment door, upon her return, was the aroma of simmering spaghetti sauce. It smelled delicious, and she realized immediately that she was starving. Taking that as a good sign she headed towards the kitchen. As she passed her dining room table she noticed it was set for two and she raised an eyebrow.

"Mulder?" she asked as she entered the kitchen.

"Oh, welcome back, how was your Mom?" Mulder asked, turning from the stove. He had on one of Scully's aprons and she grinned slightly at the sight.

"She was fine, she sent her regards," she replied, "is that what I think it is?" she added gesturing towards the stove.

"Oh, yeah, I thought you might be hungry, so I made some spaghetti." There was also a salad, and Italian bread on the side board. Mulder was practically buzzing with his barely contained pleasure at surprising her with dinner. Scully felt a small smile spring to her lips.

Scully walked over to the stove and looked down into the pot he was stirring. She sniffed, and looking over at him raised her eyebrow again.

"Oh, come on, Scully, don't look so surprised. I know how to make three things, well maybe four if you count coffee. Meat loaf, breakfast, and spaghetti. And the meat sauce is from scratch too, I'll have you know," he grinned at her, waving the spoon slightly for emphasis.

She smiled back, "I wasn't going to criticize your sauce at all, Mulder, in fact I was going to say I thought it smelled exquisite. I can hardly wait to eat, is it almost ready?"

Scully was met with a tremendous smile from Mulder, the kind with teeth.

They ate dinner. The whole thing tasted superb. It had been a really pleasant evening. Mulder insisted that she go to bed early, that she get her rest, and then he left her alone to go watch an old horror film on TV. Scully actually felt good about being alone for the first time in weeks. After a warm relaxing bath, she went to bed and had the first restful night's sleep in weeks as well.

Now, on Sunday morning, she was so warm and comfortable under her comforter that she wanted to enjoy sleeping in as long as she could. But then, a frown creased her brow.

"This IS Sunday, isn't it?" she thought. It had been her habit since the cancer and before Emily to attend church on Sunday. She had even begun to go to confession again. But now? No, now that wasn't an option any longer. She sighed as she put all thoughts of God and religion out of her mind. She just didn't want to think about them. It hurt too much and she was just starting to feel better this morning. "I just want a little peace - Please," she thought and then she shut her eyes.

There was a tiny knock on her bedroom door, "Scully, are you awake?"

"Mulder!" she thought instantly. She'd been so sleepy, and lost in her own thoughts there for a moment she'd almost forgotten about him. She blinked back the sleep and guilt in her eyes, and pushing the covers down replied, "Yes, Mulder, I'm awake. Uh...come in."

Mulder cracked the bedroom door and then pushed it aside with his hip. He was carrying a tray. There was breakfast for one and an extra cup of coffee on it.

"Oh wow," Scully thought, "He looks so nice. Nice? Ha! He looks incredibly handsome, refreshed and rested too," she amended. Mulder had showered and shaved, his hair was still slightly damp, and he was dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt and his glasses. He was barefoot too, Scully noticed, and as she studied his feet a slight fluttering started in her stomach, "I must be hungry," she thought bemused, as she once again put any out of the ordinary feelings about Mulder into her psychic filing cabinet. She sat up in bed, and plumped up the pillows at her back.

"OK, here's another of the three things I can cook, Scully," Mulder was saying as Scully stared at him in amazement, "Madam...your breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast and coffee," he said, placing the tray down on the bed and near her hands.

"Mulder!" she exclaimed, "Good grief, I...well I don't know what to say," she stammered.

"How about, pass the salt and pepper," he smiled shyly at her.

She snorted slightly, suppressing her laughter, "Mulder, you'd better watch out, a girl could get very spoiled..." she gestured over the tray.

"You, spoiled?" he raised an eyebrow at her for a change.

"Well, you do have a point," she chuckled and then she pushed the covers further aside. She pulled the tray closer over her lap, and then she really began to tuck into the food.

Mulder sat on the edge of her bed and sipped from the extra cup of coffee that had been on the tray. He had gotten her morning paper in from outside her apartment door and was now pouring over the news. He chuckled a bit now and again as he read. He suddenly guffawed very loudly and Scully looked up from cutting up her eggs.

"What?" she asked.

"The Stupendous Yappie is being sued," Mulder laughed looking over at her.

"You're kidding?" Scully put her knife and fork down.

"Would I kid about something like this?" he asked turning the pages around so that she could see the headline - *Television Psychic Sued in Paternity Suit*. There was a large file photo of the man himself accompanying the article.

Scully burst out laughing, "God, it serves that jumped up little jerk right! More power to the woman suing him."

"Who said it was a woman?" Mulder smirked, his head bent down, as he pretended to read the paper further.

"Mulder!?" Scully was helpless with laughter.

Mulder looked up at her and thought, "Thank God, she's laughing!" His heart filled with emotion and his chest became tight, <And she looks so much better this morning.> He felt the emotion reaching his face and he knew his ears were turning red, so he hastened to look back down at the paper before Scully saw what was written in his eyes.

Scully became quiet quickly because she had seen the expression on his face. She recognized the look of relief, mixed with pure happiness, and she was somewhat taken aback.

Mulder blinked slightly, and then he folded the paper up and nervously placed it on the bed.

"Scully, I...it's really great to see you laugh, you know, it's really...you look much better..." he let his voice trail off.

Scully picked up her cup of coffee and took a long sip. She felt her heart squeeze in her chest. Mulder's emotions were so plain to see and they should have frightened Scully in their intensity. Instead they didn't scare her at all. It felt really good to be with him like this - right, and real, and... she was becoming slightly flustered, so she drank more of her coffee and struggled to regain her composure.

Mulder stared at her for a fraction of a minute longer and then he glanced away and picked up the paper again. He opened it and cleared his throat, "Uh, Listen, Scully. There's a great old movie playing at that little art house theater in my neighborhood. *Bringing Up Baby,* have you ever seen it?"

"Isn't Cary Grant in that film?" Scully asked finishing her coffee.

"Yes, and Katherine Hepburn. It's what Hollywood affectionately used to call a *screwball comedy*."

"No, I've never seen it," Scully replied interest in her voice.

Mulder smiled at her evident interest, "Well, there's an early evening show - 5:25. I thought if you'd be up for it, we could go. My treat of course."

Scully looked at him. He looked so hopeful and caring. She knew he just wanted her good mood to continue. He wanted her to get out of the apartment and have some fun. He wanted her to lose herself with him at the movies. And, Scully thought instantly, she really did want to go with Mulder. She wanted to lose herself in his company and for some reason this idea suddenly didn't disturb her at all either.

"You know, Mulder, that sounds like it might be fun. I loved Cary Grant in *Arsenic and Old Lace*. If this film is even half as good it should be a laugh riot."

"Oh, it is REALLY funny, Scully, I can almost guarantee you'll enjoy it. Great! We can grab a late lunch maybe, and then go to the film, if that's ok. I need to stop by my place for a couple minutes anyway - to feed the fish," he chuckled, "We can go from there."

"All right, Mulder, that sounds like a plan," Scully replied.

XxX

LATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON

"Mulder, when did you find this place?" Scully asked in appreciation as they sat in a small bistro in Mulder's neighborhood. The restaurant was within walking distance of the theater. The menu was authentic Jewish style deli cuisine, with matzo ball soup, kreplach, borscht, goose liver and onions, mile high corn beef and rye, and thick rueben sandwiches.

The atmosphere was low key, with a quiet intellectual clientele - just the opposite of Mulder's usual greasy spoon dump of a restaurant with truck drivers and/or bikers at the counter, and a big haired waitress snapping her gum at your table. Even the decor was tasteful. The tables and booths were plain but comfortable with checkered tablecloths and little vases with fresh flowers in the center.

Mulder had gotten them a booth in the corner and now they were both enjoying each other's company over identical bowls of mushroom barley soup and a shared plate of goose liver pate with onions and crackers.

"You know, I just wandered in here one day, Scully. And then wham - their mushroom barley soup hooked me," he grinned at her as he took another spoonful into his mouth.

Scully looked into his eyes, "Mulder, I think they've reeled in another customer," she replied, and he smiled.

Scully felt so good. She was relaxed and at ease and...well, she was really enjoying herself. And Mulder? He looked almost like another person. Most of his haunted look of the previous weeks seemed to be gone and his face was composed, except when it was crinkled with his good humor. Scully even felt a bit giddy. She knew this was in part due to the horrendous stress she had been under during the last few weeks. But maybe it was due to something else - and she almost stopped her thoughts from going in that dangerous direction - almost. Scully pondered Mulder's graceful hand as he spooned soup into his mouth.

"Would you like some more coffee?" he asked her suddenly.

"Hmmm?" she replied coming back from her reverie, "Oh, yes, thank you," she said, picking up her cup to hand it to him. As she gave him the cup, their hands touched, and Scully let his fingers linger on hers for just a fraction longer than necessary. Mulder studied her face intently. He removed his hand and placed the cup down on the table. His hand shook slightly as he picked up the coffee pot and filled both their cups. Scully looked down at her soup and busied herself trying to fish an errant mushroom out of the broth.

