Chicago Holiday (PG-13 Version)   Disclaimer: 

 Hang onto your hats, boys and girls, this one's going to be long! 

 (the disclaimer *and* the story) 

 Okay, this story lovingly portrays characters from two television 

 series. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and any mention of previously written 

 X-Files belong to Chris Carter (god), Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox 

 Television. Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio, Lieutenant Welsh, Inspector 

 Thatcher, Elaine, and Agent Ford are inventions of the great minds of
Paul 

 Haggis, Jeff King, and Kathy Slevin, and belong to CTV and Alliance 

 Communications Corporation (I'd include CBS, but the friends of Due South


 will understand why I don't...). They're not mine, I don't make any claim


 on them, other than borrowing them and playing 'doll' with them. They're 

 back with their owners and I didn't harm them (well, not permanently, 

 anyway ;). I'm a poor student with practically no money to pay next 

 month's rent, so suing me would be an exercise in futility. (*Please* 

 don't hurt me!) The other characters are mine! (Okay, Chantal isn't 

 mine, she's a real person, but she was all for it when she found out
she'd 

 be licked by the Mountie -- too bad that didn't happen, but I think
she'll 

 like the ending even more. ;) Some spoilers for both shows, but I'm too 

 lazy to go back and figure out which episodes apply. 

 Of course, this story might not have been made if CC had admitted 

 to the deep love between his two lead characters but would he listen to 

 us????? Noooooo!!!!!!	Well, this is what happens when you don't... 

 Bwaaaaa haaaa haaaaa!!!!!!! 

  This is the PG version of my story. If you're not a minor and 

 want something a little more 'interesting', then I recommend you read
that 

 version. For those of you who are minors and chose to read this version, 

 I congratulate you. :) You won't be going blind.  

 I began working on this story last August (when I was trying to 

 write my Master's thesis on something closely related to apoptosis and 

 failing miserably, but I've since managed and I'll be getting that
diploma 

 anytime soon...) I used what I thought was an original idea: a genetic 

 mutant that regrows parts of its body. Then, this Friday, I found out a 

 few things about the next X-Files episode, Leonard Betts, and I thought 

 "Gee, doesn't that seem familiar?" So, in order to not look like I'd 

 stolen someone else's idea, I cranked out the rest of the story yesterday


 (about 70K - which meant sitting at my computer for 15 hours straight). 

 So I apologize if the proof reading's not perfect. I may re-post a
revised 

 version later on. As for who came up with the idea of a genetic mutant 

 that can regrow parts of its body, tell ya what , Chris, we'll let the 

 lawyers fight that one out, okay?  (kidding! I was first!) 

 Uh... what else? Oh yeah! Special thanks to my 

 proofreaders/people who commented/people who promised to comment/people 

 who laughed at the scenes I was typing on IRC: Chantal (proofreader and 

 character extraordinaire), Rhoni (get back on-line!), Gil, and the IRC 

 gang (Kelly, Teresa, Sarah, Marnee, and anyone else I've forgotten - Oh, 

 and cheesedip? Here's the smut you were waiting for ) 

 Any and all comments on my story are appreciated. I *love* seeing 30 

 email messages waiting for me when I log on. :) Flames will be used to 

 warm my apartment - I *do* live in Canada you know. :) 

 Summary: When the fingerprints of a man whose fingers were severed appear


 at a recent crime scene, agents Mulder and Scully are called in to team
up 

 with detective Vecchio and constable Fraser in order to investigate. This


 is a crossover, but you don't need to have watched Due South to follow 

 this story. It just adds nuances. 

 Classification: C (XF/Due South) MSR 

 This is a *sequel* to another fanfic I wrote: Wearing. I recommend you 

 read that one before you read this, so you understand what's going on. 

 There's also a mention of another story I wrote, The Morning After. (Both


 are available on the Gossamer archives) 

 Chicago Holiday? 

 by Nancy Lemieux (nlemie@po-box.mcgill.ca) 

 Chantal was tired. She'd had a long day at the office, and all 

 she wanted to do right now was to get in her car, drive home, pop a
couple 

 of aspirins and take a long soak in her designer tub to get her mind off 

 the day's events. First it had been the flat tire, then the misplaced 

 orders that had cost her company thousands of dollars and forced her to
do 

 some quick apologizing to her customers, and then the headache had come. 

 Pounding in her ears, putting pressure behind her eyes, making her want
to 

 just crawl under the covers of her bed. 

 Maybe she'd just skip the bath and go straight to bed, she 

 thought, reaching her car. As she poised her keys to unlock the door, she


 

 heard a scuffing sound somewhere behind her. Turning quickly, all she 

 could see was a row of parked cars along the sidewalk and some trees 

 lining the side of the semi-commercial street. She held her breath - 

 waiting to see if she would hear anything else, or if she could detect a 

 movement somewhere in the shadows -- which were growing quickly as the
sun 

 set facing her. Squinting and holding her hand to block the sun, she 

 craned her neck forward to get a better view of what was around her. 

 Nothing. Satisfied that there was no one there, she turned around, 

 mentally chiding herself for getting overly paranoid. Yes, this *was* 

 Chicago, but it didn't mean that every criminal was out to get her. It 

 had probably just been one of the last squirrels of the day, climbing up
a 

 branch to find a resting place for the night, or something. 

 She had just unlocked the door when she heard it again. This time 

 it was clearer. Steps coming for her, quickly. Instincts kicking in, she 

 yanked her car door open, hoping for a quick get-away. She was just 

 reaching out to shut the door when she felt someone grab her arm and pull


 her out of the car. Yelling at the top of her voice, she kicked and 

 punched out furiously, trying to get at her assailant. She heard a groan 

 as one of her kicks connected, then felt a wrenching in her shoulder as 

 her arm was twisted backwards. Yelping in pain, she reached back and 

 elbowed the attacker in the solar plexus. She heard a distinct male groan


 as she felt the grip on her arm loosen. She tried pulling it free with no


 success. The grip tightened again, and she felt a sharp stabbing pain in 

 her trapezoid as a needle penetrated the skin, right into the muscle. A 

 burning sensation instantly started to spread from that area, invading
her 

 shoulder, neck and back. She was being drugged! The realization caused a 

 powerful adrenaline rush, and she struggled mightily to escape. Her 

 assailant pushed her against the car, grabbing her hands and turning her 

 around. 

 That's when she saw him. He was taller than her, perhaps 6 foot 

 two, muscular, most probably a weight trainer. She dared herself to look 

 at his face, and was disappointed to see him wearing a ski mask. All she 

 could see was his lips, curled into a sneer, and his grey eyes, boring 

 into her with a stare so full of animosity she flinched. 

 The heat was spreading. It was now in her arm, in her chest, and 

 with panic starting to really sink in, she realized that it was spreading


 through her head. She didn't have much time left. Looking straight into 

 his eyes, she suddenly catapulted forward, butting his nose with her 

 forehead. He reeled back a bit and let her hands go. Reaching into her 

 pants pocket, she felt her Swiss army knife, pulled it out and snapped
the 

 blade open. Without wasting a second, she slashed out towards his face in


 a well-rehearsed Kali move - a fake meant to disconcert him. He pulled up


 his hands, trying to protect himself, and that's when she exploded. In 

 one smooth curving motion she slashed out at his wrists, curved back to 

 slash at his abdomen, then retreated the blade only for a second before 

 embedding it right below his rib cage. He let out a garbled scream, 

 backing away. 

 Sensing her chance, she picked up her car keys where they had 

 fallen, dove for the driver's seat, and tried to put her key in the 

 ignition. It took several attempts, seeing as her head was spinning like 

 a wild carnival ride. She took a deep breath and started the car. 

 Turning to shut the car door, she saw him diving towards her. Summoning 

 the last of her strength she shut the door with all her might, just as he


 was about to touch her. Ignoring his screams, she put the car in gear and


 gunned the accelerator, concentrating on making it to the corner of the 

 street, and turning left at the T intersection. Before she had made it a 

 hundred yards the world went black. 

 ******* 

 "What I'm saying, Benny, is that you should try getting out of 

 that uniform more often. I realize that there are some women who like 

 their men in uniform, but you'd be opening yourself to a bigger market if


 you put on a suit, and a silk shirt... like me.." 

 "Well, that's not true, Ray. In all factuality, I *do*, on 

 occasion, put on a suit. And while I must concede the comfort and 

 softness of the fabric, I feel that a silk shirt just doesn't put forth 

 the proper image, which is why I prefer to wear... RAY LOOK OUT!" 

 The driver of the 1971 Buick Riviera just had time to look back at 

 the road and swerve out of the way as a grey BMW ran a stop sign right in


 front of him. Hitting the brakes, the Riv screeched to a halt right 

 before the high-priced car ran straight into the brick wall of the store 

 

 in front of the T intersection. 

 Ray took a second to take in the scene. His passenger, however, 

 wasted no time in leaping out of the car to run towards the accident, 

 assessing the situation and yelling back "There's a woman in here, I
think 

 she's hurt." 

 Taking only half a second to for his mind register this, the 

 driver reached down towards the dashboard and grabbed the mouthpiece of 

 his car radio. 

 "This is detective Vecchio, requesting emergency medical 

 assistance at the corner of Oak and 4th. There's been an accident, with a


 possible injury. Over." 

 "Roger, detective. An ambulance is being dispatched now." 

 He didn't wait to hear the rest. He quickly ran out of the Riv 

 and headed towards his friend, who was trying to pry open the driverside 

 door. Working together, they quickly managed to do so. Ray reached in to 

 check the woman's pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt it. 

 Faint but regular, and she was breathing. 

 "She's alive Benny, but I think the crash knocked her out. I 

 don't think we should move her, just in case she's got a spinal injury." 

 "I think that's wise Ray." 

 "So, do you have any idea what could have caused this?" 

 "Well, right now I think there isn't sufficient information to 

 actually explain what happened here. However, there are several 

 possibilities. She was draped over her steering wheel when she ran the 

 stoplight, which would indicate she was already unconscious at that 

 point. There could be several reasons for this... heart attack, stroke, 

 seizure, fainting... the possibilities are practically endless. Now, many


 road accidents are caused by drivers falling asleep at the wheel, but 

 given the fact she was driving in the city and that Oak street isn't that


 long, I've ruled out that possibility." 

 "Maybe she was diabetic." 

 "Yes, Ray. That's another possible theory. She may have become 

 hyper or hypo-glycemic, which might easily cause her to lose 

 consciousness. Now, the easiest way to find out if she has a medical 

 condition -other than special jewelry, which she doesn't have - is to
look 

 at her drivers' license. Therefore, I suggest we search for her purse." 

 "I'll do that. You try and search for other clues as to why this 

 might have happened." 

 "Okay." 

 As Benny moved around towards the front of the car, Ray bent over 

 to try and find the purse, finding it at his feet where it had slid to
the 

 ground when the door had opened. Reaching down, he picked it up to search


 for her wallet when he noticed something else on the ground. 

 "Oh my god, Fraser. Come here!" 

 Hearing the tone in his friend's voice, Benny quickly ran back 

 from the front of the car and stopped to look where his friend was 

 pointing. 

 "Great Scott!!!!!" 

 ***** 

 "What is it now, Mulder?" 

 "Good morning to you too, Scully!" 

 She had wanted to greet him as she entered his office, but had 

 stopped herself when she'd seen the look on his face. He was onto 

 something, which meant they were about to embark on a case, and to tell 

 the truth, she didn't want to have to pack and take off for god knows 

 where this morning. Sighing, she dropped her briefcase on a table and 

 headed for the coffee machine. 

 "I'm sorry. Good morning, Mulder. What is it now?" 

 He grinned at her, a spark of amusement in his eyes. 

 "Well, since you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?" 

 She gave him one of her looks which meant she was in no mood for 

 his jokes, and he shrugged. Pulling out a file, he handed it to her. 

 "Two weeks ago, Chantal Valerie Kuhn, a Chicago resident, was 

 attacked by someone. He injected her with a sedative, but she managed to 

 fight him off long enough to get into her car and drive away. Several 

 moments later she lost consciousness and crashed into a nearby brick 

 building. The suspect was never apprehended." 

 "That doesn't sound like our field of investigation." 

 "You'd think so at first glance, but that's not all. Apparently, 

 during her struggle, she managed to close the car door on her attacker's 

 hand and severed three fingers. A thumb, index, and middle finger. Left 

 hand." 

 "Good for her. That should make the suspect easy to identify. 

 Have the local hospitals been notified of the possibility of a man with 

 severed fingers coming in for treatment?" 

 "Yes. No one with such a description was treated in any of the 

 Chicago area hospitals. The fingerprints were taken, and matched those of


 an unknown criminal who had previously been wanted for three rapes and 

 

 several robberies." 

 "That still doesn't explain to me why our help is being requested." 

 Mulder looked at his partner and grinned. She was ever the 

 pragmatic, analytical scientist... 

 "Ah, but you see, two days ago someone called the Chicago police 

 after their house had been broken into. The forensics team lifted some 

 prints, and it turns out that they were an exact match to the assailant 

 who attacked miss Kuhn. Thumb and index finger, left hand." 

 He stopped, gauging his partner's expression. Her eyes widened 

 and her jaw fell open as the realization hit her. 

 "But Mulder, that's impossible!" 

 "You'd think so. Yet they're absolutely positive. It's a 100% 

 match, and you remember what they taught us at the academy." 

 "His fingers have been cut off! It's not like you can just 

 re-grow something like that!" 

 "That," he replied, taking her coat and briefcase and handing them 

 to her, "is precisely why we're leaving for Chicago. The plane leaves in 

 one hour. We just have to go home and pack, which leaves me with one 

 final question..." 

 "What?" 

 "Your place or mine?" 

 She gave him a look that could melt tempered steel, and he laughed 

 as he put his hand to the small of her back to escort her out of his 

 office, noticing the shiver that went through her at the contact. 

 ************ 

 A man in a light grey suit extended his hand as welcome. 

 "Agent Mulder, nice to see you again." 

 "Agent Ford." Mulder shook hands with him, and pointed towards 

 his partner. 

 "This is agent Scully." 

