VISIONS
By Jeannine Ackerson


9/2/96-7/11/98

Rating: PG-13 for a few well placed swear words to NC-17 for sexual situations.

Spoiler warning: Third season cliffhanger could be looked upon as being
involved in this a bit, but I personally think this is in the future after it.

Disclaimer: The X-Files and well as the characters portrayed therein are
property of C. Carter, Fox Broadcasting, 1013 Prod., and most
importantly: they don't belong to me. 

Relationship: This story contains Angst, UST, MSR and an M/S relationship.

Summary: The death of a family member puts into action a chain of
events leading up to danger, romance and a turn of events that recreates 
the X-Files and changes Mulder and Scully's lives forever. 


-------X-----X-----X-------


When the call came in, Fox Mulder and his partner Dana Scully were
starting their day by settling into their chairs in the basement office of the
X-Files Division. They'd had about five hours sleep after getting into D.C.
on a red-eye flight from Atlanta.

The whole damn case had been bad. From the humid, draining heat to
the poor choice in motels. God, my back will be aching for a week,
Mulder thought to himself. On top of it all was the case itself. It had made
them both think of Modell. This one hadn't been as bad though. She
wasn't a murderer. She just reduced people's conscience's with a
suggestion. And it had resulted in a bank robbery, a rape and murder
and a bunch of less serious offenses. But by the time they'd tracked the
woman down, she had committed suicide, jumping off a ten story
building. Or at least that's what we're supposed to think, he
contemplated. Those who wanted to keep this type of thing quiet made
sure there never was any evidence left, no one to question.

The shrill sound of the ringing phone nearly made Mulder jump out of his
seat. Quickly he reached for the receiver, and answered it with his
standard greeting.

"Mulder."

"Mr. Fox Mulder?" a tentative voice asked, sounding a bit grave in tone.
That set off Mulder's mental alarms immediately.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm doctor Martin Singh with First Memorial Hospital in Boston. Your
Assistant Director Skinner said I could reach you here. It's concerning
your mother, Caroline Mulder," the man said, sounding very sad and
apologetic.

"What about her?" Mulder asked quickly. He didn't like the way this
conversation was heading.

"She was brought in early this morning suffering from a massive stroke. I
think you should come up as soon as you can," the doctor said. This time
Mulder caught something that wasn't said in his tone.

"Is she going to be alright?" he asked suspiciously.

"Mr. Mulder, I'm sorry, but we lost her."

What happened after that was a blur to Mulder. The fact that he
remembered to hang up the phone and put on his charcoal suit jacket
before he started to the door must have been automatic. He probably
wouldn't have stopped to tell his partner the news except for the small
hand that caught his arm as he reached for his coat.

"Mulder? What's wrong?" Scully's quiet question cut through the fog of
his disbelief and pain. He turned his dark eyes to face her. She looked at
him with a visible concern painted across her face.

"My mom. She's dead. . ." he whispered, barely able to form the words,
let alone voice them. Reality had yet to hit, and the pain was too new to
really register with him.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry Mulder," she said, sympathy lacing her words. Yet
to her own ears, she knew how inadequate they were. They had been
the same words others had told her when her father and then Melissa
had died. And even though they were always sincere, they couldn't
lessen the pain. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I have to go to Boston. Would you . . .," he stopped short of saying it. Of
asking her to come with him. To hold his hand, let him cry on her
shoulder, keep him together while he went through this. He couldn't ask it
of her. But he wanted her with him. To ease the pain just the smallest bit.

"Let's go Mulder," she said, pulling her coat off the rack along with his,
turning quickly to get her purse. She meant to follow him wherever he
needed her, and if that meant going to Boston to make sure he was ok,
then she'd drive them there herself if necessary. He'd already been
through so much pain. This could be too much for him to bear.
Sometimes she thought her God was truly unfair to burden a man like
Fox Mulder with more than his fair share of sorrow and pain. They left
together, stopping long enough to pick up their still packed luggage at
their apartments before they caught the next flight to Boston.

On the plane, Mulder had too much time to sit and think. What could he
have done differently? Why did it have to be now? Why couldn't he have
found Samantha before this, so his mother could have at least gone to
her grave knowing her daughter was alive and safe? That last regret hurt
the most. After twenty-two years of searching, what did he have to show
for his attempts? Nothing. And then there had been the clone that
claimed to be his sister. His mom had wanted it so badly. He had wanted
to believe it as well. But when it came down to a choice, the little disbelief
he had to her identity had made his decision to trade her for Scully that
much easier. But it still hurt. The way his mother's eyes had bored into
him the first time he saw her after that told him he would never be
forgiven for that destruction of her trust. No matter that latter he finally
told her that the woman who had claimed to be Sam was a fake, the hurt
would never fully heal.

He tried to stretch in the plane, and ended up turning to look at his
partner, seated next to him. She was so polished, in control, even
dealing with this. She had already called the hospital to let them know
they were on their way, A.D. Skinner to ask for a few days leave for the
two of them, which Skinner had already approved, and to the rental car
company and a hotel, setting up reservations for the night. He wouldn't
have even gotten that far before they'd landed. Again he wondered what
he'd do without Dana Scully in his life.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Three days later what family members and friends that had been
contacted stood around Caroline Mulder's casket in the cemetery beside
her husband's grave. For Scully, the pain of watching her partner
standing over his mother's grave was more intense than she could have
ever expected. It went beyond sympathy. It was as if a part of her own
family had died. And that must have something to do with the bond she
shared with this man, who was standing in his dark suit and his only
sedate tie listening halfheartedly to the preacher's benediction.

For this once Scully let her emotions and heart chose her path, as she
reached over and gently took Mulder's hand in hers, giving it a slight
squeeze to let him know she was there for him. The answering grip
nearly cut off her circulation. He didn't take his eyes off the polished
wood of the casket lid, but he didn't have to. He knew that she was
awash with her own sorrow, both for the passing of his mother, whom
she had never gotten a chance to know too well, and for him. But that
depth of feeling she had was what he had been clinging to for the last
four days. Her strength and compassion. Her unwavering devotion to
him. And as the service concluded and he had to receive the
pleasantries of these friends and distant family members, he gave a
silent thank you to whomever had sent him the petite figure with the quiet
strength that was his partner who stood right  behind him.

The sky had darkened throughout the service, and now the black
November clouds were threatening to drench the remaining mourners.
Sensing the oncoming storm, Scully again took hold of Mulder's hand.

"Let's go home," she said quietly, as he turned to face her. The utter
misery visible in his eyes almost did her in, as she felt the tears she had
fought to hold back threatening to spill.

Seeing her deep regret over the pain he was in was more than he could
stand. In a slow, halting move, he came closer, and let go of her hand in
favor of wrapping his arms around her, leaning his head into her
shoulder. Then his tears flowed for the first time since he'd gotten the
news. And as the sobs wracked his body, she tightly held him to her,
giving him whatever solace he could find in her embrace. Only when the
first thunder clap rocked the sky did they break apart, Scully leading him
back to the car so she could drive them back to the hotel, and from there
the airport.

-------X-----X-----X-------

It had been a few days since Mulder and Scully had returned from
Boston, and Caroline Mulder's funeral. They had both dived into the
onslaught of paperwork to keep them distracted, and occupied, but
Mulder really needed something more to focus on. When Scully's phone
rang, he hoped that it would be a case he could jump right into. From her
end of the conversation and the look on her face, he knew it was.

"Skinner wants to see us in his office," Scully announced, hanging up the
receiver of her phone. "Are you up to this?"

"Yeah," he simply said, getting up from his seat. True, it had been a little
over a week since his mom's death, but the pain he felt had slipped to
being 'manageable.' But that wasn't saying much since he was used to
living with pain and guilt everyday. There were just some times that he
wished things had ended different. Hell, he wished for a lot of things.

A.D. Walter Skinner hear their feet stop outside his door before the
knock came. He hated this part of his job. This assignment should be a
cake walk for them, he thought, and that was exactly what Mulder
needed right now. No matter how strong the man was, he'd just lost his
mother. The last of his family was gone. The only things left were his job
and his search for his sister. And those could keep a person occupied
only for so many hours of the day.

"Come in," Skinner called, and then watched his 'favorite pair of pain-in
-the-butt agents' walk in and sit at his  slight gesture towards the chairs
before his desk.

"Sir," Scully said, speaking for her and Mulder. She wanted to find out
what type of assignment Skinner was sending them on, so she could
decide if she should ask him to excuse them from it. She knew her
partner would never admit it, but he still needed a little more time, and a
grisly case wouldn't help his mental state any.

"Our Portland office forwarded on to me a case that they would
appreciate a little help on. They requested the two of you. It seems they
have a murderer who looks like a ritualistic killer," Skinner explained,
handing the file to Scully, knowing Mulder would reach over and take it
from her when he was ready for it. She glanced at the file, and then
closed it, signaling to Mulder that she was done. He took it from her
hands as she spoke.

"Satanic ritualistic killings?" she asked, a bit surprised that the field
agents in Oregon were connecting the evidence with the occult. Usually
it took Mulder sizing up the facts to come up with those kind of crazy
ideas.

"That's what the M.E. is reporting," Skinner replied, waiting for the tall
agent to join in the conversation. It was just the type he liked. He didn't
have to wait long.

"It's textbook Scully. The pentagrams and knife wounds. It's almost as if
he was following a recipe," Mulder said in that way that was partially
joking and partially serious. "We could be looking at either a cult in the
area, or someone who wants us to be looking for one."

"Your flight leaves in two hours," Skinner finally informed them, passing
the tickets to Mulder's waiting hand. He knew they'd finish this one up
quickly. After a minute with the file, Mulder had already narrowed down
what he was searching for, and by the time they arrived in Portland, he
was sure they would need very little time to capture the perpetrator or
perpetrators. "That's all. You're dismissed."

With that they were out the door and off to pack and make their plane.

-------X-----X-----X-------

The flight to Portland was uneventful to say the least. Mulder sifted
through the case file while Scully began her notes for their own report.
Before they knew it they had arrived. Picking up their rental car, the
drove to their hotel, checked in and then made their way to the Bureau
office downtown.

The Agent in charge met them as they came into the Violent Crimes
section, greeting them warmly.

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully?" he asked, and after receiving a nod from
them in acknowledgment, he shook their hands, introducing himself. "I'm
Agent Rodrigues. I'm glad you could come out here on such short notice.
We have a situation that's a bit out of the league of an old San Francisco
cop," he said with a slight grin, which quickly disappeared as Mulder
started in on the case.

"You're sure the Medical Examiner noted everything on the bodies?" he
asked, looking the tall man up and down. The dark curly hair and
mustache were greying, and he seemed like he was just a year or two
shy of retirement. Still, he seemed competent enough, especially since
he'd brought the case to their attention.

"Yeah, he's pretty thorough. He used to work in the Napa office, but
decided he'd see a lot less of the gruesome stuff if he transferred up
here. I guess he's wishing he'd stayed there."

"I'd like to take a look at the bodies that you have in the morgue," Scully
said, getting tired of the delays in starting the physical case. Rodrigues
gave her a quick glance, then pointed towards the side doors.

"Second door on your left Agent Scully. If you need anything, Dr. Brooks
is in the adjoining office," Rodrigues said, then started for the front door,
turning back to Mulder. "Agent Mulder, you wanted to see the most
recent crime scene, didn't you ?"

"Yeah, I'll be right with you. Call me when you get something, ok Scully?"
Mulder said, sounding like his usual self. To Rodrigues or anyone else,
he would have seemed fine, but Scully knew better.

"How about you call me if you need anything," she said, the double
meaning in her words reaching him. She was making sure he knew she
was there for him. He smiled at that thought, and decided to tease her a
bit.

"Anything Scully? Well, I could use someone to model those fur-lined
handcuffs of mine while we're here."

She gave him a lightly scathing stare as he showed her his little lopsided
leer. He was back, and with a vengeance she thought to herself. But
she'd gladly put up with his harmless innuendoes if it helped him feel
more comfortable. It was a small price to pay to have her partner back to
his old self.

A couple of hours later, she'd finished up her last autopsy, stripping off
the surgical gown. She rearranged her white blouse beneath her grey
suit jacket, and she decided not  to try and straighten the wrinkles in the
matching pants. A burring in her jacket pocket caught her attention and
she quickly pulled out her cel phone.

"Scully," she answered, knowing who would be on the other end. The
thought made the corners of her mouth turn up in a slight smile.

"What'd you find Scully?" he asked without preamble. If anyone could
find the proverbial needle in a haystack, it was Scully.

"It's like you were saying Mulder. If I didn't know better, I'd say that this
person was following established guidelines for these killings. There's not
too much else here, except some skin samples that I'm running. But I'd
say your killer knows these people, and they never saw it coming." she
explained, hoping that he had something more from the hours he'd spent
interviewing.

"Well Scully, I can do you one better. Seems that a one Michael David
Williams checked out a few texts from the public library the day before
the first murder. They haven't come back yet. Do you want to guess what
they're on?" he said jokingly, smiling at the thought of her standing there,
the exasperated look on her face, waiting for him to drop the other shoe.

"I don't know Mulder. Perhaps some books on the occult?" she
deadpaned, hoping to get some reaction out of him, like he always
seemed to get out of her. He chuckled a bit on the other line, and it
warmed her heart that he could still laugh after everything that had
happened.

"You get a gold star. So, you want to come join our housewarming party?
It's 2901 Hillpoint, on the east side," he told her. "We'll wait for you."

"Thanks," she said quickly, checking her service weapon at her back as
she started for the door. "I'll see you in fifteen."

Hillpoint was at the edge of a forest glade, the house itself was
surrounded by trees, except for the gravel driveway leading onto the
property. She met Mulder and Agent Rodrigues ten feet from the house's
front door. Another three agents stood nearby, waiting for the word. With
a nod, Mulder signaled to her that they were ready, and they were
rushing up  the steps to the door, Sig Sauers in hand.

"FBI. Open up Williams,' he yelled, announcing their presence with four
hard slams of his fist on the oak door.

A sound inside caught his attention and he jumped in front of the door
and with a swift kick it flew open. They cautiously made their way in,
splitting up with Rodrigues and one of his agents following them.

Mulder found the kitchen table, and laying on top were the books along
with the knife he just knew would match the stab wounds on the victims.

"I've got the murder weapon," he announced, hoping to lure Scully in
where he could see her. There was something that was bothering him.
The sound he had heard before they had crashed in made him think they
would have found Williams already. But there was no sign of him.

"Mulder! The back door's open. He must have slipped out into the
woods," Scully yelled, making her way towards it. "I'm going after him."

At her words, he ignored the evidence on the table, and started down the
hallway to the open doorway. Once he was there, a curtain of trees
greeted him, and try as he might, he couldn't make out her form through
them. He was down the steps and into the forest in a matter of bounds,
his wildly garish purple streaked tie and his black trenchcoat flying
behind him as he searched for Scully, and their suspect. He could hear
Rodrigues and his men behind him, spreading out to find Williams.

Suddenly a shot reverberated through the forest, somehow weaving it's
way through the trees to reach Fox Mulder's ears. Fear and guilt
suddenly fought for dominance in his mind as he realized what the sound
was and where it had come from.

"Scully!!" he screamed, his long legs propelling him through the forest,
his Sig clutched tightly in his hand.

Moments later, he found their suspect in a small clearing, Smith and
Wesson in hand, pointed at his partner. Automatically, his gun flew up
into position, trained on this murderer.

"FBI! Freeze Williams!" Mulder demanded, his voice steely and deadly.

Williams stopped abruptly, his weapon dangling a bit to his side, trained
on the red haired woman crumpled on the ground. He glanced back at
the FBI man in front of him, heard the heavy sound of the hammer
cocking and decided that this man would not hesitate to shoot him. He
lowered his arm a little more and Mulder took the chance to give the
woman on the ground a quick glance.

Scully lay sprawled in the leaves, unconscious and bleeding from the
shoulder. In the split second he had to take in her countenance, what
disturbed him most was the odd angle her head was leaning. Then he
saw the crimson patch of blood on the bark of the tree just behind her.
She probably had surprised Williams, and struggled with him. He could
see her own gun lying nearby, thrown clear after the probable collision
with the tree trunk.

Not even in his darkest nightmares, or fearsome visions had he imagined
this situation. If he'd been a second slower, Williams could have killed
her. And it would have truly been his fault. There had been no aliens or
government men involved in kidnapping or trying to kill her. Just a
psychotic little man who liked killing people. Not even like Pfaster, who
had a certain fetish for trophies, and had taken a liking to Scully's hair.

No, Williams' only claim to fame was that his MO looked like ritualistic
occult sacrifices. But it was just a cover. He just enjoyed killing, and
knew that the police would be looking for a cult. It looked on the surface
like the kind of assignment that always interested him, but this one had
been a complete waste of their time. He'd solved their little mystery for
them though, hadn't he, Mulder nearly screamed at himself. Gone on a
fool's errand and what had it gotten him? What was the price he had to
pay for this stupid victory? He glanced again at his petite partner
wrapped in her tan trenchcoat lying in the pine needles and dirt and
realized exactly what price he had almost paid.

Scully was hurt, possibly seriously. He could tell she was still breathing,
so the fear that clung to his chest had eased a bit. But she could have
been killed because of his carelessness in not having an agent head
straight to the back of the house to check on a possible escape route for
this murderer.

After another long minute, the Smith and Wesson hit the ground, and
Agent Rodrigues and two of his men appeared out of nowhere. As one of
the fresh faced agents cuffed Williams and read him his rights,

Mulder was instantly at his partner's side, cel phone in hand.

"I need an ambulance now!" he demanded over the phone, and resolved
to himself to not take this out on the poor dispatcher. Once the woman
had gotten the emergency crews sent out, Mulder hung up the phone to
focus his attentions on Scully.

"Hang on Dana," he whispered  forcefully, as one hand gently touched
her cheek.

-------X-----X-----X-------

The gunshot injury was minor, only a flesh wound that wouldn't even
slow her down. However the blow to Scully's head was more serious, but
the CAT scan hadn't shown more than the obvious concussion. An hour
after she'd been admitted, she woke up in a hospital bed, staring up into
Mulder's concerned hazel eyes.

"Hey there. Welcome back," he lightly said, his tone teasing to cover his
now fading distress.

"Glad to be back. Did you miss me?" she mimicked back, wanting to put
a smile on his face. She could see how relieved he was to have her
back. It was almost like he'd said more than what had just come from his
lips.

"Oh, maybe a little bit," he replied, the grin that had just started to break
across his face growing wider with the observation that she was ok
enough to joke with him. He took her hand in his and sat back in the
chair he'd commandeered when they'd arrived, happy just to have her
awake and ok.

Her doctor at Portland General wanted her to stay overnight for
observation, but she was doing a 'Mulder,' insisting that she could look
after herself and that it wasn't that serious. Against his better judgement,
the doctor let her sign herself out a few hours after she'd been admitted.
Mulder, who had gone to get some coffee had missed the conversation
and walked in to see her dressed and waiting for him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked sternly, determined to
make sure she was being taken care of properly.

"*We* are going home, and unless you want me to drive, *you're* taking
us to the hotel so we can check out and then we're catching our flight at
the airport," she informed him stubbornly, hands resting on her hips. And
God, she was giving him 'that' look. The one that told him to shut up and
do what she said or injuries or no she was going to wipe the floor with
him. There was no talking her out of it, so he did the next best thing. He
bargained with her.

"Fine, but when we get back, you're taking some time off to get better,
right?" he informed her, even though it had been phrased as a question.

"Yes mom," she intoned sarcastically, succeeding in getting a laugh out
of him as he picked up her jacket and purse, and they headed out the
door. It didn't take long till they were on their plane bound for D.C.

-------X-----X-----X-------

When they got back to Washington, she did some of what he'd asked
her to do. She came in the office only a couple of times to pick up files,
and to check that Mulder wasn't using her desk as a substitute file
cabinet. he stopped by every night with dinner, usually take out. While
she seemed happy to see him each time, she always asked him to leave
early. Or at least earlier than she used to. He wondered if it was because
she was tired, or if he was getting on her nerves constantly checking up
on her, and stopping by. Whatever it was, she definitely hadn't been
herself.

Late on the fourth day back, Mulder called her to check in with her like
he'd been doing since they'd arrived home. But this time, though, he had
other things to talk to her about besides work.

The phone rang once, then twice before she answered. He'd been
pacing since he'd dialed, and if she had let it ring two more times he
swore he would have been downstairs and in his car, headed straight to
her apartment. The fact that she'd convinced the doctor that she was
fine, even though the concussion had been pretty severe bothered him.

"Scully."

"How ya feeling Scully?"

"Like I got shot and hit in the head." she laughed a bit. Then got serious,
"Honestly Mulder, what'd you expect me to say? 'I'm Fine Mulder.'?"

"Well, you have to admit that's what I hear from you most of the time," he
replied humorously, even though it was the truth. She'd kept telling him
she was fine the whole ride to the airport, then on the plane back, and a
few times since then.

"Very funny. So what's the real reason you called. Chilmark?"

There was silence at the other end of the line for a while. Ever since the
accident, he'd found Scully finishing of his sentences, and verbalizing his
thoughts more than she'd done before. She'd found the Harrison file
they'd been trying to find for months. The fact that she knew he was
calling about his family home in Chilmark unnerved him. It was like she
could tell exactly what was in his head, even over the phone. He
explained it away as Scully's natural intuitiveness since they'd been
partners.

"Uh, yeah. Since mom passed, the executor of the estate called me
about the house. I can't keep it, so I told him to put it on the market. I
thought I might go up this weekend and sort through what's still there,
and well. . ."

"You should go. It will help close some things for you," she suggested,
hoping that he'd use the time to deal with some of the feelings she knew
he was still carrying around undealt with.

"Since your mom's out of town, and I really don't want you home by
yourself since the doctor said someone should keep an eye on you. . ."
he started, then broke off. He didn't know how to say it. Whether or not
he should even think it, let alone ask it. Especially of her.

"What are you trying to ask Mulder?"

"Scully. Would you come up with me? To Chilmark? I really don't want
you by yourself," he ended up saying. It wasn't true of course. She'd be
fine. He just needed someone with him at the house. He needed her with
him there. He didn't think he could go through the place alone.

"And you don't want to go through the house by yourself." It was a
statement, not a question. His breath caught just the slightest bit. She
understood. And then she continued. "Of course I'll go with you. I
wouldn't want you distracted while you were up there worrying about
me."

With that, he stifled a small laugh. Was he that bad, he wondered. Nah,
he couldn't be. Besides, she was worse. It was all he could do to get her
to leave him be when he'd gotten home from his bout with the retro-virus
in Alaska. But she still checked in on him and worried. He guessed it
came with the territory.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at eight, ok?"

"I'll expect you at eight fifteen," she replied, knowing he wouldn't arrive
when he said he would, and then she hung up. From there she went in to
take a couple of aspirin and hope whatever was causing her headaches
and the strange intuition would just go away. Maybe a few hours sleep
would help, she thought as she headed into bed.

Mulder was knocking at the door at a quarter after eight. The traffic had
been lousy for a Saturday, but he eventually made it to her apartment.
She swung open the door and stood there in her casual weekend
clothes, a pair of blue jeans and a cream colored button down shirt with a
black sports jacket. It was nearly the mirror of his jeans, white t-shirt and
his black leather jacket, which hung off his shoulder, like a cape. He
laughed inwardly that they'd been partnered so long now that they were
dressing alike now.

"Ready to go?" he asked, just as a formality.

"Yeah, let's go," she replied, snagging her purse before she closed the
door behind her.

The drive up to the house was long, or at least it seemed that way to
Mulder. It wasn't that it was actually that many hours, but the silence that
surrounded Scully made it seem that way. When he spoke to her, he got
back distracted answers or just one word ones. After he realized she was
shutting off from him, he gave up on trying to keep up a conversation,
and simply concentrated on the stereo and getting to the house. Still, he
wondered why she wasn't talking to him. What had he done that was
making her pull away?

Scully watched the scenery in an almost vain attempt to keep her mind
focused. It was hard when he was close by. She just wanted to reach
over and touch him, to be reassured that he was there, and to let him
know she was there for him as well. But she couldn't. She had to keep
some control. So instead she just let her mind wander inward, thinking
about what she'd learned, and how she'd learned it.

Finally, after a long silent ride and a quick stop for lunch they pulled up to
the house. It was just like he remembered it, Mulder thought. That wasn't
surprising for a man with an eidetic memory. But  when he glanced at
Scully's face , he swore he'd seen that look before. He would never have
imagined that it was the same way he looked at the place. As she stared
at the house, a feeling of panic started to creep into her soul. It was an
unknown dread, and it got worse with each step forward. But she shook
her head and tried to dismiss it, knowing she had to go in. For Mulder's
sake.