When she looked back up Mulder was carefully placing the coffee cup by her plate, he didn't look at her but instead made a dive for more of the goose liver and crackers.

"So, you're an *Arsenic and Old Lace* fan?" Mulder asked, popping a liver laden cracker into his mouth.

"Yeah, it's such a funny film. I saw it for the first time in high school actually. But I read the stage script first. My high school drama class staged the play my senior year," Scully replied.

"Oh yeah? Did you have a part?" Mulder asked, raising both his eyebrows in amusement.

"As a matter of fact..."

"Scully, really?"

"Yes, I had a part."

"Well, which role did you play, Mortimer's girlfriend or what?"

"I was one of the Brewster sisters, one of his aunts," Scully admitted with a rueful grin.

"One of the *Auntie Maims*? Holy shit," Mulder chortled, "it figures - a poisoner seems somehow appropriate in hindsight, doesn't it?"

Scully chuckled, "I have to admit I did enjoy doing some extracurricular research regarding what poisons would best be masked by their introduction into elderberry wine."

Mulder was laughing hard, "I bet you did, Doc!"

"But you know, Mulder I really auditioned for a different part at first."

"A different part? Which one?"

"The Peter Lorre part, the Doctor of course," she grinned.

Mulder's eyes went wide and then he laughed so hard he spit part of a second cracker he was eating out onto the table. Scully laughed as well and handed him a napkin so he could pick up the mess.

"Peter Lorre, the plastic surgeon part? Oh, God, yeah, "Don't worry Johnny, I can feex your face," Mulder replied doing a pretty passable Peter Lorre imitation from the film.

"Yes, you'd better Doctor, because they say I look like Boris Karloff," Scully retorted with her own rather on-the-mark imitation of Raymond Massey in the film version.

Mulder gasped for breath, "You know, Boris Karloff played that part on Broadway, originally?" he gulped.

"No, I didn't know that," Scully answered, as she handed him another napkin.

"Yeah, he did, and that line about looking like Boris Karloff brought down the house every night," Mulder replied. He had stopped laughing and was more under control.

Mulder looked into Scully's eyes. He was just thinking how lovely she looked with her blue eyes sparkling when the waitress came over to their table and interrupted his train of thought, "Can I get you two some more coffee?" she asked, pleasantly.

"Scully?" Mulder asked, not taking his eyes off his partner's face.

"Well, maybe half a pot," she replied smiling gently at him.

"OK, coming right up," the waitress smiled back.

They spent the rest of the meal in more light, bantering conversation. It was much like their every day repartee at the office. Both of them became very comfortable falling into this old pattern and the afternoon seemed idyllic as they whiled away the hours.

At the conclusion of the meal, Mulder picked up the check, as promised, and then they started to leave. Their winter coats were hanging on a rack right next to the table. Mulder hastened to grab Scully's long grey coat. When she stood up, he gently placed it around her shoulders. Mulder's hands touched her arms as he settled the coat around her. He didn't let go of her arms. He gently ran his hands down the sleeves of her coat. His touch was so gentle, so protective, and Scully held her breath. She knew at once that she wanted to turn in his arms and, she wanted...What the hell did she want? <Not that!> She felt alarmed. <Why not?> Her thoughts were interrupted as Mulder released her, and pulled his own coat from the rack. They walked out together into the dark of the early January evening.

Mulder's mind was spinning slightly. He felt almost dizzy with confusion and guilt. "God, I, what am I doing?" he thought in dismay. Scully's close proximity, her warmth, her more buoyant mood - it was all combining to make him feel - make him feel what? He wanted to touch her again, and again, to touch her and have her really know for once what he felt for her to...Christ - this was wrong, so wrong, even though it felt so right.

He had to stop himself here and now. This wasn't going to help matters at all. It might just offend Scully, or send her reeling back down into depression if she thought her friend and partner was harboring any desires for her. He was risking ruining a really nice afternoon with his pathetic fantasies.

After all, his desires were probably brought on by his need to protect and nurture Scully through the trauma of Emily's death. At least that's how he was going to rationalize his feelings now - it was the safer road. He was just infatuated because of his need to help her get through this crisis and that was all. His feelings would probably fade away after this was over. And besides, if Scully was placing her faith in him and not her God, the least he could do for her was keep himself from fantasizing about what might be possible between them.

Mulder's fingers reached through his slightly open coat neck. He touched the cross, her cross, on it's chain, where it lay under his shirt. His fingers stroked it in an absent minded way. "I need to stop thinking with my johnson, for crying out loud," he thought, in disgust. "That certainly wasn't a very Godlike thing to do, unless of course you were a Greek one, like Zeus," he mused with bitter self depreciation. He dropped his hand away from his shirt front. He turned and glanced over at Scully. She smiled at him and his head cleared a bit. He slowed his pace because he noticed she was falling behind his long strides.

Scully raised an eyebrow, "Mulder is actually slowing down for me? Will wonders never cease?" she thought, and then she impulsively wound her arm through his.

Mulder almost jumped, but he just caught himself before he did so. Instead he sighed and settled into perfect step with Scully as they continued down the street towards the theater. "This is nice," he thought, "What the hell, she's a good friend, we've had a fun, friendly afternoon together, and now we're going to have an enjoyable evening. And hey, at least arm and arm, she can keep up with me," he nodded exhaling into the cold night air. They arrived at the theater, arms still entwined and still in perfect synchronicity.

Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn were chasing the leopard named "Baby" in the woods. A crazed wire haired fox terrier was chasing all three of them and Scully was really laughing along with most of the rest of the audience.

Mulder had to grab the popcorn bucket he had bought for them to share before she knocked it to the floor. He was laughing as well, in fact he was laughing like an idiot, but not at the movie. He was laughing because she was laughing again, and it was the most important thing to him in all the world that evening.

Scully calmed down a bit finally and settled back to catch her breath in anticipation of the next comedic moment. She reached over for the popcorn and Mulder quickly placed the bucket within reach of her hand. He rested it against the chair arm between them.

And then incredibly, as she munched the popcorn, Scully shifted closer and soon she was leaning against him comfortably as she watched the screen. Mulder glanced down at her. She was really engrossed and smiling. Mulder breathed out slightly and then gently moved his arm up and over the back of Scully's theater seat. He rested his arm lightly across the seat's back. When he felt her shift even closer, Mulder draped his arm more heavily and then down, and completely across Scully's shoulders. He thought he felt her give a little sigh. Mulder held her close. <She's not protesting, she's, she's actually letting me hold...touch...I'll just allow myself this, allow us this...> his thoughts spun again and then they spun away because he was in heaven.

Scully did sigh. Having Mulder hold her like this in the darkened theater, amongst the faceless crowd around them, was safe. It felt safe, she felt so protected and comforted and....no one would see. It felt...it felt so marvelous.

The film unreeled and as Cary Grant and Kate Hepburn careened off the walls, Mulder and Scully reached a perfect stillness, in the dark, under each other's touch.

Before the credits ended and the lights came up, Mulder carefully removed his arm from Scully's shoulders and busied himself with gathering up their half full popcorn bucket and empty soda cups. The lights finally did come up, and he helped Scully extricate her coat from the seat in front of her. He shrugged into his own long black winter coat.

"Mulder, you were right, that was hilarious!" she exclaimed slightly breathless from all her laughter.

"Yeah, it's a classic. I love the part when the dinosaur skeleton..."

"I thought I'd pass out I was laughing so hard," Scully smiled back at him as they walked up the theater aisle. They walked out into the lobby and Mulder placed his hand on the small of her back to steer her towards the door. As Scully walked ahead of him and through the theater's glass exit door, she ran head on into Melvin Frohike.

"Whoa, Agent Scully!" he exclaimed trying to back pedal as fast as he could. His hasty retreat caused him to plow right into Byers and then Langly as both men came up behind him.

"Jesus, Frohike, my foot!" Langly exclaimed, "Hey, Mulder, Scully? Que pasa?" he asked as he spotted the two Agents.

Byers smiled. He was the most shy of the trio and seldom spoke unless he really had something to add to the conversation.

Mulder quickly grabbed the back of Scully's coat and pulled her gently away from a potentially embarrassing collision with the grizzled photographer. He placed her carefully to the side and then dropped his hands instantly, shoving them deep into his coat pockets.

"Hey, what are you guys doing here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, G-Man," Frohike chuckled eyeing up the situation with a slight leer on his face.

"Give it a rest, Frohike," Byers interrupted instantly looking into Scully's face.

Scully smiled slightly at him and then she turned to Frohike, in an attempt to make conversation to cover the awkwardness of the moment, "Are you three going to see 'Bringing Up Baby,' Frohike?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't think that would be your type of film," Mulder hastened to add.

"Hey, why not, it's a classic," Frohike blustered.

"Classic, Yeah...But I just didn't think it had enough heavy breathing in it for your taste," Mulder smirked.

Frohike shrugged his shoulders and looked at his two companions. All three spoke in unison, "Katherine Hepburn!"