 Ford nodded towards her, took her hand in greeting and she smiled. 

 "Agent Scully, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot 

 about the two of you." 

 "Well whatever you heard, none of it's true." Mulder deadpanned. 

 That caught the Chicago office agent off guard. He'd heard all 

 the stories, about Spooky Mulder and his skeptical partner, and even met 

 Mulder at a bar once in D.C. ... on a night where he had been rather
drunk 

 and couldn't remember anything else. Yet these two seemed *normal*. 

 Surely some of the rumours *had* to have been exaggerated. Recovering as 

 best he could, he led the two agents out of the airport and towards his 

 car. 

 "There's a car waiting for you at our offices. I thought we'd go 

 there first... that is unless you'd like to get settled in your hotel 

 rooms first. 

 "No, that's alright. We might as well get started on the case. 

 It's still early. We'll drive out to the hotel later, when we get our 

 car." 

 Those were the first words Ford had heard from Scully. Not that 

 she hadn't said anything, but it had all been directed towards her 

 partner, and had come across in silent communication. 

 "How much do you know about this case?" Ford asked. 

 "Well, only what was in the report your office sent us. A woman 

 was accosted, almost kidnapped, but she managed to get away, taking three


 of the assailant's fingers with her. Then, less than two weeks later, the


 same prints show up elsewhere, in a B case." 

 "That's right, agent Mulder, and this case has us completely 

 stumped. It's *impossible* that the same prints could have shown up at 

 that second crime. There's something strange going on, and when we 

 couldn't get any sort of explanation, we called you in." 

 "Did you hear that, Scully? Our reputation precedes us." 

 Mulder glanced at Scully, who was looking back at him and barely 

 suppressing a grin from his joke. Ford, on the other hand, didn't look 

 particularly happy about his last crack. *So he knows about 'Spooky',* 

 thought Mulder. He was about to make a crack about apparitions when he 

 felt a punch in his side. He looked up to see Scully give him a warning 

 look. Oh, she was good. Now she could even figure out when he was going 

 to throw a wisecrack before he did so. He gave her his best contrite 

 look, and patted her thigh, in what was meant to be a reassuring way. 

 What he wasn't expecting was the colour that suddenly rose to her cheeks.


 She was getting flustered by just that touch? Come to think of it, he was


 feeling something stirring in his stomach... butterflies? As quickly, yet


 subtly, as possible he removed his hand from her thigh and returned it to


 his own lap. Imprisoning it with his other hand before it felt the urge 

 to wander again. 

 Luckily, during this whole exchange, Ford had been busy trying to 

 get past a small traffic jam created by a truck trying to back out of a 

 driveway, and a car that was double parked. By the time he glanced at his


 rear view mirror, both agents were absorbed by the view of the Chicago 

 

 suburbs. 

 Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the Chicago FBI offices. 

 Ford escorted them to his office. He told his assistant to have the car 

 ready and waiting for them, then showed them inside and handed them all 

 the notes relative to the case, including the tape of the victim's 

 interview and the official police report. 

 Without a word, the team sat down at a desk and pored over the new 

 material, pausing only to exchange comments on this or that aspect of
what 

 they were reading. Ford surveyed them with a wary eye, not sure what to 

 expect from the two most talked-about pair of agents in the Bureau,
before 

 turning back to some pressing business on his desk. 

 When Mulder had finished going over the police report with a 

 fine-toothed comb, he stirred, catching Ford's attention. 

 "Agent Ford, there's a detail here that doesn't compute." 

 "And what might that be?" 

 "Is the victim a Canadian citizen?" 

 Ford was taken aback by this. Where had this question come from? 

 "No. She's an American citizen, despite her name, although her 

 mother is French. Why on earth would you ask me that?" 

 "Well, it's simple," Mulder began, trying hard to not use the 

 condescending tone he often used when agents didn't catch on to his line 

 of questioning right away, "the report states that two men were assigned 

 to the investigation, right?" 

 "Yes..." Ford was still not following. 

 "And it states quite clearly that these men were a certain 

 detective Raymond Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department, and a 

 constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, right?" 

 "That's quite right." Ford grinned, realizing that this agent had 

 no way of knowing of the friendship between Vecchio and Fraser. 

 "So then why, if the victim isn't a Canadian citizen, was a member 

 of the Canadian diplomatic contingency brought into this investigation?" 

 "Oh, he wasn't 'brought into' the investigation... he was there 

 from the start." 

 That response phased Mulder, who took on an interested look as he 

 waited for the agent to finish his story. This couldn't be the Mountie 

 Ford had talked about that night in D.C., in the bar, could it? His mind 

 was fuzzy about that night, and he'd since forgotten the story, but he 

 still remembered the impression of a greater-than-life constable. 

 "Truth of the matter is, we couldn't get rid of him if we tried. 

 He's best friends with the detective in question, and has been meddling
in 

 police affairs around here for two years now." 

 *********** 

 Ford looked at Mulder, to see an amused grin spread across his 

 face. Obviously the special agent was enjoying his discomfort. He 

 continued his description. 

 "Now, before you decide to take a sudden liking to this pair, I 

 suggest you hear me out. I've had dealings with these two men before. A 

 story about terrorists, a train, and a subsequent hostage taking whose 

 details I won't go into, but suffice it to say that these officers don't 

 have much respect for the Bureau." 

 "Is there a particular reason for this? Something we should be 

 aware of before we meet them?" 

 "Nothing in particular... let's just say that they're not exactly 

 fond of our procedures." 

 Mulder grinned to himself... these two sounded better and better 

 with every sentence that came out of Ford's mouth. Scully, on the other 

 hand, was not so happy. Dealing with Mulder on a daily basis was already 

 taxing enough when he was hot on the trail of a new suspect, without 

 having to deal with a couple of maverick police officers. Especially when


 one of them wasn't even a citizen of this country. She glanced over at 

 her partner, and was dismayed to see the excitement building in him. It 

 wasn't really apparent to the untrained individual, but having spent so 

 much time with him she could recognize the signs. Subtle changes in 

 posture, a faint flush, some sort of energy that emanated from him. The 

 signs were there, and she wasn't too happy to see them. She had hoped to 

 start off this investigation slowly, spend some time getting accustomed
to 

 the surroundings... perhaps a few strategy session alone with Mulder. 

 She stopped herself at the last remark, feeling the tingling 

 sensation coursing through her at the thought of spending time alone with


 Mulder. This was not good. Not good at all. Ever since they'd had that 

 conversation at her apartment - when he thought she was an impostor and 

 they'd practically gone over the edge, only to finally admit their true 

 feelings for one another - they'd avoided any time alone outside of work 

 hours. Despite their earlier resolutions to have some more social time 

 

 together, it seemed the safest thing to do for the moment, considering
the 

 level of arousal he could create in her just from the thought of the two 

 of them alone. She knew how she felt, and she knew how he felt, but she 

 didn't want the rest of the world to know... not yet, anyway. 

 She was shaken out of her reverie by the sound of Mulder, saying 

 her name. 

 "Scully, did you hear what I just said?" 

 She blinked a few times, waiting for her surroundings to come back 

 into focus before answering. 

 "I'm sorry, Mulder, I was just trying to sort out a few facts. I 

 wasn't paying attention. What did you say?" 

 "I said that now that we've finished all the available details of 

 the case, we should head over to the police station to see the two 

 investigators before we go over and interview Miss Kuhn ourselves." 

 "That sounds fine, Mulder." 

 She reached down to pick up the few remaining papers, putting them 

 in her briefcase and then grasping her coat. She stilled as Ford broke 

 in, his tone suddenly hesitant. 

 "I've told you that these two aren't exactly conventional, but I 

 feel that I must warn you. They *really* don't take kindly to FBI agents,


 and they most probably treat you with disdain, if not outright 

 aggressiveness. Well, Vecchio at least. That Mountie isn't the type to 

 yell and insult. You know.... typical Canadian temperament. And whatever 

 happens, I hope you don't run into his immediate superior..." 

 He stopped there, although it was obvious he was leaving much unsaid. 

 ***** 

 "Elaine... aren't you done with the license plate check, yet?' 

 "I'm not your personal slave, Vecchio. I *do* have other things 

 to attend to, you know." 

 Ray's tone took on a honeyed quality as he spoke to his colleague, 

 trying his best to turn on the charm in order to get his request as top 

 priority. 

 "Aw.... Elaine... you know you mean the world to me." 

 "Yeah, that's why you boss me around, never talk to me except when 

 you need favours, and even pull me away from a comfortable day off to
help 

 you find some file in the archives when your butt's in the sling.... I 

 don't think so!" 

 She was smiling. The banter was always the same... everybody 

 assumed that it was their god-given right to ask her for favours. 

 "I'll tell you what. You spare Fraser for a few minutes to help 

 me, and I'll make sure your request gets top priority." 

 She batted her eyelashes suggestively at the officer who was 

 sitting on the chair next to Ray's desk, and barely suppressed a giggle
as 

 he quickly shifted his glance away from her and tried to make himself as 

 small as possible while turning a shade of red only slightly paler than 

 the colour of the serge uniform he was wearing. Elaine giggled silently 

 this time. A man his age, as attractive as he was, and he still wasn't 

 quite comfortable with women's constant advances... would wonders never 

 cease? 

 Ray groaned. What was it about his best friend that turned most 

 women into silly putty? Okay, he was tall, in excellent shape, and 

 wearing a uniform, but so what? 

 "Benny, do you have to keep doing that?" 

 "Do what, Ray?" 

 "Wear that uniform... I'm tired of seeing all the female coworkers 

 throw themselves at your feet." 

 Fraser stopped for a second... apparently pondering the remark. 

 "I'm confused, Ray... weren't you telling me just a couple of 

 weeks ago that I should wear something *other* than my uniform to attract


 women?" 

 "No I wasn't." 

 "I beg to differ, but I quite distinctly remember that was what we 

 were discussing before you swerved to miss that woman whose case we're 

 investigating." 

 "Well, I'm glad to see you're actively discussing the case." 

 *********** 

 Both men turned around to see where that voice was coming from, 

 and stopped as they took in the sight of the tall man and the redhead 

 woman standing next to him. Both wore serious expressions and 

 trenchcoats, which could only mean one thing. Ray rolled his eyes 

 heavenward as he cursed silently. Fibbies... just what he needed. 

 Mulder stepped forward, extending his hand towards the Italian 

 detective. 

 "Well, before we get down to business, I guess we should get the 

 introductions out of the way. I'm special agent Fox Mulder, and this is 

 my partner, special agent Dana Scully." 

 Both agents flipped out their badges, and waited while the other 

 two examined them. Vecchio didn't let his eyes rest too long on the ID's,


 preferring to concentrate on the petite agent. 

 Scully rolled her eyes as she saw Vecchio giving her a lascivious 

 

 once-over. **Men!** She mentally groaned, but quickly corrected, as she 

 realized that the Canadian officer, while also obviously affected by her 

 looks, was keeping a much calmer facade and not exhibiting similar lewd 

 behaviour. 

 "Well, well, Fraser... if it isn't the FBI. What could we have 

 possibly done to deserve the honour of their visit?" 

 Mulder put on a sardonic smile, the one he reserved for those who 

 couldn't resist calling him 'Spooky'. 

 "Likewise, detective. But while I'd love to stand here and 

 exchange more niceties with you, I'm afraid we've got an investigation to


 take care of, and we need your help to do so." 

 Fraser, keenly observing the reactions of both men, chose this 

 time to jump in. 

 "We'd be more than happy to assist you in any way we can, agent Mulder." 

 Vecchio shot his friend a nasty look. Why did he always have to 

 be so *nice* to everyone? Hadn't he learned that FBI agents were up to no


 good? Those classes at Quantico were all the same, and most certainly 

 included 'How to be a pain in the neck 101'. 

 "Well, for starters, we'd like to examine the evidence that was 

 gathered in this case, including the severed fingers." Scully broke in, 

 having seen the detective's reaction and deciding that a courteous, 

 professional approach might just put his mind at rest regarding herself 

 and Mulder. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mulder relax. 

 "We'd be more than happy to help you, Mrs. Scully, or is that Miss 

 Scully?" 

 "Agent Scully." 

 She wasn't about to let that Italian detective try and close in on 

 her. It was hard enough keeping the professional respect of many men in 

 law enforcement without having one try and get too familiar with her. 

 "Alright, *agent* Scully. The evidence is in our storage room 

 downstairs, except for the fingers, which have been kept in cold storage 

 at the county morgue." 

 Scully nodded, already going through a mental checklist of tests 

 which should be performed on the severed fingers... DNA analysis, search 

 for material under the fingernails, another set of fingerprints to be 

 made, blood typing... 

 "We would like to examine the evidence, if you don't mind, but 

 first I'd like to hear your account of what happened when you first 

 arrived on the scene." 

 Ray glared at Mulder. "Our account is already filed away in the 

 report." 

 Mulder gave him a slow smile, trying to look condescending. 

 "Yes, I'm aware of that, detective Vecchio, but I think that we 

 might profit from hearing the account directly from you. There might be a


 detail you've forgotten to include, or an account which somehow got 

 transcribed improperly, which could affect the outcome of the case. I'm 

 also curious as to what your theory is on how a man whose fingers have 

 been severed could later commit a robbery and leave fingerprints. What 

 about the description of the culprit? Did the victim say anything unusual


 about him? Appearance? A particular smell? Flashing lights, or loss of 

 time?" 

 Scully shot Mulder a warning glance. He was digging himself 

 deeper, and taking off on a tangent which she didn't appreciate. 

 Both policemen simply shrugged, beginning their account of the 

 accident and the investigation they'd performed afterwards. 

 Mulder and Scully paid careful attention to the details of the 

 account unfolding before them, and asked some questions, but overall 

 didn't glean any new information. Half an hour later, with the story 

 complete, they thanked the two men for their time, and headed out to the 

 suburbs to interview the victim. 

 ******** 

 The rental car slid to a halt in front of 206 West 38th street. 