Key in hand, he headed for the door and opened it. Scully lagged a bit
behind, but finally followed him in. Almost everything was covered with
cloths or plastic. It hadn't been used as a house for a long while Scully
mused. And it wasn't a surprise to her how Mulder and his family couldn't
bear to stay here. The sorrow and despair and guilt that she could feel in
Mulder was echoed in the house, like a voice. She looked around her
and saw how it must have looked before. It was like swimming in
Mulder's memory.  And she was starting to feel like she was drowning in
it, not in control of what she was seeing.

"Come on, I'll give you the tour," he said lightly, as he walked from the
living room to the kitchen. Then he led her down the hall, stopping at his
old room, and then Samantha's. Scully walked in, followed by Mulder.
She wandered around, looking at the little room and the furniture still
there.

Inside Samantha's old room, the feelings got stronger. Although it was
practically empty of any traces of the little girl it had belonged to, she
could almost see what it had looked like.

"Where are the horses?" she asked detachedly.

"What?" he said, shocked.

"On this shelf," she pointed to an empty wood bookcase. "There should
be a row of plastic horses. Like the ones from the toy store."

"Mom boxed them up a year after Sam disappeared," he said quietly. His
gaze tore through her. He didn't remember telling her about Sam's
collection. He decided to shrug it off. Maybe his mom had mentioned it to
her before she'd died.

God, that was hard to think about, he mused moodily. If he ever found
Samantha now, he'd be the only family she'd have left. And until he did,
he had no family. Except for Scully. She'd always been there for him.
Sometimes he wondered why. And her mom treated him better than his
own had, until the last year at least.

The two of them had finally made some peace before the stroke.
Caroline Mulder had been as haunted by the demons that her husband
had unleashed as Fox had. While his guilt lay in his belief of his inability
to save his sister, his mother's stemmed from the knowledge that her
only daughter had been *chosen* by her own husband to be taken away.

"Let's move on to mom's room," Mulder suggested, hoping that different
scenery would make the loss of his sister lessen a bit.

The master bedroom was large, with a double sized bed centered
against the right wall. A  vanity stood across from it, and on the far wall
was a dresser. While Mulder went to the dresser, Scully wandered to
the head of the bed, standing next to the lightly stained nightstand. On
the top sat a picture of Mulder as a child, with Samantha, a silver oval
locket on a chain and a heavy pewter jewelry box. She reached to pick
up the locket, pulling on the chain, which was caught under the edge of
the jewelry box, upsetting it and knocking the picture onto the floor.
Scully stood there in shock, the locket still clutched in her hand, the chain
dangling.

Mulder turned around quickly at the sound to see Scully standing there
with something in her hand, and the picture crashed on the floor, jewelry
box overturned on the nightstand.

"I'm sorry Mulder. I didn't realize . . ." she started, then it hit her. She saw
the scene from a lower perspective, as if she was slightly taller than the
nightstand. The locket was so pretty. "Mom wouldn't mind," echoed in
Scully's head. A small hand stretched up and little fingers curled  around
the locket, and with a slight tug, everything went flying. Then Caroline
Mulder was there, towering over her, and looking much younger than
Scully had ever seen her. It was when she finally spoke that Dana had
the sense of vertigo that surpassed anything she'd ever known.

"Samantha Mulder! What do you think you're doing!" Caroline said.

With a start she pulled away from the vision to realize that she had been
seeing this event from the past. And that she'd seen and thought it from
Samantha's perspective. She clutched the pendant tightly as she slowly
came back to Mulder's concerned voice.

"Scully? Scully, you there? It's ok, it was an accident," he said again,
wondering if she'd heard him. When she turned to find him standing at
her side, her crystal blue eyes met his hazel ones, the wild look in them
surprising and frightening him. What the heck was going on, he thought.

"I'm going to go in the kitchen and see what I can find us for lunch," she
said, dropping the locket on the table as she quickly walked out.

He followed her with his gaze as she left the room. Then he turned to the
task of righting the picture and box. Something tugged at his eidetic
memory. This event gave him a strange sense of deja-vu. But try as he
might, he couldn't place it.

Once he'd fixed the photo, he decided to open the drawer of the dresser,
and found a small book. Opening it, he saw childish scrawl, yet legible. It
took him a minute to decipher his sister's handwriting. It was her diary.
With her poems and her thoughts inside. He hadn't even known his mom
had kept it by her bedside. He could imagine her reaching over late at
night and opening it and reading the thoughts of her missing daughter,
tears and pain freely flowing. As he read one poem, her last entry before
her abduction, he vaguely remembered Samantha reciting for school,
and the full weight of the burden of the search for her hit him. Sinking to
the bed, he sat on the edge, still scanning the yellow edged pages.
Scully's voice shook him out of his reverie.

"Mulder, I need . . . could we get out of here for a bit? Maybe we could
drive somewhere for dinner," she said. There was something in her voice
that he couldn't place. A quaver that bristled the short hairs on his neck.
But this was Scully. She was probably more concerned about how this
trip was effecting him, rather that feeling uncomfortable herself.

The truth was that he wouldn't have been able to do this without her. He
didn't know when exactly he'd fallen in love with her. One day he just
realized it. She was his lifeline. His life. Even when her total trust in logic
clashed with his belief in extreme possibility, she was always willing to
hear him out. She had stood by him through so much. Pain, death, fear,
separation. He didn't know what he'd do without her. He didn't think he
could bear to know. That was *if* he could physically and mentally
survive being without her. With a shake of his head, he returned to
reality.

Holding the book open to the page with the poem, Mulder walked down
the hall and stopped at the door to the kitchen, planning on agreeing to
go somewhere to eat, and share with her his find. She was standing in
the kitchen, her back lit with the rays from the setting sun, her hand
resting on the back of one of the kitchen table's chairs. She was facing
the living room, so he couldn't see her face.

"Hey Scully, you'll never guess what I found. Sam's diary. There's even a
poem in here that I remember her reciting," he said, a little lopsided grin
creeping on his face at the old memories before the disappearance. It
was a bittersweet memory, but a better one than he was used to thinking
of. Then he began to read the words penned in the book so long ago.

"Yellow, red, blue and purple, colors of the rainbow be. All these colors
visible, in our land, our sky and sea."

The emotion in Mulder's voice as he read the words was evident to
Scully. But it didn't explain the foggy memory the poem evoked in her. By
the second line, some part of her mind heard a second voice reading
along. She could see a vision of a young girl, her childish voice sweet in
its innocence. And then somehow she knew the words as well, and
mouthed them along with Mulder and the voice in her mind. At a
subconscious level, Dana knew who's voice it was, who's face the girl
wore and that realization washed over her suddenly. It made her
lightheaded, and she as she took a step forward, removing her hand
from the chair, she had only a second to understand exactly what was
happening to her before her head fell back, eyes sliding shut and then
she collapsed to the kitchen floor.

Her words hadn't been as inaudible as she'd thought. Mulder had been
staring at her as he recited the poem. Again, his eidetic memory had
allowed him to memorize the poem the first time he'd read it. He had kept
the book open simply to be able to look at the words in his sister's
handwriting. But when he heard the whispered words from his partners
lips, he looked up at her. How was it possible that she knew the words to
his sister's poem he wondered to himself.

Then he intently watched her as she stood in the kitchen. She wavered
in place, her grip on the chair seeming to hold her up. It didn't look like
she could stand up, let alone walk, yet she started to take a step forward.
Suddenly, as if all the bones in her body had melted, her head fell
backwards and she sank heavily to the floor.

"Scully!" he yelled, shocked. "Dana!!"

He rushed to her side, his sister's diary dropping from his nerveless
hands to the linoleum, forgotten. The only thoughts his mind could hold
were for Dana.

It had to be the concussion, he told himself as he kneeled beside her. It
must have been more severe than she'd let on. Typical Scully
stubbornness, he thought bitterly. Gently, but with an urgency that
surprised him, he turned her over, and pulled her into his grasp, her
upper body supported by his right arm. His left hand found itself
retreating from it's hold on her arm to run nervous fingers through
strands of her flame red hair.

The darkness that had pulled her down was stubbornly holding on. She
was alive, but he still didn't know what was going on. He had no answers
to any of his questions. Between the head injury, her collapse and the
fact that she seemed to know so much that she couldn't, shouldn't know,
he had more questions than he could even begin to form. This didn't
make sense to him. And the only person with the answers was far away.
Too far away for his liking.

He had to call for help, an ambulance or something. He reached for his
cel phone in his jacket pocket, then realized he wasn't wearing the
jacket. It lay on the living room couch, where he'd tossed it, taunting him
from the across the room. Shifting her in his grip, he started to pick her
up and carry her to the couch when she began to move in his arms.

Immediately he stopped dead, waiting to see if she was waking up.
"Dana?" he questioned, his voice hushed, but laced with gravity.

Instead of awakening, she began to struggle in his arms, and he could
make out the slight sound of some words coming from her lips. She's
dreaming, he figured, then corrected himself as he listened closer to the
words and her movement got more violent.

"No. Stop. No . . ." she said, under her breath, her words punctuated with
a deep pain beneath them.

It's a nightmare. A memory. Was she remembering her abduction, his
mind wondered. Then he tried to figure out why. She'd been acting
strange since the attack in the woods. And coming here had increased it.
Did the trauma to her head provoke this? Had he said something to
trigger it? Was it the house? Had it set off something? Was there some
kind of connection with Samantha that had caused this? Then with a
word, his world turned on its ear.

"Fox! Help! Fox! Fox!" came the voice, high and scared from Dana's lips.
But it wasn't her voice or her words. It was Samantha's. What she'd said
when she'd been taken, how she'd sounded. Dana was reliving Sam's
abduction in her nightmare. Some small part of his mind understood
rationally that after all the time's he'd told her about it, that she could
probably remember what Sam had said. But the voice. . . how could she. . .?

Then with a final convulsing jolt her eyes flew open, a cloudy glaze
visible in her eyes, which then slowly faded so she could finally focus on
Mulder above her. Trying to find her voice was her next task, and before
she dared try, she knew she'd have to chose her words carefully. Mulder
beat her to it.

"Scully, what the hell just happened here?" he asked, and even though
his voice wasn't loud, the tone was troubled and a little mad. "I thought
you were having memories of your abduction, and then . . ."

Knowing why he couldn't finish his statement, she reached up and
grazed her hand across his cheek. The tender caress sent little tingles
through her fingertips. Where she touched, he felt trails of fire across his
skin. He quickly reached up and took her hand in his, gripping it tightly to
his chest. Her eyes then caught his, and the emotion there almost made
him gasp aloud.

"You heard Samantha. Her voice, her words. When she was taken," she
stated simply, her own voice hushed but tense.  The whole thing had
unnerved her, and she knew the man holding her would be just as
thrown by the events that had recently occurred as she.

He nodded his head, locks of the brown hair falling into his eyes. It was
all he could manage at the moment, and he knew she realized that. After
a long minute, he voiced a one word question.

"How?" he questioned solemnly.

Then it was her turn to fall silent. The truth was that the only explanation
she had for this wasn't in the realms of her beliefs. But it was in Mulder's.
He would believe, even if she couldn't. If it had been anyone else, if her
partner had suggested it to her, she would have shot down the thought
with several different scientific reasons why it couldn't be. But she had
experienced it. And there was no other explanation for it. How he would
take it was another matter.

"I felt it." she said, carefully measuring her words. When his eyes
widened at this, she realized she'd have to tell him the rest. "I was with
her. I could see through her eyes, hear her voice, feel what she felt."

The frightened and disbelieving look in his face nearly stole her breath
away. She could see him processing the information in his brilliant head,
trying to understand exactly what she'd just said. Then a look of pure
horror took it's place.

"You felt what she went through the night she was abducted? Oh my
God, Dana," he breathed, the anxiety and regret audible to her ears.
"When. . . I mean, how did this happen? I don't understand."

"When I hit my head in Oregon," she began, trying to and make sense of
it, for herself as much as for him. "I woke up, and I could feel your
concern for me, not just see it. I could almost hear the thoughts in my
head. I told myself it was all in my imagination. But it kept getting
stronger. And then we came here. It was like someone yelling in my
mind. It was so powerful, the memories, the visions. I couldn't shut them
out."

"Somehow, the concussion triggered these. . . powers? These," Mulder
paused before he said it. He knew what his verbalizing it would mean,
"psychic abilities?"

"Yes."

"But you never had them before," Mulder started, then the pieces started
to fall into place for him. Even though he didn't want to bring it up, he
continued. "Your mom has exhibited precognitive dreams, and, well,
Melissa had psychic abilities. So, maybe it runs in the family, and this jolt
to your brain . . ."

"Woke it up," she finished for him. She dropped her gaze from him for a
moment, her own thoughts musing on her sister's memory, and how
she'd always scoffed at Melissa's beliefs in extra sensory perception.
She looked up to catch the disbelief and what looked like fear in his eyes
and face, then she grinned at him, and gave him the other news she had
just become clear to her. "But it's gone now."

"What?" he said, now more confused than ever.

"It's gone. I can't 'hear' you anymore. It's like the memory of Samantha's
abduction was so intense that it burned out whatever temporary
connection the blow to my head had created."

He stared at her and replayed her words. 'I can't hear you *anymore*.'
That meant that she'd been able to hear his thoughts before. But, what
had she heard? Oh God, he thought. She knows. How could she not
have seen it. It's not like I hide it that well in my eyes when I look at her,
but if she looked into my mind, she was bound to see it.

Yet she hadn't said anything. Had she seen it? Was she just not saying
anything because she didn't know what to tell him. That she didn't feel
that way about him. That if she didn't say anything, they could keep
pretending that he wasn't in love with her. He didn't know. The one way
he could find out could destroy them forever. He wasn't sure he was
willing to take the chance.

He was about to forget all about this conversation when he looked into
her eyes. There was something there, he couldn't describe it. He'd seen
her glance at him like this, but it was just for a second or two. Now she
was staring at him, the blue of her eyes clearer than the crystal waters of
the ocean. And then he saw that smile. The one that lit him up inside.
The one he would walk through fire for. And she was giving it to him. It
had always been for him. And then he knew he had to ask.

"Scully, what did you hear?" he said quietly, afraid of the answer she
would give.

"I didn't do it on purpose Mulder. I would never violate your trust in me
that way. I didn't know how to control it," she stammered out an apology,
fearful of his reaction to her invasion of his privacy, his mind.

"I know Scully. I trust you with my life. Why not my mind?" he joked
lightly, then asked again, rephrasing his previous question, this time
sounding more serious. "What did you see?"

A smile lit up her face, in stark contrast to the fear visible in his. An
eternity drug on as he waited for her to answer. Then her hand returned
to its earlier place at his cheek, this time the palm cupping his face. Her
eyes searched for his, and once she was sure she held his gaze, she
spoke.

"I love you too Mulder," she said, the smile he wouldn't have believed
could be any brighter was suddenly blinding in its tenderness and
intensity. His own smile appeared as her words sunk in. She had seen
how much he loved her, and she loved him. He was sure his heart was
going to expand right out of his chest.

"Fox," he said, as the grin turned a  little self-conscious and guilty. He
knew she'd never call him that without his verbal permission. No matter
what she'd seen in his head to the contrary.

"Fox," she said lightly, testing her ability to say that name. When he
smiled wider, she knew he was pleased with the way she'd said it, so she
said it again. "I love you Fox."

Then she was being crushed into his arms, tightly embraced by this man.
The man she'd loved for years now. And she'd never known that he had
felt the same. Until a little mind reading had presented her with the
surprise of her life. She should have ignored it, pretended that she'd
never seen it. For the sake of their jobs, because of the Bureau, for the
sake of their partnership and friendship. But she couldn't. The feelings
she had were too strong. And when she'd first seen them mirrored in
Fox's mind, it was all she could do to not admit everything to him right
then and there.

But she'd been telling herself that it had all been in her imagination.
She'd almost convinced herself of that when she'd woken up here, on the
kitchen floor of his family home, in his arms. The concern and love visible
in his eyes that she'd seen a million times before she'd ever gotten that
peek into his head. And now, with that unfair advantage gone, she could
see through those eyes, in that expression, in his embrace that he truly
loved her. It hadn't been her hearing what she'd wanted to hear. And she
couldn't not want to be with him. Not anymore.

Her head tucked into his chest, Fox held her for dear life, still trying to
assure himself that he wasn't dreaming. Then he said the words he'd
been only dreaming of voicing for years.

"I love you Dana."


Part II - Seductive Visions


"How long have you known?" Mulder asked finally, easing up on his near
death grip of Scully's body.

"Known what?" she countered, still reeling from the events of the last few
minutes. It wasn't every day that she psychically connected with the
imprinted memories of her partner's missing sister, collapsed to the floor,
lost those same temporary psychic powers and admitted being in love
with her partner only to have him verbally confess the same thing.

Instead of answering her, he pushed them apart to give her a serious
stare, underlined with a bit of humor at her teasing him.

"That I loved you. Obviously it was after Oregon. Was it that first minute
you woke up, or did I hide it for a few hours at least?" he tried to joke, but
it came off sounding a bit self-conscious.

"Our second day back in Washington," Scully answered directly now. At
his raised eyebrows and incredulous look, she continued. "That first day I
came into the office to meet with Skinner, I came in to pick up the
Williams file. You were watching me like a hawk as I came over to your
desk. And it was like you were shouting the words into my head. By the
way, I never realized you liked my navy blue suit *that* much Mulder."

He blushed and then looked at her like he'd been caught peeking at her
through her windows or something. Yes, he knew what suit she was
talking about, and he certainly liked it. In fact, he loved it. It hugged her in
all the right places, and the skirt hem was just a bit higher than most of
her skirts. And when she walked in it, well, he had trouble concentrating
on anything but her backside in motion under the tight cotton material.
Plus she had a habit of wearing a sheer white blouse with it. One that if
he looked at her at just the right angle he could see an outline of her
breast. Just enough to tempt him. And drive him crazy. Not like he was
that sane anyway with Dana Scully nearby.

"Uh, yeah," he stammered, the slightest blush touching his cheeks. She
thought it was adorable, and reached up to cup his right cheek with her
hand. That slight touch burned hotter than the flush in his face.

"But I didn't know if it was real Mulder. I thought I was reading into you
what I wanted to hear."

"Then tell me something. How long have you known you were in love with
me?"

Giving him a long look, she smiled that Mona Lisa smile, and answered
him straight.

"November 11, 1994."

It took him a few minutes to shake his eidetic memory back into gear, and
then he realized the significance of the date.

"The day you woke up from your coma?"

"I turned and saw you standing there, and I knew that I was in love with
you. And when you smiled at me and gave me back my necklace," she
said, noticing how his gaze had dropped to the top of her shirt to focus on
the gold cross at the hollow of her throat as she spoke. "I realized that I
might as well have not come back if you hadn't been there when I
returned."

He couldn't breathe for a minute. That she would rather have died than
live in a world without him humbled and awed him at once. His gaze
returned to her face as he let the immensity of his feelings flood through
his eyes to her. Times like this, where nothing needed to be verbally said,
where the unsaid things were communicated with a look, meant the most.
Words were useful, but clumsy. They had shared similar silent messages;
a glance that said so much, a supportive gesture with the touch of a
hand, an embrace in grief that was worth its weight in gold.

Thinking of all those unsaid things, he remembered the lyrics of a country
song he'd heard when they had been in Dallas on a case a while back.
The reception had been lousy, and so he'd just left it on the station that
came in best, which played country western. The chorus seemed to say
everything about that unsaid communication. Even now, the words
echoed in his head.

"The smile on your face lets me know that you need me,
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall
Yeah, you say it best, when you say nothing at all."

Within the room the energy changed suddenly, as if she knew he
was remembering that song. And it wouldn't surprise him. Their
communication had been beyond verbal since there second assignment.

The trust was built, the gestures learned, gazes understood, and the
walls put up. If they hadn't protected those emotions, this would have
happened a long time ago.

But they had shielded those dangerous thoughts with professionalism and
friendly concern. Only the dreams and visions they separately shared
could attest to the deep feelings that they were barely keeping under
control. Now they knew they didn't have to hide them from each other
anymore.

"I didn't pick up when you fell in love with me Mulder," Scully said,
breaking him out of his contemplative mood. "When was it? After New
Mexico?"

He smiled his lopsided grin at her, and it made her melt. He couldn't
believe that she didn't know. But then he really didn't want her to know,
because it would hurt her to hear when he'd figured it out.

"It might as well have been forever, but I'd have to say the day you
walked in my door."

"But you thought I was there to spy on you. You didn't even like me."

"No, I didn't like what I thought they'd sent me; some unimaginative, by
the book, pain-in-the-ass watchdog. But instead I had this passionate,
intelligent, graceful and stubborn woman walk through my door, not giving
an inch and willing to take me on, and well, I was hooked."

"You weren't really in love with me then," she said, stating it rather than
phrasing it as a question. "When exactly did you know?"

With a small sigh, he resolved himself to answer her, knowing it wasn't
going to go well. "It was while you were gone. When I was in L.A. The
vampire case." He stopped and watched her eyes cloud a bit. She knew
what he'd done there, knew he'd slept with that Kilar woman. But he'd
never told her the real reason why.

"I was in such pain Scully," he said softly, guilt and anguish audible in his
voice. "You were gone, and all my efforts to get you back were useless.
She needed help. Help I couldn't give you. So I substituted her for you for
a little while. I gave her everything I couldn't give you, my protection, 
my . . . body."

Mulder had to stop because he saw a shadow veil her face this time. The
doubt and hurt she was feeling were clearly visible to him. But he knew
exactly what he needed to tell her to make her understand.

"But not my heart Dana," he said truthfully and emotionally. That admission
brought her eyes back up to his, her soul exposed there, asking him to tell
her that what he'd just said was the truth. That it had always been her on
his mind, in his heart. So he gazed at her and spoke to her from his heart.
"That was something I couldn't give her. Because you had it."

"And when I sat on the hill above the flames, staring at that . . " he trailed
off, touching her cross lightly. "I realized that I needed you back, that my
life was empty without you. And I knew then that I loved you."

That admission stirred something so deep within Dana that she nearly
shivered at the feeling. With that knowledge, she reached up and laced
her hands through the strands of his dark hair, feeling the fine texture like
never before. Without a second thought, she was kissing him full on the
lips, pouring every emotion she had into it. He responded immediately,
intensifying the kiss in his own right.

For their first kiss, it was everything they would have expected; sweet,
innocent, exploring and tentative. But underlying it was a raw passion, the
denied tension that had existed between them for years. The immensity
of their feelings for each other drove this kiss above and beyond that first,
simple stage and threw them headlong into the fire of their love and
desire.

They continued to kiss, and as it deepened, becoming more passionate,

Mulder shifted Scully in his embrace, clutching her tightly. Then suddenly
he realized they were still sitting on the kitchen floor. This wasn't where
he was going to consummate their relationship, on the linoleum in his
family home. Now the kitchen table, he thought wickedly, then amended
that thought as well. Another day, he mused.

In one swift gesture, he lifted her in his arms, and she threw her arms
around his neck as he shifted her weight in his grasp. Standing, he
walked back to the stairs leading up to the master bedroom, and slowly
climbed them, his attention split between concentrating on putting one
foot past the other on the steps, and looking at the stunning woman
cradled in his arms.

"I assume we're going somewhere?" she teased him, running her thumb
across his lower lip, focusing on the silky skin.

"Well, I thought a change of venue might be called for."

"Why? Are you expecting to poll potentially hostile jurors?" she joked. Job
related humor in the midst of his, their, romantic overtures seemed only
proper somehow, and he gave her a lopsided grin.

"No. I'm hopefully just taking my beautiful partner to bed, and making love
to her," he replied seriously. This one time, he wanted Scully to know he
wasn't joking or playing. His intentions were honest and sincere, and he
didn't want her to make any mistake about that.

"Oh." she said simply, the light in her eyes brightening and darkening at the same time. He was serious about this. About them. And he meant
what he said. The reality was nearly overwhelming, so she turned to
Mulder's favorite trick to cover the immensity of her feelings. She teased
him. "Well in that case, lead on, MacDuff."

He smiled at that. I must be rubbing off onto her, he thought. Then a more
provocative thought replaced it. "How about I rub off onto her with some
less clothes on?"

With that he continued to the bedroom, his mind envisioning exactly
what they were going to do once they got there.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Once he got her into the room, he sat her down on the edge of the bed,
and reached over to take the bedspread down with a quick tug. Luckily
the sheets had been changed a month back when his mom had been
here, looking for a few mementos to take home.

As that dark, disturbing thought prepared to take hold of him, he sensed
Dana get up and then she wrapped her arms around him from behind.
Her small body pressed fully against his, and he could feel every curve,
as well as the low heat radiating off of her, mixing with his own passion
for her.