"What?" Scully asked, amused confusion on her face.

"Katherine Hepburn," Byers replied patiently, "she's a Goddess," he sighed.

"Yeah, she's HOT," Frohike laughed.

"A consummate comedienne," Langly chimed in.

Mulder guffawed, "OK you guys, I didn't realize you were so hung up on Ms. Hepburn, my apologies."

"Yeah, well, even I can appreciate a fine performance, Mulder, even if it isn't between the sheets," Frohike retorted.

"Frohike..." Byers warned again.

Scully was smiling despite the randiness of Frohike's conversation. He could be amusing at times and she was definitely in the mood to be amused that evening.

"So, you two are out for an evening on the town?" Langly asked.

"Yeah. We, well, we just decided to get away from the J-O-B," Mulder started to explain awkwardly, "you know, relax a little with a good movie."

"Yeah, us too, we were starting to go crazy over the latest issue of the Lone Gunman. We had to get out of the office or rip our hair out," Langly replied.

"No shit," Frohike added, 'and I can't afford to lose any more," he smiled in a good natured way, running his hand over his head.

Byers was glancing at his watch, "Hey guys, we'd better get inside, we're going to miss the beginning of the film in a minute."

"Oh yeah, OK," Frohike answered. Then he gave a little bow towards Scully, "A pleasure to see you, as always, Agent Scully."

"The pleasure is mutual, Mr. Frohike," she smiled back at him. Frohike puffed up a bit, and the trio turned to enter the theater. Mulder started to turn away, but as he did, he just caught a snatch of their conversation when they thought they were out of earshot.

"You idiot, Frohike, couldn't you see what he was doing?" Byers was saying.

"What, Mulder?" Frohike was stammering.

"Her daughter's only been dead a few weeks for Christ sake, he's taking her out to try to cheer her up, I swear, you..."

"Jesus, I didn't think of that. Shit, I should have my..."

"Ass kicked," Langly added as they entered the theater.

Mulder quickly glanced at Scully. She was biting her lower lip slightly. "Shit," he thought, "she heard them." He tenderly reached over and took her small hand in his.

"Hey, Scully, what do you say I take you home now, OK?" he began, quietly. "It's been a great day. I...I really had a wonderful time," he continued. Scully looked down at their entwined hands. Mulder whispered, "Scully, let's go - I don't want you to get too worn out, all right?" he chewed on his lower lip as well, and then made a conscious effort to stop because she was looking up into his eyes.

"All right, Mulder, that's fine," she replied a weak smile playing on her lips.

XxX

LATE SUNDAY EVENING

The ride back to Scully's apartment had been silent. Scully was brooding. She had heard the Gunmen's comment about Emily. She bore them no malice, she just simply hadn't wanted to be reminded of her daughter. The whole day had been so wonderful. She'd finally felt herself relaxing until then.

Now thoughts of Emily filled her head. She sat rigidly in the car seat. She'd only known the child a short time but she now knew the meaning of the phrase mother's bond. She had bonded with Emily. She had so desperately wanted the child to live. The idea that she had given life to someone when she no longer thought she could had breathed a hope into her soul. Yet, like her ova, that hope had been snatched from her. She twisted her hands around the leather straps of her purse.

Mulder pulled into a parking space in front of her apartment. She heard him cut the engine.

"Do you want to be alone or do you want me to come up?" he asked softly.

She didn't know. She already felt alone, even with him sitting inches from her in the car. She looked at her hands. She then turned to face Mulder. She started to speak but froze when she looked into his eyes.

His hair had fallen into his eyes as he regarded her. There was so much kindness in those eyes. Her anger began to ebb as she looked at him and remembered the wonderful day they'd had together. Any thoughts she might have entertained of sending him home flew out the window.

"I want you to stay again, Mulder. If you don't mind."

He smiled at her. "No Scully, of course I don't mind."

"Who was she kidding?" he wondered. They opened their car doors and got out. He sidled up behind her placing his hand at the small of her back as she walked up the sidewalk in front of him. But this time he allowed his hand to linger and eventually let it rest on her hip. She said nothing, in fact, he even thought she leaned into him a little.

They made their way into the apartment and Scully immediately headed for the kitchen. Mulder caught her arm and she whirled around and fixed him with a surprised look.

"What?"

"Where were you going?" he asked.

"To make some tea," she said chuckling at him.

"No. Let me do it. You sit down."

They stood there regarding each other for a moment. He was still holding her arm. He trailed his hand down to hers and held it. Scully felt prickly as his fingers brushed hers back and forth. She watched their hands for a long time before she finally spoke up.

"OK, Mulder. Knock yourself out."

He finally let go and she instantly missed the contact. She laughed as he saluted her and made his way into the kitchen. She went over to the couch and flopped down sinking back into the cushions. She propped her tired feet up onto the coffee table. Something she usually never did when someone was at her home. But Mulder was different. She idly thought Mulder belonged here as much as she did. She quickly tamped the thought down.

She noticed a white envelope lying on the coffee table. She raised her eyebrow and then remembered. Her mother had given it to her yesterday and she hadn't had a chance to open it yet. Her mother said it was some pictures Bill had taken and she wanted Scully to get to look at them too.

Mulder was bustling about in the kitchen and seemed quite content to hum and make tea. She smiled at his back and allowed her eyes to linger just a little to long on what she termed his "exquisite derriere." She picked up the envelope and pulled out the pictures.

Most of them were from Christmas and a few of Bill's new baby. Then one picture fell out and landed in Scully's lap. It was a picture of Missy when she was a child. Scully remembered looking at it while they were in San Diego. Missy looked so much like Emily. She had lost them both.

Scully stared at the picture and felt the lump rise in her throat. She didn't want to see it but she couldn't tear her eyes away. She brought a trembling hand to her lips in a vain attempt to stifle a sob. Mulder's large frame appeared instantly in front of her. She didn't look at him but heard him sit the mugs of tea down on the table. He sat next to her.

"Hey, what is it? What's wrong?" He leaned over and saw the picture.

He abruptly turned his head away. He forced himself to look back. Tears streamed down Scully's face but she said nothing, just stared at the photo. Mulder tentatively reached out for it. She let him take it. He set it on the table.

He turned back to her and she launched herself into his arms. He tucked her head under his chin and ran his hands over her back in an attempt to soothe her. Her shoulders hitched and she kept repeating over and over, "It's not fair."

"Shh," he said kissing her forehead. She finally looked up into his eyes. He moved a hand around to her face, cupping her cheek. "God, Scully I'm so sorry. None of this would have ever happened if you hadn't met me...I feel like such an ass for bringing this pain into your..."

She placed a finger over his lips. Her breathing was slowly returning to normal. "Mulder, don't ever say that. It's not your fault. You didn't kidnap me or steal my ova or kill my child. You had no way of knowing those things would happen to me, nor did I. I'm with the X- Files...with you because I choose to be...because I want to be. I couldn't make it through what I'm going through with out you Mulder. Don't put this guilt on your shoulders."

He pulled her close again and resumed stroking her back. She sighed and settled into him. She idly thought it felt so good to be in his arms. It felt warm and safe. She inhaled his scent and immediately felt a little dizzy. The rhythmic strokes of his hands over her back were no longer soothing.

Her mind drifted to what it would feel like if her shirt were no longer there, or if his hands were some where else on her body. She backed away from him again and looked into his eyes. He looked into hers. Their mouths were dangerously close to one another. Scully was desperately fighting the urge to lean forward and kiss him.

"You still want your tea?" he asked. She felt each of his words in puffs of breath that startled her lips. Her eyes slipped shut briefly and then she composed herself. "This is your partner and best friend,"she mentally chastised, "get a hold of yourself Dana."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks."

He moved away and got her cup for her. "How 'bout I build a fire?"

Her mind supplied he already had and she was desperately trying to put it out. "Yeah, that'd be nice, Mulder." He moved off the sofa and began stacking logs in the fireplace.

He fumbled for a moment and found some matches on the mantle. The smell of sulfur stung his nostrils. He was glad. All that proximity to Scully had assaulted him with her delicate perfume and it was doing the most delightful, yet potentially embarrassing things to his body. He chastised himself, "She needs your comfort not your raging hormones, Mulder."

He worked hard at getting the fire going and it provided enough of a distraction that he was able to get himself back under control. He lit some scraps of newspaper under the logs and soon they were catching fire. He recalled feeling the same way just a few moments ago. It was amazing what simply holding Scully in his arms did to him.

Maybe it was the way she smelled. Or the way she looked. Or the way she felt. God it was everything about her. The word came unbidden to his mind, love. He was totally, hopelessly in love with her. This day had only served to reiterate that fact. He couldn't let her know that. She didn't need that now, she had enough to deal with. He sat down on the rug in front of the fire. He heard her stirring behind him. He cautioned a glance over his shoulder and saw her moving to him holding the tea mugs.

"You forgot this," she said smiling at him.

"Yeah, thanks," he took the mug from her and their fingers brushed. She allowed the contact to linger. She needed to feel close to him now. He was the only thing keeping her from insanity. If she still believed in God, she'd thank him for the comfort that was Mulder. She sat next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. She felt his arm snake around her and pull her closer.