 Despite being a standard nondescript blue sedan, it actually stood out in


 this high class residential area, where the number of luxury cars 

 displayed in your driveway was but one mark of social standing. Another 

 was the actual house itself, where each neighbour tried to outdo the
other 

 in the architecture, and the layout of the grounds was a ferocious battle


 led by gardeners, who all claimed to be *the* expert in their field. 

 Chantal Kuhn's house was certainly not the biggest, nor did it 

 have the most cars lined outside, or the prettiest front lawn, but the 

 ivy-laden stone house, terrain aesthetics, and obvious cost of her 

 property hinted to her high-paying job in the business district. 

 Obviously she knew how to handle the stock exchange. 

 Scully checked that her notepad and case file were in her 

 briefcase, and got out of the car, shaking Mulder out of his intense 

 observation of the property. As she turned to lock the door, he caught 

 

 her attention. 

 "I figure that in about 15 years, the promotions we'll have 

 garnered from our excellent work at the Bureau should make buying a house


 like this a breeze." He smirked and gazed into her eyes to gauge the 

 effect his joke had on her. 

 Scully rolled her eyes in theatrical frustration, but blushed 

 slightly. She couldn't help it. The first thought that had crossed her 

 mind was that of their buying a house like this *together*. Darting a 

 look towards Mulder, she saw he had noticed her blushing, but she was 

 amused to see him having difficulty to swallow -- as if his throat had 

 just gone dry. She caught his gaze and held it for a second, in awe that 

 he could have reactions like this because of her. The reality of their 

 recent mutual confessions of love and their subsequent decision to not
act 

 on it immediately was starting to take its toll. 

 "Well, shall we?" 

 His phrase broke her train of thought and she nodded, waiting for 

 him as he rounded the front of the car. Reaching her, he gently placed 

 his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the front of the 

 house. The world stopped for both of them as each felt a burst of heat 

 pervading them. Scully took a cleansing breath, somehow willing away the 

 tension that had begun to coil in her lower abdomen, and relaxed as the 

 heat changed to a sense of peace and security. Mulder, on the other hand,


 was not having such an easy time controlling himself, and was busy 

 thinking cold thoughts to get his body temperature back to normal. 

 *Think cold... think cold... snow... ice... Arctic -- uh... nope, 

 not that...* Visions of the Arctic Ice Core Project began flooding his 

 mind. Fear for his life and Scully's, the strange parasite, the worry 

 that they might be infected, and the electricity generated as they had 

 examined each other's necks and backs. He felt tingly as the blood began 

 leaving his brain for another peripheral location. Heroically, he pushed 

 the images out of his mind and forced himself to visualize taking an ice 

 cold bath. As he felt his heart rate returning to normal, he breathed a 

 silent sigh of relief. It would not have done to have the woman they were


 about to interview answer the door and see him in a state of arousal. His


 position at the Bureau was already too precarious to add something like 

 this to his record. 

 As he suddenly remembered Scully at his side he turned to look at 

 her, praying to whatever might be out there that she hadn't been aware of


 what had just happened to him. Luckily, she seemed to be taken with her 

 own thoughts, and had not noticed his reactions. He breathed another sigh


 of relief. 

 By the time they reached the door, both had their professional 

 demeanour back. 

 *********** 

 The door was answered almost immediately. They were greeted by a 

 woman who looked at them questioningly. 

 "Good afternoon, I'm special agent Mulder from the FBI, and this 

 is my partner agent Scully. We're looking for Chantal Valerie Kuhn." 

 She smiled, hearing her name pronounced incorrectly. It came as 

 no surprise. Most Americans (and then again most everyone on this planet)


 weren't aware of the special accents her French names required. 

 "That would be me. I was told to expect you today. Why don't you 

 come in, make yourselves comfortable. Would you like some tea or coffee?"


 She led them into her spacious living room, leaving momentarily to 

 prepare the requested coffee as the two agents settled into some very 

 comfortable seats. Minutes later she returned with the brew, complete 

 with some hors-d'oeuvres. Both accepted their cups with a word of thanks,


 but did not touch the food. Obviously, they were here for business, and 

 would not waste any more time than necessary getting down to it. 

 After the two agents had exchanged glances, Mulder spoke up. 

 "Miss Kuhn, I imagine it's no secret as to why we're here. We're 

 investigating the assault you reported a few weeks ago and would like to 

 hear your version of the facts, if possible." 

 Chantal paused for a second to sort out her reply. After a moment 

 she opened her mouth to begin, then hesitated as a thought crossed her 

 mind. 

 "I'm sure you're aware that I already made a statement, and have 

 had to repeat my story countless times to a series of policemen, and even


 another agent from the FBI. I'm curious as to why you don't just use the 

 reports which must have been generated from that." 

 Scully smiled a reassuring smile. Obviously this woman was highly 

 intelligent. It was understandable that she might tire of telling her 

 story, but her statement had held more. It was as if she knew that Mulder


 

 and herself wanted more. Leaning forward slightly, she answered. 

 "We understand your point of view, Miss Kuhn, but the fact of the 

 matter is we would rather hear the account directly from you. Perhaps 

 retelling it will jog some memory that may shed some light on the case. 

 We also have a somewhat different approach from that of the police force,


 so we may come to a different conclusion than what was in the police 

 report. I'm sorry if this brings back painful memories. Please take your 

 time, but we would greatly appreciate your cooperation if you want the 

 suspect apprehended quickly." 

 Chantal nodded, and mentally braced herself to relive the attack 

 in her mind. Taking a breath, she began her story. She told them about 

 the apprehension as she neared her car, about the sudden attack from 

 behind, the struggle, her retaliation, the drug, and the escape from the 

 car, up to the point where she crashed the car. 

 Mulder nodded, listening attentively while Scully wrote some notes 

 on her pad. He waited patiently until she had gotten to the point where 

 the two officers had gotten involved, and then interrupted her. 

 "I want to hear the account of what you may remember once 

 Detective Vecchio and Constable Fraser entered the scene, but first I'd 

 like to focus on your assailant for a second. You've already mentioned 

 what he was wearing, his height, his build, his eye colour, and his 

 Caucasian origin. What I want you to focus on now is your impression of 

 him. Was there anything which you might classify as out of the ordinary?"


 Chantal wasn't following. "Out of the ordinary?" 

 "Anything that you might have noticed... something that caught 

 your attention... it could be anything like a background noise, a 

 particular smell, thoughts that crossed your mind, something in your 

 periphery that made you look somewhere else, or any special reaction that


 you may have had that didn't seem 'normal' under those circumstances." 

 She stared blankly at him. This was just not computing. What on 

 earth could he mean? 

 "I'm sorry, I'm just not following." 

 He gave her one of his 'make any woman within 100 yards melt' 

 smiles and tried to explain his line of questioning. 

 "I'm simply asking you this to see if you might remember anything 

 else about your assailant. Something that doesn't immediately come to 

 mind when you are asked to describe someone. Something other than 

 physical appearance which might still provide an important clue as to who


 a person is, or what they do. Even perhaps what motivates them to make 

 such an attack, or why they chose you." 

 Chantal nodded. Yes, this made sense, but she still couldn't 

 think of anything out of the ordinary to say... except.. perhaps... 

 "Well, I'm not sure what to say. All I think of is that he seemed 

 to exude a form of wildness. Like he wasn't quite civilized. He also 

 didn't say a single word. Only grunted, and he let out a cry of pain when


 I knifed him. I can't say I recall anything else. It's quite a blur, 

 what with the drug that was in me and the fear I was feeling. I'm amazed 

 I've even been able to recall this much." 

 "Alright then. That's fine. Now, let's go onto the subsequent 

 accident. You said you were unconscious." 

 "Yes. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open, and this 

 heaviness was pressing down on me. It got dark, and my limbs were heavy, 

 and I just sort of collapsed against the wheel. I faintly remember the 

 crunching sound as my car hit the wall. Then, I moved in and out of 

 consciousness, catching bits of what was happening around me." 

 "What do you remember from those bits?" 

 "I remember feeling fingers taking my pulse. There were also two 

 men's voices, talking to each other. Something about me being a diabetic,


 and then checking my purse. I blacked out for a bit, but was awakened by 

 one of the men... the one in red - whom I later found out was Constable 

 Fraser - was sniffing me." 

 The two agents didn't react. They had heard this from the two men 

 earlier. Constable Fraser had mentioned how he had smelled her breath, to


 detect if there was alcohol, or the sweet breath of a hyperglycemic 

 diabetic. Scully had been impressed by this, but hadn't had time to 

 congratulate the constable on his good thinking before detective Vecchio 

 had chimed in, saying she was lucky he hadn't licked her. The two agents 

 had stared at him dumbfounded as he'd gone on to explain. "He has a 

 tendency to do that a lot." Fraser had stayed silent during that last 

 exchange. 

 "Yes, we've heard about that, Miss Kuhn. Is there anything else 

 you remember after that?" 

 

 "Not really. I blacked out, and the next thing I remember is 

 waking up in a hospital room. I had a mother of a headache and felt 

 dizzy. The doctor told me it was due to the drug I'd been injected with 

 and the concussion I'd suffered during the accident. I was released the 

 next day and that's all there is to say. I've told my story dozens of 

 times now. There's nothing else to add. 

 Mulder looked at Scully, who silently assured him she'd written 

 everything down, and with a small nod he turned his attention back to 

 Chantal. 

 "Thank you very much for your patience, Miss Kuhn. We'll let you 

 know if anything develops. In the meantime, you must remember that the 

 suspect is still on the loose, and may try and attack you again. If you 

 feel like you're being followed, or if anything happens, don't hesitate
to 

 contact the local police department. If there's anything else you 

 remember, or if you want to reach us, you can call these numbers. 

 He handed her a business card with his cell phone number on it and 

 Scully did the same. 

 "Thank you." Chantal replied, feeling somewhat reassured that 

 these two agents were on the case. "If there's anything else, I'll let 

 you know." 

 She walked them to the front door and bade them good-bye, watching 

 as they got into their car and drove away. 

 *********** 

 "Well, what do you think?" 

 "About her testimony?" Scully inquired. 

 "Yes." 

 "Well, Mulder, it sounds like any of dozen cases of assault with 

 intent to rape. The suspect already has a record of such assaults -" 

 "I know that, I mean do you think she's hiding something from us? 

 Does she know more than she's telling us?" 

 "Mulder! Why do you always assume there's more going on than 

 there is? She's a victim. She didn't ask to be attacked, it just 

 happened!" 

 He paused for a second, pondering her response. 

 "You're right." 

 He paused to think some more, then added. 

 "How about her description of the suspect? What did you think of that?" 

 "In what sense?" 

 "The wildness, the grunting... as if he were some primitive 

 animal. What could that mean?" 

 "I don't find anything too extraordinary about that. Most repeat 

 offenders in cases of assault show tendencies towards aggressiveness. He 

 may have grunted just so that his voice wouldn't be picked up... maybe he


 has an accent, something that would make him easy to pick out... there 

 could be a dozen reasons." 

 "I supposed that makes sense. But why did she feel the need to 

 describe him as a wild animal? Why insist on there having some 

 'primitive' feel to him?" 

 Scully's eyes widened as it dawned on her which direction her 

 partner's thoughts were headed. 

 "Mulder! Are you suggesting that the suspect is something other 

 than a man? That this is some form of wild animal? A missing link?" 

 "I must be rubbing off on you, Scully. I couldn't have said it 

 better myself." 

 He chuckled lightly as she stopped, stunned both by his ideas as 

 well as by the way he'd gotten by her riposte so easily. 

 "No, you're not, Mulder. That idea is absolutely ludicrous. 

 First of all, we are dealing with a man. Second of all, when was the last


 time you saw a wild animal procure themselves *and* deftly use a syringe 

 and drugs?" 

 Mulder's elation was dampened somewhat as his partner's arguments 

 sank in. She was right. While it was tempting to jump onto the 'missing 

 link' theory, there was too much preparation and skill involved. However,


 unwilling to concede so easily to his partner's arguing (it was just *so*


 fun to watch her face liven up when she got flustered), he decided to 

 compromise. 

 "You may be right, Scully. However, there's more to this than 

 meets the eye, and I'm determined to get to the bottom of this." 

 Scully smiled. She could feel Mulder's excitement, just like she 

 felt the excitement of the upcoming hunt. It was exhilarating... the 

 creative juices flowing, the adrenaline pumping, the search... It was one


 of the main reasons she wouldn't want to give up the X-Files if they 

 offered her the post of Director tomorrow morning. Paperwork was dull. 

 The X-Files were *never* dull. Plus, there was the added bonus of having 

 a gorgeous, single partner to work with. There were *definite* advantages


 there. If only... 

 Dana sighed softly and settled back in her seat as images of what 

 shouldn't be began forming in her mind. For once she was glad Mulder was 

 driving. This way, she had the luxury of thinking up a new fantasy... 

 Great! Another one to add to the long, unfulfilled list she already 

 

 carried around insider her heart. 

 ********** 

 "Hey, Huey! Can we see your notes on the B case from a couple 

 of weeks ago?" 

 "Which one, Vecchio? I'm a busy cop, unlike yourself..." 

 "Ha! Ha! Very funny... Come on... you know the one I'm talking 

 about. The B that had the prints from the robber in our assault cause." 

 "Why should I give them to you?" 

 "Because I asked so nicely." 

 "In your dreams Vecchio... it's *my* case, and I'm not going to 

 let you and that Mountie anywhere near it." 

 "Wanna bet?" 

 "What do you mean?" 

 "It ain't yours, Huey. Oh, and guess what... it's not mine either." 

 "Do you care to say that in English, Vecchio? If it's not mine, 

 and it's not yours, then whose is it?" 

 "Ours." 

 Detective Huey looked up from his latest case file to see a man's 

 face near his. He moved back, uncomfortable from the closeness... this 

 man had a way of invading personal spaces and making people fidget. 

 Gathering himself, he bristled back at the man... who was obviously tall,


 thin, and had a pair of penetrating hazel eyes. 

 "And you would be?" 

 "Agent Mulder." 

 The man straightened himself, stepped back, and circled his arm 

 around a petite redhead. A *hot* petite redhead. 