"Mul. . ." she began, and when he turned in her embrace and she caught
the look in his eyes, she changed gears. "Fox. Are you sure you want to
do this? Here?"

He lowered his head, shaking it even as a little smile touched his mouth.
Leave it to Scully to think analytically, even now, on the brink of passion.
Drawing his eyes back up to hers, he gazed at her, considering his
answer for only a heartbeat.

"Yes. I've been waiting for you for three years. Now that I have you, I'm
not waiting any longer. Besides," he joked, running his hand along her
cheek in a tender caress, "what better way to exorcize demons than to
make love to the woman I love in this house. A good memory to
overpower the bad."

At that she relaxed. Far be it from her to change his mind, she thought.
Then she reached up to pull his face to her, giving him a sweet, tender
kiss as a reward.

She pulled back, kicking off her shoes as Fox finished his task. He threw
the covers back, and left them at the foot of the bed. Taking only a
moment to rid himself of his own shoes and socks, he then turned his
attention back to her. Dana had returned to sitting on the edge of the bed,
and he kneeled down before his red-haired angel, entranced by her.

Taking the initiative, she reached forward and pulled Fox to her, drinking
deeply of his lips. When she felt his hands reach for the top button on her
shirt, she smiled into the kiss, a non-verbal signal that she approved of
his actions.

Fox made quick work of the buttons, and tugged a bit at the bottom of the
shirt until it was free of her jeans. Then with a slight push to either side,
he bared her chest to his vision.

The bra was green. A dark hunter green cotton that set off her skin
beautifully. He had always liked green, but on Dana Scully, it was
bewitching. He caressed her creamy skin with his eyes, as he took in her
collarbone, the dip of her throat, and the slight swell of flesh over the
fabric of her bra, and he ached to touch every inch of it.

Before he had the chance, he felt small, warm hands running up and
under his t-shirt, and did his best to suppress a startled gasp. His eyes
met hers again, this time the passion in his darkening hazel was mirrored
in her now cloudy blue. They had deepened to almost a sea color, like the
ones he knew she must have sailed with her father. And the look of utter
love and desire he found there was overwhelmingly erotic.

He knew what she wanted, and was more than happy to oblige her. He
reached down for the hem of his t-shirt and with a tug, the shirt was gone,
and his chest was bared to her.

She'd seen his bare chest before. Those times when he'd been hurt, or
when he had been sleeping without it and she'd woken him up. But never
like this, . . . the way she'd always wanted to see it. And it lived up to
every one of her dreams. At this rate, she was half-afraid that the rest of
him wouldn't just live up to her fantasy generated image of him, but
surpass it by a mile. He was obviously so much more than she'd ever
imagined he would be. At that she smiled again, and felt his hands pull on
her shirt, wanting it off.

Reluctant though she was to take her hands off of him, she let go, letting
him remove the shirt, and he tossed it to the floor, his hands replacing
themselves on her. One went to the small of her back, and the other
caught itself in her hair, tangling in the reddish strands.

God, he thought, her skin was smoother than the finest silk. The heated
flesh of her back nearly set him on fire as he ran his hand up her spine,
and then back down along her side. On the return trip up though, he
ventured forward, the hand traveling up slowly across her stomach,
between her breasts and up to her throat.

It took every ounce of self-control Dana Scully had ever had to not shiver
outright at that caress. She ended up tightly griping the bedclothes, and
biting her lower lip. Fox noticed it, all of it, and suddenly realized how much his touch effected her. Almost as much as hers did him, he thought.

Then her hands were loose from the bed, and ran up his chest, to loop
around his neck. With a steady pull, she drew him down to her, his hands
moving out of the way of his body coming to rest on hers. And that
sensation of his flesh against hers threw all thoughts of their ever not
being together out the window. They both knew they had never been in
love like this. To the point that just touching was as erotic as sex itself.
And they would never find this again with someone else. They were one
soul in two bodies. And now they knew it.

Their mouths met again, hungry and hot, and neither would swear who
broke first, but Fox took the chance to run his lips across her throat,
bringing a groan from Dana's lips. That little noise nearly made him loose
his control, but he decide to see if that sound had been a one time
occurrence, and so he moved up the other side until he found her ear,
and tugged on it with his lips, and then his teeth. He was rewarded with
something even more surprising and seductive.

"Oh, God. . ." Dana quietly cried out, her body beginning to writhe under
Fox's, as his hands ran up her sides, and back down her arms as he
slowly but carefully seduced her ear.

"Like that I see," Fox said into her ear, his tone low and confident. He'd
never expected Dana to react to him like this. Not even in his wildest
fantasies.

Not one to be outdone, especially by Fox Mulder, she ran her hands up
his back, dragging her nails lightly as she did. And she succeeded in
getting a gasp out of him as he nearly shuttered at the experience.

"I could say the same thing about you," she whispered back to him in a
sultry voice he'd never heard before, but which he decided he liked.

"Oh yes, you could," he replied, breathing lightly into her ear as he drug
his lower lip along the edge. This did produce a shiver, and Fox swore
that he'd never felt its likes. "Time to move on."

With that, she felt his mouth begin to travel back down her neck, and then
lower, across her clavicle and then to the soft skin of her breast above
her bra. Light kisses traced the line of flesh just above the fabric, until he began to ache in both his groin and his soul to touch the still covered
areas of her body.

Both of his hands ran down to her jeans, and he slid them between their
bodies to try and attack the button and zipper. Feeling his struggle, she
ran her hands carefully around to his chest, and pushed him up a bit,
giving his hands more room to work. But Dana wasn't being totally noble.
While Fox unzipped her jeans, she had found the top button of his jeans,
and had the zipper down in record time.

"No fair. You've had more practice at undressing people than I have," Fox
complained, his breathing a little labored as his heart rate skyrocketed at
the knowledge that she wanted him as much as he needed her.

"That's not quite true," she replied lustfully, her eyes shining. "The only
live patient I've had to work on in a long while has been you."

"Well if this is how you practice, let's keep your patient list to just me,"
Fox said possessively, leaning forward to kiss her as his hands pushed
on the waistband of her jeans. Looking down, he was surprised to note
the color of her underwear as he exposed it. "Matching green underwear
Scully?"

"You know, matching underwear is the sign of an organized person,"
Dana remarked humorously, and then she gasped as he kissed her
stomach, just above the waistband of her panties. At the same time, she
could feel the fabric of her jeans being drawn off of her legs, and
suddenly she felt his foot shoving them past her bare feet and onto the
floor.

"Speaking of underwear . . ." she added suddenly, and leaned up into Fox
and carefully tugged down a bit on his jeans, showing her what she'd
hoped to see. His silk boxers. The black ones. The ones she'd seen in his
laundry basket the time the washers had broken down in his building and
he'd done his wash at hers. When he wasn't looking, she had stroked the
fabric, wondering when he wore them. For whom he wore them. And
today she realized he wore them for her. Even though she'd never before
had a chance to see them like this, she now knew that he wore them
when he was with her.

"I see my boxers have an admirer," he joked, as he felt her warm gaze
resting on him. And then as she pushed the jeans farther down, he could
feel that her attention had moved to something else.

Dana's small hand reached forward and caressed the bulge just behind
the silk, feeling the hardness and heat separated from her flesh by the
thin layer of fabric. With deliberate slowness, she ran her fingertips up,
then down the length of him, inflaming him further, as well as getting
acquainted with him on this much more intimate level.

"They're not the only things," she practically purred as a groan of pleasure
escaped his lips while she ran her fingers back up him again.

With his help, she drew his jeans off the rest of the way and he pushed
himself off of her momentarily so he could get them off his feet. Climbing
back into her embrace, he found his way back to her chest, and again
encountered the covered weight of her breasts.

"This," he said seductively as he ran his hand lightly across the cup of her
bra, "is in my way."

His fingers then ran along the bottom edge of the fabric, below her
breasts, and to the back of the garment, where Fox attacked the two
small hooks that held it in place. Unlatching them, he then returned to her
front, and slipped his index fingers under the slight straps at her
shoulders and pulled them downwards. He continued to tug at the cloth
until it was down her arms, and then finally off.

He had been so intent on watching her clothes come off, that when he
drug his eyes back up her body, he nearly gasped as he took in her
naked breasts. In his experience, physical and celluloid, he was certain
that he'd never seen a more perfect pair. And he just had to tell her how
attractive he found her before the ability to speak was taken from him by
his desire to wrap his lips over the tight peaks of her breasts.

"You are so gorgeous. I don't think you have any idea what you do to me,
do you Scully?" he whispered provocatively as his hands ran up her sides
to rest against the sides of her breasts.

With that said, he dropped his mouth to one of her breasts, and took the
nipple in his mouth, pulling and sucking on it with meticulous care and
skill. After a little while, he felt her other breast was being neglected, and moved his mouth to explore it as well.

Under his ministrations, the exquisite torture to her breasts increased her
passion for him, and she couldn't help but gasp and groan at his
attentions, writhing beneath his body. Finally she decided to reciprocate
some of the feelings and reactions she was experiencing. As his hands
continued to caress her, she ran her hands to touch and fondle his
manhood. First through the boxers, then she slipped a hand inside and
stroked him, her skin sliding along his.

The fire she was stoking in him was becoming increasingly unbearable. In
answer, he slid one hand away from her waist, down lower until he could
feel her own fire, hot and wet at his fingertips. While her hands fondled
him, he responded to each of her movements with an answering caress
or rub against her of his own.

It was Fox who gave in first, as he bit down hard on his lower lip as he felt
his body literally stiffen to the point of physical pain. Swiftly he pulled his hands from her, and reached out to stop her movements. Their eyes met,
and in that moment of silent communication, they both knew that the
moment was upon them.

With startling speed, He pulled his boxers from his body, tossing them
aside, and then he reached for the high elastic of her panties. When
he had hooked his fingers into the waistband, he looked up into her eyes, 
silently asking permission to remove that last barrier. The question was 
there in his eyes, the barely restrained passion burning in them. As her 
non-verbal answer, Dana simply reached down and covered his hands 
with her own, and lifted up from the bed, pushing down on his hands to 
shrug the cloth from her body.

Nothing separated them now, and she cradled his hips between her legs
and wrapped her arms around his back. Braced on both arms, he came
into her with a groan, which she echoed with a loud moan. They fit 
perfectly, as if made for each other, Fox thought to himself with the only 
part of his brain that still functioned.

They began their motion, his strokes beginning slow and steady. The
oneness of their partnership, their friendship had crossed over to their
lovemaking. They moved together as if they'd been long time lovers,
knowing exactly which motion felt best, which caress inflamed the most. 
The sound of their lovemaking, the physical coming together of their 
bodies was punctuated with their sighs and groans, low cries and moans.

Quickly the tempo sped up, pushing them faster, closer to their ultimate
goal, the total communion of their bodies and souls. The ache in Fox's
legs equaled the ache in his groin as he felt not only himself, but Dana as
well poised on that precipice, awaiting the upcoming release. Running his
arms under her body, he pulled her nearly flush to him, thrusting harder
until he could feel them falling over the cliff of their desire.

"Oh God . . . Fox!!" Dana cried out as the force of her desire reached its
limit, and she nearly rose up in his arms as she came.

Hearing her call his name, and with that tone of voice, Fox knew he wasn't 
going to last more than a moment longer.

"Dana . . .," he called aloud, his voice ragged with the emotion as his own
body shuddered violently as he spent his passion within her. Heated air
ruffled her hair as he breathed heavily, physically exhausted from their
exertions.

After laying for what seemed like an eternity in each other's tight
embrace, bodies still connected and singing with the high of their
lovemaking, they reluctantly pulled apart. A moment later they met again
in the middle of the bed. Fox took hold of Dana, curling her up against his
chest, resting her head near his heart after she had reached down and
pulled the covers over them with a hand.

"I love you," Dana said when she'd caught her breath, and wrapped her
arms around his waist and chest.

"I love you too. So much," Fox replied, as he ran a hand through her
tumbled red hair in a fond caress.

Wrapped in each other's arms, the reality began to set in for them both.
The commitment they had for each other had been realized, and now all 
that was left to deal with was how they were going to make it work once 
they returned to D.C. and the X-Files.

"Fox . . . what do we do about the Consortium, the Bureau, hell, Skinner
for that matter? This thing isn't exactly looked upon with favor. You know,
the unwritten 'Thou shalt not fall in love and sleep with thy partner' rule. I can't just pretend I don't love you when I do. But I don't want to leave the Bureau, or the X-Files . . . or you," Dana said quietly, her heart racing with the knowledge of the problems she knew they were up against.

"I don't care Dana. They can't keep us from each other," Fox said firmly,
reaching over to twine his fingers with hers. "I won't give you up. Not
without a fight. And as for the Consortium, they already know we'd go to
hell and back for each other. This is just the physical manifestation of
what has been a three year emotional and spiritual relationship."

That got a smile from her. The stunning kind that he waited for with baited
breath. She slowly nodded her head, and looked at him, tears threatening 
at the edge of her eyes.

"Leave it to you to make this sound supernatural," she joked, leaning up
to kiss his cheek lightly.

"Hey, I wasn't the one doing the mind reading around here, so I don't
think you're in any position to complain," he replied, placing an answering
kiss on her forehead. "Besides, don't you think we were fated to be
together Scully?"

"That was the root beer Mulder," she said, remembering and knowing he
would as well. It got a little muffled laugh out of him that shook her body, 
which partially lay across him. "No. I think we were meant to be together 
forever, iced tea in that bag or no. Missy would have said that our souls 
were destined for each other."

"And she would have been right," Mulder replied, tightening his grip
around her body as she snuggled closer to him. "We were meant to be
together. And we will be, from here on out, forever."


Part III - Enduring Visions


Driving back from the Vineyard, Fox Mulder kept glancing over to the 
passenger seat every so often, just to do a reality check.

It was still a hard thing to believe that Scully, Dana Scully, *his* 
Scully, loved him, and that they had cemented their relationship on 
the floor of his family's house in Chilmark.

Well, actually in the master bedroom, he thought wickedly to himself.

Those images were permanently imprinted on his eidetic memory. To 
be replayed at his whim. But even with his photographic memory, he 
still couldn't believe the events of the last twenty-four hours. 

The silent drive up to Chilmark the day before. Standing in front of the 
house, remembering the past. When he had entered the place, he 
knew what his thoughts had been about: happier times when the 
Mulder's had been a family; then the darker memories of Samantha's 
abduction; and the sad, lonely and guilt-ridden years that followed. 
Those memories and feelings had guided him upstairs and throughout 
the house with a near-physical force.

Yet, after he'd spoken with Scully, he understood that what she had 
experienced must have been much more disturbing. With hindsight he 
noted her reaction to the place was similar to his. The descriptions of 
the place, the memories and visions she had experienced from Sam's 
point of view were truly astounding. Although she hadn't retained 
much of the memory of Sam's abduction, her account of the 
overturned jewelry box was amazing.

He'd actually thought for two seconds about writing the whole 
adventure up as an X-File, but thought better of it after he ended up 
on the receiving end of a patented Scully "do it and die" look. There 
was no way in hell he was risking his life to do that.

Still, after everything that had happened, he found it all a little hard to 
believe. Part of him expected to wake up and find himself sleeping on 
his couch at home, and the last day having never happened.

Just then, he felt a warm, soft hand reach over and place itself on his 
right hand which rested on the steering wheel. He turned his head to 
see Dana giving him one of her rare smiles, an a questioning stare.

"You weren't worrying that the last twenty-four hours were just a 
dream, were you Mulder?" she quietly said, something in her voice 
sounding like she was just stating a fact, rather than asking him a 
question.

"Are you sure those psychic powers were only temporary Scully? 
Cause it seems to me that you've always known what I was thinking 
since day one in our partnership," he teased, releasing his grip from 
the wheel to take up her hand with his.

"No, I don't have those 'psychic powers' anymore, and you know it. As 
for knowing what you're thinking, that's easy. You're like an open 
book Agent Mulder. Once you learn the language," she said, a smug 
grin on her face now.

"And which language would that be?" he asked curiously, his 
infamous lopsided leer appearing on his face.

With a sigh, she answered him. "Your body language, as you well 
know. And don't even think about any smart retorts."

"Me?" he said, sounding slightly shocked as he batted his eyelashes 
at her before he slid straight into his wounded puppy-dog look.

"Yes you, you lascivious, juvenile excuse for an FBI agent," she 
teased back, only slightly exasperated. He only grinned wider at her in 
reply.

Silence reigned for a while as he drove on, crossing into the District of 
Columbia's city limits. Even though the lapse in conversation was 
pleasant, she still knew there were a few things that needed to be 
talked about. Yet she was hesitant to actually say anything. He must 
have known something was up, and he called her on it.

"What's the matter Dana?" he asked cautiously.

"What did you decide to do about the house?" she said quietly, not 
wanting to disturb his new-found peace with his past.

"I know how I've felt about it for a long time . . . I planned to sell it. It 
holds too many bad memories. But after this weekend," he began, the 
trail of his thoughts leading him to give her a tender look.

"Muld . . . Fox," she started. Using his last name was second nature 
to her, and she was finding it difficult to not call him that. She'd begun 
to call him Fox when she wanted to get his attention. And when they 
were in bed, she amended mentally. Somehow, even after having 
been in love with each other; declaring that love and finally 
consummating it, they still couldn't break the habit of using each 
other's last names. 

It was as if their last names were synonymous with their feelings for 
each other. So they had decided to continue to use them in every day 
conversation, dragging out "Dana" and "Fox" for 'special' occasions. 
They used them to make a point, or when they were concerned about 
the other, or just wanted to express the depths of their love and 
longing for the other. And that was fine by her.

"You have a photographic memory Fox. You don't need to hold onto a 
building to keep this good memory. It will endure without the physical 
place it happened at," she offered lightly, giving him her approval to 
sell the house if he wished, as well as her support if he wanted to 
keep it.

He grinned at that. She had understood what he had meant. Not that 
it was a surprise, he thought to himself with a little laugh. She'd 
always been able to read him like a book. Ok, he amended, like an 
easy read, with lots of pictures book. Then a sudden realization hit 
him. There had been one thing she hadn't decipher about him. The 
fact that he had been in love with her. 

He'd been able to fool her into thinking that all of his loving glances, 
every time he had put his hand to her back, when he had gone off on 
his own to protect her had all been just his "way." She hadn't 
suspected it at all. Not until she'd seen it in his mind. 

Damn, he thought with some humorous introspection, he could have 
been an Emmy award winning actor with the performance he'd been 
putting on for the last two and a half years.

Yet, she'd done a pretty good job in fooling him as well, so he couldn't 
say his perception was much better than hers.

"We'll see Dana. There's no rush anyway," he said slowly, then noted 
where they were with visible anxiety. "Almost home. I'll drop you off 
first."

She responded with a slightly wistful affirmative as he took the turnoff 
for her apartment.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Even knowing full well that they would be together the next morning at 
work, leaving each other was excruciatingly difficult. Even though he 
didn't have to, Mulder had walked Scully up to her apartment. When 
he could have turned and left, he hovered over her form as she slid 
the key in the lock and opened the door.

Walking in, she spun around slowly to observe him standing in the 
doorway, indecision written all over his face. To go like he should, or 
ask her to let him stay, even just for a little while. Scully could see the 
debate being waged in his head and heart as he stood there.

"Are you going to stand out there all night, or come in?" she asked 
suddenly, shocking him out of his contemplation.

"It's Sunday night Scully. I didn't think, . . . I should just go and see 
you tomorrow," he stammered out uncertainly, uncharacteristically 
uneasy.

As he turned to go, she swiftly put a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Wait Mulder. I think we need to talk about something," she said, her 
voice girded with the same soft steel as her grip on his arm.

Drawing him into the apartment, she closed and locked the door 
behind them, and then gently pushed him to the sofa, following right 
behind him. Once they were both sitting, she took his hands in hers 
and began to speak.

"Since I don't really know how you're feeling, I'm just going to tell you 
how I feel about all this. Just because we're back in Washington 
doesn't mean any of the feelings or events that we've shared this 
weekend have to be forgotten or hidden. As far as the Bureau is 
concerned, it's business as usual. Where we're concerned, I'm sure 
things will take some getting used to, but I don't want you to think we 
have to go back to pretending with each other," she informed him 
matter of factly.

Gradually the words got through to him, and he broke out in a wide, 
goofy grin.

"I didn't know, didn't realize how this was going to feel, coming back to 
our lives after stepping out of them for a day. I wasn't sure about what 
we were going to do after Chilmark. Where we go from here," he 
stated, then pulled a hand from hers, to lay his fingertips along her 
cheek. "I don't want to be apart from you. I want to wake up every 
morning in your arms, come home every night with you, eat my meals 
and share my air with you. But with all the obstacles in our way, I don't 
know if I can have that."

She was tempted to cry. Such a sweet sentiment from this man, who 
she knew sparingly expressed his feelings. Yet he meant what he'd 
said. When Fox Mulder loved, it was with his whole heart. He had 
schooled his reactions to be more passive, uncaring on the outside 
because, as she knew very well, he felt too much. It was so easy for 
him to be hurt, and thankfully he'd taken the chance to fall in love with 
her. No matter what, she'd never hurt him. She'd rather walk across 
broken glass than bring him any more pain.

"Why can't you?"

"Excuse me?" he asked, shocked. "Skinner and the Bureau for 
starters. What are you going to tell them, 'Sorry sir, but we found it 
much more efficient to live together since when we're in D.C. we 
spend so much time together, we might as well save on the rent, and 
when we're in the field, it's easier to find just one room.' ?!? That'll go 
over really well!"

"Who's going to tell him? We just continue to take two rooms on the 
road, and one of us could change their mailing address at the Bureau 
to a post office box. But for the time being, who says we can't spend 
our time together at each other's apartments? You've stayed here late 
enough before, and even overnight. I seem to remember you lying 
asleep on my bed for nearly two days when you were sick. You were 
here, and no one took any notice of it. So who's to say we couldn't do 
it indefinitely?"

Mulder knew she was right. Their lives were already intimately 
intertwined. They really hadn't been living separate lives for a while. 
They worked together, ate together, on occasion slept in the same 
room. The apartment keys, the weekend pizza and video, the shared 
rides to the office, the fact that her mother had sent him a present this 
last Christmas . . . The only barriers between them being partners and 
being a couple had been their undeclared feelings for each other and 
their living situations. 

Her mom calls me "Fox" for God's sake, he thought. Margaret Scully 
had taken him to her heart, just like her daughter had. She had 
adopted him in spirit. Now, if he got his secret wish, his most heartfelt 
desire, he might just be a formal member of the family in the near 
future. That of course was if A. his luck held out and Dana didn't 
come to her senses about falling in love with him, and B. they could 
figure out a way to stay together and keep the X-Files at the same 
time and lastly C. that he could get up the nerve to ever ask her.

But that was the future, and right now they had to decide what their 
present would be. It was an easy thing to just say yes, to go for it. 
Such a very tempting proposal she was offering him. And he wanted it 
more than anything. But . . . 

"Fox," Scully said lowly, lovingly caressing his name unconsciously 
with her voice. "Don't decide right now. Let's sleep on it for a day or 
so before we do something we might regret later."

"Like deciding to live together," he said in a dispirited, self- 
depreciating way. 

"No. Like saying no to it because you think it would be too hard, or too 
complicated, or too risky, and then regretting the time we didn't spend 
together."

"Ok, we'll talk about this tomorrow. After work. So, can I take you to 
dinner?" he asked mischievously, his dark mood averted and now 
wishing they didn't have to go to work in the morning. Hell, that they 
could take a year's vacation together away from the Bureau, the 
consortium and everything.

"We'll see," she said with a little sexy smile, and got up from the 
couch, then reaching down to help him up as well.

Walking him to the door, they didn't touch each other, for fear that the 
slightest intimate contact might shatter their crystal-like resolve. She 
opened the door and ushered him out, smiling again as he gave her 
that damned lopsided grin of his as he walked backwards down the 
hall.

"See you tomorrow Scully. Pleasant dreams," he said softly.

"You too," she replied just before he got to the elevator and got in, the 
sliding door closing them off from one another. And on both sides of 
those steel doors, a person sighed with denied longing, knowing it 
was going to be a *long* night.

-------X-----X-----X-------

He heard the sound of heels clicking along the hallway long before 
she reached the door to their shared basement office. Grinning like a 
madman, Mulder watched as she came in, dressed in immaculate 
Scully style.

Oh God, he thought with a sudden surge of hormones to parts south. 
She was wearing *it.* Her suit. The navy blue one. With the blouse. 
She remembered, and she's decided to torture me, he mused. She 
must not want me to get any work done today.

Or, maybe she's up to something, he mentally amended as she hung 
up her coat and put her laptop on the desk.

"Morning Mulder," she said simply, wandering to the corner of the 
room to fix herself some coffee before she got started for the day. As 
she slowly sauntered back to her desk, then sat down to go about her 
normal routine, he couldn't stop himself from asking her what was on 
his mind.