They sat watching the fire burn for a long time. The flames licked up the chimney as it roared to life. The wood popped and snapped and soon was the only noise she was conscious of. She dimly wondered if it was making Mulder nervous. She knew how afraid he was of fire, yet he'd offered to build it. She noted he kept his distance but he was still watching it, almost transfixed.

"This doesn't make you nervous?" she asked.

He swallowed hard. He felt sweat bead on his forehead, "Of course it makes me nervous having you this close to me," he thought, then he realized her meaning.

"No. Actually, I read something about how people who are afraid of snakes often learn to overcome their fear by exposing themselves over and over again to them. I'm conducting a little experiment."

"Oh."

"Yeah, and besides this is a very controlled fire. I can deal with it." She looked at him and he smiled. She turned back to the fire and snuggled in close to him again. "Yeah right, controlled," he told himself, "just like your wildfire feelings for the woman in your arms? Mulder, you're an idiot."

He touched the cross around his neck and sighed. He still couldn't believe she'd given it to him. He didn't want her too. Her giving up that cross signified the death of her faith. He shook his head realizing Emily had taken that with her when she died. Yet another thing the bastards had managed to take from Scully.

The one thing she'd never been skeptical about. Religion. <What a pair we make.> He was doubting his belief in little grey men while she pondered her faith. But that wasn't how it was supposed to be. Scully was the rock. She was firm in her beliefs. He could not allow the shadow powers to take that from her, it was too much. He touched the cross again, it felt like fire to him.

"Scully?"

"Hmmm."

"Why do you doubt your faith?"

She turned to face him. He put his hands on her shoulders. She was regarding him seriously. She reached out and touched the cross. Then dropped her hand back to her lap.

"I've lost so much. Once I would have told you God was testing me, but I don't believe that anymore. I used to believe in a world where evil existed but good prevailed. I don't believe that anymore either. I've seen so much and it seems that those who want to do ill have more success than those of us who want to do good. The God I learned about would never allow that to happen, Mulder. So how can I believe?"

"I don't know. I still believe in what we do because I still believe in good. I just don't know if I believe in God."

"Well, how can you believe in good and not in God?" he said tilting her chin to face him.

She smiled at him, but it was a pained smile. "Mulder, you don't believe in God, why do you care what I think?"

"I care about you, Scully. And I guess I hate seeing you struggling with this, at a time like this. Before, I would have imagined you would have turned to your faith for comfort. I hate to see you with out that comfort. Why don't you take the cross back Scully? I can't take the pain away, but I want to give you everything I can that will help to lessen it."

She stiffened at his words and rose. She walked to the window. She was silent a long time. Finally, he rose and stood behind her. Settling his hands on her shoulders.

"Mulder, I feel wrong wearing it. I'm doubting every single institution I once believed in. The only thing I trust...the only one I trust now is you. I want to believe, Mulder, I'm just not sure I can. You're the one who's always been open to the extreme. I guess I'm hoping your wearing that cross will do the same for me some how. I need that from you. I need the strength of your beliefs."

He sighed heavily behind her and placed a small kiss on the bare skin between her shirt and neck. She was sure he meant it to be an innocent gesture of comfort, but to her it felt anything but innocent. A bolt of pure desire shot straight through her. She shuddered.

"Whatever you need, Scully."

She turned and faced him. "Are you going to stay here tonight?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

"Then I am," he brushed a lock of hair off her face. She stared at his mouth. She desperately wanted to kiss him. To sink into him and let him make love to her and comfort her. But she stamped the feelings down. This was hardly the time for such folly. "Isn't it enough you're monopolizing all his time, Dana?" she asked herself. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Mulder. I...I'm glad we spent the day together, despite all this junk tonight I actually relaxed and I so desperately needed to do that. Thank you for being there for me."

"You don't have to thank me Scully. What are friends for?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'm going to bed, do you need anything?"

He shook his head.

"Very well then. Good night, Mulder."

"Good night, Scully."

XxX

MONDAY, JANUARY 11, 1998, MIDNIGHT

Midnight. The witching hour. Witches connote magic, and magic - yes, this was a magical day! I have hope that Scully, that we, may be seeing some light at the end of the tunnel at last. I feel such relief tonight. Scully had so much fun today, and God, I really enjoyed myself too. She's eating and sleeping better (no nightmares lately, since the one I now think may have been about her brother Bill after all.) But best of all the paleness is leaving her face and that little furrow in her brow is almost gone as well.

Certainly, there are still issues. I still have the cross. This bothers me, but I think it's something we can deal with over time, at least I hope so. Shit. I have to stop thinking about her faith. She'll come around. She has to eventually. I mean, she can't just keep denying her God, and placing her faith in me forever. I think she's too much of a pragmatist to stay in denial for that long. And as for her faith in me - well, I just hope it isn't misplaced.

No, I'm going to try to be upbeat. She'll regain her faith, and I'll do anything I can to see that she does. We can work it out! And you know, I even think I have the confidence to leave Scully alone to her own devices at last. Christ, I guess that's a good thing all the way around. Skinner called on my cell phone late Saturday. He was polite, and still showing concern for Scully. I'm sure he wonders when I'll...we'll be back on the job, though.

But what a day! I think both of us were really tired by the end of it, but it was more than worth the fatigue! Sure, I'm exhausted. The whole day was very emotional - emotionally taxing for both of us. But it's a good exhaustion for once. Good because Scully is better and...well, pardon me for belaboring the point but, I'm walking on air a bit here. Hey, and by the way, I'm sorry I called you "torture book", all right? Mea Culpa my little confessional. Things are going great, so good, so wonderfully so.....

Damn it to hell. Why can't I be content? This has been such a fabulous day - we were so close, we were so happy...why let this mood fade...I should shut up now, I should tell myself to get fucked....but it's too late!

Now, I have to ask - God help me - what's wrong with this picture? And why do I need to ask that question? Why do I do this to myself, to Scully? Because damn it, Mulder, you have to analyze, search out, discover, and seek the truth, so that you can believe. Even when that need to believe means unending pain for you, and anyone you may care bout. Credo ut intelligam? - I believe so that I may understand? I believe so that I may suffer is more to the point, I think. And so those words....

Emotional? Confessional? Those words are something of an understatement, aren't they Mulder - you prick? I shouldn't go there, oh hell - I can't...I must STOP!...it was such a magical day. We had a magnificent time, and I just have to keep telling myself that it was all for Scully, all for..crap. All right, why must I always be delusional? Because I am a fucking coward that's why! Well, screw that, no one's going to read this shit. This book is under lock and key and...

FINE! I'm not going to beat around the bush here any more. I can't stifle my emotions for one more second. I just can't, because if I do I'm afraid where they may take me, where they may take us. If I write about them I can rationalize them, and then...I'll fucking sublimate them - IT'S THE ONLY WAY! So - here IT comes, and there IT goes, and the subject is never going to come up again.

Dear Diary - Some things are becoming clear to me, yessir! Certain matters are becoming as clear as the crystal blue of Scully's eyes - clear, dangerous dreams, and dreams I'm not going to tell anyone, especially Scully. No, these things are going to remain between these pages now, and I'm going to hide, conceal, the dreams way back in my mind, and down deep in my heart, because although I'm going to confess them here these thoughts should never see the light of day. And they won't, I'd rather die than let them out.

Day? Light? My heart is being revealed in the glare of bright white daylight. That muscle in my chest is under a spotlight, the shafts of a klieg light and those shafts are piercing it! After today I, I can't deny it any longer. I'm in love with her. I'm in love with Dana Scully, my partner, my friend, my trusted friend. I'm sorry Scully. I can't help myself any longer.

It's been too much to hold her, to be close to her, to comfort her, to wear her cross for God's sake - to have her faith! It's more than anyone can expect me to go through and not want, need... How can I be expected to deny what I really feel for her? How can anyone blame me for loving her now?

Oh Scully. I will allow myself, us, this one paragraph - before I do what I have to do and banish these ideas from my mind, and flip the switch that turns out the light shining on (in?) my heart. Dana, if you should ever read this I just want you to know I wish - I wish that we could celebrate this love. Oh hell - I love you so much. It's not a pure, romanticized love, no, it's the love of a man for a woman and all that entails. Respect, loyalty, honor, tenderness, compassion, and so many other words - and yes passion. I want to touch you, to feel your body in my arms, to give you pleasure to...receive pleasure from you in return. I want us to be one. We've been spiritually one for a long, long time I think. I just...I want, forgive me, I want us to be physically one as well. And I only have one last thing to say to you. I will love you with my dying breath and beyond even that, Dana - but I will never, ever hurt you by letting you know it. You deserve to be your own master, unfettered by me and my wants and needs. Stay your own course. I'll let you. I respect you too much to do anything else.

So, dear diary, I have to rein in my heart and soul now because.....