 "And this is my partner, agent Scully. Oh, and in case you hadn't 

 guessed, we're from the FBI, and this case is now under our
jurisdiction." 

 Huey gave a crooked smile. Half of it was for the fact that he 

 resented having cases pulled out from under him. However, the other half 

 was because he *knew* how much Vecchio hated Fibbies. It was well worth 

 it to give up the rights to this case, just to see Vecchio squirm. This 

 way, he wouldn't be involved, but would get all the advantages of the 

 spectator. 

 "By all means! Here's the case." He dug into a pile of folders 

 on his desk and quickly pulled out the appropriate one, handing it to the


 lanky agent. Then he sat back, crossed his hands behind his head, and 

 watched the show unfold. 

 *********** 

 Mulder and Scully retreated to a corner of the room, hunching over 

 the folder, glancing over the crime scene photos, and reading the details


 of the break-in. There was nothing unusual about it. The family hadn't 

 been home. Someone had snuck to the door of the house, used a crowbar to 

 open the door, had gotten about 5 feet into the house when they must have


 seen the silent alarm indicator going off. They ran away from the house, 

 and were nowhere to be found when the police arrived on the scene. A 

 forensics team had lifted some prints off the dropped crowbar, and on the


 door frame. They matched known prints, and a full-scale search of the 

 neighbourhood had revealed nothing. 

 Mulder sighed heavily, and looked towards his partner. 

 "We still don't know anything, Scully. We have no clear 

 description of our suspect, where he might be hiding, or what his next 

 move will be. What are we supposed to do now?" 

 Scully answered his sigh with one of her own. 

 "I don't know Mulder. All we can do is wait. Our suspect 

 obviously has a pattern of repeated crimes, and will strike again. In the


 meantime, I do *not* want to remain inactive. I say we analyze his points


 of attack, to see if there might be a discernible pattern. Something to 

 help us predict who his next victim will be." 

 Mulder smiled. His partner's mind was always thinking. Somehow, 

 when one of the two got discouraged, it was always the other one who'd 

 bring them back up, thinking, yearning for the truth, for answers. He 

 wondered how he'd ever worked without her. He didn't want to think of 

 what would happen if he lost her. 

 Inevitably, as with every time his mind went down this road, he 

 remembered when she'd been taken away from him. When he'd found himself 

 alone to face the world, with only his imagination to guide him as to 

 where she might be... what might be happening to her... what *they* would


 be doing to her... the tests... the pain... 

 He closed his eyes, unable to bear the thought. Feeling again as 

 he had during that time. Desperate, wild, uncaring. He hadn't been able 

 to sleep, and he had lost his appetite. Basic grooming seemed beyond his 

 capability, and he'd let his beard grow. He wouldn't comb his hair, and 

 barely remembered to put on clean shirts. There had been no point to 

 life. In fact, when he thought about it, he'd probably had a death wish 

 at the time. That would have explained Kristen. She had wanted to die, 

 and engaged in activities to get her wish. Blood sports, unprotected sex,


 

 meeting strange men in dark, isolated areas. He'd found her carelessness,


 her quiet desperation, fascinating. So much mirroring his own. It had 

 been so easy to lose himself for a few hours... to forget about
everything 

 happening in his life. To blot out the pain of missing Scully. All for a 

 short moment of carnal pleasure. Meaningless. Dangerous. Deadly. 

 And then she'd left too. Killing herself. He still wasn't sure 

 why, and he preferred not to try and figure it out. There were too many 

 variables. 

 Had she at least found the solace she so desperately needed? 

 He'd gone back home. Still desperate. Still missing Scully so 

 much it hurt to breathe. Torn between the idea of letting her go and 

 clinging fiercely to the hope that she would return. Once, a long time 

 ago, he'd worked alone. Used to the solitude. Craved it. Wanting to be 

 accepted, but understanding that it wouldn't happen. He'd work alone, in 

 the shadows, seeking out the truth that most people couldn't even begin
to 

 fathom. Those who relished calling him Spooky... they didn't 

 understand. They probably feared him. He hadn't cared. He could take 

 them all! And then it had all changed, in a single afternoon, after a 

 short knock on his door. She'd walked into his life and changed 

 everything. 

 So why hadn't he told her how much he loved her when she'd come 

 back to him? Why had he given her that goofy gift? The one he'd found at 

 the corner store as he raced over to the hospital. Superstars of the 

 Super bowl. Yup. Just what every woman needs. "I knew there was a 

 reason to live." Oh, how that phrase had washed over him. So unexpected, 

 yet so meaningful. Lifting a weight off his shoulders he hadn't even been


 aware he'd been carrying. Telling him, between the lines, how important 

 he was to her. He'd been sure of it. He was still sure of it now. And 

 when he'd given her back the cross... it had been magical. The final sign


 that all was going to be fine. 

 Mulder smiled to himself. *Fine*. That's her word. The one she 

 always uses, even when she isn't fine. The word that says 'If I wanted to


 tell you something's wrong, I would. She was so strong. Despite her 

 hardships. Despite losing her family, having been kidnapped and near 

 death countless times, she was strong. Stubborn. Oh, *definitely* 

 stubborn. But kind. She always forgave his mistakes. The countless 

 times he'd run away, 'ditched' her for something more important. The 

 Arctic and that pilot, that train with the alien hybrid. Countless 

 times. He felt ashamed remembering how many times there had been. **It 

 has to stop,** he told himself. **I won't do that anymore.** 

 And finally, as always, when the turmoil of emotions gripped him, 

 he felt the most important thing of all. Love. He wondered when he'd 

 first fallen in love with her. It was hard to pinpoint a time. Had it 

 been the first time he'd seen her? The first time she'd risked her life 

 for him? That conversation in the car? One of the countless times he'd 

 woken up in the hospital to see her face smiling down at him? It didn't 

 matter. All that *really* mattered was that he knew how he felt about 

 her. And one day... when the situation improved... when they brought down


 Cancerman... *Then*! Then they'd be able to do more than just say it. 

 They'd hold each other and never let go. He'd press his lips to hers, and


 let himself drown in the tidal wave... 

 "Are you hearing any of this, Mulder? Mulder? Mulder.... MULDER!" 

 He jumped. Her voice cut through his musings. Obviously she'd 

 been talking to him, but he hadn't heard a word she'd said. 

 "I'm sorry. What were you saying?" 

 "Mulder are you alright? You zoned out for a minute. Are you sick?" 

 Scully reached out to touch his forehead, fearing he might have a 

 fever. She hadn't seen him act like this very often, and it usually meant


 he was sick. He flinched at her touch, but didn't back away. She felt 

 her own brow furrow from worry as she checked his temperature. He seemed 

 fine. He didn't have a fever, but his pulse was rather rapid. And why 

 had he been staring at her so intently while she'd talked to him earlier?


 He hadn't heard a word she'd said. Of that she was sure. What was going 

 on? 

 Slowly, she withdrew her hand from his forehead. 

 "No. No fever. How are you feeling?" 

 "I'm fine Scully." 

 She smiled at that. How often had she used that line on him? 

 Well, even if he weren't fine, she knew she should respect his decision 

 and not pry. 

 "Okay then, Mulder. Now, what do you think about my idea?" 

 He grinned sheepishly. Obviously he hadn't heard anything she'd 

 

 said in the last two minutes. Sighing softly, she repeated what she'd had


 to say. 

 "I think that we should search the databanks for any crimes 

 committed by our suspect in the last two years. Something that might 

 indicate his style. Now, I'll take care of mapping the geographical 

 location of his attacks, and you take care of the chronology of the 

 attacks. Hopefully, we'll be able to come up with some sort of pattern 

 that will allow us to narrow down the area of the next attack. If we're 

 lucky, we might even be able to predict his next victim. What do you 

 think?" 

 He gave her his warmest smile. 

 "I think great minds think alike, Scully. Why don't you look up 

 those records, and when you find them, I'll come along and help you sort 

 them out. Okay?" 

 She grabbed him by the lapels as he tried to turn away. 

 "Just one second. Where do you think you're going?" 

 "Uh... well... I was hoping to go take a walk to clear my head." 

 "And leave me here to do all the archive work? I don't think so. 

 Come on, Mulder. You take 1994-1995, and I'll take 1995-1996." 

 He groaned, but followed her to the records room. 

 "Scully, I'll hold you personally responsible if I make a mess on 

 the floor. You *know* these things make me seasick. And me without my 

 Dramamine." 

 He gave her his best pout and she barely suppressed a smile. Yes, 

 he was feeling better. Whatever had crossed his mind earlier was now 

 buried somewhere deep in his psyche, and he was back on track. Now, if 

 only she could figure out what was bothering him... 

 Well, she might be able to. Once they'd solved the case, and 

 shoveled away the tons of paperwork afterwards. What was it she'd said 

 about the X-Files being fun and less paperwork? 

 *********** 

 "Okay, this is what I've got... All the attacks have taken place 

 on the south side. They're clustered in this region, and only 

 occasionally has he moved outside this territory. I think our best bet is


 to increase the patrols in this region." 

 "I agree, Scully. I've also found out that the crimes are 

 clustered in groups of four. We've seen two so far... Miss Kuhn's attack 

 and the breaking and entering. We have two to go for now. Otherwise, we 

 may have to wait six months before he strikes again." 

 "Well, that should leave us with some leverage, Mulder. Have you 

 observed anything about the order of the crimes?" 

 "No. Unfortunately, Scully, while the criminal is quite regular 

 about his timing, his types of crimes are random. I sifted through them 

 for an hour, and couldn't find any pattern. No order I could detect." 

 "Well, Mulder, maybe you didn't look hard enough." 

 He stopped and stared at her, startled by her last statement. 

 "Really?" 

 "Yes." 

 She tried not to look smug. She *really* tried, but in the end a 

 smile began to edge its way onto her face. He was looking at her with a 

 different look. Definitely respect. He was the profiler, the one who got 

 into criminal's minds. She was the pathologist. It wasn't that she 

 wasn't intelligent, but it wasn't her habit to do this. His esteem for 

 her had just increased yet again. 

 "Well, don't just leave me in suspense, Scully. Do tell!" 

 She smiled warmly. She'd been afraid he'd have felt jealousy. 

 After all, *he* was the one who almost always intuited what the criminal 

 would do next. He was the one with the nickname. 

 "I did find a pattern. The difference is that it's not one of 

 repetition, but rather lack thereof..." 

 "I'm listening." 

 "I've noted that for each crime spree, of the four crimes, none 

 was ever repeated. Only one assault, one breaking and entering, one 

 robbery, one store theft, or one of whatever other crime he's committed. 

 In this spree, we've had one assault and one breaking and entering, so I 

 hypothesize that we don't have to worry about these types of crimes in
the 

 near future." 

 Mulder nodded slowly. 

 "I agree. So, any suggestions on what the next crime might be?" 

 "Well, no, but I do have a feeling it might be a crime in a 

 business, so we should keep more patrols on the two or three streets
which 

 have a high business ratio." 

 "A *feeling*, Scully?" 

 "An educated guess, Mulder." 

 He leaned in towards her ear, lowered his tone, and smiled as he spoke. 

 "Sure, Scully." 

 He left her there, still shivering from the effects of his low, 

 sultry tone as he walked out of the archives and back to the bullpen. 

 ************** 

 "You expect me to suddenly dispatch half the force to patrol less 

 

 than a dozen streets?" 

 "That would be right, sir." 

 "Did the Mountie put you up to this, Vecchio?" 

 "Uh, no sir." 

 "Then who?" 

 Ray tried not to fidget in front of his superior, Lieutenant 

 Welsh. This man had a way of speaking to his detectives as if they were 

 only two inches tall, and Vecchio was not immune to it. 

 "It's the FBI agents sir. They have a suspicion that the next 

 attempt will be on one of the commercial streets on the south side, and 

 they requested our help by increasing patrols." 

 "Oh. Well, that puts a whole different spin on things. 

 Alright... I'll allow four extra cars to patrol the area, but no more." 

 "But sir, they asked for at least a dozen..." 

 "I said *four* cars, Vecchio. And if you're still in my office in 

 five seconds, it's going down to three." 

 "I'm a breeze, sir..." 

 ************ 

 Three pairs of eyes looked up to see Vecchio rush out of his 

 supervisor's office. He walked towards his desk, where his Canadian 

 friend and the two FBI agents were waiting for him. 

 Mulder was the first to speak. 

 "Well?" 

 "Lieutenant Welsh was unable to secure as many cars as you asked, 

 but he was able to promise four extra cars to patrol the area." 

 Mulder's anger flared. There was a dangerous criminal on the 

 loose, and he had expected full cooperation. He started to take a step 

 towards the Lieutenant's office, intent on letting him know just what he 

 thought of the decision when he was stopped by a hand reaching for his 

 arm. He turned back to see Scully restraining him. He was about to 

 comment when he was interrupted by another voice. 

 "I'm sure that we can find a respectable addendum to the local 

 police force's help. I'm willing to help in any way I can, and I could 

 speak to my superior. As a sign of goodwill, I'm certain she could spare 

 a few of our men to help in the stakeout." 

 "That's very generous of you, Constable Fraser," Scully said, 

 giving him a grateful smile. She looked at Mulder and gave him a stern 

 look, making sure he reacted in a similar manner. 

 "Yes, I must agree with my partner. Any help we can get in 

 stalking and arresting this criminal will be greatly appreciated," Mulder


 added, doing his best to get his mind back on the case. 

 "You don't have to thank me. It's only natural. After all, we're 

 all sworn to defend citizens." 

 ************ 

 Scully got off the phone, after having ascertained that the local 

 Bureau office would supply six sets of partners to help the stakeout. 

 She got back to Vecchio's desk, where the three men were finishing 

 up working on a patrol route. 

 "Now that we've agreed on the route to take, I suggest we retreat 

 for the evening, to prepare for tomorrow," Mulder instructed, eyeing the 

 two men next to him and his approaching partner, "and meet here tomorrow 

 at 8 am. This will give us a chance to rest, and prepare. Tomorrow 

 morning, we'll brief the patrolmen and every agent and detective who will


 be assisting with the patrol." 

 He hesitated for a second before continuing. 