"Alright Scully, what gives?" he asked pointedly, his voice dropping 
just a fraction, enough for her to swiftly look up to meet his burning yet 
questioning gaze. She then watched his finger drift up and down, 
indicating what he was focusing on.

"Oh, I got a call last night," she began warily, and instantly Mulder's 
mental alarms went off, his face taking on a worried expression. 
"From my mom."

That relaxed him, and she could visibly see his posture and attitude 
change in a heartbeat. He'd been really concerned that it had been 
bad news, or even someone who had discovered their 'new' 
relationship and was wanting to play them out or turn them in. Mulder 
himself had been dreading getting that call.

"She invited me over for dinner Friday night, if we're in town," she 
explained, watching him for the slightest slip into troubled thoughts.

"And?"

"She told me to 'ask Fox' to come too."

Oh . . . ," he said quietly, wondering what her mom was up to. 

It wasn't like she never invited him to dinner, but when she did, she 
usual had a good reason. And the question for the day was what was 
her 'good reason' this time?

With a little sigh, he knew what was going to happen. Margaret was 
going to take one look at the two of them and know that their 
relationship had changed. It was inevitable. He and Scully had 
planned on telling her about them, but not just yet. They had wanted 
to settle in with their roles as lovers before putting themselves on 
display for anyone, even her mother. But it looked like that decision 
was being taken out of their hands.

"She's going to know Mulder," Scully said, verbally confirming his own 
hypothesis.

"She probably already knows Scully. This is 'your' mom we're talking 
about here."

"So?" she asked, a touch of fear in her voice.

"Can I get a ride from you?" he asked in reply, smiling a little at her.

Nodding her head in assent, she returned his smile with one of her 
own. The edges of her lips turning up the slightest bit to give the 
impression that she was amused with his discretion. In fact she was. 
She hadn't been surprised at his way of dealing with the situation. 
They hadn't ever mentioned 'what' her mom would know out loud. 

Somewhere along the line she'd become as paranoid as he was about 
being listened in on, or followed, so they'd gone into their new 
relationship knowing they'd have to be careful. No mentioning 
anything in the office that could suggest anything more than the 
friendship they'd had before. Business as usual, she had said the 
night before. And that was just what it was.

Their etiquette in their office, in the building, on the Bureau's time had 
to be exemplary, above reproach. But when they got home, the 
personal aspect would have free reign. They had just started to begin 
discussing their future living arrangements, but she had already 
formulated a temporary plan that she intended to divulge to him over 
lunch. 

It was like a time share, she had thought with a silly grin. Half their 
time they could spend at her place, half the time at his. As long as 
they didn't push it, and that they didn't stay over on the week nights 
too often, for right now, she amended, they would be fine.

Already she'd entertained a few little fantasies in her mind. Showing 
up at his place with a pizza and some iced tea, and ending the 
evening kissing and making out on his couch. Having him stay the 
weekend at her apartment, eating breakfast in bed with him on 
Sunday morning while reading the paper.

But most of all, she was looking forward to another opportunity to 
wake up in his arms again, like she had in Chilmark.

It had been the most amazing feeling. She had awoken to the sound 
of seagulls, and had started to get up when she felt the warm body 
behind her. The incredibly velvety, heated warmth of Fox Mulder's 
skin pressed against her. His knee had been hooked over her leg, his 
arm wrapped possessively and protectively around her stomach, and 
his face pressed slightly into the back of her reddish hair. And in that 
blissful moment, she realized that she was addicted to the feeling of 
laying there with him. And she knew that she'd never get enough of it, 
even if they were together for a hundred years.

Then she'd noticed with some surprise that he was still asleep. For a 
man with insomniac tendencies and nightmares that would debilitate 
most people, he was still out. He had fallen asleep with her in the 
early morning hours, and to her best guess, hadn't woken up at all. 
Maybe it had to do with the 'physical activity' they'd engaged in, but a 
little part of her thrilled at the thought it might have something to do 
with her presence. That he felt safe in her arms. That he felt loved.

Slowly her mind came back to the office, and she found Mulder 
staring at her. She'd spaced out, and he'd sat there, watching her as 
the silly, happy smile that she seemed to have on her face a lot now 
had appeared as her mind had recalled those thoughts.

"Thinking nice thoughts Scully?" he asked teasingly, but with a tone in 
his voice and a look in his eyes that told her he had a good idea 
where her mind had been.

"Always," she replied, pursing her lips slightly, unfairly making him 
want to cross both their desks and kiss her until she was breathless.

That fantasy was rudely interrupted with a phone call. Mulder quickly 
reached for it.

"Mulder," he intoned in a purely professional FBI manner.

After a few moments, he hung up, giving her a serious, almost worried 
stare.

"That was Skinner. He wants to see me in his office. Now."

"Better not keep him waiting then," she responded lightly, even if she 
didn't feel that way. She was worried, and he was too. If he knew 
about them, he was going to follow procedure and speak to them 
separately about any allegations of impropriety. With her heart in her 
throat, she watched him get up and head to the door. 

Before he left, he flashed her that lopsided grin and she knew 
somehow things were going to be ok.

-------X-----X-----X-------

"Hey Scully, guess what I got?" Mulder asked as he walked into the 
basement.

He'd spent half an hour in Skinner's office, and she'd started to get 
worried. Usually if he was giving them a case, he asked both of them 
up. On occasion, when he did only speak with one of them, it usually 
wasn't for more than ten or fifteen minutes. As the clock hands had 
slipped beyond that, and then to the half hour mark, she had started 
to truly fear for their jobs and their work together in the X-Files.

So when he walked in with a spring to his step and a pleased look on 
his face, she knew that two things had happened. One was that they 
had escaped Skinner's detection, and two, that Mulder had a new 
case to sink his teeth into. And judging from the broadness of his grin, 
she knew he liked this one.

"What is it? More crop circles or another satanic cult?" she said 
quickly, humor evident in her tone. Don't let him get to you, she 
mentally reminded herself. Professional and personal were separate, 
and dealing with him on a case was still like second nature for her; 
give him back as good as you're going to get from him. And from the 
wicked turn of his smile, she knew she was in for it.

"Nope, even better. Remember that airline crash last year? Well, it 
seems that a psychic who documented a prophetic dream a few days 
before the crash was just murdered."

"And?" she asked, impatient for him to get to the point, and giving him 
a little glare to punctuate that fact.

"She was a federal employee in Denver. And the Bureau out there 
seems to think that her death may have had something to do with her 
vision of the accident. So it's all ours, with Skinner's blessing. We 
leave tomorrow morning," he punctuated by tossing the case file and 
two airline tickets onto her desk.

"Mulder . . . I'm sure that it's a very interesting coincidence, but what 
does her disputable psychic vision a year ago have to do with her 
murder?"

"Maybe that fact that she told her boss and some co-workers that she 
was being haunted by the victims of the crash, and that they wanted 
her dead for not saving them. For not warning anyone about the 
danger," he said, throwing her the kicker he knew she'd been waiting 
for with a huge grin.

"Oh . . . ." she said with the hint of an exasperated sigh, hardly 
surprised by the turn of events. "I guess we're going to Denver then."

-------X-----X-----X------- 

The plane had left on time, and they were on their way back home. 
After three day's they'd wrapped up the case, leaving the local 
authorities to charge the psychoanalyst for the woman's murder. Yet 
Mulder was still claiming that some sort of supernatural force had 
been involved in the woman's death.

But that wasn't what Scully was going to write up in their report. No 
matter what changes their personal relationship had taken, she was 
steadfastly holding onto her skeptical beliefs. 

Mulder wouldn't want it any other way. Because he loved her 
skeptical, scientific mind, along with the rest of her. Yet he had to 
admit, she had taken one huge leap of faith. She'd ignored her logical 
mind in favor of embracing the extreme possibility of falling in love 
with him. And for the life of him, he didn't know how she could believe 
in "them," and still scoff at the existence of UFO's and poltergeists. 

Yet he knew she'd disagree. All the ingrained doubts about himself 
made it hard to imagine her actually loving him. As he gave her a 
sideways glance, taking in her studious focus towards the report she 
was working on, he wondered about that. He knew she loved him, but 
it was still a mystery to him as to why.

"Because you're an incredibly caring, giving, although often 
obsessive, humorous, over-protective man whom I find both attractive 
and compelling," Scully whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, 
as she tilted her head towards him with a seductive smile on her face.

That pronouncement shocked him out of his revere, shattering the 
darkening mood he'd begun to build up. She had noticed it, and 
somehow knew what was fueling it, and what would diffuse it as well.

"Damn it Scully. Can't you just let a man think depressing thoughts 
without saying exactly the right thing to cheer him up," he complained 
without any real rancor in his voice, and a smile in return of hers.

She didn't reply, instead she just gave him one of her "looks." This 
one was the one he'd come to know as the "Mulder, you're being a 
jerk. Stop it or else" look.

But he wasn't ready to let it drop yet. Because there were few things 
in this world as fun as infuriating an already annoyed Scully.

"So, if I concentrate really hard on a number, can you tell me what it 
is?" he said smugly, his grin broadening at her glass-melting stare.

"Mulder, you remember that I shot you when you were going to kill 
Krycek, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, I won't be aiming for your shoulder," she growled, her 
glare becoming deadly.

"Ouch, ok . . . anyway Scully, what time are you picking me up for 
dinner tonight?"

"Oh God! I forgot! She still expects us this evening. Do you think we 
can ditch it?"

"Not unless you want to explain to her why we skipped her dinner and 
became an 'official' couple without her knowing about it," he replied, 
reaching over to take one of her hands from its position on her 
keyboard and hold it securely in his.

"You really want to do this?" she asked, the double meaning of her 
words evident to him. 

She was giving him an out. As much as she loved him, she was 
willing to lie to her mother about their relationship if he wanted her to. 
And in that moment he truly realized her dedication to him. Her 
absolute willingness to walk through fire at his request. It was 
staggering, he thought to himself, that someone, that *she* could love 
him *that* much.

"Yes, I'm sure. Your mom means a lot to me, and I don't want us to lie 
to her about this."

With a little nod, she accepted his answer. And in a moment of pure 
emotion, she gave into one of her secret fantasies. Shutting off her 
computer and stowing it away, she pulled up on the arm rest between 
them, and scooted closer to him, allowing her head to rest against his 
shoulder. Swiftly he took advantage of the situation, and wrapped his 
arm around her back, pulling her closer to him. Content with their 
positions, they luxuriated in their embrace until the captain announced 
that they would be landing soon.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Margaret Scully opened the door for two of her dearest children, her 
daughter Dana and her partner and Margaret's 'adopted' son Fox 
Mulder. As she ushered them in, she could feel the tension coming off 
them in waves. Something had happened, it was obvious. But she 
wasn't certain what it was. And it seemed neither of them were going 
to be forthcoming about it at the moment.

"Hi mom," Dana said, leaning forward to give her mom a hug. Fox 
stood behind her, almost possessively.

Whatever had happened, Fox's over-protectiveness of Dana hadn't 
changed. If anything it seemed to be stronger than ever, Mrs. Scully 
thought to herself.

"Come in you two. Dinner's almost ready, and when we're done, you 
can decide which of you is going to tell me what's going on," she said, 
leading them down towards the dining room.

Following behind them, Mulder gave Scully a look of pure smugness. 
Her mom did know something was up. And she wasn't being subtle 
about letting them know about it. Yet she was giving them a reprieve, 
a temporary one, but one nonetheless.

Taking their regular seats around the Scully family table, the trio 
settled in and once Margaret had brought in the last of the dishes, 
they ate in moderate silence. There was going to be plenty of time to 
break the news to her mom after they ate, Scully thought.

As it was, dinner had been prepared with Mulder in mind. Margaret 
had gone to the trouble of making lasagna, one of Mulder's favorites 
from previous dinners at her house.

When they'd finished, Margaret took a moment to look at her daughter 
and her partner. And suddenly it hit her. Despite their attempts to put 
up a normal front, their was a deep happiness that shone through it 
all. One born of only one thing.

"Alright, when did you two figure it out?" she asked pointedly.

"What?" Dana stammered a bit.

"You've been in love with each other for years, and now you both 
know it. So I just want to know when you finally told each other." 

Mulder did his best not to start laughing. The intuitiveness that Scully 
had always shown was obviously a family trait.

Scully sighed a little. There was one thing about her mother, she 
didn't beat around the bush. The game was up, and it was time to 
relay the score.

"It's a really *long* story mom," Dana started, hoping that would put 
her off.

"We've got all night, and if you have to, you can stay here if it's too 
late for you to drive home. At least now I don't have to concern myself 
about making up *two* rooms when the two of you come over."

Now Mulder was blushing. It was ok when she had Dana on the 
defensive, but now that the direction of her remarks seemed to be 
heading towards the bedroom, he felt a little unnerved.

"Ok mom. It all started on after Mulder's mom passed away . . ."

And for the next hour, the tale poured forth from Dana's, and 
occasionally Mulder's lips. The story stopping at the kitchen floor of 
the Chilmark house. They might be willing to tell Mrs. Scully some 
things, but the events that had gone on in that bedroom weren't 
among them.

"It sounds like the two of you just can't seem to stay out of trouble," 
Maggie sighed, reaching over to cover Dana and Fox's clasped hands 
that rested on the table. "So this is a permanent change?"

"As far as I'm concerned it is," Mulder spoke up. "Now that I've got 
her, I don't think I'm willing to let her go any time soon."

Both of the Scully women smiled at that, and he felt a surge of warm, 
tender emotion. He may have lost his mother, but he had gained so 
much more: Dana, and her family.

"Mom, we need to ask you a favor. You can't say anything about this. 
We're still afraid of what might happen if the Bureau found out," Scully 
interjected, looking to Mulder for verification. He simply nodded his 
head in agreement.

"Alright. Now why don't you two go home, and enjoy the rest of your 
evening," Maggie said, giving them a bright, understanding smile.

With that, they were up and walking to the door. Pausing at the 
doorway, Dana and her mom gave each other a hug, and before she 
and Mulder could leave, Maggie had him in her bear hug-like grip. 

"I'm so glad you two finally found each other," she whispered to Fox, 
then let him go, grinning as her two "children" headed out to their car, 
and back to their new life together.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Their Saturday had been very casual: a movie and lunch after getting 
up *very* late. Actually they had only slept about eight hours, since 
they hadn't actually fallen asleep until the early hours of the morning. 
They may have been *in bed* early, but sleep had been the *last* 
thing on their minds.

The evening had been decidedly down scale as well. A simple take 
out meal, spiced up with some wine and some soft music. Of course, 
being in each other's company was more than entertaining enough for 
them.

And now, the evening nearly over and the mood brutally crushed, they 
sat on the couch, wondering what they had done wrong in a past life 
to have *this* happen.

"Ok, Scully, this was your bright idea. What do we do now?" Mulder 
complained jokingly, even though they both knew how serious the 
situation was.

Then he was laughing. He couldn't help it. It was ridiculous. And the 
look on her face had been priceless. Of course, he was sure his own 
shocked look was just as dazed.

This had been their first weekend together. True, they'd spent time 
together on the weekend before, but this time their relationship was 
on a decidedly more personal level. But now their spending time 
together was more than just friendly. It was slightly dangerous. And 
that danger had just visited them.

He thought back to the scene less than ten minutes before, replaying 
it with his photographic memory. The rumpled, miss buttoned clothes 
thrown into place hurriedly. The wine glasses on the coffee table. The 
soft music floating through the living room. The ringing doorbell 
interrupting their private time. And their boss standing on just the 
other side of the door, gaping at the sight in full view of him as she 
opened it to see who was there.

The shock on Dana's face was mirrored by his own and that of their 
A.D. Thankfully, Skinner had said nothing. He had simply turned and 
left. Come Monday morning they knew they'd have to have a good 
explanation or come clean. Neither option was very appealing to them 
at the moment.

Bringing his mind back to the present, he focused his gaze on the 
woman he loved more than anything who sat on the couch with him. 
She had sunk down into the corner of the cushioned depths, her 
knees pulled up into her chest, arms crossed over them and her head 
resting on top. She sat their silent, the air around her tense.

"Dana, what's the matter? We knew he might find out one day. I 
guess we weren't cut out to be spies. Must be why we ended up with 
the Bureau instead of over with the CIA," he tried to joke with her, but 
she was having none of it. 

He watched as she brought her head up so her eyes could meet his. 
And what he saw there chilled him to the bone. In the eyes of the 
bravest, most courageous, independent woman he'd ever known he 
saw fear. Pure and unabashed fear. For them and their future.

"He's going to transfer me out of the X-Files. I know it. He'll be afraid 
to send out 'the lovebird agents' for fear they won't be able to do their 
jobs. That we'll be an embarrassment to the Bureau," she said softly, 
her voice depressed.

"Dana, you know better than that," Mulder chastised her, his tone 
serious now. "Our arrest rate is better than half of the VCS, and 
Skinner knows it. And as for embarrassment, the 'Spooky' patrol has 
never been very respected, so what's news about that?"

As he finished, he drew her towards him, resting her back against his 
chest. Then he tightly wrapped his arms around her, and her head 
leaned back in resignation. Of the millions of things Dana Scully could 
fight against, Fox Mulder wasn't one of them. For too many years he 
had been her weakness. He could get away with anything with her. 
Sure, she would be mad for a while, especially after he would dash off 
and leave her hanging, but she always forgave him. Love made her 
stupid that way she guessed.

Dana could feel his breath at her cheek, rustling the auburn hair that 
fell past her ear and draped across his shoulder. God, she thought, 
with him holding her like this, she could easily forget the fact that they 
could both be out of a job by Monday.

"You're just trying to make me feel better about this. God, and I 
thought telling mom was bad . . .," she sighed, a little smile crossing 
her face.

"Well, you know they can't 'officially' do anything to us because of this. 
I mean, we already *are* in the basement, the stepkids of the violent 
crimes department, shunned and ridiculed. So what more can they do 
to us? They can't fire us without risking a lawsuit, and if he tries to 
split us up, well, we could always quit. . . "

That got her attention, and she turned in his arms to regard him 
seriously. Fox Mulder was suggesting leaving the Bureau, leaving the 
X-Files over the possibility of their being professionally separated. A 
far cry from two years before when the 'powers that be' had shut them 
down, sticking him in wiretapping and shipping her back to Quantico. 
And with a flash of clarity, she understood. 

As friends and partners, the separation was difficult, but tolerable. 
Now though, two years, death, love and more binding them together, 
their partnership being rendered asunder would be unbearable. As it 
was, their emotional relationship had become an extension of their 
working one. They had been partners longer than friends, friends 
longer than lovers. And now, they needed all three of those things to 
be complete.

With that understanding, his offer to quit rather than be split up wasn't 
a romantic gesture, and hadn't been made because their 'new' 
relationship was more important to him than their professional one. 
But rather because they had to have it all. They couldn't work 
separately in the Bureau. Between their reputations, their distrust of 
anyone besides themselves as well as their singular faith in each 
other, being professionally separated wasn't an option.

And as she watched Fox's earnest, determined stare, she knew he 
would do it. Turn his back on the FBI and the X-Files if he had to. Just 
to stay with her. She knew he didn't have all the answers on what 
would happen after that, or where they could go that would allow them 
to continue to work together, but she did know one thing. When Fox 
Mulder put his mind to something, there was no force on earth that 
could stop him.

Does Skinner know what he's up against, she wondered to herself 
with another small smile.

"Yeah, we could. But let's deal with that Monday, ok?" she finally 
answered, and let him pull her into his embrace.

Comfortable in each other's arms, neither of them wanted to move 
when the phone suddenly rang. Sure, the machine could pick it up, 
but Scully felt a twinge of guilt at being at home and not answering. 
By the third ring she gave a loud sigh and pulled herself free of 
Mulder's arms, and snatched up the cordless phone, pushing the talk 
button before bringing the device up to her ear.

"Hello?" she said, returning part of her attention to Mulder, who sat 
frowning at her from the couch. He would have been more than willing 
to let the answering machine get the call. Especially if it meant 
keeping her in his arms.

"Dana, it's mom. Walter just called me. He said he found you and Fox 
in a rather . . . questionable situation. I thought you were keeping this 
under wraps?" Margaret asked with curiosity. Fox and Dana had 
unwillingly let her know about the nature of their new relationship, but 
had sworn her to secrecy. Now, their Associate Director was walking 
in on their 'tryst'. The whole thing seemed destined to become public 
knowledge at this rate, she thought.

Hearing her mom's voice on the phone sounding so concerned, Scully 
couldn't help but let loose a little relieved, but exasperated sigh. Over 
on the couch, Mulder had heard it, and gave her a look of questioning.

"Who's on the phone Scully?" he asked quietly, leaning forward a bit 
in anticipation.

"Yeah mom, he was here about half an hour ago. So our cover sort of 
is blown," she explained to her mom over the line. With her response, 
Mulder was also able to figure out the identity of the caller as well.

"Dana, is Fox still there?"

"Yes. Why, did you want to talk to him? Or warn him about Skinner?"

"Actually, Walter and I had a discussion about the matter, and I 
thought he could listen in if he was there, so you wouldn't have to 
repeat it."

With a slight wave of her hand, Mulder had gotten up from his place 
on the couch and strode quickly across the room to join Scully. With 
the phone smushed between them, his head on top of hers, they both 
waited to hear what their boss had taken the time out of his evening 
to tell her mom about their future with the Bureau.

"As you may have guessed, Walter called me since the matter had to 
do with the two of you. I won't go into the specifics of the call, but 
needless to say, he wasn't happy," Margaret informed them matter-of 
factly.

"No surprise there," Mulder mumbled grudgingly.

"Alright mom, spill it. Should I expect the transfer papers on my desk 
Monday morning, or is he at least going to give me some warning?" 
Scully asked bitterly.

On the other end of the line, they both heard Mrs. Scully give a little 
chuckle, and then a disbelieving sigh.

"I said he wasn't happy, because he was actually thrilled. He said, and 
I quote, 'It's about goddamn time', and went on to promise that as long 
as you don't make any romantic overtures in plain sight of any agents, 
he'll keep it to himself. Also, he offered to do everything he could to 
keep 'smokers' from finding out about the two of you," she explained, 
her voice plainly pleased with Skinner's promises.

Once the meaning of her words finally sunk in, the two of them 
couldn't help but give each other a bright smile. Skinner was not only 
offering to look the other way, but to cover for them as well. However, 
the news was still stunning.

"Mrs. Scully?" Mulder began, "I'm sort of curious. Why didn't he just 
tell us this himself? Or wait until we got to the office on Monday. Why 
did he call you and have you call us?"

"He didn't exactly explain himself, but I think it had to do with the fact 
he thought his extended presence at Dana's apartment might have 
jeopardized your situation."

"Good ol' Skinner, thinking ahead again," Mulder said, just low 
enough for Scully to hear.

"Anyway, he said he won't be discussing this with you in the office 
because he's afraid that his office, and yours aren't 'secure'. Isn't that 
a little paranoid though?" Mrs. Scully questioned, her disbelief 
evident.

"No mom, although I wish that was the case. Anyway, thanks for the 
call. I'll call to you tomorrow morning, ok?" Scully suggested, wanting 
to politely get off the phone and back into Mulder's arms.

"Sure dear. Bye Fox. Don't keep her up too late that she sleeps till 
noon," Margaret replied with a hint of mischief.

"Whatever you say Mrs. Scully. Goodnight," Mulder answered quickly 
before she hung up on the other end.

Once Scully had disconnected her end and set down the phone, she 
suddenly felt Mulder's arm around her waist, and then the other swept 
against her knees, pulling her up into the cradle of his arms. Shifting 
her so she was resting comfortably in his grasp, he started for her 
bedroom.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she asked, her arms now 
latched around his neck.

"Well Dana, your mom said not to keep you up late, so I figured we'd 
better get an early start," he responded with his usually harmless leer, 
that these days was anything but.

"You know, I can walk to a bedroom Fox," she commented before 
leaning over to kiss him deeply on the lips.

Still walking for the bedroom, Mulder had to stop in the hallway as 
their kiss began to effect his coordination. His back leaned against a 
wall as he answered the sweetness of her kiss with his unbridled 
passion for her. It wasn't long until she was as breathless as he, and 
pried her lips from his.

"I know you can walk there Dana, but for old times sake, I like 
carrying you there. Besides, We get there faster, don't we?" he 
huskily replied, as he carefully balanced her while kicking the door to 
the bedroom open with one foot.

"I wouldn't know, but right now, I'm not going to complain," she said. 

Then he lowered her to the bed, leaving her lying there as he walked 
back towards the bedroom door and reached for the light switch, 
turning it off.

"Good."