The whole day and then tonight, back at her apartment, was the worst. If I called this a torture book then this whole day was torture with a capital T. But heaven help me it was divine torture - But how could I be any more treacherous? I was treacherous, a traitor to our friendship. A traitor because I let myself covet her soul, and lust for her body. Sure, I'm only human, but I think she needs me, expects me to be something more for her right now. Like a friend that she can rely on - not a lover.

She's called me friend so many times, and tonight I said "You don't have to thank me Scully. What are friends for?" Friends are for support in times like these - they are not for what I want us to have, to be together. But God, I want her. And it isn't just the sex. I am so lonely. I just want someone to share with, to protect, to care for and really hold, and have them know how much I really care...Oh fuck it.

I told you these things should never see the light of day. Why? Because they're like malignant toadstools on my soul and the only place they really should thrive is in the dark underbelly of my heart. They should stay in the dark where they can't ever compromise her.

I know loving her is wrong. Why? There are so many reasons. Obvious ones like the basic logistics of such a relationship and the impact on our work come to mind. Ho, is that elementary - How PC! God, how stupid that sounds. And it is naive. Crap, the main reason my love is wrong is because I know deep down, well - I know she'll never love me. Scully is putting her faith in me at the moment. I know she wants me here, needs me to act as an anchor for her right now. Her need for me is an immediate need. It lies in the here and now of her depression and loss. I think when she recovers from the shock of losing Emily she's going to realize that...well I just think things will change. She'll go back to being Agent Dana Scully and I'll go back to being...damned?

I'm in hell. But as long as Scully's not it doesn't matter.

I look into her eyes and sometimes I see...I see it there - maybe she does care. Maybe she feels the same? And here's the real horror of it - dear little journal. What if I'm making her feel it? I mean what if she thinks she should love me because - she's lost her faith and I'm all she has left, or she's doing it out of - God - gratefulness? guilt? loneliness? or pity? Dear God, I don't want her under those conditions. I don't want to make her think she should love me. It feels like force. It feels like a betrayal of her trust in me...it feels like rape. I don't want to use her that way. I'd kill myself first.

So where does that leave us? It leaves Scully at peace maybe for the first time in weeks - and I will do everything I can to see that she stays there. It leaves me with this vow. I will not give in to these feelings "Lead me not into temptation, Lord?" You bettcha. I will continue to deny. I will center all my thoughts and strive for the clarity of my resolve. I will be merely a good friend, a best friend and confident, protector and partner, and backup for Scully. AND THAT IS ALL. From now on, I AM the anchor, the rock I said I would be in that first pathetic journal entry. The one I made on the yellow legal pad. I owe her that much and I owe her so much more. There is no question. "Cadit quaestio" - the question drops - END OF STORY! Good night.

XxX

12 AM MONDAY MORNING JANUARY 11 JOURNAL OF DANA K. SCULLY

I don't know why I'm doing this. I guess because Karen Koseff suggested I do it. I haven't even told Mulder I'm talking with her. Well, I've just spoken with her once recently. But I had to talk to someone about all this that's going on in my head.

I spoke with her on the phone when we first got back from San Diego, but I'm actually going to see her next week. In the meantime, she suggested I get all of my feelings on paper. Psychologists often believe writing one's problems down on paper helps the person to own their problems. I don't want to own my problems, I just want them to go away.

I've examined everything. I've paid special attention to my diet, scrutinized everything I've read or watched on television and even over scrutinized all my conversations trying to figure out where these ideas are coming from. My scientific mind can't come up with a logical explanation and I'm terribly frustrated by it. Maybe there isn't a reason for them other than just the sheer stress of losing Emily.

Loss. I seem to know it so intimately now. I lost three months of my life that I can't account for. I lost a sister and then a daughter I never had a chance to know. I also fear I've lost my faith. Maybe that's selfish. Mom seems to think I feel this way. I went to see her today. She didn't berate me about my feelings. Mom just thinks because of all the things I've lost I selfishly believe a caring God wouldn't take them from me. Maybe she's right. But damn it what am I supposed to do, blindly accept those things. I refuse.

It isn't right to have that much taken from you and I don't think I'm selfish for feeling that way. Perhaps I do want too much or expect too much. I always want things to make sense and none of this does. I guess that's the problem. Too little in my life makes sense now and it's really making me uncomfortable.

Even Mulder is making less sense to me than he normally does. That's not fair, it's me really. I'm having trouble making sense of the feelings I'm having for Mulder and the feelings he seems to be having for me. God, today was wonderful. I actually relaxed for once. I haven't done that in so long.

He was so wonderful. I can't believe I'm saying that but it's true. He made me laugh and comforted me when it got to be too much. I used to feel so horrible when I broke down in front of him. I still do but it doesn't seem so bad now. I trust Mulder, often more than I trust my own family, so I guess it seems right to show him that side of myself. I know he won't judge and he never pushes me with this, even though he can push the hell out of me in other areas, and I couldn't be more grateful to him.

I gave him my cross. He's not comfortable with it, I guess I wouldn't be either in his shoes. He doesn't believe in God. What surprises me is he seems to be upset that I doubt now. Maybe it's because he's doubting his own beliefs. He has always expected me to be rock solid on this issue and here I am letting him down. I'm so sorry, Mulder, but I just can't believe now. All I can do is believe in you. It's crazy I know but I need you to be strong for me now.

What am I saying? He has been so strong and warm and so many other things that make me nervous. I actually slept peacefully for the first time the other day when he held me. I was completely taken aback when I came home the other night and he'd made dinner...he even brought me breakfast in bed. That was a little unnerving. There he was trying to cheer me up and all I could think about was the fact that both of us were in my bed. Together...well not together TOGETHER. I actually felt like I wanted that though. I don't know how to feel about it. I chalk it up to the fact that I haven't had a date in so long but I'm beginning to believe it's more than all that.

All the little touches we've shared over time. The way he guides me through doors, his hand ever present at the small of my back. He always leans in close to talk to me when we're discussing a case. At first those things bothered me, but then I realized it wasn't a dominance thing with him. Mulder is so very private and protective and that's how he manifests those things. I know he does it because he trusts me. I trust him too, more than myself now. What else do you feel for him Dana? Why is it so hard for you to talk about that?

He's kissed me chastely so many times. I never let it bother me much. I mean, every time he touches me it makes me tingle all over and I really hate that he can make me react so strongly. But lately it's worse. Tonight, when he kissed the back of my neck, it was hard to fight the urge to turn and kiss him back.

I know he meant it to comfort me. He's trying so hard to make me feel safe and feel better and I...I what? Damn it, I will allow myself this feeling even if it is only in this stupid journal. I love him. I love Fox Mulder. He's a wonderful man and he cares about me and I'm going to allow myself to at least enjoy that, even if it is only in my mind.

I say I trust him and love him but why can't I tell him about the dreams. I guess I'm just afraid. I'm not afraid of what he'll think so much as I'm afraid of what he'll do. He already feels so much guilt over what has happened to me, I don't want to cause him more. I won't cause him more. I'll just talk these things out with Karen and get through them the best I can. It's the least I can do for Mulder. He's already done so much for me.

I'll close now. I'm sure I'll have more to write once I've talked to Karen.

XxX

FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 1998 HIGH NOON

Scully pulled her coat up around her neck. It was a cold January day. A Friday. She'd decided to come back to work on Monday. Mulder had returned with her as well. She thought it would help. <Idle hands are the devil's playground?> Her idle mind was home for demons now. Better to face the daily grind than what lurked in her thoughts back in her apartment - even with Mulder present to comfort her, and even after that almost idyllic Sunday they had spent together. "God, that pleasant moment had been short lived," she thought bitterly.

She was lost in the rhythmic clack of her shoes on the pavement as she walked to lunch. She and Mulder had been working on paperwork all morning and Scully finally said she needed to get outside for awhile, even if it was below zero. She didn't really feel the cold - at least not the cold of the air.

Mulder had joked about calling the Gunmen on something frivolous, something they had discussed on Sunday but which she didn't even remember. He had asked her to pick up some chili for him while she was out.

She crossed the street with the light. She found herself in one of the many parks scattered throughout DC. She didn't know why she was drawn there. This one wasn't one of your more picturesque parks. The only thing parkish about it was the fountain, now empty, the rest of the place was covered with cement or cobblestones. There were a few anemic looking trees that had seen better days before the car exhaust and vandals had gotten to them. They clutched at the sky now as if they wanted to escape the cement they were moored in. Scully sat down on one of the many benches and watched the DC suits bustling through their lunch hours. "I'm like that more often than not," she told herself silently, "and it's surprising how so many of us want to get out of the office - no matter what the weather."

Despite the cold, Scully felt lazy. No lazy wasn't exactly right she thought. Lassitude was probably a more accurate word. She felt listless. A feeling that was awkward on Scully. She didn't remember a time when she simply just wanted to sit back and watch the world go by. Every time she tried something interrupted her. She crossed her feet at the ankles, cursing her small frame. Her feet never touched the ground, forcing her to stretch her short legs out, hooking her heels into the brick sidewalk.