 "I assume that you understand that we are not to wear our regular 

 uniforms. We will be undercover, so we need to look as inconspicuous as 

 possible. So wear regular clothes." 

 Mulder looked at Fraser, inspecting his red serge uniform. In the 

 two days he'd been here, the man had never once worn anything else, and
he 

 wondered if he *owned* anything else. 

 Fraser noticed the inspection, and cleared his throat. 

 "That will be no problem, agent Mulder. I assume jeans and a 

 shirt are sufficiently common clothes?" 

 Fraser noted Mulder's acquiescing nod and extended to shake his 

 hand, gave Scully a quick nod, adding a low "Ma'am", and then patted Ray 

 on the shoulder as a good-bye before turning away and walking off. 

 Ray settled into his chair and looked up at the agents, who 

 gathered their things and left after a few minutes, giving a quick 

 good-bye. 

 ************ 

 The knock on the door startled Scully. She'd just settled into 

 her room for the evening, switching her laptop on to write up her evening


 addendum to her field journal, and had been contemplating going to the 

 hotel bar and ordering a nice soothing cup of herbal tea when the knock 

 had come. 

 "Who is it?" 

 "Michael Crichton." 

 She smiled as she moved to open the door. 

 "You know, Mulder, you're going to have to come up with something 

 a little more original... First Steven Speilberg, now this? If you'd at 

 

 least said you were some sexy Hollywood star, I *might* have opened the 

 door more enthusiastically." 

 He gave her a silly grin. 

 "You mean you *didn't* think I was the world-famous author?" 

 "No, I thought you were the world famous pain in the 

 'you-know-what' partner of mine coming to disturb me. Guess I wasn't 

 wrong." 

 "Awwww Scully. That hurts. And to think I was going to invite 

 you to go out and run with me." 

 "So now you're not?" 

 "Depends. Would you say yes?" 

 "You won't know until you ask me." 

 "Okay. I'm asking. Do you want to go for a run? I thought it 

 might be a good thing to go by the commercial district one more time 

 before we make the final revisions on our surveillance plan later 

 tonight." 

 She surprised them both by saying yes. She left him to turn off 

 her computer and find himself somewhere to sit while she grabbed a pair
of 

 jogging pants and shoes, and a sweatshirt, and headed off to the bathroom


 to change. He was sitting in a big stuffed chair when she came back into 

 the main room. 

 "Ready?" He asked, and he got up out of the chair when she 

 nodded. They headed out the door and walked down to the sidewalk near the


 motel, where they stopped and did a few basic stretches before heading
off 

 towards the direction of the commercial district. He let her set the 

 pace, unsure of just how fast she could run. She picked a good pace, easy


 for him to follow, and not to fast so that she'd run out of steam early. 

 It felt good to be running next to him. Their feet pounding the pavement 

 in a complementary pattern, just like the way they complemented each
other 

 so well at work. Their breathing coming just fast enough to prevent easy 

 conversation, allowing them to enjoy each other's company without the
need 

 for words. They ran this way for seven blocks until they reached the 

 commercial district, where Mulder slowed down and signaled for her to 

 follow suit. 

 They came to a stop at the corner of the street, and she looked up 

 to his face, curious to know why he'd made them stop. He pointed down a 

 street, and between rapid breaths, indicated he thought they should start


 in that direction, and then weave their way back through the parallel 

 streets, in order to cover all the territory and get a final 'feel' for 

 the area. She nodded her agreement and followed him as he started up 

 again, choosing a slower pace to enable them ample time to observe the 

 neighbourhood, notice alleys, hiding spaces, areas where attacks could 

 easily take place, businesses that were more at risk, and so on. Twenty 

 minutes later, they had covered the area and were ready to go back to the


 motel. Scully turned to move towards the home stretch when she suddenly 

 felt Mulder's hand on her arm, pulling her in another direction. She 

 looked at him quizzically, but when his face remained impassive she
simply 

 shrugged and went along. They jogged a few blocks when they came across a


 nice, fairly well-lit park where a few of the city dwellers were enjoying


 a leisurely autumn stroll. He chose a path and they followed it. A few 

 hundred yards later, the path turned into a wooded area, which was lit 

 here and there with park lamps. 

 They jogged in silence through the trees, and Scully decided to 

 take a second to try and read Mulder's expression, to see what he was 

 thinking. She turned to glance up at his face, which was relaxed but not 

 really registering any easily readable emotion, and at that precise
moment 

 she stepped on a root which made her lose her balance and fall forward. 

 Mulder, who heard her gasp as she tripped, moved on instinct and tried to


 catch her. However, as he leaned his arms out to catch her, he caught his


 foot in the same root that she had tripped on, and only managed to wrap 

 his arms around her before they both tumbled to the ground, himself on
the 

 bottom. She fell heavily on him, and he felt the air rush out of his 

 lungs as her elbow accidentally struck his diaphragm. He took a few 

 seconds to fight for a breath before he looked up to her. 

 *********** 

 "Are you okay?" They simultaneously asked, then answered, "Yes" 

 in the same manner. They both looked at each other and started laughing 

 at the perfect synchronicity of their questions and answers. This 

 situation was just ludicrous. Scully tried to move off Mulder, but his 

 arms were still wrapped around her, so she only managed to press her
elbow 

 into his diaphragm again, letting herself drop back down and giving him a


 contrite look after hearing his sudden release of air. 

 "Mulder, let go of me so I can get up." 

 He didn't respond right away, so she asked again. When he again 

 

 did not move, she turned her head more fully towards him, about to ask
him 

 why he wasn't moving when she suddenly got a good look at his expression.


 His gaze was intently set on her face, and his eyes were smouldering. She


 stared back, mesmerized. For endless seconds they simply looked at each 

 other, suddenly aware of how much of each one was touching the other. 

 Unsure what to do, or how to react. Fascinated by the way the other was 

 staring, softly moving against the other with each breath. It was Mulder 

 who moved first, slowly bringing his arm up her back until he'd reached 

 her head, and brushed the hair out of her face to get a clearer view of 

 Scully. He caressed her cheek, and moved his hand back to lace his 

 fingers through her hair. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought her lips to 

 his and placed a chaste kiss. Unable to lose contact with her, he held 

 her head so that their lips never lost touch. He was still breathing hard


 and so was she. The breaths coming out of their slightly open mouths 

 mingled, allowing them a slight taste of each other without the need for 

 further contact. 

 It felt so good. It was the first time they'd touched this way 

 since the night he'd come to her apartment in a panic and pressed her up 

 against the wall, unsure of her real identity. It was only the second 

 situation where they'd ever kissed. It wasn't supposed to happen. It 

 wasn't a good idea. But at this specific instant, the world could have 

 self-destructed around them and they wouldn't have been aware, as 

 engrossed in each other as they were. 

 It was he who broke the silence. 

 "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" 

 "Oh, I have a good idea." 

 She started leaning in towards him when the sound of a wayward owl 

 startled both of them. Suddenly aware that, despite being in the woods, 

 they were still in a public park, they gave each other a quick look, 

 cleared their throats and managed to untangle their limbs. As quietly as 

 possible, they stood up and faced each other, wearing contrite looks on 

 their faces. They both knew that they had decided not to pursue a 

 relationship, despite their feelings for each other, but in times like 

 this it was especially painful to keep their distance. 

 "Uhm..... I guess we'd better get back to the hotel. We've got 

 some last-minute re-checking to make sure our stakeout stays a well-oiled


 machine." 

 "It's nice to see you so optimistic, Mulder." 

 He just gave her an enigmatic smile and turned towards the way 

 they had just come. 

 "I'll race you back, Scully." 

 "You're on, Mulder, but... hold on a second!" 

 "What?" 

 "Oh, nothing. Wait! What's that?" 

 "What?" 

 As he turned his head, she pushed him down and took off towards 

 the direction of the hotel, running with all her might. It took four 

 blocks before he caught up with her, but when he did, he simply glared at


 her and moved on. 

 ********** 

 It felt weird, to be walking hand in hand along the sidewalk. 

 Scully's mind couldn't quite compute the implications. Here they were, 

 walking together, holding hands like any normal couple, under the
watchful 

 eye of their coworkers, and it was allowed! Why hadn't she thought of 

 doing undercover work before? 

 Mulder, for his part, had a silly grin plastered across his face, 

 as he sneaked looks her way, winking from time to time. Nope. This was 

 too good to be true. He could almost read her mind. Not that it was 

 hard, that contented look on her face was hard to miss. Well, it wasn't 

 that easy to see, but with years of practice at trying to decipher her 

 expressions, it was right there, painted in neon letters across her 

 forehead. She was enjoying this. Maybe even a little too much. For the 

 millionth time that morning he gave her hand a squeeze and winked in her 

 direction before sweeping the area with another glance. 

 They stopped at a storefront, using the reflection on the window 

 to try and see if anything was happening behind them. Within his ear, he 

 heard the FBI agent who was coordinating the operations from the 

 surveillance van ask to get a vocal report, and he responded, leaning in 

 towards Scully to pretend like he was whispering something in her ear. 

 That resulted in a slight involuntary shiver which she did not seem able 

 to suppress, and he chuckled silently at the effect his voice had on her.


 **Gee, I wonder what would happen if I whispered something good in her 

 ear...** 

 Mulder almost leaned over to do so when he remembered the wire he 

 was wearing. Nope, not a good idea. The last thing they needed was to 

 tell the whole Bureau *and* the Chicago PD what was happening between 

 

 then. Darn wires. He pouted, but thanked his lucky stars for equipment 

 so small it could be hidden from view. Unconsciously, his thoughts 

 drifted to the last time he'd use this type of equipment and stopped 

 himself... Duane Barry... **Better not go there... at least not right 

 now.** Okay.... how about another type of surveillance equipment? 

 Modell. Better not go there either. Sighing softly, he made a mental 

 effort to keep his mind off of the past and concentrated on the present, 

 and his surroundings. He could not allow himself to be distracted. 

 He turned towards his partner as she gave his hand a squeeze. 

 "Mulder, I think we've got a problem." 

 "What?" 

 "See that shopkeeper over there?" 

 She pointed towards one of the merchants on the opposite side of 

 the street, who was standing at the door of his business. 

 "Yes." 

 "Well, this is the fourth time we pass this street in the last two 

 hours, and he's been staring at us the last two times. Looks like he's 

 getting suspicious. Any suggestions?" 

 "Change of route? For a while?" 

 A voice broke into both their right ears... "Uh... 'fraid not, 

 guys. We can't afford to change routes right now. You'll have to think 

 of something else." 

 "Gotcha, Fred. We'll think of something else," Mulder replied. 

 "Any ideas?" Scully asked him, a hopeful look on her face. 

 "Oh, plenty." 

 "Such as?" 

 "Why don't we move along and I'll fill you in on the next round." 

 "Uh oh, Mulder. Don't look now, but he's trying to cross the 

 street. I think he wants to talk to us." 

 "Great!" 

 *********** 

 Mulder's exasperated tone only lasted a second, and the speed of 

 his change in attitude left Scully speechless as she felt him forcefully 

 push her against the wall and saw him lowering his head to hers. 

 "Mul- Wha-?" 

 That was all she had the time to say before his lips closed over hers. 

 The world disappeared. It went somewhere, but Scully just wasn't 

 mentally apt to guess where at the moment. It was all she could do to 

 stand upright. Thankfully, the wall and Mulder's hands on her waist 

 helped her. Well, that and the fact that he was pressed solidly against 

 her. The passion of his kiss both frightened and excited her. The fear 

 of being watched still was too great for her to feel comfortable, but she


 was definitely beginning to like this. Oh yes. She could get used to 

 this. It was addictive, that touch of his. A drug she would willingly 

 take every chance she got. Nothing felt more comfortable than to be in 

 his arms. Nothing felt more natural. It was like breathing. 

 **Speaking of which,** her lungs reminded her, **isn't it about 

 time you take a breath?** 

 Scully broke away first, breathing heavily and putting her hands 

 onto Mulder's shoulders. He eased down a bit, wrapping his arms tightly 

 around her, placing his face against her right ear. It felt and looked 

 like a comfortable hug, but as she suddenly glimpsed a view of the street


 from over his shoulders, she realized he was purposefully giving her a 

 chance to see what was happening. 

 "Well?" He whispered to her, as she felt his warm breath against 

 her ear, ruffling her hair. 

 "Looks like we scared him off, Mulder. He's no longer on the 

 street, and probably went back into his store." 

 "Take a quick look around. Is anything unusual happening?" 

 She craned her neck and did her best to survey the immediate area. 

 "Except for us, no." 

 "Welcome back to planet earth," Fred's voice broke in. "We thought 

 that both of you would pass out from lack of oxygen for a minute. Should 

 I congratulate you on your acting?" 

 "I knew there was a reason why I'd taken all those performing arts 

 classes in college," Mulder cracked wryly, giving a nice performance for 

 the surveillance team, while sneaking a secret wink in Scully's
direction. 

 "I must say, you are excellent at taking the lead, Mulder. I 

 didn't have the time to see that one coming." 

 "Was it good for you, agent Scully?" Fred teased. 

 "I don't know, Fred. Tell you what... We'll get Mulder to try his 

 technique on you, and then we can compare notes, okay?" 

 That shut him up. Fast. Scully barely suppressed a giggle as she 

 imagined the shade of red Fred must have turned. Mulder was more 

 successful at controlling his laughter, but the grin on his face said it 

 all. 

 "You know, Scully... I think I'll just take your word for it." 

 "Your loss, Fred." 

 Scully looked at Mulder, amazed at his last answer. Oh, she knew 

 

 he had a sense of humour, but this was too much. She doubled over in 

 laughter, unable to stop herself. Mulder pulled her into the nearest 

 alley, quieting her for a moment, and then they both burst into a fit of 

 laughter, taking a long moment to get back in control. 

 "Hey, guys... I don't mean to be a spoilsport... but we *are* 

 trying to catch a criminal." 

 That sobered them up fast. 

 "Sorry, Fred," Scully replied, working hard to get into control 

 and to stop the blush that was creeping up her face. 

 "Okay, Scully... ready?" 