Part IV - Proposed Visions 


Their first meeting with Assistant Director Walter Skinner after the 
scene at Scully's door was something that neither of them had 
expected.

Mulder had ushered Scully into their AD's office just like always, but 
the feel was totally different. Instead of sitting behind his desk, he'd 
gotten up and met them halfway across the room, his soft soled shoes 
barely making a sound on the carpet.

"I had the office 'cleaned' this morning, so I think things should be 
safe enough to talk. I just wanted to give you my congratulations and 
a rundown of things for the future," Skinner informed them, waving 
them towards the couch instead of the chairs they usually occupied.

After they'd taken a seat, Skinner came over and sat in the chair 
nearby and glanced at the two agents he'd known for almost four 
years now. At that moment, he almost didn't recognize them.

Mulder seemed happy, even contented. It was something that he 
never thought he'd see in the younger agent. His bond with Scully 
when they'd just been partners had been one of the closest he'd ever 
seen. 

That connection was evidenced with their every action, and had been 
tested more than once. When Scully had been abducted, he'd 
watched Mulder spiral into a self-destructive pattern that had only 
stopped with her return. But this was so much more than that. It was 
almost as if being with her chased away his inner demons. If he didn't 
know any better he'd swear that being 'together' seemed to mellow 
the usually rebellious agent somewhat.

As for Scully. . . hell, she glowed. It was the inner light of being in 
love. With a silent sigh of regret he remembered how that felt; the 
being so totally connected to someone that the rest of the world didn't 
exist. 

Not like they hadn't been like that before, it was just now it was more 
involved, deeper than ever. Finally being with Mulder seemed to have 
freed her from the image she'd been tagged with, "the Ice Queen". 
Her relationship with Mulder had given the feminine side of Dana 
Scully liberation, and it was a sight to behold.

All in all, they looked like they were in love. For anyone else, it would 
have been the most natural thing in the world. But for them . . . it 
wasn't the smartest thing. The reality was, for them it was closer to 
political suicide, and possibly real danger.

"Would you two stop looking so much like a couple please?" he asked 
in mock sincerity.

"Excuse me sir?" Scully replied in an incredulous tone. She didn't see 
anything different to their appearance that would make him say such a 
thing. They'd been very professional. Almost obsessively so. For two 
long weeks they'd been lovers and partners, and they had 
painstakingly made sure they kept their roles straight.

"You look like you're in love. If you two want to keep this relationship 
secret, you're not going to have much luck if you go out to the bullpen 
with those looks on your faces."

"I think sir," Mulder commented now, on the defense. "That you can 
see it because you know that there's something more to it. Truth is 
that I've been looking at Scully like this for two years, and you never 
called me on it before now. I think this has more to do with you than 
us."

Skinner had to ponder that. True, they'd been close for years now, 
and from what Meg had told him, they'd been in love with each other 
since Scully's abduction. So maybe Mulder had a point.

"Maybe you're right Mulder, but you still need to be careful not to do 
anything to increase the rumors surrounding the two of you."

Scully and Mulder looked at him, then at each other with a knowing 
gaze. It seemed like the gossip about them sleeping together had 
started the first day she'd walked into the basement office. Yet it had 
taken them nearly four years to recognize what everyone else had 
known or suspected years before. At their rate, the bureau gossip 
would have them married before he even proposed. Unless I get my 
nerve up soon, Mulder thought to himself conspiratorially.

"We're being cautious sir, don't worry. Besides, we haven't really had 
time to flaunt this anyway," Scully answered as pragmatically as 
usual.

"Anyway, I have a new assignment for you. Nothing too bizarre, but at 
least it seems like the real thing this time," Skinner said, smiling at 
them. He knew they knew he often gave them cases that didn't even 
remotely look like they were paranormal in nature, but this one had all 
the earmarks. He got up and walked to the desk, picking up the file 
and returning. "Here's all you need to know. The plane tickets are 
inside."

Taking the folder from his hand, Mulder got up, and waited for Scully 
to follow suit, then headed for the door. Just as his hand stopped on 
the knob, he turned back to their boss.

"Thank you sir."

"For what Agent Mulder?"

"For your trust in us, to do our jobs."

"Hell Mulder, you've been doing your jobs for years now."

With that Mulder gave him one of his lopsided grins and opened the 
door, ushering himself and his partner out and towards the basement.

As soon as they got into their office, Mulder watched Scully head 
straight for her desk, ready to jump into this new case.

Reluctantly he went ahead and sat down at his desk and began 
reading aloud the information contained in the case folder.

"Six murders, all within a two week period in Fort Wayne, Indiana. 
Seems that a witness to one of the murders claims he saw a inhuman 
like figure savagely attacking the man. The thing is that the figure the 
guy saw wasn't more than half the man's size," Mulder read, looking 
up occasionally to note Scully's face tight in concentration.

"What do the medical reports say? Isn't there a possibility it could be 
an animal attack? What kinds of wounds did the autopsies report?" 
Scully asked, trying to get a feel for the case before they even got to 
the site. That was just like her, he thought. Jumping straight into a 
case without a second thought.

"I thought that too, but all the wounds have been with a razor sharp 
instrument, no tearing or ripping of the flesh or internal organs. Looks 
like a real X-File Scully."

"So, do you think it's a bunch of EBE's cutting up hapless victims on 
the street Mulder? I thought they usually like to take them to their 
spaceships," she quipped, smiling at him.

"Well, maybe it's in the shop Scully," he replied.

-------X-----X-----X-------

They'd both driven separately to work, so Mulder promised he'd meet 
her back at her place after he went home and cleaned up and 
changed. Scully had put on a pair of jeans and a shirt in place of her 
formal business attire. It was much more comfortable, and he liked 
the way her legs looked clad in the denim. She was busily cooking 
spaghetti and tomato sauce on the stove when she heard his keys 
jingle at the door.

"Hi honey, I'm home," he quipped as he swung the door open. Closing 
and locking it behind him, he quickly made his way to her side in the 
kitchen, and spun her around into his embrace.

"Mulder!" she said surprised. Of all the things she had expected of 
him, this impulsive, romantic behavior had been the biggest surprise. 
Being such a practical woman, she was constantly in awe of the 
spontaneity of her lover. "What are you up to?"

"I went all day without kissing you senseless or totally ravishing you 
on my desk like I'd wanted to, so I think I deserve some kind of 
reward for my self-control," he said with a lustful grin. It wasn't like he 
didn't just want to drag her to bed and make love to her. Quite the 
contrary, but they had other things to do first. But later . . .

"Oh? And what did you have in mind?" she asked, trying her best not 
to give in to the little voice screaming in her head to just let him kiss 
her senseless, drag her to bed and forget all about dinner and the 
work discussion they had planned.

"Oh, maybe something to spice things up," he said seductively, 
leaning over to barely brush his lips along her earlobe. She 
shuddered, and decided to give in a little, by running her hands slowly 
up along his back, making his breath come a little quicker.

"I told you before and I'll tell you again: You leave those handcuffs for 
work Fox Mulder, or you'll be wearing your dinner," she growled softly, 
teasing more than being serious.

That got a chuckle from him, as well as one of his stunning smiles. He 
had to admit, when Dana Scully decided to play dirty, she was a 
formidable opponent. He was very glad that she hadn't traded one-
liners with him this often in the past. He didn't think his equilibrium 
could have handled it.

"What about my ties then?" he joked back as his lips moved along her 
jaw, heading towards her lips.

"Now that might actually be a use for them. At least then I wouldn't 
actually have to see them."

"Oooh, now that's hitting below the belt Scully."

Any chance for her to reply was stolen as he kissed her, and soon 
they decided that dinner could wait a little while.

-------X-----X-----X-------

As they lay in bed, Dana curled up in his embrace, Mulder thought 
about how things had gone so much smoother than either of them had 
expected. Or even had a right to deserve. Between their discretion 
and Skinner's intervention, they had been able to work on their 
relationship without fear.

The experience was incredible, like nothing he'd ever believed 
possible. He would never have had a clue as to the depths their 
emotions could go before all this had happened. All of the things they 
had in common were finally being brought out of the closet, so to 
speak. 

Outside of work they'd found that their hours were easily wiled away 
doing an assortment of things. They had always been able to agree 
on movies and music when they'd been just partners. And now that 
their relationship had changed, the rest of it really hadn't. 

Of the few differences, they had made an effort to introduce the other 
to some of their likes and dislikes that had never come to light before.

Scully had introduced Mulder to one of her secret hobbies: needle 
point. She didn't do it often, only when she had a lot of free time and 
nothing on her schedule to do. But what she had done was well made 
and delicate. She thought it was kind of a girly thing to do, and was a 
bit embarrassed for Mulder to know, but he'd found it endearing. Plus 
he joked that it made sense now that her sutures were so small and 
delicate.

Mulder on the other hand had drug his feet about bringing to light his 
personal passions. It had taken her a lot of reassuring, but he finally 
showed her his indulgence: drawing. They were mostly charcoal or 
pencil sketches, but she could see the subtle shading denoting colors 
in the work. Of all the things she'd never suspected about Fox Mulder, 
this one talent had surprised and thrilled her the most.

Yet throughout their blooming relationship, their work continued as 
before. Time and again, their relationship slipped comfortably back to 
their personas of Agents Scully and Mulder, instead of Fox and Dana. 

In a few hours they were going to have to board another plane, 
heading for another strange city to spend another week or so 
pretending to be nothing more than partners. He wished that when 
they were away from D.C. that they could be more open with the 
relationship, but they both knew that the Bureau and the Consortium 
had informants everywhere.

But Mulder was starting to get restless about hiding, sneaking time 
with Scully. It wasn't enough to just have her a few hours here or a 
night there. He wanted to be with her 24 hours a day. Seven days a 
week, 365 days a year. To live with her in every sense of the word. 

It couldn't be harder being together than it had been all those years 
apart, he thought. Maybe . . .

-------X-----X-----X-------

When they returned from Indiana, Mulder had dropped off Scully at 
her apartment, reminded her to meet him back at his place that 
evening and then headed out for his apartment. Before he got there, 
he made a decision about something that had been bothering him 
since before they'd left.

Sitting at a stoplight, he dialed his cel phone, and waited for them to 
pick up.

"Lone Gunmen," Langley answered in his usual irreverent tone.

"It's Mulder. Turn off the tape recorder Langley," he said, but very 
aware that the long blonde haired techie wouldn't do it.

"Done."

"Is everybody in? I need to come by?"

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"About fifteen minutes away. I'll see you soon."

With that, Mulder disconnected the line, and wondered when exactly 
he'd lost his mind. He couldn't quite put his finger on the exact 
moment, but he knew he couldn't live like this anymore. And the Lone 
Gunmen were his best bet to get him out of it.

-------X-----X-----X-------

"You did what?" Scully yelled at the top of her lungs, glaring at where 
Mulder stood across his living room from her. When she'd walked in 
for their regularly planned Friday night of pizza and a movie, she had 
never suspected that he would have such a bomb to drop on her.

"I asked Byers and Langley to look for a place for the two of us to 
move into. We've been talking about moving in together . . . so I 
thought I'd start getting some ideas about where we could go," he 
replied, not defensive but soothing. 

He knew that she was going to react like this. Actually, he kind of 
liked it. Of all the reactions that he could get from this woman that he 
loved, her fiery temper awed him the most. That anger that could 
single-handedly devastate a black ops squad, and it was being 
directed his way. But he wasn't worried. Even if saner men would 
have been.

"You have *The Lone Gunmen* house hunting for us?"

"No, apartment hunting. I didn't want a house just yet," he smirked 
with a grin. This was *so* much fun.

"Fox William Mulder! If I didn't love you so much I'd kill you!" she 
yelled. Very loudly. Very angrily. More angry than he'd ever seen her. 

Uh oh, he thought with some concern. This wasn't the scenario he'd 
had in mind.

"What the hell happened to keeping a low profile? I'm surprised that 
Frohike even let you out of that place without causing a scene after 
he found out about us," she said, half way teasing but still a little 
angry and serious. She knew that Frohike had a 'thing' for her, but it 
really was just good natured flirting on his part. But no matter how 
much he denied it, she knew that Mulder had never liked his 
attentions towards her over the years. Probably jealous, she mentally 
noted.

"I sort of had to say something if I was going to explain my actions," 
Mulder tried to explain, hoping to lighten her mood. No matter what 
though, he wasn't about to tell her that Frohike had burst out into 
tears, sworn off all women and slunk out of the room when he'd found 
out. Revenge had been particularly sweet. He had rather enjoyed 
watching Frohike's face turn ashen when he'd told them about him 
and Dana. "As for Frohike, don't worry Scully. I'll give him my video 
collection to cheer him up."

She gave him her trademarked arched eyebrow, and started to calm 
down. Hell, he'd just said he was giving up his video collection to 
Frohike. That in itself was an indication to her that all he needed now 
was her. And it melted her anger as surely as his motives for moving 
in with her did.

"Of *all* the things that I would have expected from you Fox Mulder, 
asking the most suspicious, paranoid group of men I have *ever* 
known to find a place for us to live was *not* one of them."

"Yeah, I had a lot of explaining to do when I finally told them why I 
needed this favor. Byers and Langley were in shock that they hadn't 
known before I'd told them. I guess they fact that they'd missed it, 
what with them being a watchdog group and all sort of put them out. 
Maybe their surveillance isn't what they think it is."

"So I guess you've made up your mind about the living 
arrangements," she remarked calmly, the fury she'd displayed 
moments before now replaced with curiosity. Waiting for the other 
shoe to drop, she wandered over to the couch and sat down. She 
mentally wondered if he would want to move in his black leather 
couch into whatever apartment they found. Of if he even had a use for 
it anymore.

She smiled at that, and Mulder looked at her with a puzzled 
expression as he came to sit next to her. Then he noticed her hand 
running along the leather of his couch, and knew what she was 
thinking about.

"No, I wasn't planning on bringing the couch, but I can if you want," he 
commented 

"Now who's the psychic?"

"Just intuitive investigating Agent Scully. Besides, you were smiling as 
you looked at it, plus you had your hand stroking the material. Simple 
deduction."

Now that he thought about it, he was starting to feel nostalgic about 
his couch. But not for the reasons that most people would have 
though, including his partner. It had nothing to do with the years he'd 
spent trying to sleep on it. Rather it had more to do with the last two 
weeks wherein she had made frequent appearances on that couch. In 
various states of dress, or undress as the case might be.

"But to answer your question, yes, I've made up my mind about living 
together. I can't do this hiding and sneaking around thing anymore 
Dana. I want, I need to be with you all the time. Not just at work and 
whatever hours we can steal, but every day, all day," Mulder began, 
covering her hand with his. "Remember what I said? 'I don't want to 
be apart from you. I want to wake up every morning in your arms, 
come home every night with you, eat my meals and share my air with 
you.' I meant it then, and I mean it now."

"I just don't want your safety to be compromised because of me, 
because of us," Scully said softly, her mind now ripped away from the 
couch and fully on the plan Mulder was proposing. "I already feel bad 
enough knowing that my safety can be used against you. And this . . . 
Fox, it just gives Them so much more to work with."

She stared at him, and felt the fear and the love fight and blend, 
creating a mixture of emotions on her face. God, it had been *her* 
idea to move in together, but that had been before she realized just 
how deeply their feelings ran. Once they were in a place together, she 
wasn't sure if she could emotionally keep up the pretense of only 
being his work partner. And if she couldn't . . .?

"I know. I know what you're thinking, but we'll be fine. We always 
have been, always will be. And we can keep everyone guessing, like 
always. Let them gossip. They won't know the truth as long as I have 
anything to say about it."

"Do I have all this written across my face or something?" she asked 
with a glimmer of a smile crossing her face. No matter how bad things 
got, he always could buck up her spirits.

"Nah. I just know you, that's all. Of course the fact that I had the same 
concerns might have had something to do with it," he replied brightly.

"So, do you want to bring the couch?" she suddenly said with a 
captivating voice as she pushed herself back into the leather 
cushions. Then she beckoned him to her with the crook of her finger. 
He instantly discerned the hidden meaning of her words, and deduced 
her intentions.

"Oh, if this is how it'll be used," he said darkly as he reached his 
hands towards her, moving her farther back until he was pressed up 
tightly against her, his mouth barely inches away from her own, "most 
definitely."

"I can assure you of it," she replied moments before he claimed her 
lips with his own.

-------X-----X-----X-------

It was Byers third look at the place. He'd talked to the rental agency 
half a dozen times in the last week.

Of all the places he'd looked at over the last seven days, this place 
was the best. It might not have been exactly what Mulder had asked 
for last week in that scene right out of an Oliver Stone movie, but he 
was certain Mulder would like it.

Plus he knew it wasn't too much. Far from it. He and the Gunmen had 
easily gained access to Mulder and Scully's financial records, and 
knew that they could afford it easily. What with the inheritance and the 
money Mulder would get from the Chilmark house, he was financially 
solvent. Then they still had both of their salaries from the Bureau. 
Basically, compared to the general populace of federal employees, 
they were "well off".

He had considered having Frohike and Langley come and check it out 
before he called Mulder, but Langley needed to do the layout for the 
next issue, and he still didn't trust Frohike around Mulder yet.

Actually he was surprised at his colleagues reaction to the news. 
They had all assumed his attraction to Dana Scully was nothing more 
than an infatuation, but his depression had put that thought out of 
their heads. Since the announcement, it seemed like he was truly 
heartbroken. 

Mulder had been pretty smart though, waiting until Frohike had 
walked out before asking him and Langley to find him a place. One 
that was secure, discreet, and liveable. For him *and* Scully.

Which he was sure he'd done.

Now all he had to do was get Mulder to come look at the place. 
Reaching for the cel phone, he dialed up Mulder's cellular number. By 
the second ring, a familiar voice answered.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's Byers. I think I have something for you," he breathed, 
looking around him to check that the area was clear of any men in 
black. The last thing Mulder needed was to walk into a reception 
committee.

"What is it?" Mulder asked, thinking for a moment that the Gunmen's 
unofficial spokesman had some juicy piece of information for him to 
lead him to the evidence he needed to expose the Consortium this 
time.

"A place I think you'd like. Do you think you could come and take a 
glance?"

As soon as he heard that, Mulder realized that his friend had been 
following up on his request to find an apartment for Scully and him to 
move into. But he had never expected them to get on it so quickly. 
With a little smirk he couldn't help but think that it was far from a 
surprise that the Gunmen were so good at this. Intelligence work 
*was* their specialty, after all.

"When?"

"Today if possible. The rental company was kind enough to let me 
have the key till six."

Today, Mulder thought with butterflies the size of Buicks in his 
stomach. Well, he'd been the one who had wanted this, been 
dreaming of it as a future reality for the last two weeks, even though 
he'd fantasized about it for much longer than that. 

Hell, they didn't have to take it if they didn't like it. They had plenty of 
time, he thought.

"Give me the address and we'll meet you there."

"We?" Byers asked with confusion.

"Scully and me? Who else?"

"You told her about this?"

"Of course. But you should have seen the way she yelled. You 
wouldn't believe the hell I caught for it," Mulder replied, imagining 
Byers trying to comprehend an infuriated Agent Scully. There was no 
way he could even visualize the half of it, he was sure of it.

"Yes, I can. Remember, we've seen the two of together. I can bet that 
it was fire and brimstone of the first degree," he said knowingly. 
Mulder had never realized that they'd overheard some of their 
disputes. It was a miracle Mulder had survived a few of them.

Mulder grinned on the other end. That was certainly what it had 
looked like. It wouldn't surprise him in the least if the Gunmen could 
make a computer generated scene that matched it, just like they'd 
done for the Robert Kennedy assassination.

"Anyway, the address is 8007 West Madison, on the Maryland side. 
You'll tell the place when you arrive. It's exactly what you asked for," 
Byers informed him.

"Maryland? Ok, great, we'll see you in half an hour."

With that Mulder hit the disconnect button on his phone and turned to 
notice Scully looking at him curiously. Her natural investigative nature 
had taken over, and the enigmatic Agent Scully stood before him. 
This was going to be very interesting, he thought.

"Want to go for a ride Agent Scully?"

She looked at him suspiciously, but followed him back to the car. 
Quickly they were underway. As he wove through the afternoon 
traffic, she started to wonder what he was up to.

"I'd really like to know where we're going Mulder," Scully said with a 
hint of annoyance in her voice as she sat in the passenger seat of 
their car. 

She knew that the person on the other end of the phone was 
someone Mulder trusted. Then when he'd mentioned Maryland and 
having her go with him in the same breath, she figured it was 
something to do with a case. But he wouldn't say anything else about 
it.

"You'll see soon enough," he said with a smirk. 

Having Scully in this kind of disadvantage was certainly different. 
Usually it was the *enigmatic* Dr. Scully that had all the answers, and 
kept *him* guessing. This time, he was the one with all the 
information. It was something he rarely felt, so he was going to take 
full advantage of it.

-------X-----X-----X-------

When they pulled up to the line of town houses, Scully was starting to 
wonder what exactly they were doing in such an elite part of the metro 
area. She was certain that the houses must cost a bundle, and the 
neighbors were probably senators and high ranking military. Then 
suddenly she guessed that one of Mulder's Congressional contacts 
probably had sent for him, and they were meeting him. It all was 
starting to make sense.

That was until she say Byers standing along side a shiny sedan, 
waiting for someone. And as they pulled up behind his car, she 
realized he was waiting for them.

Silently she got out of the car, and walked over to where the Gunman 
stood, hands tucked into his long trenchcoat. She could feel her 
partner's presence, only a half step behind her as she met Byers next 
to a wrought iron fence surrounding a two story town house.

"Mulder, Scully," Byers said in the formal voice she was so used to 
from him in the Lone Gunmen's office. She never would have 
believed it was the way he always addressed Mulder. "Well, this is it." 

Mulder looked over at the brownstone town house and instantly 
wondered what Byers thought about his and Scully's relationship that 
had prompted him to look at this place. Certainly it was beautiful, 
but . . .

"Which floor are we looking at?" Mulder questioned, still stunned by 
the place. The shrubbery and the fence made it obvious though that 
the Gunmen had been searching for a place that the two of them 
could be safe in. It was far enough off the beaten path that no one 
would expect them to be living there, let alone stumble on them 
accidentally.

"Uh, both," Byers replied, walking away from them towards the gate.

"Excuse me?" Scully stammered, now finally grasping the reality of 
the situation. The whole house? Mulder had just said an apartment. 
This was definitely a little more serious than she'd been expecting. 
And from the reaction Mulder had just had, he wasn't expecting it 
either. "This place is way out of our price range, even if we wanted it."

Quickly Mulder swung his gaze towards her. He knew Scully-talk by 
now, and that reply reeked of "I'm interested, but I'm going to keep 
from doing anything to indicate it." And then he took a second look at 
the building. 

In a rush of imagination and inspiration, he could see the possibilities 
of the place: decorating it at Christmas, having Scully's family over for 
the weekend, having room for both their vast collections of books, the 
ability to buy furniture together. It was the perfect place for a newly 
married couple. All those thoughts flew through his head, and then an 
image of something that shocked and thrilled him hit him square in the 
chest and head. The fact that the place would be big enough to raise 
kids in . . .

At that last, simple, natural thought, he violently shook the idea from 
his mind. Yes, he was going to marry Dana Scully, if she would have 
him, but children . . . with her . . . There was a selfish little part of him 
that wanted that, wanted children with her, their children. Wanted it 
bad enough that he could see them in his mind, hear their voices. But 
the rest of him knew that it was both a physical and emotional risk 
that he couldn't take.

Any child they might have could be used by *Them* against them. 
Just thinking about making a choice, having his child suffer the same 
fate as his sister froze his heart in his chest. 

But beyond that, neither he or Scully had ever been convinced that 
whatever had happened to her, whatever tests *They* had performed 
on her while she'd been gone, hadn't *done* something to her. And 
that cloud hung over any future thoughts he had for children. He 
would rather have her forever than risk losing her because he wanted 
a child.

Yet, whatever other images this place stirred up, it still was the type of 
place he would love to give her. Love to come home to, with her. And 
maybe one day he could come home with his wife to it.

"Actually, they only want $1250 a month for it," Byers finally stated, 
noting from his expression that Mulder's thoughts were slowing down, 
and that he'd be able to process the information now. Then he noticed 
Scully's attention wander as Mulder answered him.

"1250 dollars a month? That's all? Hell, Scully and I pay that much 
right now for our apartments combined. And D.C. isn't so far away 
that they couldn't be asking twice as much. What is it about this 
place? Is it haunted?" Mulder quipped, finally deigning to follow Byers 
to the gate and through, towards the front door, with Scully following 
behind quietly.

She was still pondering the implications, the meaning of looking at 
*this* place, with him. For *them*. This was serious. Permanent. And 
after sneaking a quick look at Mulder, she realized she wanted that 
with him. A future longer than a year, than five years. If he asked her 
right this minute if she wanted the place, if she'd marry him, she'd say 
yes. All she could imagine was the possibilities that being together, in 
a real honest-to-God home would be like.