More suits hustled by and she felt a little smug. She wasn't going to be like that today. Today she'd merely sit here and relax. "Then why don't I feel at ease?" she thought, a sudden chill running up her spine. <God, maybe the cold is getting to me.> She shook herself - NO! - today she was going to revel in the fact she didn't have to rush anywhere. The only thing on her agenda was two cups of chili for her and her partner and she'd do that when she got to it.

A child's laughter interrupted her thoughts. She glanced over and saw a young girl with brown curly hair. She was playing some sort of game with her mother, it looked like peek-a-boo or something. Scully couldn't tell, the child's back was to her. The girl was only 3 or 4, about Emily's age. Scully instantly felt sad. How could she miss someone she only knew for such a short amount of time? She forced her gaze away from the mother and daughter.

She felt angry again. She'd been angry a lot lately. Ever since she'd been back from San Diego she felt angry impulses she couldn't quite contain. She'd talked to Karen Koseff about it and the psychologist had suggested she keep a journal and work out more. The combination of the exercise and writing her thoughts on paper had been helping but the feelings were still there. She made a note to have a long session with her journal that evening.

She looked back up and the girl and her mother were walking past Scully. The child turned her head and looked at Scully as she went by. Scully froze. The child's eyes looked so much like the eyes of someone familiar. She racked her mind to think of who. God, they, they looked a little like Mulder's eyes. But more to the point they looked like photos she had seen of his sister - the little girl's eyes looked like Samantha's eyes. "What.. why should that bother me?" she thought and then she felt another more violent shiver run like an electric shock through her body. "Dear God, that dream," she gasped. She got up in near panic and began to run back to the J. Edgar Hoover Building, all thoughts of warm bowls of chili forgotten in her haste.

XxX

SUNDAY JANUARY 18, LATE EVENING

A pale light filtered into Scully's room, bathing her face in white. Mulder watched her from the door. His tall form filled the door frame. It was late, nearly 11 p.m., and he couldn't sleep. He was indulging in something he felt terribly guilty about but refused to give up. Since he'd been staying with her, he frequently watched her sleep.

He had started a few nights before. Her soft cries had woken him from his fitful slumber on her couch. He had walked to the door of her bedroom, which she had begun leaving open, to see her twisting and turning in the sheets. Mulder had taken a few steps into the room and she stilled. He remained a few moments but then she seemed to relax. From that night forward, he would make a check on her every night.

Tonight, she seemed peaceful. But he was wary. She had screamed the previous evening, waking him from a dead sleep. She either didn't remember the dream or refused to tell him about it. He assumed it was the latter. For some reason she was afraid to tell him about the dreams. He assumed they were about Emily and far too painful for her to talk about. It still bothered him. He felt so responsible for her pain the least she could do was share it with him.

He heard a muffled sound come from across the room. She was twisting in her sleep again. His body went stock still and he became cold. She was having another nightmare. She murmured again and seemed to quiet. He balled his fists and held them by his side. He chewed on his bottom lip. She cried out again.

Scully saw a flash of light. She twisted to escape Duane Barry's grasp, but it was no use, he was too strong. Then she felt his arms fall away from her and she floated upwards. She felt weightless as she drifted closer to the light. She heard voices but could not tell what they said.

She blinked and was in a room. She was surrounded by white. The only color she could see was two sturdy black bands that ran across her chest. She glanced down the length of her body struggling to move. She froze.

Her belly distended before her. It was more than abnormally large. "I'm pregnant!" she thought. She smelled cigarette smoke and he swam into view. He touched her belly and she struggled to shrink away from his touch.

"Get the hell away from me!"

"You have nothing to fear Agent Scully. Besides, you shouldn't over do it. After all you are with child," he took a long drag off of his cigarette. He blew the smoke away from Scully's face.

"You bastard. You fucking bastard. Let me out of here."

His face disappeared and suddenly men with masks surrounded her. They leaned in at once and she closed her eyes. When she opened them she was in a hospital. But Mulder was the one in the hospital bed and not her. She felt worry for him as she looked over him. He wasn't speaking and his eyes were shut. "Wake up, Mulder!" She shook him but he made no move.

She scrubbed her face with her hands and stared across the room and out the door. A blonde woman stood in the doorway. Her ice blue eyes made Scully wary. She looked at the woman's hands. She was holding a vial full of a milky-white substance. The woman smiled at Scully and realization swept over her.

"NO! MULDER!"

Her screams forced Mulder from his frozen position. She sat up in the bed abruptly and her eyes popped open. Yet she wasn't fully awake, she still seemed dazed. He crossed the room to her bed in three long strides. She threw her arms around him and held on tightly. Mulder felt her trembling in his embrace.

"Shh...it's OK. I'm here. It was just a dream."

She clung to him like a frightened child. He felt a knot build in his back as he tensed. He hated what was happening to her and he hated she wouldn't talk to him about it.

"Scully please, tell me about it. I want to help and don't tell me THIS dream was about Bill," he regretted the bitter words the moment they were out of his mouth. She stiffened and backed away from him. She was staring at her lap.

"Mulder, how can I tell you something I don't know?"

"Are you saying you can't remember the dream?"

"No...I remember but it's so disjointed I wouldn't know where to begin."

"The beginning?"

She bristled. "Damn it Mulder, this is hard enough without..."

"Without what?" he spat.

She rolled off the other side of the bed and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door. Why couldn't he just leave her alone about this? She was getting to the point where she was afraid to sleep because she'd have to explain every murmur and twitch. She turned the faucet on and splashed cold water over her face. When she looked up, she saw her face in the mirror.

Dark circles ringed her eyes and her cheeks looked hollow. She'd lost a lot of weight. She was just never hungry these days. Her hair wasn't as shiny as it normally was. "I look like shit," she told herself silently.

She felt so tired. She didn't sleep much anymore the little sleep she was getting was filled with nightmares. She sighed. She just wanted it all to go away. The dreams, Mulder's nagging, her confused feelings about him...why wouldn't it all go away? She slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. She sobbed louder than she intended and then couldn't control it anymore.

The bathroom door swung open. Mulder squatted in front of her and pulled her hands from her face and then stood, pulling her with him. He held her up against the wall and stared intently into her face. He worked his jaw willing the anger to leave his body. He didn't want to be angry but he was.

"I'm not the bad guy here, Scully. So why the hell are you pushing me away?"

He was holding her hands at her sides. She twisted her hands free and moved them toward his chest. He saw in her eyes she meant to physically push him away but he caught her wrists again. Her body was stretched against the length of his. Her face was just inches from his. He felt her breath hitting his bottom lip. He held in a shudder.

His shoulders sagged in defeat and he let her hands go. He stepped back from her and turned and leaned heavily on the sink. "Why won't you let me in? I thought you trusted me."

"I do trust you, Mulder. It's me I don't trust. I don't know what all this is that I'm dreaming and feeling and I don't trust myself with...whatever it is. When and if I straighten it out then perhaps I can tell you what it is, but not until then. Can you accept that?"

He turned to face her. Tears were falling from her eyes still. He softened at the sight. He moved closer to her again and brushed a lock of hair from her face. She moved closer to him again and looked up at him. He moved his hands and mopped the tears up with his thumbs. She placed her palms flat on his bare chest.

"From you, I'll accept just about anything," he said softly.

They stared at one another for a long moment. She licked her bottom lip and it sent a jolt of pure desire straight through his body. He cursed his traitorous body for allowing him to harbor such a thought at this delicate moment. He turned his head and stepped back but she caught his arms and drew him back close to her. His brow furrowed with confusion.

Gripping his arms she leaned up on tip-toe and kissed him on the lips. It was soft, not demanding, not unlike other chaste kisses they'd shared, but only for a moment. She slid her hand up his arm and around the back of his neck pushing his head closer to hers, deepening the kiss. Alarm bells were going off in his head.

Her mouth fell open and allowed entrance to his tongue. They each probed the recesses of one other's mouths. His hands danced along her back and she delighted in the feel of his hands through the thin material of the t-shirt she'd worn to bed. Then she realized what she was doing and who with. She backed away. He groaned at the separation.

"Mulder...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that...I..."

"Scully," he stepped closer to her again and cupped her face with his hand. "It's OK. We both got a little carried away there. No harm done." He kissed her forehead. "I should have stopped us sooner."

"No. Mulder it's not your fault. I...I wanted to," she looked at her feet and then walked out of the room. He followed her back to her bedroom. She was standing at the edge of her bed. She heard him approach her from behind and then felt his heavy hands on her shoulders.

"Look, Mulder, I don't want to confuse either of us any more than we already are. I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me..."

"Angry with you? Scully, you kissed me. Why would I be angry with you for that?"

She turned and gave him a look. He smiled back at her and she gave him a weak smile. "It's OK Scully," he squeezed her shoulders, "Go to sleep. I'll be in the next room if you need me." He let her go and walked out of the room.

"That's the problem," she told herself aloud, "I do need you. In so many ways."

XxX

MONDAY JANUARY 19, 8:27 A.M.

"Don't you want to know?"