 Mulder reached out with his hand, waiting for her to grasp it, and 

 then they exited the alley, moving along their planned route. Two blocks 

 later, they reached the surveillance van and slowed down. Looking all 

 around, they checked to make sure no one was watching before opening the 

 side door and stepping in. 

 "Well, if it isn't the two lovebirds," Fred teased, his smile and 

 the gleam in his eye an added taunt. 

 "Come here, sweetheart," Mulder replied, making a move to pull 

 Fred to him. 

 "Not on your life!" 

 Fred looked genuinely scared for a second, before turning a deep 

 shade of crimson and mumbling something as he moved back to the consoles.


 ********** 

 The teams were rotating their lunch breaks, and it was Ray and 

 Benny's turn. As they drove towards one of their favourite diners, Ray 

 felt the need to comment on the surveillance. 

 "We're wasting our time, 'Fra-zier'... 

 "Why do you say that, Ray?" 

 "We're sitting ducks... waiting for something to happen. I'm 

 sorry, but every instinct in me says we should be out there... pounding 

 the pavement, asking our contacts. We've got a criminal on the loose. We 

 can't just stand around waiting for something to happen!" 

 "Well, actually, I've done some checking on their backgrounds and 

 agents Mulder and Scully are quite capable. They're both intelligent, 

 dedicated, and their solve rate is one most everyone would like to have. 

 He used to do criminal profiles, and he was renowned for his accuracy. In


 fact it earned him a nickname." 

 "Oh really? What?" 

 "Well, I don't think it would be appropriate to repeat it. I 

 mean, it's not nice to disseminate such information." 

 "Fraser, if you didn't want me to know you shouldn't have started 

 talking about it." 

 "Well, I'm sorry, Ray. It's just that I believe, from what I 

 learned, that agent Mulder is sensitive about the alias, so I think it's 

 best if we let this go." 

 "Let what go? You didn't even *tell* me!" 

 "Yes, I know. I'm sorry Ray. I'm going to have to take a firm 

 stand on this." 

 "Oh yeah, like you ever take a firm stand on anything, Fraser. Do 

 I have to remind you of the incident about your uniform?" 

 "That's not true. I did take a firm stand at the end of that 

 incident, and if I must remind you, I *was* dismissed." 

 "Oh yeah? Then why are you still working?" 

 "I don't know, Ray. But I'm still wearing my uniform." 

 "Good point." 

 Ray backed off, realizing he wasn't arguing for the right 

 reasons. It was the frustration of the day, not his friend's actions, 

 that were the reason for his bad mood. He felt he should apologize, but 

 he knew that Benton realised what was happening and wasn't taking this 

 personally. 

 He stopped for a second, remembering a conversation they'd had 

 when his Mountie friend had lost his memory on a recent case. When Benny 

 had asked him why they were friends, he'd been hard-pressed to give an 

 answer. There was no easy response for that one. It was just that they 

 seemed to work so well together. They understood each other without 

 saying anything. As he'd once said...'I mean it's one of those special 

 cases where alone we're incomplete but together we're better than we are 

 separately.' It was true. They *did* complement each other. It was a 

 special bond. Something you don't see often. Something that some 

 partners just have. **In fact,** he suddenly thought, **those two FBI 

 partners had the same type of bond.** 

 **Well, okay, not quite the same bond,** he admitted. **There's 

 more to it than that in their case. Yes, they complement each other, and 

 communicate without words just like Benny and me, but there's something 

 more. Something I can't quite put my finger on.** 

 Ray continued in silence, contemplating what could be different 

 about the Fibbies. He had a hard time categorizing it. It wasn't just 

 because they were a man/woman team. Sure, he'd seen some sparks fly 

 between such pairs, but there was something else here... It was almost as


 

 if they were... soulmates. *Nah....* He told himself. *That's not it, is 

 it?* However, the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that 

 this was it. It was as if some metaphysical bond had been formed between 

 the two of them, linking them forever. He had a distinct feeling that if 

 one were to die, the other would not survive. Not for long, anyway. 

 Which was too bad, because he thought that Dana Scully was *definitely* a


 looker. 

 "Hey, Benny... What do you think about those two agents?" 

 "Which ones, Ray? Agents Scully and Mulder?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "Well, I don't know. They seem very professional, rather 

 open-minded - especially him - and they work well together." 

 "Yeah, yeah... but what about *her*? What do you think of her?" 

 "She's quite intelligent, strong-willed, well-trained ---" 

 "But what about her looks? Wouldn't you like to have her for yourself?" 

 The silence in the Riv stretched for a long minute. Ray wasn't 

 quite sure what Benny was thinking about, so he ventured a look in his 

 partner's direction. At the sight, he willed himself not to snicker. 

 Benny was blushing. Oh, only slightly, but enough for him to know that he


 was thinking about something to do with women. However, he knew his 

 friend well enough to wonder if he was thinking about the lovely agent 

 Scully, or his impetuous supervisor, Meg Thatcher (or as Ray liked to
call 

 her, The Dragon Lady). 

 "Penny for your thoughts, Benny." 

 "Huh? Oh, I wasn't thinking of anything important." 

 "Yeah right. Guess that flush I noticed on your face was due to 

 this balmy November weather. Come on, spill! You were thinking about 

 Dana Scully, weren't you?" 

 "Well, yes, Ray. But not in the way you're implying." 

 "She's hot isn't she?" 

 "You could say that, but there would be no point in trying to 

 pursue it." 

 "Why not?" 

 "It would seem to me like she's already spoken for." 

 Ray smiled. So Ben saw it too? Good. He was glad to know that 

 he wasn't the only one. 

 "You mean she's fallen for me, Fraser?" 

 "At the risk of hurting your ego, no she hasn't, Ray. Haven't you 

 seen the way she looks at her partner? I think no other man alive stands 

 the chance of ever winning her heart." 

 Ray sighed. "It's too bad." 

 He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he heard Benny sighing 

 too. But when he turned to look at his friend, the Mountie had regained 

 his composure and was unreadable. 

 ********** 

 "You know, Mulder, I think we should have planned our surveillance 

 better. Don't you think that a nice cushy car for a stakeout would have 

 been better than this? My feet are starting to hurt." 

 Mulder winked in her direction. 

 "Nag, nag, nag." 

 He cringed slightly, expecting a physical blow, but instead 

 getting her 'Oh, you're going to regret that' look. Changing tack, he 

 looked around quickly and formulated a plan. 

 "Hey, Scully. Tell you what. Why don't we stop at the terrace on 

 that corner. We're ahead of our schedule as far as walking around is 

 concerned, and I'll buy you a cappuccino. It'll be just like that 

 annoying TV show." 

 She laughed. "Okay, but I insist on paying for the coffees. 

 After all, you're probably the one who's suffering the most. You must 

 feel sore after falling while jogging last night." 

 He gave her a look to show he hadn't forgotten about that, and his 

 eyes held a hint of a promise. One she wasn't glad to see. She knew 

 she'd have to pay for pushing him down at one point or another. She just 

 hoped it would be sooner or later, because the stress of waiting for 

 something to happen wouldn't be very good for her health. 

 "Aww... Isn't that sweet," Mulder said in honeyed tones, " I'm 

 glad you're so worried about my health." 

 He grasped her arm tighter and practically dragged her forward as 

 he picked up the pace towards the cafe, knowing she'd have a hard time 

 following. 

 A few minutes later they were seated at a table, surveying the 

 neighbourhood and sipping their hot drinks. Mulder sweeped the immediate 

 area and, content that no one was paying attention to them, he began to 

 lightly kick Scully's feet, stopping once in a while to wrap his foot 

 around her ankle. Looking up to his partner's face, he winked. 

 Scully stared at him, wide-eyed. To say she was shocked would 

 have been an understatement. Mulder was playing *footsies*?????? In 

 public??????? She wasn't sure which of the two behaviours was surprising 

 her the most, but she was flabbergasted. 

 

 "Mulder..." She tried to warn him. He just ignored her, moving 

 his foot up to her calf muscle, slowly dragging it up and down the back
of 

 her leg, soothing the soreness there. She wanted to stop him, she knew it


 was inappropriate behaviour, especially on duty, but she just couldn't
get 

 herself to mouth the words to make him stop. 

 It turned out that he stopped on his own, and just as Scully was 

 taking a deep breath, thankful for the interruption of physical contact, 

 he leaned in and asked her if her feet were still sore. 

 "Why, Mulder?" 

 "Well, we wouldn't want you having to walk all this distance with 

 sore feet. I'll tell you what... take off your shoes, that should help 

 relieve some of the pain." 

 She thought that was a good idea, so she unlaced her shoes and 

 quickly slipped them off. It did help, and she gave a sigh of 

 contentment, which turned into a yelp of surprise as he reached for her 

 right foot and brought it up into his lap. He smiled and looked straight 

 into her eyes as he began to massage her foot. 

 Magic. There was no other word to describe what she felt as his 

 strong, agile fingers began to knead and stroke, working out the tension 

 and the pain of the long walk. He found all the sore areas, soothing and 

 relaxing them, somehow managing to skim over her ticklish spots so
quickly 

 she didn't have time to react. She felt the tension in her body begin to 

 dissipate, and a slow buzz began in her head as she leaned back in her 

 chair and closed her eyes. So far, she had managed to hold back from 

 moaning her approval at the movements of his hands, but it was getting 

 harder to do. To try and counter this, she concentrated on her 

 respiration. After all, people were listening in on them. 

 In. Out. In. Out. She took long, soothing breaths, counting 

 slowly as she inhaled and exhaled. *That's it, Dana. Don't think about 

 those hands... concentrate on your breathing... your foot is not attached


 to your body... you're not feeling the sparks of electricity shooting out


 from his contact... they're not pooling in your stomach... you're not 

 feeling the tension in your abdomen... there isn't any heat building... 

 breathe... breathe...* 

 She opened her eyes as she realized how her thoughts had gone 

 dangerously close to somewhere she didn't want to go. Unconsciously she 

 flicked her eyes up to her partner's. Well, that was a mistake. She 

 forgot to breathe. His eyes had gone dark. The intensity of his gaze was 

 hypnotic as it bore into hers, communicating every feeling, every desire.


 It was a look that said he'd like to just take her right now, on the 

 table, with everyone watching. She closed her eyes with an effort, 

 suddenly aware that she was trembling. Why was he doing this to her? Why 

 was she doing this to herself? They'd come to a mutual agreement that 

 despite their love for one another, they wouldn't act on it. Not in the 

 near future, anyway. Dana knew she had to stop her partner right now, 

 before things got out of control. Not to mention that they were on duty! 

 She tried to pull her foot away, but he held onto it. However, 

 his strokes changed -- got lighter, less intense -- and after a few 

 moments she decided to hazard a look at her partner. His eyes weren't on 

 her anymore. He was scanning the area as he gently continued to massage 

 her foot, spreading out the toes and gently stretching them. Finally, he 

 let go of her foot, and she limply let her leg fall back to the ground. 

 She didn't resist when he lifted her other foot. He began to stroke it as


 well, but not with the intensity he'd used before. This touch was 

 gentler, more distant. Dana sighed in relief as she realized that he 

 understood her dilemma. 

 After a few minutes he released that foot as well, and simply 

 watched her as she continued to rest limply on her chair. 

 "You look tired." 

 His words startled her. They hadn't talked for so long now that 

 she'd grown accustomed to the silence. 

 "I guess I am, a little. When does the next shift come in?" 

 Mulder looked at his watch. "In an hour. Then we'll be free to 

 go and have supper, then rest. Of course, if nothing happens today, you 

 know we're going to have to do this again tomorrow." 

 "Yes, I know Mulder. I hope something happens soon, though. I'm 

 not sure I could stand the monotony of walking the same beat this way for


 days on end." 

 "Well, that's not likely to happen. Lieutenant Welsh didn't seem 

 too pleased to lend us some of his manpower, so I'd say we've got three 

 days at most before he loses his patience." 

 "Three days? Do you think our suspect will attack before then?" 

 

 "I can't be one hundred percent sure, Scully, but I have a feeling 

 he's around. It shouldn't be too long. But chances are it won't happen 

 today. I'd say there's a better chance of something happening tomorrow. 

 We've got the early shift, before the businesses open. Ten to one that's 

 when something is going to happen." 

 Scully nodded slowly, straightening herself in her chair. The 

 tension was returning. The anticipation. The hunt. Her instincts and 

 senses were sharpening again after her temporary rest. She signaled to 

 the waiter, who quickly walked over to their table, and asked for the 

 check. 

 ********** 

 The debriefing at the end of the day was rather uneventful. Of 

 course, no one had seen anything out of the ordinary, and other than a 

 couple of shoplifters who had been caught, there was nothing else to 

 report. By mutual agreement, all parties went their separate ways. They 

 would meet again at 4 am. The 12 hour night shift had started at 5 pm, 

 and they would relieve them the next morning. 

 ********* 

 " 'night Scully." 

 " 'night Mulder." 

 She reached to unlock the door to her hotel room, but stopped when 

 she felt his hand on her shoulder. Turning to look at him, she saw him 

 bend down towards her. Reaching out with her hand, she pushed against his


 chest, keeping him at a distance. 

 "Mulder, what do you think you're doing?" 

 "Kissing you good night." 

 "I realized that. What happened to our agreement? The promise 

 we'd made not to pursue anything for the moment?" 

 "But Scully, we've broken that agreement twice in less than 24 hours..." 

 Dana sighed. This wasn't easy for her, but she was going to have 

 to be the one to enforce the rules. 

 "I know, Mulder, and that shouldn't have happened. We've got to 

 try and keep this promise. We agreed it would be best for everyone. A 

 situation this complicated shouldn't happen right now." 

 "Awwww... Come one Scully... just *one* harmless good-night kiss? 

 Please?" 

 Scully stared at him, trying to explain her fear with her eyes, 

 but when he seemed to ignore her silent pleading, she simply sighed and 

 bowed her head. 

 "Okay Mulder, but make it quick." 

 "Oh, Scully, I can't do that. I always take my time." 

 Scully felt her breath quicken at the implication in his words. 