Byers swung open the door and waited until they were inside. In front 
of them stood a stairwell, and a corridor. 

"There are two bedrooms, a library, living and dining rooms, two baths 
and the kitchen. Everything is modern, although I get the impression 
no one has been in here for a year or so. The agency said that they 
just acquired this from an estate, and the grandkids that inherited it 
live on the West Coast and want to use the low rent as a tax write off. 
I'm the only person they've showed the place to, so if you want it . . ."

Both Scully and Mulder turned and started at him. That they had first 
dibs on the place, that he'd set it up that no one else had seen it . . . it 
sounded just like a Lone Gunmen arrangement.

Byers watched them turn back to each other, and have that silent 
conversation that he'd found to be so unsettling every time he saw it. 
It was as if they really could communicate without speaking a word. 
And he saw the decisions and questions fly between them. They both 
were considering it, seriously, and they hadn't even seen the inside 
yet.

Somehow, it didn't surprise him in the least.

-------X-----X-----X-------

"So Scully, what do you think?" Mulder asked, holding on to her as 
they sat on the couch. They'd had a long day. Between work and 
looking at the house, they both were feeling a little emotional and 
tired. He'd insisted they have dinner out and then a quiet, relaxing 
night at his place. For a change his place was clean, so they sat on 
his couch, her head and back pressed against his, and his arms 
wrapped around her body.

"That Twister should win the Oscar for special effects . . ." she said 
distractedly, her fingers running over Mulder's arms. She was trying to 
keep her mind off the house. If she didn't . . .well, she'd have to toss 
all her good logic, all her "think first and act later" practices out the 
window. Every part of her wanted to just jump right in. But that was 
Mulder's department. Not hers.

"Scully. You know, if we said yes, we could move in next week" he 
suggested carefully. He knew what he wanted, but he wasn't sure if 
he could push her that fast. . .

She twisted in his arms, her facial expression blank yet her eyes were 
burning with a fiery intensity. It was shock, nothing more and nothing 
less. Even though she knew he loved her, what he was suggesting, 
proposing . . . it was so dangerous.

"I . . ."

"Dana, I wouldn't ask you this if I didn't want it, if I thought you didn't 
want this as much as I do. We have something so right . . . isn't it only 
fair for us to be able to have a life? With each other? Someplace 
where we don't have to hide?"

"You're right Mulder, I do want this, even though I know that it's 
probably the most dangerous thing we could do."

"No it's not . . ."

At that small comment, the room suddenly grew silent. The truth was 
that there were a few more things that would be more dangerous than 
living together. They both knew what they were, and the only thing 
that was the problem was that they both wanted them. If not right 
now, in the future.

"Dana," Mulder said, turning her around now to face him fully. His 
hand glided up her arm and ended up laying against her cheek. Then 
their eyes met and caught. 

Her breath caught in her chest, and she could see something in his 
eyes that terrified her. Oh God Fox . . . not yet, please, she thought. 
But she knew in her heart that it wouldn't make a difference to her if 
he asked her now, in a month or a year. The answer would be the 
same no matter when.

"I know that if we take the town house it will be like waving a red flag 
in front of them, that it won't go unnoticed. We both know it. But I 
can't say that I don't want this anymore. Especially after today. I want 
so much more than just . . . I want a future with you, because I can't 
think of me being without you. I was going to wait, give us both some 
more time with this, but . . . I was thinking that there are never any 
guarantees in this life. I couldn't bear it if you left me again, not before 
I could ask you this . . ."

"Fox . . . you don't have to do this. Not yet. I'm willing to risk the 
dangers associated with taking the house. But you don't have to ask 
me . . ." she began, her voice low as she put her hand over the one 
he held against her cheek. She willed him to see the answer in her 
eyes. That unspoken promise to always be at his side. She didn't 
need a piece of paper to keep her there. She'd been there for four 
years now of her own volition. Yet what he was proposing . . .

"I know I don't, but I want this *too*. And you can't tell me you don't 
want it as well," he replied, and waited for a few heartbeats for her to 
deny it, but she didn't. She couldn't. And he knew it. Because he 
knew that she wanted this as much as he did. "Dana . . . Dana 
Katherine Scully, would you . . . "

He didn't get to finish the thought, as the phone rang across the room. 
Then the world exploded with the spray of glass, metal and fire. The 
thunderous sound rocked the apartment. And in the darkened, 
carnage of his apartment, two unconscious would-be spouses lay 
sprawled atop one another.


Part V - Dangerous Visions


Of all the things Assistant Director Walter Skinner hated, it was the 
late night phone calls telling him that one of his agents had been 
injured or killed. Tonight, he'd gotten one of the worst ones yet.

Now, walking towards the partially burned and damaged apartment 
building, his shoes getting soaked as he stepped through the puddles 
of water, he realized that no one was safe. The fire engines, 
ambulances and police surrounded the place, and he reached for his 
ID before the first cop started to restrain him.

"I'm Assistant Director Skinner of the FBI. I got a call about this fire 
from one of your men. One of my people lives in this building. I have 
reason to believe that he and his partner may have been in the blast," 
Skinner explained in his most authoritative voice.

"Of course sir, come this way please," the district officer said, leading 
him past the make-shift barricades and over to the fire captain's truck. 
As they got closer, Skinner could see the smoky, broken window 
where Mulder's apartment was. Or used to be, he thought with a sudden concern.

"Assistant Director Skinner?" a fireman asked, as he turned from 
where he was overseeing the efforts to make sure the flames were 
completely doused. His yellow slicker was caked with ash, and he 
looked like he'd been inside the building very recently.

"Yes. One of my agents lives here, and I got a call from you, I assume 
about this."

"One Fox Mulder in apartment 42?"

"Yes, that's right. Was he in there? He has a partner, a woman, Dana 
Scully. Was she inside as well?" Skinner questioned. He had a 
sinking feeling that they had both been in the apartment when this 
whole thing had happened. And he was also sure that whatever kind 
of bomb had created such destruction, it had been meant for them.

"We found two people in that apartment. Both of them have been sent 
to Mercy Hospital. But I wanted to check with you on something first," 
the fire chief said, indicating for Skinner to follow him away from the 
noise and other people. "The arson crew hasn't been in there yet, but 
when I went up . . . Mr. Skinner, that apartment looked like a war 
zone. I was amazed that the two of them were even alive. I thought, in 
light of the circumstances, you might want to have some of your 
agents work with our arson division. In my opinion, this wasn't an 
accident."

"I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you anyway," Skinner 
replied, heading back towards his car. The fire chief's hand caught his 
arm, stopping him.

"Excuse me, I don't think I got that right. Did you just say that you're 
not going to investigate a bombing that could have killed two of your 
agents?"

"That's right. Because there won't be anything to find," Skinner said 
quietly, then tore himself loose from the man's grip and strode 
hurriedly for his car. He had a phone call to make. One he wasn't 
looking forward to making.

-------X-----X-----X-------

It was near eleven at night when the phone rang. Normally it would 
have woken her up, but tonight she hadn't been able to sleep. There 
had been something . . .

"Hello?" she answered, catching the phone on the third ring.

"Mrs. Scully?"

At the sound of the rough, authoritative voice, Margaret knew why 
she was feeling the way she was.

"Where are they?"

On the other end of the line, she heard a slight shocked intake of 
breath before he regained his composure.

"Mercy Hospital. I don't have the details just yet. I'm on my way there 
now," he replied, his voice sounding strained as he spoke to her, the 
connection beginning to crackle.

"Thank you Walter."

With that she hung up the phone and ran to get dressed. Usually 
when she got a call, she asked where her daughter was. But tonight . . . 
tonight she had asked where *they* were. Because she knew without a 
doubt that Fox and Dana had been together. It made sense. If they hadn't, 
it would have been Fox on the phone, not their boss.

That meant they were both hurt, and since Fox had no other family, 
she was the only person they'd call. Hurrying out the door, she was in 
her car and on the road heading for D.C.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Skinner arrived at the hospital emergency room with a flurry of 
medical personnel flying around. Carefully he navigated his way to the 
desk and did his best to get the nurse's attention.

"I'm looking for two people who were brought in from the apartment 
fire about forty minutes ago. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. I'm their 
boss," he explained, showing his credentials.

"Let me have you speak with Dr. Lawrence. He's handling the cases," 
she said, getting up and walking back into the patient area. Moments 
later, a tall, black man appeared, dressed in messy green scrubs and 
a white doctors coat. He adjusted his glasses and walked over to 
Skinner.

"Mr . . .?" the man asked, his tone wary.

"I'm Assistant Director Skinner of the FBI. Two of my people were 
brought in tonight, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. I need to know their 
condition."

"Sir, the injuries they suffered seem to be due to an explosion of some 
kind. I've got one team working on Mr. Mulder right now. He has a 
badly sprained wrist, as well as some minor internal damage due to a 
puncture wound from a piece of glass in his side that they're patching 
up. Beyond that, he's pretty banged up. Ms. Scully took a lot of small 
fragments to her face and hands, but I don't think any of them will be 
permanently scaring. Our main concern is that she may have a 
possible concussion. It looks like she hit her head on something 
before she landed on the floor. She regained consciousness once in 
the ambulance, but since she came in, there's been no response. On 
top of all that they both have a severe case of smoke inhalation," the 
doctor explained at length.

"Were there any other signs on them which might have been 
characteristic of a bomb blast?" 

"No. Nothing concrete. But whatever happened to them, they got 
really lucky. I expect them both to be ok. We're keeping close tabs on 
them. Are there any family members that should be contacted?"

"No, I've already taken care of it."

"Well, we'll let you know when we're ready to put them in regular 
rooms."

As the doctor walked back to the patient area, Skinner thudded 
heavily onto a couch, and resigned himself to wait. Mrs. Scully would 
be there soon, and he wasn't looking forward to telling her that Mulder 
and Scully had nearly lost their lives tonight. The big question was 
whether or not they were supposed to survive, or if they'd just gotten 
extremely lucky.

This was the first blatant attempt on the two of them that he knew of. 
Sure, Mulder had been in the boxcar in New Mexico when They had 
attempted to blow it up. But that had been a spur of the moment thing, 
according to Scully. No, They had never been so calculating and 
direct before. It was almost as if . . .

That thought got quickly dashed as the form of Margaret Scully burst 
through the doors. He watched her scan the room with her eyes, and 
when they fell on him, she began heading his way. He stood before 
she got there.

"Are they alive?" she asked, her voice nervous.

"Yes. The doctor says that he expects them both to come through it 
fine."

Slowly, she let him guide her to sit on the couch, and he sat next to 
her. He watched as she rung her hands, like she'd done at Scully's 
bedside after her abduction. Obviously the fact that she didn't have 
either Mulder or her daughter to turn to was making this more difficult 
on her. Suddenly he put a hand over hers, stilling them.

"Mrs. Scully?" he questioned, his voice loosing its regular calm as he 
spoke.

"Please Walter, call me Meg. I was just . . . do you think . . ." she 
began, but just couldn't finish saying it. All the years they'd worked 
together, Fox and Dana had never been targeted like this. Then 
suddenly, out of the blue, for this to happen? It just seemed too 
coincidental.

"I'm not sure. It would make a lot of sense. They'd never been 
attacked straight-out before now. It just seems like . . ." Skinner 
commented. He could see where she was going with this. It was the 
same place his own mind was going. That Mulder and Scully had 
been together as a couple for less than a month and then for this to 
have happened was just too convenient.

"They did this because they found out about Fox and Dana's 
relationship," she interjected, admitting aloud what he had only 
allowed himself to think privately.

"It's starting to look that way. And if so, their relationship has just gone 
from risky to outright dangerous," he confirmed, as he sat farther back 
into the couch. He figured he might as well try and get comfortable, 
because they weren't going anywhere for a while.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Dana Scully opened her eyes, and immediately recognized a hospital 
ceiling. One of these days, she thought pessimistically, she was going 
to invest in a hospital so she and Mulder could get some money back 
from all their visits.

Mulder! her mind screamed. Where was Fox?!?

She started to open her mouth to say his name, but instead she 
began to cough. The raw, irritated feeling she had in her chest, throat 
and nostrils told her that she'd suffered from smoke inhalation. From 
what she could remember, that made a lot of sense.

"Dana?" 

At the soft female voice, Scully turned her head and saw her mom 
sitting there, holding her hand. Her worry was evident, but a smile 
now graced her face at the sight of her daughter awakening.

"Fox?" she choked out, her voice rough and feeling ill used.

"He's in the bed next to you. I didn't want the two of you wandering 
around the hospital looking for each other, so Walter and I pulled a 
few strings," she said.

Energized with that knowledge, Scully turned to see him lying on the 
bed next to her, but then her euphoria was rudely dashed as she 
looked closer. He looked worse than she felt. Besides the fact that he 
was on an IV and oxygen, she could see the bruising on his face and 
arms, and the soft cast around his wrist. Skinner was going to kill 
them. They'd both ended up in the hospital this time. The Bureau's 
going to yank our medical coverage at this rate she thought.

"He's going to be ok. When the window shattered, a piece flew across 
the room and struck him in the side. They said he had some internal 
bleeding, but it didn't puncture anything. They expect him to be awake 
soon."

Scully only nodded her head. She was starting to recall the whole 
incident. Mulder was trying to ask her something, she was certain it 
was to marry him, and then the phone had rung. The next thing she 
remembered was the loud thunder-like sound of a bomb or explosive 
going off. There was the sting of small pieces of something across her 
skin, and then she felt herself being pushed to the floor. The coffee 
table had rushed up at her, and then the world had gone black. 
Obviously he'd pushed her down on instinct, and caught the glass 
shard in the process. 

God, she thought, typical Mulder overprotective instincts. In trying to 
protect her he had been hurt. She let loose a silent sigh and started to 
try and piece together what had happened after the explosion. A 
sudden thought hit her. She didn't even know what day it was.

"What day?" she asked, and reached for the water pitcher on the side 
table. Her tongue felt bone dry, she was so thirsty. Her mom poured 
her a glass and handed it to her. As she greedily drank it down, 
Margaret pondered how to answer her. Once the glass returned to the 
table, her mom replied.

"Sunday," she said, her face falling a bit.

Dana's eyes bulged a bit at that. It had been Friday night when . . . 
now she knew just how serious it had been. She mentally took stock 
of her condition: no broken bones, mostly bruises and cuts, and a 
royal headache from the bandaged raw spot on her forehead. She'd 
probably had a concussion, and hadn't fully come out of it until now. 
They weren't supposed to have come out of it alive she realized.

"Mom, it was so close . . ."

Suddenly her comment was cut off as they heard Mulder's groan. 
Both women's eyes snapped to his face, and slowly he opened his 
own, and groggily tried to make sense of his whereabouts. As soon as 
he did, his mind remembered the blast, and Scully.

"Dana," he growled with his worn voice, then turned his head by 
instinct and some unseen connection to meet her gaze.

"I'm here," was the soothing reply that barely tumbled from her lips. 

Again there was silence, and Margaret Scully watched as her 
daughter and the man she loved communicated a dozen things 
between them: concerns and thoughts, declarations and vows in the 
span of seconds through their locked gaze. She was certain that they 
didn't even realize they'd done it all without words. For them, it was as 
natural and easy as breathing.

Releasing Dana's hand, Margaret got up and took the cup of water to 
Fox, letting him drink and get the taste of the smoke out of his mouth. 
She stood there as he finished and then he handed her the glass with 
a grateful smile.

"Well Scully, looks like our deductibles are going to go up again," he 
said with a lopsided grin.

She couldn't help but smile. Even at the worst times, he just knew 
exactly what to say to make her smile. God, she loved that about him.

"It's all your fault Mulder. If you weren't in the hospital so much, this 
little stay wouldn't effect it so much," she replied with a little humor.

"Ha ha," he muttered, looking at her. 

He could see the bandage marring her forehead, and the multitude of 
scratches covering her face and arms. Obviously he hadn't been able 
to get her down before she'd taken a face full of shrapnel from the 
bomb. God, he hoped she'd forgive him for smacking her head into 
the coffee table in his haste to get her to the floor. Just like always, he 
seemed to hurt her when he was trying to protect her. Suddenly her 
quiet voice broke through his thoughts.

"Seriously Mulder, you look like hell," she whispered, love and 
concern filtering through her words.

"You don't look so good yourself either," he quietly replied. He wanted 
to reach over and take her hand in his, but the beds were just too far 
apart. He cursed the stupidity of the distance separating them, but 
then at least they were still alive, and there together in the hospital. 
Then he realized something. "How'd we get in the same room?"

"Walter and I told them that the two of you needed to be in the same 
room, what with the bombing and all, and pulled a few strings to make 
sure of it," Margaret explained, patting his arm in that motherly type 
gesture he'd become used to from her.

"Thanks."

"Well, I'm going to go home and get some rest. I'll be back to check 
on both of you later. Why don't you both get some more sleep," 
Margaret said, as she ran a hand affectionately over Fox's head 
before going over and giving Dana a kiss on the cheek. Then she was 
at the doorway, where she stopped for just a moment. "And no funny 
business you two. You'll have plenty of time after you get out."

As she left, Mulder and Scully had to wipe the shocked looks of their 
faces before they turned to each other, grinned and began to laugh. 
They were still laughing when the nurses came in five minutes later.

-------X-----X-----X-------

The convalesce had been much too long. At least it seemed that way 
to Mulder. Of course the fact that they had kept him longer than Scully 
might have had something to do with that notion. Except it seemed 
that she was there with him just as much after they'd released her as 
when she'd been hospitalized.

When they finally discharged him, Mulder moved into Scully's place 
without debate. His apartment was a loss, but luckily he had some 
clothes at Dana's to wear, and she'd gone shopping for some new 
ones for him before he'd been released. In the midst of it all though, 
he'd done his best to keep his sense of humor.

"Well Scully, at least I won't have anything to take to the town house 
when we move. Although I'm really sorry about the couch," he joked, 
his mouth forming his lopsided grin without conscious effort.

She frowned, and her brow crinkled with her thoughts. This whole 
thing it seemed, had happened because they'd started thinking that 
they could live a somewhat normal life, and that no one would catch 
on. And they'd been punished for their arrogance. 

"We can't take the house Mulder. And we need to find you another 
apartment," she said suddenly, her tone hushed yet deadly serious.

Her words threw him, and he snapped his head around from his spot 
at the kitchen doorway to see her leaning forward, up against the 
refrigerator.

"What are you saying?"

She heard the waiver in his voice, and she could tell he was afraid to 
hear her answer. But she had to do this, she told herself brutally. No 
matter how much it hurt her. She had to do this for *him*.

Deliberately she turned to face him, and he could see the tears in her 
eyes, hovering on the edge of her lashes. Whatever was going on, it 
was hurting her enough to have her on the verge of crying.

"Mulder. . . you know I. . . love you, and that I want to be . . . with you, 
but," she began, then hesitated as she looked down, searching for the 
right words. When she felt that she'd found them, she returned to 
meet his stare. "But this, *us* . . . its become too dangerous."

"Dana . . ." he began, the fear that had been threatening now was 
beginning to creep into his chest and soul at the implication of her 
words. Was she suggesting . . . She cut off that thought with a word.

"No. I'm not saying that we stop seeing each other. I don't think either 
of us could do that . . . not now, not after everything we've been 
through. But . . . we're going to have to give the impression that our 
lives are separate again. No staying over, seeing each other less 
when we're in town, looking over our shoulders when we're on 
assignment . . ." she said quietly, moving away from him to stare out 
the window. 

"You're scared," Mulder stated, coming up behind her and resting his 
hands on her shoulders. Feeling him behind her, she let her control 
slip a bit, and leaned back into his chest, closing her eyes. He was 
more right than he knew.

"Yes . . . I am. Muld . . . Fox, They've never attacked you directly 
before now. But for some reason, they chose to plant an explosive in 
*your* apartment for the express purpose of killing *you*. And I can't 
believe our being together didn't have *something* to do with it. So 
the safest course of action is to back away and not give them a 
reason to try again . . ."

Under his hands, he could feel the tension and distress in her 
shoulders. Whatever had prompted her to say this, think these things 
was very close to the surface. He knew that he couldn't bear to think 
of being without her, giving up the dream of a home, a life together. 
But it seemed like she was willing to throw it all away. It just didn't . . .

"Because I can't lose you," she whispered.

With those simple words, he thought his heart would burst. It didn't 
have anything to do with her not wanting what he wanted, or being 
afraid of the danger to their lives or careers . . . she just couldn't bear 
the thought of him dying. And to protect him, she was sacrificing 
them. A purely martyr-like action. 

She's been hanging out with me too long, he thought tiredly. Without 
a second thought, he turned her in his arms, so he could look at her. 
As it was, he ended up having to tilt her head up with his hands so 
she would meet his eyes.

"I know how that feels Dana. I've gone through the same thing every 
time you've been in danger," he stated, then his voice took on a 
harsher tone. "Don't you think that I considered not doing this, being 
with you because of the possible consequences? I did. But we're in 
danger just doing the job we do. Don't make our love suffer because 
of Them. Don't back away from this, from us because you think it will 
protect me. *I'm* willing to take my chances, I just need *you* to do 
the same."

She couldn't do anything but look at him for a moment. The image in 
her mind of his body being lowered into the ground, the polished wood 
of the casket, with her standing above it played again. What he was 
asking her to do, it was tantamount to letting him actively court his 
own death. 

Then with a sudden revelation, she understood exactly what she had 
done. She'd been Mulder. She'd tried to protect him by making a 
decision for the both of them. Tried to make a sacrifice which wasn't 
hers alone to make. And Mulder's demand to let him take his chances 
was exactly what she had always told him when he'd gotten 
overprotective of her. And if it wasn't right for him to do it to her, then 
the same applied to her when she wanted to do it for him. She had to 
trust him enough to be careful. Plus she'd just make sure she 
watched his back more than ever.

He watched her eyes, and could almost see the thoughts run through 
her head as they formed. He knew that he could easily have been in 
her place if she'd been the one hurt seriously in the bombing, if it had 
been her home. So he knew where she was coming from. But he 
wasn't going to give up without a fight.

It was the subtle change in her posture that tipped him off that she 
was giving in. Her shoulder slightly sagged and her head dropped and 
fell forward to rest against his chest. Feeling the fight leave her, he 
drew her tightly into his arms, reveling in feeling her there. *This* had 
been closer to destroying them than the bomb had been. If only there 
was a way to rid themselves of this constant fear . . .

"Scully?" he whispered, leaning closer to her ear, his breath brushing 
the auburn hair it met.

"Yes?" she replied into his chest. The feeling of being held against his 
body felt so good that she didn't want to move.

"What if we could guarantee our safety?"

That got her attention and she struggled to push herself backward in 
his embrace so she could look at him. "How?"

"It's high time that They received a visit from us, don't you think? Put 
the fear of Agents Mulder and Scully into 'em? I mean, hell, They've 
had us running for years now, and we just keep taking it. But if we 
went to Them . . ."

"You're not seriously suggesting . . ." she breathed with sudden 
dread. She knew how Mulder's temper got when those that were 
closest to him were hurt . . . but she wasn't exactly sure how far this 
whole thing had pushed him. If he was ready to deal out deadly force 
to protect them.

He saw her concerned glare and the arched eyebrow and knew what 
she was thinking. Of anyone on the planet, this woman that he loved 
so dearly knew that if provoked, he wouldn't think twice about 
punishing those responsible for the bombing. So he had to convince 
her otherwise. Quickly he responded to alleviate that worry.

"No, no killing. I just want to show them that *anyone* can be gotten 
to. We just need to find the right weak spots."

"Any ideas where to start?" she questioned, now seeing where he 
was headed.

"Well, I thought maybe we should begin with our friend Cancerman."

She agreed with a slight nod, and then followed him to her couch. 
They had a lot to discuss if his plan was going to work.

-------X-----X-----X-------

"They what?!" roared Skinner at his assistant on the other end of the 
intercom.

"Agent Mulder said he and Agent Scully needed some more time to 
recuperate before returning to work, so they're taking a week's 
vacation," she restated, thinking that perhaps hearing it again would 
calm him down. 

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

"Fine. Please let me know if they should happen to call in again. I'd 
like to speak with them," Skinner said in his best authoritative, calm 
voice. 

With a flip of the switch, he shut off the connection and began to 
piece together what was going on. Mulder and Scully were both 
notorious for returning to work even when they weren't one hundred 
percent. But this . . . taking off work when they weren't told to, it 
reeked of something. And he didn't think he liked the smell of it.