Tendrils of smoke rose in the air around him. He was such a smug bastard. Standing there, calmly smoking his cigarette barely even noticing the gun she held on him. Her small hands gripped her Sig so tightly, she thought she could feel every ridge of the handgrip. The anger she felt started at the base of her feet and shot straight through her body. Her arm was quivering in front of her as she desperately fought the urge to pull the trigger.

"Shoot me, and you'll never know. I can give you your memories back, Agent Scully. And you do want them back, don't you? You want to know about Emily, your little girl."

"Why should I trust anything you have to say?"

He smiled, "Who else would give you this information?"

"I was under the impression the only information you were capable of dispensing was misinformation," she replied coolly. 

He laughed, "Ah, but some of it is misinformation and some of it is information. I leave that up to you and your brilliant partner to sort through. You two really make an excellent team. You seem so connected. I'll bet you don't even know how connected you are." 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

"You never wondered who Emily's father was? Harvesting your ova was only half the job, Agent Scully. We had to harvest the other half of the equation to give her life," a smug smile crossed his face, "We at least had the decency to fertilize your eggs with the sperm of someone you know." 

"Mulder?" Scully gasped. 

The Smoker blew out a cloud of foul-smelling smoke and smiled. "How perceptive of you, Agent Scully. Yes, we took Agent Mulder's 'half of the equation' from him when he was in Alaska. You really should have watched over him more closely." 

"That's...that's impossible. That happened in 1995! Emily was four years old!" 

"You're forgetting, Agent Scully, she was an alien-human hybrid. The alien DNA structure causes these children to mature much faster than a normal human child would." He tossed his cigarette on the floor and crushed it with his foot.  

She felt herself snap and heard the guttural cry that escaped her lips. The Sig crashed to the floor discharging as it hit. She flung herself at the man standing in front of their filing cabinets. Her small body sending him crashing into it.  

A rush of air left The Smoker's lungs as she collided with his body. Both of them crashed to the floor. Scully's fists were wild, connecting with any part of him she could. 

XxX 

Mulder got off the elevator at the basement level, humming "Viva Las Vegas". Things had been a little tense between he and Scully last night but he couldn't get his mind off the kiss they shared. She'd even admitted she wanted it. He was thunderstruck. He was a little concerned about her confusion but he knew if they talked about it some more they'd both feel better. 

She'd kissed his cheek this morning as he left to go change before work. Then she squeezed his hand. Everything seemed very encouraging. Sure he was nervous about where all that was headed, but with Scully he just knew it would all work out. 

He began to fumble for his keys when he heard loud voices coming from their office. He recognized the male voice and froze at the door.  

"We at least had the decency to fertilize your eggs with the sperm of someone you know." 

"You fucking bastard! I'll kill you, you son of a bitch...you fucking black-lunged son of a bitch..." 

He heard Scully's cry and then the discharge of a weapon. He burst through the door in time to see his petite partner lying atop the Cancer Man, beating the hell out of him. 

At first, he thought he might be hallucinating. Skinner had told him the man had been shot and was believed dead. But the smell of Morley's in the air more than convinced him this was not his imagination. Some how, he wasn't surprised the black-lunged bastard was still alive. 

Scully's angry shouts had softened to desperate sobs, but she was still pounding on him. In the twist of bodies, Mulder could see she'd managed to black his eye and bloody his nose. He dimly wondered why he never fared as well in his fights. 

He moved swiftly to them and pulled Scully off the man, wrapping one of his strong arms around her. She squirmed but was quickly wearing out. He lowered his gun at the man's head. 

"I don't know what the hell you're doing here or even how the hell you're alive. But I'm just going to give you one chance. You leave now, or I'll finish what someone else failed to do and that's put a bullet in your head. Get OUT." 

He dabbed the back of his hand at his bloody nose. He rose gracefully and eyed Mulder circumspectly. He began to walk out the door, but stopped just inside the doorway, "I'll be in touch, Agent Scully." 

She screamed and twisted in Mulder's arms but he held her still. "Get the fuck out of here you bastard," Mulder hissed. The door clicked quietly into place and he was gone. He felt the shudders of his partner's sobs. He gently laid his weapon down, sliding the safety back on. He turned her around in his arms, holding her tightly. 

"Shh, it's alright now," he smoothed her ruffled hair from her eyes. Scully was not supposed to come apart at the seams. He was growing so tired of seeing her like this. Just when things had been so wonderful this morning, the prince of darkness had to darken their door. He pulled her closer to him.  

"What happened Scully? Can you tell me?" he asked backing away slightly and looking into her eyes. 

She shuddered but spoke, "He said he could give my memories back. He also told me who Emily's father was," she said backing away from him. She turned and braced herself against Mulder's desk. 

"Who?" Mulder asked through clenched teeth. 

Scully felt cold. The very idea that they had done to Mulder what they had done to her felt like an even further violation. Bits of the dream she'd had the night before came back to her in a rush. The retrovirus Mulder had been given when he'd gone to the arctic. How could she have been so stupid? She didn't know any of those doctor's and yet she left him alone with them so much. It must have happened then, right under her watchful eye. 

"I let you down Mulder," she said in a sob. 

"What the hell are you talking about Scully?" 

"Mulder, they harvested your sperm just like they harvested my ova. Don't you understand? And they did it when I was in the same building with you. God! I fucking can't believe it. I should have stayed with you every minute. Why did I let my guard down?" 

"Scully! That's crazy. He's just fucking with your head. When would they have done that?" 

"The retrovirus Mulder. They took your sperm from you when you were incapacitated then. I had to leave you alone with the doctor's several times." 

He crossed the room and gripped her shoulders, spinning her to face him. "Scully, you can't believe that. He's just saying it to fuck with you. Christ, I should have shot him where he stood." 

"Mulder, damn it, he wasn't lying," she shouted. 

"How do you know?" he yelled back. 

Her shoulders slumped and she regarded him seriously. "Because I'm remembering...in my dreams. All of it is coming back Mulder. My abduction...I saw what they did to me. And last night I dreamt they did the same thing to you."  

"It's all LIES Scully! He just wants you to think that." 

A security guard entered the room and eyed them both suspiciously. Their postures suggested a serious argument but neither one looked as though they would attack one another. The guard cut his glance to Scully's weapon. It was lying on the floor next to a filing cabinet with a fresh bullet hole. The guard touched the gun in his holster but then pulled his hand away. 

"Agents, we heard gunfire come from this room. Could you please explain what happened." 

Mulder whipped around to face the guard. Before he could say a word, Scully excused herself and ran out of the room. Mulder hung his head. 

"Agent Mulder?" the guard pressed. 

"Agent Scully dropped her weapon and it discharged. I'll be up to give Assistant Director Skinner a full report shortly, OK?" he spat angrily. 

The guard stiffened and walked out of the office, shutting the door behind him. Mulder kicked his waste can and sent it flying across the office. It crashed into the opposite wall and spilled onto the floor. He flung his lamp, blotter, pencil cup holder and several pictures off his desk onto the floor. His rage reached a crescendo as he slammed his fist into the wall. He let his body fall against it and then slid to the floor. Hot tears streamed down his face. 

XxX

LATER THAT MORNING... 

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice." 

"You seem very upset Dana. Please, have a seat." 

Scully sunk into the beige sofa in Karen Koseff's office. She didn't like that she was seeing a psychologist. It seemed so weak. But after the argument she'd just had with Mulder, she needed someone who would at least listen. She had to get all of this out of her head before she went crazy. She sighed and looked out the window. 

"Are you still having the dreams, Dana?" 

Scully fixed Koseff in her gaze. She recounted the dream she'd had the night before and then explained her confrontation with the Cigarette Smoking Man. She explained in very vague terms who he was to Koseff. She was holding back because she felt no need to neither endanger the psychologist nor give her too much information. Koseff listened intently. When Scully finished, Koseff remained quiet for a long time. 

"You believe you and your partner were both brainwashed into not remembering what was taken from you?" 

"Something like that," Scully said nodding. How could she possibly explain all of this without sounding completely crazy. She still referred to her abduction as a kidnapping to keep up appearances. 

"But now you're getting your memories back."

Scully nodded. 

"What about Agent Mulder?" 

"He doesn't remember...or refuses to. I'm not sure which." 

"Without talking to him, I can't be sure either. What I can tell you is that if the memories come back to him suddenly, as yours did, it could be very dangerous. You're fully aware of how frightening your dreams are, but had your memories come back to you in a flashback, when you were conscious, it could have been much worse." 

"Why wouldn't Mulder's memories come back to him in a dream as mine did?" 

"They might. But there is a possibility they might not. Do you think you could convince him to talk with me about this?" 

"I'm not sure. He's very angry about everything that's happened. I don't think he's in much a frame of mind to discuss anything. You really think he's in danger?" 

Koseff nodded. 

Scully lowered her head and pursed her lips. "I will talk with him and see if I can get anywhere." She stood to leave. "I'm sorry I barged in on you like this. I'll see you next week, Karen." 

XxX 

9:20 AM 

Mulder sat against the wall for quite some time struggling to get himself under control. The sobbing continued until finally he just couldn't cry any longer. He wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve and then rose from his position on the floor. He shook his legs to get the cramps out and then winced. His ankle was sore from kicking the trash can. He held his hand close to his body because it was extremely tender from being abused against the wall. 