 This was going to be a hard refusal. Thinking 'cold' thoughts she nodded,


 deciding to stay impassive as he leaned in for the kiss. *It's winter, 

 I'm freezing, it's snowing outside... I'm in the Arctic circle... Yeah, 

 cold like it was in Icy Cape.* 

 She stopped at that thought, thinking of the dangerous 

 implications. Thinking about the electricity of his hands on her back as 

 he checked her for contamination. 

 It was at that precise instant that his lips made contact with 

 hers, and she was lost. 

 His kiss was chaste, very light, not containing anything but 

 promises for the future, which is why she surprised herself when she 

 wrapped her arms around him and pulled him forcefully to her. 

 Using every ounce of strength she possessed, she turned them 

 around, pushing him into the wall. He still seemed too shocked to 

 respond, so she took that chance to slide her hands up and down the sides


 of his torso, feeling his muscles shudder with the contact. 

 Dana couldn't believe it. Her blood pressure and temperature had 

 shot through the roof. She wanted him. Wanted him *now*. There would be 

 no waiting. If she didn't have him tonight, she'd go insane. 

 It was she who was surprised when he finally began to move and 

 pushed her away gently. His eyes had gone dark with desire, but he 

 obviously wanted to say something. 

 "Um... Do you realize we're still in the hall?" 

 Dana looked at her surroundings. She turned a deep crimson as she 

 thought of the fact that anyone could have walked by and seen them. 

 That's assuming no one had already. And to think they were always so 

 paranoid about someone watching them. Had she lost *all* her sanity? 

 "And besides," his voiced had lowered an octave and taken on that 

 gravely quality she loved, "I promised you to take it slow." 

 Her knees gave way. She started to collapse, and caught herself 

 just in time before she fell to the floor. In reality, it was his eyes 

 that saved her. They seemed to pull her in, give her the strength to stay


 standing. 

 He started moving along the wall, edging towards her door, Dana in 

 tow as he took her hand and tugged. He pulled her into her room and 

 kicked the door shut, backing her into it. 

 

 "Now, where were we?" 

 "Right about here..." She replied as she pulled him into her arms 

 again. 

 "Oh yeah... that's it." 

 He smiled down at her as he oh-so-slowly lowered his head to hers. 

 He was driving her insane. The speed of his descent made her 

 think she was watching a scene in slow motion, and she desperately wanted


 to hit the fast forward button. 

 She stretched her neck, trying to get as close to his open mouth 

 as possible, needing his contact. Wanting it more than she wanted to take


 her next breath. She reached out with her tongue, thinking she just might


 be able to touch him. It worked. They finally made contact. He let his 

 tongue touch hers, feeling the jolt of electricity crossing through his 

 body from the contact. With a rush of energy, he suddenly bridged the gap


 between their lips and ravished her with a deep kiss. 

 Mulder broke away, taking in a deep breath, and moved back from 

 her, once again pulling her along as he headed for the bed. They sat down


 facing each other, suddenly unsure what to do or say. This was all so 

 new. 

 His eyes found hers, questioning her, wanting to know if this was 

 too much, too fast. Her responding hungry look told him all he needed to 

 know. She wanted this as much as he did. The intensity of her gaze made 

 his insides twist around uncomfortably. She was so strong, so 

 self-assured. Was he up to the challenge? **Could you back away now if 

 you wanted to?** He asked himself, and the answer was immediate. 

 **No.** Besides, he didn't want to. 

 They began kissing passionately, unable to control themselves. 

 They fell back on the bed, craving for contact. It was only a matter of 

 minutes before they had taken off their clothes and were making love. 

 Time lost its meaning as they thought only of each other, and at 

 the very end, when passion was at its highest, Mulder leaned down and 

 whispered into Scully's ear. 

 "You're the only one I trust. I wouldn't act this way with anyone 

 else." 

 Wrapped in each other's arms, they finally felt their heartbeats 

 return to normal. Mulder turned to his side, his partner following. With 

 their arms wrapped around each other they relaxed. 

 Scully moved to look at him and opened her mouth to speak but he 

 silenced her with a finger against her lips. 

 "No more talking tonight. I just want to hold you. Please, let me." 

 She looked into his eyes for a long time, as if searching for some 

 kind of answer, then simply nodded and moved back into his arms. She fell


 asleep almost instantly. Mulder held her tightly and closed his eyes. As 

 he was drifting off he remembered he had to set the alarm. Reluctantly 

 pulling away from his sleeping partner, he set the travel alarm and
turned 

 back to wrap his arms around her again. She sighed contentedly in her 

 sleep and burrowed her head against his chest. 

 They slept well that night, with no dreams. 

 ********** 

 Dana heard the alarm go off and went to stretch her arm out to 

 stop it. She was surprised when she couldn't move it. As her 

 sleep-fogged brain started to function again she realized that her arms 

 were crossed against her chest and another pair of arms was encircling 

 her. 

 "Mulder." 

 No response. 

 "Mulder, the alarm's ringing. We have to get up." 

 He groaned in his sleep, unwilling to wake up. She pushed her 

 arms against him, forcing him to move over. Finally his eyes opened, and 

 he let go of her, stretching languidly. He reached over and turned off 

 the alarm, then wound his arms back around her. 

 "It's about time!" 

 "Good morning to you too, Scully." 

 "Well, considering that it's 3 am, I don't think you can 

 technically call this morning." 

 "Fine, if you're going to split hairs, good night." 

 He laughed softly and she could feel his chest rise and fall. She 

 kissed him lightly on the neck. 

 "Now, are you going to release your death grip on me so I can go 

 and shower?" 

 "Maybe, if you say the password." 

 "Spooky?" 

 He laughed. 

 "No. Try again." 

 "Trust no one?" 

 He became very serious as he looked into her face. 

 "I meant what I told you before. I trust you. Implicitly. I've 

 never trusted anyone this much. Only you." 

 Tears sprang to her eyes at his words and she managed to move her 

 arms so she could hug him. They held each other for a moment before she 

 moved away. She was shocked to see tears in his eyes as well. She looked 

 at him questioningly and waited patiently for an explanation when she saw


 

 he was trying to speak. 

 "This... This can't affect us. It's too important to me. They 

 can't find out. I won't let them split us up. I won't let them try to 

 drive a wedge between us. I won't let anything happen to you again. I 

 --" 

 It was her turn to silence him with her fingers. 

 "I know. This is important to me too. But listen to me. No 

 matter what you say you can't protect me all the time. First of all, I'd 

 be offended if you tried. I'm capable, I'm my own person, and I've got as


 much training as you do. Second of all, you can't be everywhere all the 

 time. When we're investigating or on our own personal time, we will be 

 separated, and I don't want you to feel responsible for what happens to 

 me. Finally, things happen. Accidents happen. You can't help them. All 

 you can do is *hope* they don't happen. And you have to live for the 

 moment. Take every ounce of love and happiness you can while you have a 

 chance. I know this. You know this. We learned it the hard way." 

 Mulder looked at her, amazed by her strength and resolve. He 

 loved her even more if this was possible. He held her close, 

 understanding what she meant and showing her he did by this contact. 

 "What about this? Us? We said that we wouldn't take this 

 direction. Now that we've done this, can we go back to the way before? 

 Do you want to?" 

 "I don't know, Mulder. I want to keep this, but I know it's 

 dangerous. Not just emotionally but physically too. We know what the 

 consortium can do. Can you imagine what they'd do if they found out about


 us?" 

 "What if they have already?" 

 "That's something we'll deal with if we need to. But I know that 

 if they don't, we can't let them find out. Which is why..." 

 He continued to look at her as she faltered, seemingly unsure of 

 what to say. 

 "What? What is it, Scully?" 

 "Which is why we can't do this again. At least not soon." 

 Mulder backed away, as if he'd been struck. 

 "Why?" 

 "Don't take this the wrong way, Mulder. I don't want this to 

 happen any more than you do, but you saw how we reacted last night. Just 

 one kiss and we were out of control, careless. We might make a mistake, 

 do something stupid, and we'd be found out. Even though the Bureau 

 doesn't have any rules about having a relationship, the Consortium can 

 still make our lives more difficult. They can try to separate us. They 

 can take one of us. They can..." 

 She faltered, unable to utter the next few words. 

 "They can kill one of us, or both of us. I know I wouldn't be 

 able to stand that either. Which is why this can't continue. Not right 

 now. I need you to understand this. Don't pull away from me. Don't turn 

 cold. Just tell me you understand and hold me a few minutes, because when


 we leave this room there'll be no turning back." 

 He edged his way back to her, his eyes the image of a tortured 

 soul. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. They pulled 

 each other close, as if they wanted to bury themselves into the other. 

 This was not an easy decision to make. Mulder knew she was right. It 

 didn't make it any easier. He had to try and help her. He could feel her 

 pain. 

 "I'm not angry at you, Scully. I'm angry at the situation. I 

 don't want this to change our lives, but you're right. It has. I'm 

 willing to wait. I don't know how I'll do it, but we'll beat them. We'll 

 beat them somehow and we'll finally be able to love each other without 

 having to look over our shoulders." 

 He held her even tighter, feeling her tears fall onto his arm. 

 "There's only one thing I need to know." 

 "She lifted her head and looked into his eyes." 

 "Can I kiss you again if the shopkeeper tries to talk to us today?" 

 Scully laughed. She couldn't help herself. The situation was so 

 bizarre. She lowered her head to Mulder's neck and deposited one last 

 kiss before extricating herself from his arms and the covers. As she 

 stood up she looked at him longingly one last time before heading to the 

 bathroom. 

 "Want me to join you in the shower?" 

 "Mul-der!" 

 He gave her his best puppy dog look. 

 "Don't tell me you don't want me to join you. I know you'd be lying." 

 She sighed. He knew he was tempting her. Why did she have the be 

 the one to enforce the rule she was so angry at having to follow anyway? 

 "Mulder, don't do this to me. Besides, it's 3:15 am. We only 

 have forty five minutes to get ready and make it to the police station! 

 Tell you what, I'll race you as to who can take the shortest shower. The 

 

 first one to finish can run to the other's room and turn off the hot 

 water." 

 "You're on!" 

 He took off for his room through the connecting door, and she 

 heard his bathroom door bang shut. Dana laughed as she entered her own 

 bathroom and locked the door. 

 ********** 

 The atmosphere in the briefing room wasn't very congenial. The 

 agents weren't happy at having spent the whole day yesterday waiting for
a 

 criminal that didn't strike. They were restless, wishing this would be 

 over with. 

 After the final instructions, the pairs of agents and policemen 

 went on their way. Mulder approached the two policemen they'd originally 

 worked with. 

 "Detective Vecchio, constable Fraser, I see we'll be placed near 

 each other." 

 Ray tried his best to smile. Being stuck near Fibbies for ten 

 hours wasn't exactly his idea of a fun day. 

 "Well, I guess I'll see you out there, agent Mulder." 

 They headed out of the room for their respective cars. The 

 surveillance was different than that of the day before, at least until 

 shop opening hours. It would be very suspicious if that many people were 

 walking on the street at five in the morning. 

 ********** 

 It was 6:30 am and the sun was just starting to rise. Mulder 

 opened the car door and, balancing the tray of coffees and crullers. 

 "Mmmmmm... Smells good!" 

 "Thought you might need a pick-me-up." 

 He smiled, handing her a steaming cup of freshly brewed Mocha Java. 

 She wrapped her hands around it, feeling the warmth seeping into 

 her cold hands. The weather was nice by day, but after dark (**Or before 

 morning,** she told herself) the air got quite chilly. Dana felt the need


 to make conversation, feeling a little uncomfortable sitting next to the 

 man she'd made love to only a few hours ago. Her expression darkened as 

 she once again cursed the Consortium for preventing them from having a 

 normal life. 

 "Penny for your thoughts," Mulder broke into her musings. 

 "Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if the criminal will 

 strike today." 

 "Well, I certainly hope so. I do know that if he doesn't strike 

 today, we'll be having a hard time rounding up enough manpower to have a 

 third day of surveillance." 

 "How sure we you of the profile?" 

 "Well, no one can be absolutely sure of something like that, but 

 I'm as reasonably sure as I can be. He should strike within the next few 

 day--" 

 Mulder never got to finish that word, or his sentence because an 

 alarm suddenly sounded. 

 "Speak of the devil, Scully. Let's go!" 

 They ran out of the car, food forgotten for now, and headed 

 towards the car with the two policemen. 

 "Vecchio, Fraser, come on!" 

 The two men were on their way out, Ray explaining that he had 

 taken a few seconds to radio for back-up. 

 All four ran towards the direction of the alarm. It seemed rather 

 near. Half a block later, they came near a store whose front window had 

 been smashed in. Slowing down, they approached with caution. Mulder 

 signaled for Vecchio and Fraser to circle around the back while he and 

 Scully would examine the front. 

 They crouched down and moved to the front of the store, staying 

 low so they would not be visible from the inside of the store. Mulder 

 hazarded a look, raising his head only slightly. He lowered himself 

 almost immediately. 

 "I saw some movement inside," he whispered to Scully. They looked 

 at each other, trying to decide whether to wait for the criminal to exit 

 or whether they should go in. They were spared from having to make the 

 final decision when they heard a gunshot and a man screaming. Not 

 hesitating, they both got up and ran for the back of the store, stopping 

 at the edge of the wall. Scully carefully looked around the corner to see


 what was happening before she jumped out, in fighting stance, gun aimed 

 and ready. 

 "Whoa! Whoa! It's okay, agent Scully. We're alright." 

 It was detective Vecchio speaking. He was crouching over a man, 

 who was unconscious and bleeding profusely from a bullet wound. 

 "He came out the back and tried to jump us, but I shot him before 

 he got the chance. Benny went inside to check to see if there were any 

 others. You might want to go check on him while I call for an ambulance."


 "It's alright, Ray. I'm back," Fraser said as he walked out of 

 the store. "There was no one else inside. I checked. This man was 

 obviously working alone. Is he the suspect we were looking for?" 

 Mulder stared down at the injured man, taking a good look at his face. 

 

 "Well, it's hard to say, considering that our best description is 

 the colour of his eyes and his are closed, but it seems like the build, 

 height, and weight are right." 