--------X-----X-----X-------

With Part nine of this series ready to go, I thought I'd clean up and re-send
the original series. Happy reading or re-reading as the case may be. J.
The sun was coming up in an hour or so, with still nothing. The dark 
clung to the sky, yet the stars had disappeared. She was starting to 
think they should follow suit.

Scully returned her gaze to the building, as she sat behind the 
steering wheel to their Bureau car. It had been their only concession, 
besides their guns, that they'd made to having any connection to the 
FBI right now. Even their badges were locked in the glove 
compartment, instead of on them. If anything went wrong, they didn't 
want the department dragged into it. As it was, they were certain 
Skinner would try to track them down.

Beside her in the passenger seat, Mulder was stretched out as far as 
he could, and was sleeping for a change. He'd taken the first watch 
outside the Virginia apartment building. It was the same one that he'd 
first found and attacked Cancerman in. It stood to reason that with the 
arrogance these people showed, he wouldn't have moved, thinking 
himself safe, but in the nearly eight hours they'd been watching the 
place, there was no sign of him.

The slight mumbling sound from the warm body resting beside her 
caught her attention. He was waking up, and she knew it wouldn't be 
long till he was aware and asking her if she'd seen anything. And she 
wasn't sure if she should be happy or disappointed to tell him she 
hadn't seen a thing.

Then his beautiful hazel eyes opened, blinked once, then focused on 
her face. After more than four years of seeing those eyes, they never 
failed to take her breath away.

"See anything?" he asked, stifling a yawn wit the back of a hand.

"Just a sexy man in the passenger seat of my car that I would really 
love to drag into the backseat and . . ." she said suggestively, letting 
her words trail off.

He smiled at that. Of course, there was nothing he'd like better, but 
they had work to do. Reluctantly he let his mind slip from the tempting 
thoughts of her and the things he'd like to do to her in the backseat, 
and refocused his thoughts on the task at hand.

"Later Scully. Right now I need to know if you saw him go in or out," 
he said seriously, but laid his hand on hers to let her know how much 
the idea had appealed to him.

"Nothing. I think he might have . . ." she began, and stopped. Quickly 
he turned and saw their nemesis on his way out the door. It was time.

In a flash they were out the doors and across the street, coming up 
behind the man who'd haunted both of their nightmares for a long time 
now. Scully took one elbow on the far side as Mulder took the 
cigarette from the older man's hand, and tossed it away, into the 
street.

"You know you really shouldn't smoke. It's bad for your health," 
Mulder commented without his usual humor. The seriousness in his 
eyes would have made it very clear even if his cold tone hadn't tipped 
Cancerman off.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company Mr. Mulder, Ms. 
Scully. Especially after being released so recently from the hospital." 
he asked, showing nothing but calm on the outside, even if they were 
sure he was feeling anything but.

"We'd like some information, that I'm certain you can give us," Scully 
informed him, turning him back towards the apartment he had just left. 
If they had to push him a bit into answering their question, they didn't 
want to do it on the street, in front of God knows whom.

"Like what agent Scully. I know a lot of things . . ." Cancerman 
muttered with venom in his tone. He didn't like this, not at all. They 
were both supposed to be dead. But somehow they'd survived.

"The meeting place and time. For your Consortium cronies. We have 
a proposition for them that we'd like to make face to face, if you know 
what I mean. Now would you like to tell me where they'll be, or do we 
have to get a little more forceful in our persuasion?" Mulder informed 
him as they went through the front door to the apartment complex. 

Without warning, Scully guided him towards the back of the hallway, 
and Mulder had shoved him up against the wall nearest them. His 
eyes went wide as he looked at the two agents restraining him. It was 
obvious that this time out the agents were intent on getting the 
answers they wanted. And nothing short of the truth was going to get 
them off of him.

"New York City, two days from now at 3 p.m. there's a planned 
meeting."

"Where?" Scully asked, her voice almost a growl.

"It won't do you any good. You won't get in."

"Let us worry about that. Just give us the address," Mulder insisted, 
giving the man a bit more of a shove into the wall.

Like a revelation, Cancerman looked at the determined gaze in 
Mulder's eyes, and knew that he wasn't joking. He was deadly 
serious, and if he wanted to survive this encounter, he was going to 
have to give them the address.

So he did.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Two days later Skinner had received some information on his 
wayward agents. It seemed they were far from home taking it easy. 

The first item in the report was the charge slip for two tickets to New 
York City. There was a hotel room charged as well, but he was 
certain they wouldn't be there when he called. He'd tried both of their 
cel phones, only to get the message that the cellular customer he was 
trying to reach was unavailable.

Of all the things he knew Mulder capable of, murder wasn't one of 
them. Yet, when Scully had been hanging by a thread a couple of 
years ago, after being returned from her abduction, he knew Mulder 
had nearly killed Cancerman. So he wasn't about to put it past him. 
And then there was Scully . . . she was usually  the more stable of the 
two of them, but she had almost lost the man she loved. Neither of 
them had ever before had more of a reason to take matters into their 
own hands before. Knowing he couldn't catch up with them, he could 
only hope that they wouldn't go that far this time.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Scully had been in front of the mirror in the hotel room bathroom for 
nearly twenty minutes before Mulder went in to check on her. She 
was just standing there, and he felt a bit relieved to know that she 
was ok. The next thing he knew he found himself leaning against the 
door frame, watching her.

She'd chosen one of her stunning suits: a wine colored one with the 
black collar. He didn't think he'd seen it since Modell. But it made her 
look very professional. It was as if she was planning on addressing 
the Bureau chief, and she wanted to be taken seriously. In a manner 
of speaking, this was much more important. The united front they had 
to present, the tough, businesslike exteriors they had to show needed 
to be perfect. Because their lives *and* their futures rode on it.

Scully caught sight of him in the mirror as he walked in behind her. 
With a light caress, he ran his fingers over her hair, barely touching 
her carefully combed coiffure. Sighing, she closed her eyes and let 
her mind and sensations register the man behind her. 

She'd seen the dark blue Armani suit and the strangely patterned tie 
that he'd chosen to wear. There were days, like today especially, that 
he looked too handsome to be an FBI agent. He should have been a 
male model, she thought with a slight grin. But then there was that 
stubborn hair of his that wouldn't do what it was supposed to. That 
probably would have crushed his career right there.

The next thing she knew, she felt his hand caress her cheek, and her 
eyes flew open to meet his in the mirror. As always, the connection 
that they had, felt was in full force, and the love and concern they 
both were feeling was communicated even via the mirror's reflective 
surface. Dana broke the link as she pulled her hand up to put it on 
his, and caught sight of her watch. It was almost time for the meeting. 
With a little frown she looked back at Fox's reflection, and saw that he 
too had figured out it was time to leave.

"I'm ready," she said as she took his hand from her cheek, holding it 
tightly in her own as she turned to face him.

"I love you Dana Scully," he said before he pulled her tightly against 
him and hugged her. In response she wrapped her arms around his 
waist, letting herself be pulled in tighter into his embrace.

"I love you Fox Mulder," she replied simply.

"Let's go," Mulder finally suggested, reluctantly easing back from her 
arms. With a quick brush over her jacket, she joined him at the door 
to the room. As she opened it and started out, she felt his hand find 
its way to her back as he directed her out the door. In moments they 
were down the elevator and out onto the street, hailing a cab.

Climbing into the first one they could find, Mulder gave the driver the 
address and sat back in hopes of appreciating the last couple of 
minutes of calm before they walked into what was sure to be the 
deadliest place they'd ever gone. Once the cab pulled up to the Trade 
Center, Scully handed the man their fare and followed Mulder towards 
the front doors. After finding the elevator, and choosing the floor, they 
waited in silence before the it arrived at the meeting place. As the 
doors opened, they saw at the end of a hallway a pair of bodyguards 
stationed in front of their goal.

Purposefully they walked down the corridor, their hands hanging at 
their sides, at the ready. As they came closer, the two guards started 
to bar their way. In a split second, Mulder and Scully had pulled their 
Sigs, and aimed them at the men. Thinking the agents weren't 
serious, they started for their own weapons, only to hear the cocking 
of the hammers of both guns.

With Mulder leading, the two of them moved closer to the door. 
Knowing Scully had the two guards in her sights, he released one 
hand from the grip of his gun and opened the door. Moments later 
Scully joined him, and shut the door behind them. Then they turned to 
see the assortment of evil men assembled before them. At the center 
of it all sat the man Scully would never forget . . . the man who had 
warned her at William Mulder's funeral of her own impending murder. 
The Well Manicured Man. He stood and addressed them.

"Mr. Mulder, Ms. Scully. This is an unexpected surprise," he said in 
light tone, but he was obviously concerned about their appearance 
there.

"Good afternoon gentlemen. We have a slight proposition for you," 
Mulder announced confidently as he holstered his Sig. Scully did the 
same as she came up beside him.

"Mr. Mulder, I don't believe you have anything at this time that we'd be 
interested in, unless you were planning on informing us of yours and 
Ms. Scully's resignations from the Bureau," the Well Manicured Man 
commented with obvious contempt.

"Not quite," Scully tossed in, giving the man one of her trademarked 
looks, a glare that would strip the paint off a battleship.

"Ah, well, that would be the case if we were still playing by your rules," 
Mulder continued, letting his eyes roam around the room, then finally 
return to rest on the Well Manicured Man. "You see, Your 
organization does very well, cloaked in darkness and secrecy like it is. 
But all it would take is a few anonymous calls to the press about your 
meeting, and well, all your game playing would come to an end. And 
you see, we found you once, we can do it again."

"You wouldn't jeopardize . . ."

"No, we wouldn't. But right now, we have nothing to lose. Unless, of 
course, you'd like to assure us that the incident that occurred at 
Mulder's apartment building was a random, one time event, and won't 
ever be repeated," Scully stated sternly.

There was dead silence as many of the members looked around 
nervously at each other. Then the murmurs and whispers began, and 
Mulder chanced a quick look towards Scully. She was standing stock 
still as she surveyed the chaos created by their words. As he looked 
closer he could almost see the slight upwards turn of her lips into a 
satisfied smirk. 

He couldn't help but smile along with her. For the first time, it seemed 
like they had *Them* on the ropes. It felt good being the ones with all 
the answers for a change. Suddenly Mulder's thoughts were 
interrupted as the Well Manicured Man cleared his throat.

"Mr. Mulder, Ms. Scully, I think that you can rest assured that the 
"accident" at Mr. Mulder's residence was a tragic event. One which 
will not happen again, so long as we remain in our preferred lighting, if 
you understand my meaning," he said without preamble. His cool tone 
sealing the sincerity of the deal for Mulder.

"I'm certain that won't be a problem. For now," Mulder replied, his 
voice lending the desired promise to his veiled threat. 

At a nod from the Well Manicured Man, Mulder backed up one step, 
then turned to head towards the door. Scully paused to give the room, 
and the assembled men one last promising glare, then followed 
Mulder out and down the hall. Behind them they could hear the door 
slam shut, and they couldn't suppress a smile.

There were no guarantees that the Consortium would do as the Well 
Manicured Man had promised, but the threat of public exposure 
seemed to have had an effect on their membership. Mulder and Scully 
had left the room feeling a sense of accomplishment. He was sure 
that the shadow of the Consortium would no longer cast any darkness 
on their lives.

Once inside the elevator, Scully threw a worried glance in Mulder's 
direction, who stood beside the control panel as if unaware of their 
surroundings. Walking over, she pressed the button for the lobby, and 
then turned to him, laying a hand on his arm.

"Mulder?" she questioned, her concern now more evident. Slowly she 
stroked the fabric of his suit, feeling the muscle underneath as she 
tried to bring him back to her.

Without warning, his eyes came up to meet hers, and a huge, brilliant 
smile graced his face. Then he looped his arms around her, lifting her 
off the floor. A startled gasp broke from her lips, but she quickly 
braced her hands on his shoulders. Still she waited for him to speak.

"We won Scully!" he nearly shouted in the confines of the elevator. 
Then he proceeded to pull her closer and kissed her deeply.

Her shock wore off in a heartbeat, and she was kissing him back, 
giving in to the passion between them. They'd had to keep it in check 
while they'd been hospitalized. Then with the search for the 
Consortium, they'd been too focused on finding an answer to their 
problem to give into it. But now they were free to express their 
feelings.

That was until the elevator doors opened and they soon broke from 
their kiss to see a dozen pairs of eyes starting at them in shock and 
astonishment. Quickly setting Scully to the floor, he took her hand and 
drug her past the gawking onlookers and out the door onto the street. 

He came to a halt when the his arm was nearly yanked from its 
socket. Spinning around, he found his reserved, sensible partner and 
generous, beautiful lover, doubled over laughing. The only concession 
she'd made was to still grasp his hand. Then when she looked up, 
she began laughing harder, and he couldn't help but join her.

After a few minutes, they composed themselves, and Mulder pulled 
her into his arms again, and she went willingly. Holding each other on 
the street for a few minutes, the rest of the world faded away for them 
as they realized that they had indeed gone up against their most 
fearsome enemy and walked out again. And they'd gained so much: 
the promise of safety for their silence. It was a deal they could keep 
for now. But if they ever found enough evidence to truly expose them 
for what they were, both Mulder and Scully were more than prepared 
to send them up the river, or to hell. Whichever was more convenient.

At the sound of the blaring midday traffic, horns and brakes making 
their presence known, Mulder eased away from Scully, and reached 
into his jacket pocket for something.

"Mulder?" she queried, her curiosity not diminishing when he removed 
his cel phone and began dialing.

"Hold on," he mouthed as the call rang through.

"Lone Gunmen," answered Langley's filtered voice over the receiver.

"It's me, I need to speak to Byers."

Scully arched an eyebrow at Mulder, and he simply gave her one of 
his lopsided grins as he waited for the well dressed member of the 
Gunmen to come on the line. After another minute, Byers distinctive 
voice crackled over the phone.

"Byers. Is that you Mulder? I heard you and Scully had some trouble 
at your place. Where are you?"

"New York. Didn't you guys know? Boy, I'm gonna stop coming to you 
for information if you can't even keep track of me and Scully," Mulder 
quipped, and watched a smile begin to creep across Dana's face. He 
was sure she'd figured out what he was calling Byers for by now. 
"Anyway, that's all in the past. Right now I need you to do me a favor."

"What?" Byers asked, still a bit confused.

"Tell that rental agency that we'll take the town house, and we'll be 
back in D.C. on Monday to sign the papers."

"Uh, ok," Byers got out before he could stammer anything else.

"Thanks," Mulder replied, and disconnected the line. Stashing the 
phone in his pocket again, he reached out for Dana, and she took his 
hand tightly in her own. 

"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" she said quietly, more from 
emotion than astonishment. They were going to move into their 
house, and start *their* lives together. Without fear of reprisal from 
the one organization that they'd been so fearful of discovering them. 

"Yeah, we are," he replied in a soft voice that ran chills up her back. 

Mulder tightened his grip on her hand and lead her towards a waiting 
taxi. As he opened the door to usher her inside, she stopped dead. 
Quickly he looked at her with a fearful expression on his face. Oh 
God, he thought, was she having second thoughts about the house? 
Then a wicked grin crossed her face, and she moved in closer to him, 
just within the door frame of the taxi.

"Monday Fox? It's only Friday afternoon. What are we going to do till 
then?" she asked with a suggestive tone that had him fighting to 
recapture his composure and regain his breath. With a shove, he 
pushed her in the cab and told the driver the name of their hotel. Only 
once they were on their way did he decide to tell her.

"Well, we do have a hotel room in New York City, and it would be a 
shame to waste it, wouldn't you agree Dana?" he said, his voice 
purposefully low and deep.

"Oh definitely," she whispered in his ear, the smile that had been 
wicked before now seemingly more so. "

Turning to meet her gaze, his own lustful leer was evident to her, and 
she couldn't help but lean in and kiss those lips. It wasn't until they 
arrived at the hotel that they came up for air. Besides, they both 
thought as they headed into the hotel, they had all weekend for that.


Part VI - Heartfelt Visions


Their weekend in New York had been the reaffirming of the dream 
Mulder and Scully had begun to have for their future. With the shadow 
of the Consortium removed from their lives, they'd been able to be 
confident in the safety of their love. 

Only when Sunday afternoon arrived, and their flight back to D.C. was 
scheduled to depart did that reality start to creep back in. They both 
knew the threats to their lives and careers didn't come *only* from the 
Consortium.

From her place on the bed, resting against the headboard, Scully 
watched her partner, best friend and lover Fox Mulder as he packed 
his clothes. At times it still seemed like a dream. That they were 
together, that he loved her and wouldn't let go of her, no matter the 
dangers. She knew that she would do anything for him. She'd been 
willing to give up her dreams for his well being. And now she knew 
exactly how far he was willing to go for her. He'd gone to New York to 
face the Consortium to alleviate her fears, and some of his as well. 
She felt a surge of love go through her at that thought. But there were 
other organizations they had to worry about.

"We're going to have to face Skinner tomorrow morning Mulder. And 
you know he's going to read us the riot act for taking off like this," 
Scully told him with a worried voice.

Starting at her words, Mulder abandoned the shirt he was folding and 
came over to her. With a slight thump he sat down on the edge of the 
bed facing her. Quickly and without any effort, his hand ran up her 
stockinged leg, and stopped just at the edge of her knee at the skirt's 
edge. His eyes had followed his hand, but suddenly came up to meet 
hers. With a little frown he saw the genuine concern in her gaze. 

He knew that sometime after the explosion she'd begun to fear for 
him because of their relationship. At the same time he had continued 
to trust in it with the determination he had for everything that he 
believed in. It was almost funny how their roles in their relationship 
had fairly stayed the same, her the skeptic and he the believer. Only 
once had she been the one to really believe - when she'd told him that 
he could have everything he wanted. Thinking back now, he realized 
that she had made that second most momentous leap of faith for *his* 
benefit more than for her own.

Of course, admitting that she loved him had been her first leap.

But the fact remained that he knew what she was upset about. What 
he needed to do was tell her the facts again to ease her mind.

"We took vacation time Scully, which we were due for anyway," 
Mulder began decisively, his hand slowly running up and down her 
leg. "Plus we didn't do anything that could have compromised the 
Bureau. It was purely a personal matter, and we handled it that way. I 
think Skinner will understand."

"You're more trusting than I am this time Mulder," she replied as he 
smiled at her paranoia. She was getting as bad as he was. He'd 
taught her well. "I'm expecting him to give us seven kinds of hell for 
not giving him a good explanation for taking off, then flying to New 
York. I'll bet he probably heard that we roughed up Cancerman to get 
the meeting location too, and is ready to tell us how stupid we were."

"Stupid? Us? Heavens no!" he announced sarcastically. "How could 
two people who finally realized that they were in love with each other 
and then went to such lengths to be together be stupid?"

"Well, it did take us what, three years to get this far. I'd say that all the 
people who were certain we were together years ago would swear 
that we were more than a little stupid for taking this long to figure it 
out."

She couldn't keep the look of guilt from her face. She was still feeling 
as stupid as people would ascribe to her for not knowing Mulder had 
been in love with her for the last two years. He had to admit that he 
felt some of the same. It wasn't until she had gotten injured in Oregon 
that things had become clearer. It was the one and only time Mulder 
was happy that Scully had been hurt, because that blow to her head 
had simply allowed them *both* to open their minds up to the truth.

"You know, you're probably right. I guess that means that now that 
we've wised up, we're going to have to make up for lost time," he 
offered with his leer which nowadays was far from harmless.

With that he proceeded to pull her to him and reached for her lips with 
his own. For just a moment she resisted, knowing they had a flight to 
catch. Once he started this, she knew she was going to have a hard 
time not finishing it. But she couldn't fight off the desire his touch 
sparked in her. Only when she felt him start to tug at her shirt did she 
put a hand out to stop him. Curious and concerned, he let her ease 
away from his grip as he stared at her, a blank look on his face.

"The plane Mulder," she reprimanded him, then struggled away from 
his arms to go about finishing his packing.

He gave a loud, long suffering sigh at her seriousness and fell over 
onto the bed. She couldn't help but chuckle a little at him. Without 
another thought she went straight to work, straightening his clothes 
and putting them in the case. All the while she knew that he was 
watching her. She could feel the warmth along her back. The 
reactions it created within her were almost enough to make her say to 
hell with the plane and jump him where he lay on the mattress. But 
they had to get back.

Mulder lay there on his side, propped on an elbow, enraptured by the 
stunning woman that he loved who was packing *his* suitcase. He 
couldn't take his eyes off her. The weekend had done so much for 
them, their relationship. Especially after the near destruction of it only 
days before, when she'd insisted they cool down their relationship in 
light of the danger they were facing. But after he'd made her realize 
what she was doing, how she was irrationally trying to protect him by 
giving up on their dreams, she'd retracted the suggestion. 

Instead he'd offered her another plan. They had gone up against from 
one of their greatest enemies, and ensured themselves a measure of 
happiness in the process. Now he was going to go home with her to 
her apartment in D.C. and if all went well, in a week or so *they* were 
moving into the town house. His most heartfelt fantasies were coming 
true.

And then there was still the question he'd tried to ask her before his 
apartment had blown up. He was determined that he was going to ask 
her, but he was missing one important thing, and he had to find just 
the right one before he could try again.

With a click, he knew she was done, and she pushed the case to sit 
up next to her own. Slowly she turned to face him, and found him still 
lying on the bed. Fighting to keep the smile from her mouth, she 
instead pasted on an annoyed look. Hands flying to her hips, she 
stared at him, almost glaring. Mulder simply gave her his pitiful puppy 
dog face and waited to see what she'd do.

"Mulder, if we miss this plane and I drag into Skinner's office 
tomorrow morning looking like I haven't slept for more than four hours 
I'm going to murder you," she said with deadly conviction.

"But Scully, what if you drag into Skinner's office still tired looking 
because I make love to you all night long?" he said in a seductive 
tone, his voice husky and deep. Then he gave her a look designed to 
melt her resolve, and her heart.

"Well, that's a different matter," she replied, a wicked glint in her eyes.

Gazing into her eyes mischievously he pushed up from the bed, 
picked up both her suitcase as well as his own and headed for the 
door. Rushing, she caught up with him and opened the door. Hurriedly 
he made his way to the elevator, with her following behind, struggling 
to keep up. 

Her comment hadn't been lost on him, and he was definitely 
determined that they make their flight now. Within moments they had 
made their way to the lobby, checked out and had hailed a taxi to get 
them to the airport. 

They didn't miss their plane.

-------X-----X-----X-------

As soon as his assistant buzzed the intercom to his office, telling him 
that Agents Mulder and Scully were waiting for him, Assistant Director 
Walter Skinner wondered again what excuse his wayward agents 
were going to try and pawn off on him this time.

"Send them in," he announced, cutting off the connection before his 
hand came up to readjust his glasses.

With their normal ceremony, Scully opened the door and strode in, 
Mulder just a half step behind her, his hand to her back, as always. 
Even after three and a half years, the fluidness of their partnership 
never ceased to amaze him. Of all the partnered agents he'd ever 
known, only these two worked like they belonged together.

And for all intents and purposes, they did. In every way.

Coming up to sit at their assigned chairs, he looked at them both 
carefully. He noted Scully's tiredness first. Even though she looked 
every bit the part of a capable FBI agents, there was something that 
screamed at his senses that she was exhausted.

Mulder on the other hand seemed to be his usual, irreverent self. On 
top of all that he seemed to be very pleased with himself for 
something, even though he was hiding under his veneer of 
seriousness.

Ever the soul of tact, Skinner decided he really didn't want to know 
what was going on. He had more important issues to press them on.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed your little excursion. For a couple of people 
who had just been released from Mercy Hospital and were supposed 
to be taking it easy, you certainly racked up the frequent flyer miles," 
Skinner informed them tersely, dropping a packet of faxed receipts 
onto the desk. "Those are the credit card receipts for the hotel and 
the airline tickets for New York City. Would either of you like to 
explain this? Agent Mulder, Agent Scully?"

"We took a little vacation sir. We were well within our rights to take 
the time coming to us. In addition, it aided to our recoveries to get 
away for the weekend," Mulder announced, steel girding both his 
voice and his jaw as he spoke. If there was one thing he was good at 
after all these years it was defending his decisions to his superiors. 
He might not always win, but he always had an explanation ready.

"I see Agent Mulder. And what do you have to say about this Agent 
Scully?"

"I have nothing to add sir. It was just what Mulder said it was. A 
recreational trip before we returned to active duty," she answered 
calmly, in full professional mode.

"Alright Agent Scully, Agent Mulder. You're dismissed for now. As 
soon as I have an assignment for you, I'll let you know. Until then I 
suggest you catch up on your accounting paperwork. I'm sure that 
there were a few things that you'll need to claim because of the fire 
Agent Mulder," Skinner commented with unmistakable annoyance.

"Yes sir," Mulder replied, and made to get up from his seat, Scully 
mirroring his actions. Only when they got to the door did Skinner stop 
them.