"Good," he said aloud, "I deserve the pain." 

Just as he voiced that thought, the phone on his desk rang. He walked over to it and picked up the receiver, "Mulder," he sighed into it. 

It was Skinner. 

"Yes, sir. Yes, I can be there shortly. Right, fine." Mulder hung up, a quizzical look on his face. <That's odd.> Skinner had merely requested his presence. He hadn't said anything about the gun shots or Cancer Man. Mulder raised an eyebrow and ran a hand over his mouth. He reached down and smoothed his shirt front and brushed off his dress slacks. He adjusted his tie and then ran a hand through his hair. 

"Christ I'd better go down to the can and see if there's any worse damage before I go up to see Skinner," he sighed. Mulder went back to his desk and picked up his suit coat. He surveyed the mess on the floor of the office as he shrugged the coat on. "I guess the cleanup job will have to wait until I get back," he mused, "it wouldn't do to keep the A.D. waiting." 

Mulder set his shoulders and walked over to the office door. He glanced down at the knob and then pulled out his keys. "I'm locking this place up," he thought, "not that it will help to keep that Morley smoking freak out of here - but maybe it'll make us feel less violated if we know other prying eyes are keeping the hell out of our business." He twisted the keys in the lock and headed down to the men's restroom to finish his sartorial repair work. 

"He's expecting you," Sharon Childes, Skinner's long suffering secretary, told Mulder as he approached her desk just outside Skinner's office.  

"Am I going to need aspirin after this one, Sharon?" Mulder asked a weak grin on his face. 

Sharon shrugged her shoulders, "Hard to say, Agent Mulder. He's been unusually quiet this morning. Just go right in." 

"Oh, THAT'S comforting," Mulder thought with chagrin as he stepped forward and rapped on the door. He cringed a bit over his bruised and skinned knuckles. 

"Come," a clipped voice replied from inside.  

Mulder pulled open the door and went in to meet his fate.  

"Agent Mulder," Skinner rumbled in way of a greeting from the chair behind his desk. He had been reading a memo but now he looked up into Mulder's face and inclined his head towards one of the chairs in front of his desk, "Sit down." 

Mulder complied and remained silent. He had learned through experience with Skinner that it was best to let the A.D. open the conversation. Gauging his mood right off the top had saved his and Scully's neck on more than one occasion.  

"Agent Mulder, I called you up here because I need to talk to you about Agent Scully," Skinner began tersely. 

Mulder blinked. This was not what he had expected, "Agent Scully?" he replied confused. 

"Yes, were you aware that she was seeing Karen Koseff?" he asked holding up the sheet of paper he had been reading, "This is a memo from Karen informing me that Agent Scully is seeking her counsel. It doesn't go into much detail, of course, that would violate Doctor patient confidentiality." 

"Yes, I was aware Agent Scully was seeing Doctor Koseff," Mulder lied flatly. 

"So..." 

"So, what, sir?" 

Skinner's eyes narrowed slightly, "Well, do you think Agent Scully's recent experiences, the loss of her daughter I mean...has the death been unduly hard on her, Agent Mulder?" 

Mulder bristled slightly, "No, sir, Agent Scully's doing well. She seems to be coping. Her job performance is rock solid. She's been the consummate professional through this whole crisis. I think the time off helped her too, she.." 

"Mulder, cut the crap," Skinner snapped. 

"Sir?" Mulder replied his body becoming tense. 

Skinner sighed and got up from behind his desk. He had the memo in his hands and he walked over and handed it to Mulder. Mulder read it. It didn't say very much except that Scully was in counseling voluntarily and that it was recommended that Agent Mulder continue to supervise her off duty time as a precaution against her falling into depression. 

Mulder looked at the memo again. He wouldn't look up at Skinner. 

"You've been staying with her?" Skinner asked in a low voice. 

Mulder's heart lurched in his chest. "Oh God, what can I say?" he thought. He was shocked Scully had even mentioned it to Koseff. 

"Agent Mulder?" Skinner prompted again. 

Mulder finally looked up and handed the memo back to Skinner, "Yes, sir, I've been doing just what the memo recommends, supervising my partner's off duty time in order to facilitate her recovery. I do, after all, have a degree in psychology, sir." 

"I know your file, Agent Mulder," Skinner retorted brusquely. He turned around and walked back behind his desk. He placed the memo on it and then he turned, keeping his back away from Mulder. Skinner gazed out the window. His hands came up and went into his pants pockets. 

"Look, Fox," he began. 

Mulder went on alert. He'd used his Christian name. Trouble was just a word away. 

"Off the record, all right?" 

"Off the record, sir?" Mulder hastened to ask, "Uh, sure," he hastened to agree. 

"I think you should spend as much time with Agent Scully as possible," Skinner quietly stated.

"As much time as possible?" Mulder asked barely able to conceal the surprise in his voice. 

"Yes. I think she needs your support as well as the support of all her friends and family right now. Losing a child is a very difficult thing, Mulder, very difficult." 

"Yes, sir. To tell you the truth, Scully isn't really doing very well. She, she's been having nightmares, not eating properly, that sort of thing. I think my staying with her is probably a very good idea." 

"Right, I suspected as much. Listen, I'm going to tell you something and I don't want it to go any farther then this office, understand?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Scully is probably going through agony over her daughters death. Take my advice on it, Fox. I have a little experience in this area. I know what I'm talking about." 

"Sir?" 

Skinner sighed at Mulder's prompt reply, "When my wife and I were first married she had a miscarriage. It was fairly far along in the pregnancy and it was very traumatic for us both. My ex-wife was, well, she was never able to have children after the miscarriage. It's probably the one thing that started to drive a wedge through our marriage. I saw her suffer through it, Mulder. I think in her case the mental damage was worse than the physical damage could ever be." 

Mulder looked at Skinner's tense back, "I'm sorry to hear that, sir. I...I appreciate you sharing this with me."

"Well, Fox, I'm sharing it with you because I want you to make sure that something like that doesn't happen to Dana Scully. Do you get my drift?" he asked at last turning to face Mulder. His face was set in stone so that Mulder couldn't read the underlying emotions that most likely haunted Skinner's mind. 

"I understand, sir," Mulder replied shaking his head in the affirmative. 

"Good, because I wouldn't want to think Agent Scully was suffering like my wife did. I didn't manage that business well at all, Mulder. I don't want to see you make the same mistake. Scully is too good a woman, a human being, to not warrant all our support. And besides, I don't need to lose a damn fine agent because the friends around her didn't come to her aid in a time of crisis." 

"I agree with you, sir, no question. I'll give her all the support she needs, sir." 

"All right, fine." 

"Is that all sir?" Mulder asked hope in his voice. 

Skinner fixed him with a piercing stare and then he pulled his chair back out and sat down. 

"No, Agent Mulder. I want to know what the hell was going on down in the basement this morning." 

<Oh, oh, here it comes.> "You mean the gunshots sir?" he asked aloud.  

"Yes, do you have an explanation, Mulder?" 

Mulder stared back at Skinner, his face as unreadable as he could make it. He studied Skinner's flinty eyes and then he came to a decision, "Are we still off the record, Sir?" he asked. 

Skinner raised an eyebrow and put his hands out, palms up, in a gesture of acceptance. 

Mulder let out his breath, "Well, sir. Scully and I had an unexpected visitor downstairs this morning. An unpleasant visitor. A certain Morley smoking whoremaster that you and I are both all too familiar with." 

A flash of shock passed over Skinner's face. His jaw tensed with his emotion, "Cancer Man?" he hissed half in disbelief. 

"In all his black-lunged glory," Mulder replied. 

"How the hell..." 

"Sir, I don't know, but he's back from the dead. He made some.. he made a cruel remark about Scully's daughter. He was down there really goading her, sir. I think he just did it to be sadistic, to fuck with her head." 

"That prick," Skinner hissed with venom. 

"Sir, Scully kind of lost it...she pulled her gun on him and when I came in she threw it on the floor, I think to avoid killing him. The gun discharged," Mulder finished. 

"Oh. Well. Uh, I guess I can understand her reaction under the circumstances. Was there any damage?"

"Only to Scully's emotional well-being, Sir. One of the file cabinets has a minor ding in it. The bullet's probably in the wall somewhere." 

"Fuck. You're damn lucky that stray round didn't hit you or Scully. It would have been no loss if it had found that Morley sucking turd, though." 

Mulder shrugged his shoulders. 

"All right, look, Mulder," Skinner began, fixing him with a serious glare, "I think it's about time we did something about this scumbag. I want you and Agent Scully to open an X-File on this power hungry pervert. I want you to get him dead to rights and then I want to hang him by his testicles. Understand?" 

"If he has any sir - I'll see to it that he swings by them from the top of the Washington Monument." 

Skinner's mouth twitched into a tiny smile, "Good, I'm glad you get my drift again, Agent Mulder. Dismissed." 

CONTINUED IN PART 2