 Scully didn't waste any time looking at the suspect, but bent down 

 over him, administering first aid while they waited for the emergency 

 medical team to arrive. 

 It didn't take long before they heard the sirens approaching. The 

 technicians drove up to the back of the store through the alley and 

 stopped next to them. It took a few minutes for them to ascertain the 

 criminal's condition, strap him onto the gurney, and load him up in the 

 vehicle before they took off towards the nearest hospital, with a police 

 escort. 

 "Well, looks like a wrap, boys. What say we go on over to the 

 station and fill out the necessary paperwork?" 

 "Good idea, Vecchio. But remember, this is our case, so we're the 

 one who have to fill in the paperwork." 

 Ray smiled. "I know. I just couldn't help rubbing it in." 

 He turned around just in time to miss Mulder's glare. If looks 

 could kill... 

 ********** 

 "I just called the hospital. They said the suspect is in stable 

 condition, and he was moved out of ICU a few hours ago. He regained 

 consciousness once, though he didn't say anything. He only grunted a 

 couple of times, then passed out again." 

 "Sounds like our man, Scully." 

 He'd smiled at her as she'd walked through the door to their 

 temporary office at the Chicago FBI offices. 

 "I've taken the opportunity to begin the paperwork on this case. 

 I imagine that Skinner will be happy about a normal resolution for once."


 "I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you." 

 "Why, Scully?" 

 "There's still the matter of the fingers growing back. Did you 

 noticed that our suspect had his ten fingers? He was fingerprinted upon 

 arrival at the hospital, and the prints matched the ones that were found 

 in the various crime scenes *as well* as those found on the fingers 

 Vecchio and Fraser retrieved." 

 "Hmmm... curioser and curioser." 

 "I've had a series of lab tests done on him, including some 

 cultures. If this man is able to grow back fingers -- not that I believe 

 that he did, but that remains to be proven -- then there's got to be an 

 observable genetic, macromolecular, and microscopic phenomenon." 

 "Oooooo I love it when you talk dirty." 

 ********** 

 Chantal reached for the ringing phone as she finished cutting some 

 vegetables for a casserole. 

 "Hello?" 

 "Miss Kuhn, this is agent Mulder." 

 She froze, unsure how to respond. 

 "Yes?" 

 "I'm just calling to tell you that we've apprehended a suspect who 

 fits the description you've given us, and we'd like it if you would come 

 down to identify him." 

 She felt herself begin to tremble. Could it be possible that this 

 ordeal might finally be over? 

 "When?" 

 "Well, not right away. Our suspect is still in the hospital, but 

 he should be released tomorrow, so we'll call you as soon as it's
possible 

 for you to come downtown and identify him. Alright?" 

 "Yes. Thank you." 

 She dropped the phone back in its place and sank to the floor in 

 relief. It was over. It was finally over, she repeated to herself as she 

 hugged her knees and rocked back and forth. She could go on with her 

 life. Tomorrow. 

 ********** 

 Mulder and Scully walked down the corridor towards their rooms, 

 tired after a very long day's work. They were both looking forward to a 

 hot shower and a good night's sleep. 

 As they reached Scully's door she turned towards him. 

 " 'night Mulder." 

 " 'night Scully." 

 They both tried to not let their minds remember the last time 

 they'd been in this situation. Standinging there, looking in each other's


 eyes, they both seemed to come to the same conclusion. It wouldn't happen


 tonight. 

 Sighing, Mulder reached out and cupped her chin, rubbing her 

 bottom lip with his thumb. 

 "Sweet dreams," he said, as she leaned down to place a kiss on her 

 cheek and moved on to his own room. 

 Dana waited until he'd reached his room and had looked back at 

 her, smiling, before she opened her own door. Closing it, she leaned back


 against it, suddenly feeling weak. She took a deep breath and sighed as 

 she released it. Their friendship had survived. They would make it. And 

 someday, hopefully soon, they would be able to be together. Permanently. 

 ********** 

 Chantal was escorted to the dark room with the one-sided mirror by 

 

 detective Vecchio. When she stepped inside she recognized the other three


 people who had helped her. Agents Mulder and Scully were near the mirror 

 while constable Fraser was more to the side. 

 It was agent Scully who approached her, a concerned expression on 

 her face. 

 "Now, I just want to remind you that this is a one-sided mirror. 

 You'll be able to see them, but they won't be able to see you or hear 

 you. There will be four men walking in, one of them is the suspect. Take 

 your time, look at the line-up, and when you feel ready, tell us if you 

 recognize the man who attacked you. Is that clear?" 

 "Yes." 

 Chantal tried to sound convincing when she answer, but she didn't 

 quite manage as a small waver could be heard, even with just that one 

 syllable. 

 She heard Vecchio's voice as he ordered for the men to enter the 

 room, and, in a daze, forced herself to look at the lighted room on the 

 other side of the glass partition. The men walked in slowly, single 

 file. She didn't even have to wait for them to turn and face the mirror. 

 He was there. She'd recognized him right away. As he turned Chantal 

 tried to look into his eyes, but they burned with anger as she tried to 

 look at his face, and she turned away quickly. 

 "It's him. Number three." 

 "Are you sure?" Mulder pried, wanting to get absolute confirmation. 

 "Y-yes. I'm s-s-sure." 

 She barely managed to stutter that last phrase as she felt all the 

 strength leave her and she collapsed onto a nearby chair, sobbing 

 uncontrollably. She felt a hand tap her shoulder lightly, and as she 

 turned to see who it was she saw a red-clad arm reaching out to offer her


 a tissue. Overwhelmed by her conflicting emotions over the criminal: the 

 fear of seeing him again, the relief of knowing he'd finally go to jail, 

 the tension of the last few weeks not knowing if she was safe -- it all 

 came to a boil. She was so overwhelmed by the Mountie's kindness that she


 got up and threw her arms around his neck as she burst into tears once 

 again. 

 Fraser was taken aback by the woman's impulsive actions and he 

 froze for a second, unsure what to do. But with the sounds of her crying 

 he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, trying to soothe her with 

 some reassuring words. 

 "It's okay, miss. It's over. Everything's alright now. You're safe." 

 He rocked her back and forth, continuing to try to comfort her. 

 Finally her sobs subsided and she pulled back slightly. He reached into 

 his belt pouch and pulled out another tissue. He handed it to her, but 

 when she didn't respond he wiped the moisture away from her eyes. 

 The contact brought her out of her daze and she blushed 

 self-consciously, bowing her head slightly. 

 "Thank you," she said, as she smiled and looked back up at him. 

 "It was nothing," he responded, an automatic comment. He looked 

 down at her to give her a reassuring smile and stopped as he saw the 

 intensity of her look. Worried by the effect she was having on him, he 

 swallowed quickly and excused himself as he backed away and went out into


 the hall. 

 The others had been more or less aware of what had just happened, 

 but they had been busy going through the motions of having the criminal 

 locked away, so they hadn't done anything about it. 

 *********** 

 An hour later, all the appropriate paperwork had been filled out 

 and it was time for Mulder and Scully to leave the precinct. They shook 

 hands with detective Vecchio and constable Fraser, thanking them for the 

 help. 

 "It was a pleasure, agent Mulder, agent Scully," Fraser replied, 

 smiling as he ignored the kick to the ankle Ray was giving him. 

 "Yeah, it's been real nice," Ray added, trying to make it sound sincere. 

 Both agents turned and walked away, leaving the two friends together. 

 "What did you do that for, Ray? I must say that for 

 representatives of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, they are *very* 

 easy to work with." 

 "Compared to what?" 

 "Well, compared to the last agents we had to work with." 

 "You got a point there, Benny. Besides she was way better to look 

 at than that idiot, agent Ford." 

 "I didn't notice, Ray." 

 "Yeah, right, and I've got green curly hair growing off my head. 

 You did *too* notice, just like you noticed that other woman." 

 "What other woman?" 

 "Miss Kuhn." 

 "She was crying, Ray. I merely extended professional courtesy." 

 "Oh so *that's* what you extended? Show me the section in your 

 rulebook that says you're supposed to wipe away a woman's tears. Admit 

 

 it, Benny. You want her." 

 "That's preposterous, Ray!" 

 "Sure, whatever. We'll see..." 

 Ray grabbed his coat and walked towards the exit of the bullpen, 

 leaving Benny sitting in a chair, unable to reply. 

 ********** 

 (a week later) 

 Dana walked down to her partner's office and knocked. It only 

 took a second for him to yell out an "It's open!" before she turned the 

 knob and let herself in. 

 "Gee, Mulder. You seem particularly cheerful today." 

 "What can I say, Scully? I'm on my fifth cup of coffee today. 

 Does it show?" 

 "Barely," she teased. 

 He smiled at her, a conspiratorial look in his eyes. 

 "I assume there's a good reason why you're interrupting me and 

 forcing me to tear my attention away from a fascinating new X-File. So, 

 what can I do you for?" 

 She ignored his come-on and smiled at him. It felt so good to be 

 back to the old camaraderie. Sure, it had been hard for the first few 

 days for them to stay in the same room together, especially with the case


 resolved. But they had come through with flying colours, finally able to 

 rely on their habitual banter. It was a good sign. More proof that their 

 friendship could weather anything. And someday... when things were 

 resolved, when the Consortium's dirty laundry had been aired in public, 

 they'd be able to finally act on their love. In public. 

 "Earth to Scully. Come in Scully." 

 She shook herself from her reverie and concentrated on her 

 surroundings once again. 

 "Oh, sorry. I came in to tell you that the lab results on the 

 suspect we arrested in Chicago just came in." 

 "And?" 

 "Well, the results would seem to indicate that all your hypotheses 

 were right." 

 Mulder held back from gloating. For now. He simply listened as 

 she continued to list off lab results and planned on how he could use
this 

 in the future as an 'I told you so'. 

 "The hospital technician started some primary cultures from 

 biopsies of muscle, skin and bone tissue. She split them enough times to 

 generate several dozens dishes of identical tissue, and began some tests.


 "First, she noticed that at high and low serum content, the cells 

 had a doubling time well above the average for human cells, approaching 

 that which she saw for transformed hamster cells... The doubling time is 

 much less than a day. 

 "Next she tried some standard toxin tests, using both apoptotic 

 and non-apoptotic agents." 

 "Apopwhat?" Mulder interrupted. 

 "Apoptotic. It's another term for programmed cell death. Cells 

 have an inborn program which causes them to commit suicide if they
undergo 

 a certain type of stress, such as radiation, or receive a signal, such as


 an improper growth signal." 

 "Okay..." 

 "Basically, Mulder, these cells always die the same way, turning 

 into dense particles called apoptotic bodies. It was this regularity that


 allowed scientists to first identify the phenomenon. When the technician 

 subjected the cells to different agents, they seemed to die off at a much


 slower rate." 

 "So these cells are unaffected by the agents?" 

 "Not quite, but they take longer before they are affected. This 

 might give them an advantage in the body, where normally a toxin isn't 

 around as long as it was in the tissue culture dishes." 

 "Alright, Scully, but that still doesn't explain to me how that 

 man could have grown back fingers." 

 *********** 

 "Not by itself, it can't. However, there's something else I have 

 to explain to you before I go on. When a cell matures, it either divides 

 a number of times and then dies, or else it receives a signal to stop 

 growing. It is believed that cancer is a situation where a cell no longer


 has the ability to die, or gets a signal to grow and divide non-stop. In 

 reality, it's believed that a combination of both is what results in 

 cancerous cells, which then turn into tumours if the conditions are 

 right." 

 "Alright, but I still don't understand, Scully." 

 "There's more. In some species of animals, for example some types 

 of lizards, there is the ability to regrow limbs. If the lizard gets 

 caught by the tail, it simply breaks it off and runs off. Later, the tail


 grows back." 

 Mulder's eyes lit up as he began to understand what his partner 

 was leading to. 

 "Humans don't have that ability. You're implying that our suspect 

 has somehow regained the ability to regrow parts of his body?" 

 "As much as I hate to admit it, Mulder, it sounds like it. I'm 

 not able to explain exactly how he does it, but the first signs seem to 

 

 point to that conclusion. There is other evidence... Some preliminary 

 marker testing showed abnormal chromosomal organization. Several 

 independents scans have shown that his body is riddled with small
tumours, 

 though histological tests of the biopsies seem to indicate that they are 

 all benign. He's an anomaly, Mulder. There won't be an easy explanation 

 as to how he managed to regrow his fingers until a more in-depth study of


 his genetic structure can be done. If we're lucky we'll start getting 

 some more results in a month or two. If we're not lucky, it could take 

 years before researchers have anything concrete." 

 "Amazing, Scully. Isn't it amazing how nature produces such 

 creatures?" 

 "It's not amazing, Mulder. It's rather alarming. I told you once 

 before, on the Flukeman case. Our polluting of the planet is causing 

 problems. I didn't think we'd seen the last of the mutants then, and I 

 don't think we've seen the last of them now, either." 

 "Could this man be the answer to the prayers of all the people who 

 have lost a limb?" 

 "Possibly. We won't know until we understand how he did it himself." 

 "The mind reels with the possibilities." 

 "*Your* mind reels with the possibilities. But then it always does." 

 "And what about the 'wildness', Scully? Is it possible he was not 

 raised in a civilization, just like the Jersey Devil? He could have 

 somehow been rescued from the wild later in life. That would allow him to


 use such tools as a syringe, but would explain his lack of speech and his


 wild behaviour." 

 Dana sighed as she saw his eyes glaze over. He was off in his own 

 world, trying to imagine the history of such a mutant. 

 "Well, Mulder, as much as I'd love to stay and continue exchanging 

 niceties with you, it's time for me to go home. 

 He snapped out of his reverie at her last words. Jumping out of 

 his chair he reached for his coat on the coat rack. 

 "I'll walk you to your car." 

 He opened the door and guided her through, placing his hand on the 

 small of her back. 

 Dana shivered and smiled. Yes, things were definitely back to normal. 

 The end. 

 FoLC, X-Phile Relationshipper and DueSer in mourning 

 
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