"Mulder, Scully."

"Yes sir?" Mulder said, slightly turning from where he was poised at 
the door, Scully turning more fully to look at the Assistant Director's 
face.

"I'm glad to have you both back," he announced, then dropped his 
eyes back to the papers on his desk.

With that, they slipped out the door and headed for the basement, 
ready to settle into another day of routine and forms in triplicate. They 
had been working for a couple of hours before the phone rang in their 
basement office, Mulder reaching for it and answering.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's Byers. It's Monday and the rental company would like to 
have you sign the papers for the town house today. If you can do it 
before five, they'll give you the key and you can move in this 
weekend," Byers informed him matter of factly.

"How about in an hour? Give me the address for their office and I'll be 
there," Mulder said while Scully glanced up at him from across the 
room with a quizzical look in her eyes.

"Actually, if you can come by the Gunmen office, we'll have them 
meet you here."

"Great. I'll see you soon."

Hanging up the phone, Mulder found the baby blue of his partner's 
gaze on him. Deciding he didn't want her to know what he was up to 
yet, he came up with a good cover story. With practiced ease he gave 
her his best innocent smile and said, "Insurance adjusters office. 
Gotta sign some papers for the fire damage claim. So I'll have to skip 
lunch. Meet you here later?" 

Before she could answer, Scully's cel phone rang, and she rummaged 
though her jacket pocket to catch it. Hitting a button, she pulled it up 
to her ear.

"Scully."

Mulder watched as she nodded and made several affirmative 
comments into the phone. Finally she said goodbye and turned it off. 
His questioning look only seemed to intensify as she stared at him.

"That was Agent Harding. He needs a pathology consult, and Skinner 
volunteered me. I'm going to be busy. How about I see you tonight?" 
she replied, obviously a little upset at being split up for the day. He 
could tell, because he wasn't to thrilled about not seeing her when he 
got back. But it was the perfect opportunity to see about finding that 
item he still needed.

"It's ok Scully. I'll just plan to see you tonight," he said, reaching for 
his coat and heading out. He flashed her a lopsided grin and then left. 
And he thought to himself as he walked to the elevator, maybe I'll find 
just what I'm looking for while I'm out.

-------X-----X-----X-------

"Hi there," Scully said sweetly as she walked into her apartment that 
evening to find Mulder siting on her couch already, his coat and jacket 
on the rack by the door.

"Hi there yourself. How was the consult?" Mulder asked as he got up 
and helped her out of her coat.

"Well, I survived," she answered with a sigh, and headed into the 
bedroom to change. Her work clothes were just feeling too confining, 
and she wanted to get comfortable for the evening.

Mulder watched her as she wandered into the bedroom, leaving him 
behind to fend for himself. As he thought about it, he had to admit that 
living together had its advantages. He got regular meals, including 
something more substantial for breakfast than just coffee, and he 
woke up with Dana Scully in his arms. All in all, it was everything he 
could ask for. Well, almost.

"Well Scully, I signed the paper's for the town house today. We can 
move in any time,"  he called out from the living room, pulling off his 
tie and tossing it to join his suit jacket on the armchair.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have gone with you," Scully 
commented from the bedroom with some surprise. "You know, when 
we move out of here, we're going to have to rent a truck or get some 
movers." 

"Oh, well, uh, Byers volunteered the guys at the Lone Gunmen to help 
out."

"What?! You're kidding! Even Frohike? He's over the loss already?" 
she replied incredulously from the bedroom, sarcasm evident in her 
tone. Then she walked into the living room, and watched him give her 
an appreciative once over with his eyes. When they traveled up to 
meet her own, the approval of her clothing choice was obvious in 
them.

"As if anyone could get over losing Dana Scully," he said half jokingly, 
half serious and then went on, "I guess the peace offering of my video 
collection took a little off of his sorrow at loosing you forever. But 
when Byers offered the Gunmen for the move he said, and I quote, 
"Anything for the Lovely Agent Scully", end quote. So I guess maybe 
he wasn't as far gone as we'd all thought."

"Ah, but maybe he thinks he'll steal me away when you ditch me 
again," she offered logically as she wandered over to grab his hands 
and haul him towards the bedroom to change.

"I promised not to do that anymore," he argued, pouting a little at her 
belief that he'd still do that to her. Especially now. After everything 
they'd been through to be together . . . he wouldn't ditch her for the 
world. 

"Yeah right Mulder," she remarked with disbelief as she gave him a 
shove and headed towards getting dinner started. "And I didn't believe 
you when you told me about Modell and 'The Whammy' either."

He laughed at the memory and went in to change as she headed to 
the kitchen. Searching through the refrigerator, she realized they 
hadn't gone shopping since New York, and they had pretty much 
cleaned it out beforehand. As she stood there, pondering a trip to the 
store, he snuck up behind her and snaked his arms around her waist, 
startling her.

"Pizza or Chinese?" he asked humorously as he looked over her 
shoulder at the empty fridge.

"How about Irish?" she said mischievously, turning in his arms and 
pulling his head to hers so he could taste her lips.

"Nah, not for dinner," he replied with promise. "Dessert though is an 
entirely different matter."

He kissed her back, their mouths luxuriating in the feel of the other's 
lips. Finally he pulled back, both of them breathless. Letting her loose, 
he reached for the portable phone, grinning at her.

"The sooner we have dinner . . ." he said, leaving his thoughts 
unfinished. Her answering smile and the Chinese take out menu that 
she shoved roughly into his hand confirmed for him that she got his 
meaning.

-------X-----X-----X-------

With the prospect of moving into the town house over the weekend, 
Mulder and Scully had spent their off hours during the week boxing up 
her apartment. As it was, it was a good thing that Skinner hadn't 
assigned them a case yet, as the packing was more than enough to 
do each day without adding an investigation on top of it.

When Sunday arrived, the Gunmen arrived bright and early with a 
huge truck and proceeded to begin a mass invasion of Scully's 
apartment. With Mulder's assistance, they got everything out of the 
apartment and into the truck. Following the truck in their cars, the 
band made their way through the beltway and to the Maryland suburb 
in record time. Then came the massive project of getting everything 
back out again, and where it belonged in the new house.

As the Gunmen hauled in box after box, Scully wondered for the 
hundredth time what had prompted them to volunteer their assistance. 
She suspected that they had an ulterior motive but she had yet to 
figure out what it was. But in Frohike's case, she'd had a good idea 
what he was after and taken the liberty to pack her lingerie box in her 
car's trunk, rather than tempt him with stealing it.

She watched from the window on the second floor as Byers and 
Mulder hauled her couch into the house, and she inwardly sighed. 
She was still mourning the loss of all his things in the fire. The couch, 
the fish tank, his tacky ties and boxers. Then there were the personal 
things . . . the things that had nearly made her cry when she'd gone 
through the apartment when Mulder had still been in the hospital.

Turning away from the glass, she let her mind slip into the memories 
of that day. Standing at the doorway to his apartment, she had 
frowned a little and then slipped under the yellow crime scene tape, 
pushing the charred and hacked away door open. 

With that first look, she was glad she had gone without him. She 
hadn't expected it to look as bad as it did, considering they'd lived 
through it, but it was true what Skinner had said. He'd told her that the 
fire chief had contended it had looked like a war zone, and now, 
viewing it for the first time, she had to agree.

Where his window had been, a gaping hole stood. Nearly the entire 
wall was gone. She walked through, looking for anything salvageable. 
She had almost smiled to herself with regret when she got to his 
bedroom. It was just as well that he rarely used it, she'd thought 
sorrowfully.

In the living room she saw the glitter of shattered glass where the fish 
tank had stood. Then the couch, which was burnt and charred. 
Unrepairable. And littered with glass shards. Like the one he'd taken 
in his side to protect her. 

Looking back now, she knew that image, of him impaled with a huge 
shard of glass for her sake had started her concerns over their 
relationship. But Mulder had hauled her back to *their* reality. That 
together they could survive anything before she could assert her will, 
and put too much of a wedge between them. As always, he was the 
impetuous believer to her logical thinking. And she thanked God every 
day for that. 

With a mental shove, she'd pulled away from those thoughts and 
continued swimming in the memories. She had refocused on her 
original task, to find any of the books, papers and pictures she knew 
he kept there, and salvage what she could.

Her first find had nearly broken her heart. It was a picture of 
Samantha, smiling in her childhood innocence, with Mulder's fingers 
behind her head. She knew that Mulder had been in the photo, but it 
had been burned, leaving only Sam's image. There were more 
photos, some totally waterlogged and others singed. But that one 
photo still stuck out in her mind as a bittersweet discovery.

The real miracle though was found under the toppled bookcase. A 
framed picture of the two of them, one she'd given to him as an 
anniversary present: their third year together as partners. The glass 
was cracked, but the dark wood was undamaged, as was the photo of 
the two of them. 

Somehow it had survived. Just like them.

Slowly she let her mind return to the present at the loud shouts and 
protests of the men downstairs. Hurrying halfway down the staircase, 
she found Frohike and Langley arguing over something as Byers and 
Mulder stood by in the entryway just watching the fracas.

"It is not the same size as the door!" Langley yelled, trying to back 
them up and take another try at the front door.

"It is so!" Frohike replied, pushing forward on the mattress to their 
bed. 

She couldn't help but stifle a laugh with her hand. To see the most 
paranoid group of men fight over the size of her bed was just too 
priceless. Then she caught Mulder's eyes as he looked up at her, the 
glint in his eyes showing his amusement with the situation.

With another shove and the beginning of the argument again Scully 
sighed. It was going to be a long day.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Mulder and Scully had just fallen asleep on their first night in the 
house when the telephone rang. 

"Oh God, it's Skinner," Scully mumbled as Mulder reached to the 
phone at the bed side. She dragged herself up and headed for the 
closet to find something to wear. Behind her she heard the "Yes sirs," 
and "No sirs" that accompanied a call from their superior. Quickly she 
put on her plainest black suit pants and jacket with a rose shirt, and 
she turned back to see Mulder hang his head after he hung up the 
phone.

"We've got an assignment," he practically moaned, throwing the 
bedclothes aside with reluctance, his feet hitting the soft carpet.

When his head came up, she threw a shirt his direction, catching him 
in the face.

"Come on Agent Mulder. Where's that crack investigator who jumps 
at the chance to solve those paranormal cases," she teased, slipping 
into her shoes and reaching for their suitcases.

"He's unavailable right now because he spent the day moving into a 
new house and made love to his partner till two this morning," he shot 
back, pulling the shirt into place as he got up to get a suit from their 
closet.

"Well, you should tell him that fraternization with his partner will get 
him into trouble," she said with a straight face and serious tone, even 
if she was busy squelching the laughter she felt.

"Promise?!?" he said with a leer.

Scully gave him a glare, and proceeded to pack her case while he 
jumped into his pants, socks and shoes. She finished while he was 
pulling on his tie and jacket, and then she hauled her suitcase 
downstairs to the door, and went about getting things together to go. 
Back in the bedroom, Mulder tossed a couple of suits and shirts 
haphazardly into his suitcase and snapped it shut. Dragging it to the 
stairwell, he met her coming back up to check on him.

"So, did you pack your 'French Maid' outfit this trip Scully? It's my 
favorite you know," he asked with a seductive voice.

"No Mulder. I packed the dominatrix one. Now let's get going," she 
said deadpan, reaching for his arm and pulling him downstairs. She 
could tell without even looking back at him that he had his magnetic 
smile plastered on his face at her remark.

It wasn't until they got into the car and were on their way to the airport 
that the humor of her comment wore off and he suddenly thought of 
something else that had bothered him. 

"Scully, how'd you know it was Skinner on the phone?" he questioned, 
looking at her with a glazed, shocked expression.

She simply gave him her most enigmatic grin and turned back to the 
road before them. Under her breath though, she said, "just psychic I 
guess."

He couldn't think of a snappy retort before they were at the airport and 
getting on their flight.

-------X-----X-----X-------

They had spent a week in Nevada, and finally they'd wrapped up the 
case and come back to D.C. Arriving back Friday afternoon, they had 
come into the office long enough to submit their report to Skinner and 
then they left for the weekend. As it was, Mulder had some big plans 
for their evening.

It was their first real night at home since they'd moved in. Mulder had 
volunteered to put the kitchen table in the dinning room, and set it for 
dinner. With a slight tug at the corner of her lips, she agreed, and he'd 
gone off with the table and two chairs to set up while she put together 
something to eat.

While he pulled her good dishes from the box they'd been packed in, 
Mulder couldn't help but run though his head again what he'd been 
thinking about since New York. Actually longer than that, he reminded 
himself lightly. He'd been wanting this for years. To be here with Dana 
like this, to have a life and a future with her. And if all went well 
tonight, he'd have even more than that. With that thought, he checked 
his hip pocket and verified for himself that the item was still there.

The fact was that since he'd gotten it two weeks ago, he hadn't let it 
out of his sight. Even every night before he'd fall asleep he would 
check and make sure that it was where he'd put it, and that Scully 
hadn't seen it. He really wanted to surprise her with at least *one* 
thing about this proposal because he was sure that she knew that he 
was going to ask her again. But she didn't know about this little 
secret.

Suddenly Scully walked in with their meal and a bottle of wine. 
Rushing over, he took the lasagna pan from her hands and set it on 
the table. Then he took the wine and poured it as she cut and served 
their dinner. First pushing her in, then sitting himself, they smiled at 
each other and then ate in a pleasant silence in their new home.

When they finished, Scully cleared the table, leaving Mulder behind 
with the wine and glasses. She returned to find the lights lowered and 
the fireplace ablaze. For a man who had pyrophobia, he liked that 
fireplace a lot. She was sure that he'd decided that he *really* wanted 
the place when he saw it. Now he sat there, on the floor looking at the 
orange and red flames leap behind the screen. 

At the sound of her footsteps, he turned and smiled at her. Even 
dressed in her casual clothes, she was the most beautiful woman he'd 
ever known. He didn't think there would ever come a time when he 
wouldn't think that. And he was more than willing to find out. Reaching 
a hand towards her, he beckoned her to join him at the fireside.

"Dana," he said quietly, the timber of his voice low and enchanting.

Scully came over to where he sat by the fireplace. He took one of her 
hands and drew her down to sit beside him.

"Dana, do you remember that conversation we never got to finish?" he 
said, his head bowed a little.

She knew what he was talking about. He had started to ask her 
something. Which she had thought was to marry him. But in the 
weeks following the bombing, he'd never mentioned it again. Until 
now.

"And I remember saying that it could wait Fox. I'm happy as we are 
now," she claimed softly, running a hand over his.

"I know. So am I. But I'd like to be able to say that you're not just my 
partner when people ask about you. I want to be able to take you to 
dinner or to one of the Bureau functions and know that everyone 
there knows you're mine. And I'm yours. So there's no doubt left in 
anyone's mind that we love each other. That we're together."

"What about the X-Files? The Bureau policy?"

"It's not written in stone. Besides, since when have we ever not 
broken the rules?"

She had to give him that. They really were notorious for not following 
the book. Even she'd been corrupted by his ways. So she smiled 
wanly and arched her brow at him. He took it as a silent ok for him to 
go on. So he took a deep breath, shored up his courage and 
continued.

"Dana Katherine Scully, I love you, more than I'll ever be able to 
express to you. I know that I don't deserve to be as happy as I am 
when we're together, and that I'm tempting fate in wanting us to be 
together forever, but I can't not ask for that now. Will you marry me, 
stand beside me from today until forever?"

She tried not to cry, and only partially succeeded. Just a few tears 
broke from her lashes and ran down her face. With difficulty she got 
her voice back to where she thought she might be able to answer him 
without her voice cracking, but she knew it didn't matter. From the 
smile on his face, she could tell he could see her answer shining in 
her eyes.

"Yes Fox William Mulder. As always, I'll stand beside you; as your 
partner, your best friend and as your wife."

Then he produced a box. A dark blue velvet one that she knew he 
hadn't had the last time he'd tried to do this. Obviously he'd planned it 
out better this time around. With careful fingers he pried the top back, 
the hinges tight and she heard it snap in place. Then she looked 
inside.

And almost burst out laughing.

It had an "X". 

Somehow, somewhere he'd found a stone, looking at it 
she thought it might be a black opal of some sort, one that had been 
abnormally formed. Within the dark confines of the stone, a nearly 
greenish "X" was visible. On either side of the stone was a small 
diamond, and the whole ring was banded together with a dark gold.

She looked up at him with the remnants of giggles in her throat. And 
she could see by the mischievous look in his eyes and the grin on his 
face that he knew what she was thinking.

"Yeah, I know," he said sheepishly as he pulled the ring loose from 
the box. "When I went out last week to sign the papers for the house, 
Langley told me about this ring he'd seen. And when he described the 
stone I just, well. . . "

"It's perfect Mulder," she replied, and he slipped it carefully onto her 
hand. "It's just what everyone would expect of "Mr. and Mrs. Spooky" 
when they finally come clean and admit that they've lost it."

"Lost it? What do you mean by that Scully?"

"That the toll of the X-Files on us has finally sent us over the edge."

"And into each other's arms," he reminded her.

"Ok, so that part's good," she replied, giving him a stunning smile, 
reminiscent to the one he'd received in Alaska.

"So, does a newly engaged guy get a kiss?" he asked, his tone 
purposefully provocative.

"Oh, he can have more than that," she replied with a sexy whisper. 

With that she pulled him into her embrace and to the floor, her mouth 
meeting his. There were still going to be things they had to make 
decisions on, but for now, they were getting married and they had 
their new home. 

And as they fell further into each other's arms, they realized that it 
could only get better from here on out.


Part VII - Radical Visions


With a moan of protest, Dana Scully drug herself out of her warm bed 
to head to the bathroom. After standing up for a few moments, she 
finally remembered where the bathroom was and staggered in that 
direction. In the vague fog of her mind, she realized that she should 
be pleased that she'd remembered where it was, considering they 
hadn't been there that long.

Hitting the light switch, she winced at the sudden brightness. Then 
she walked over and turned on the shower, the water instantly 
soaking her arm before she could pull it out. As soon as the hot water 
began steaming up the mirror, she got in and slid the shower door 
shut.

One advantage to being Mulder's lover she thought with a mental 
wicked grin, was that she seldom had to take off her night clothes, or 
anything else for that matter before hitting the shower. Especially after 
last night's activities, she added hastily.

With that her mind began to replay the previous evenings events. 
While she poured shampoo into her palm, she caught sight of the 
inanimate object responsible for her state of undress and happiness.

Her engagement ring.

Part of her had never expected Mulder to be so traditional and 
sentimental as to want to marry her. Just *being* together was a joy. 
Because of the fear of discovery, she knew that she couldn't wish for 
more than that.

But then Mulder had to go and do a "Mulder" thing. Bucking the 
Bureau and its rules and regulations he'd asked her to marry him. Yet 
somehow it really didn't surprise her. When he set his mind to do 
something, she knew he would follow through with dogged 
determination.

Suddenly a gust of cool air hit her back, and she turned to find Mulder 
climbing into the shower stall behind her.

"What are you doing? Go on, get," she scolded, waving a soapy hand 
at him.

"Aw come on Scully, we really should be environmentally conscious 
and not waste water . . ." he moaned pitifully, giving her his puppy dog 
look as he reached for her wet, naked body. "Besides, there's nothing 
here I haven't seen before, under better circumstances."

At that she couldn't help but blush. Her overly zealous lover knew just 
what to say and when to say it to disarm her rational objections. 
Something in his words struck her just right and she decided to play 
for a change.

"And what's to say that this isn't better circumstances now Mulder?" 
she asked seductively, leaning in and running her lathered hand down 
his bare chest.

His brows raised as he regarded her with surprise. There were times 
that this woman shocked the hell out of him. One minute she's 
blushing at his taking a shower with her, the next she's practically 
seducing him there. If anything, he had to be glad it had taken them 
as long as it had to find each other. By being partners for three years, 
he had gotten used to having Dana Scully under his skin. Now that 
they were more, he'd found that he could actually function as a normal 
human being when he had to; without his mind slipping back into 
memories of her naked flesh intertwined with his.

As she stepped in closer, her hands roaming over his skin, soaping 
him with the bar still clutched in one of them, Mulder decided to take 
his chances and press his luck.

"Did I say that? Must have been possessed for a minute there," he 
said quickly, catching her waist and drawing her in close enough for 
her to notice the reaction he was having to her ministrations.

The look of passion in his eyes killed any thought she had of laughing 
or replying with another humorous comment. And he did look *so* 
good when he was wet and naked she thought sinfully, then leaned 
up to kiss him hard and demanding.

It was a while before they actually *took* their shower.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Because of their morning romp in the shower, their day had gotten off 
to a wild start. And a late one as well. They'd planned their schedule 
well in advance, and were now having to play catch up to get 
everything done in time. As their errands wore on, they knew things 
weren't going to calm down any time soon.

"You sure you want to do this?" Scully asked, looking over at where 
Mulder sat behind the wheel of the car. But not just Mulder, her 
partner and best friend and lover. Now he was her fiancé too. God, 
her *fiancé*. She still was having problems getting used to the idea, 
let alone the word. The whole concept was still so new.

He could feel her gaze on his cheek, and glanced over at her when 
they stopped at a stoplight. He would forever be in awe of her 
selflessness. They had discussed the night before that they would tell 
her mom about the engagement before mentioning it to anyone else.

Mulder had been nervous about it. Quite a lot actually, but he was 
willing to go and face whatever reaction Margaret Scully had to the 
announcement. And even though they were both certain that her mom 
would be thrilled, it still had managed to put butterflies the size of 
Texas in his stomach.

So now she was offering again to keep it quiet. To keep the 
engagement a secret until he felt more comfortable. To not wear the 
ring on her finger so their relationship would still be under cover.

But he wasn't going to give in any longer. He was sick of hiding and 
running. The fact that they'd gotten the Consortium to leave them 
alone for the time being had boosted his confidence that they could 
have a normal life after all.

Or as normal a life as they could have working the X-Files, he thought 
with a grin.

"I'm tired of hiding Dana. If we don't stop now, when will we? Will we 
have to live a lie for the rest of our lives? Keep our engagement, our 
marriage secret until we retire from the Bureau?" he remarked 
agitatedly, some of his pent-up frustration showing in his tone. "I know 
we can't exactly be 'up front' about this whole thing, but I am *not* 
going to not tell your mom, and I'm sure as hell not going to lie to her 
about it."

Truthfully she knew he wouldn't accept her offer, but she had to give 
him the chance. Token, though it may have been, she felt better by 
giving him the chance to change his mind.

"Alright Mulder, then I guess we're going to find out how much mom 
really thinks of you," she remarked off-handedly, jokingly. "She has 
been hounding me about getting you settled down you know . . ."

He gaped. Scully couldn't believe it, but there he was, Fox Mulder 
gaping in astonishment at her words. Of course the fact that she'd just 
thrown him a slight curve certainly had helped. She let an ear to ear, 
stunning grin split her face, and waited until he realized that she was 
joking with him.

It took a few minutes, but when he'd figured it out, he could only 
shake his head in amusement.

"Dana Katherine Scully, you are a wicked woman," he admonished, 
but without any real anger behind his words.

She simply raised her brow, and fought the smile down and returned 
to her normal enigmatic look. He still marveled at the way she could 
do that.

It wasn't long until Margaret Scully's home appeared in the distance, 
looking like nothing more than a home away from home. As Mulder 
pulled into the drive, they noticed the curtain move in the front 
window, and Scully was sure that her mom had been waiting on them. 
Getting out of the car, Dana reached over and took Mulder's hand, 
squeezing it tight in an effort to reassure him.

Margaret Scully had the front door open by the time they stepped on 
the porch. All it took her was one look at the couple with their hands 
clasped tightly together to put everything together.

"So, have you decided on a church wedding or eloping?" she asked 
smiling before reaching out and hugging them both in a huge way.

Caught in her mom's embrace, Scully looked behind Margaret's back 
and locked her gaze with Mulder's.

It wasn't until Maggie let them loose, and headed inside, letting them 
wander dazedly in that Scully leaned over to Mulder and whispered, 
"See, I told you she was trying to marry me off to you."

He couldn't help but grin, and laid an arm around her shoulder as they 
walked through the door of what was now *their* family home.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Monday morning found Scully and Mulder making their way through 
the lobby and heading to the elevator.

Anxious to get downstairs, she crossed her arms over her chest in 
impatience. Glancing over, Mulder noted her posture and stifled a 
grin. Then he noticed that her ring had twisted and was pressing into 
her hand and reached over to right it.

As he did, she gave him a little appreciative smile, then looked down 
at the new piece of jewelry.

Unfortunately, so did someone else.

From behind, Agent Tom Colton approached and sized up the scene. 
Deciding to take advantage of the situation, he insinuated himself into 
the space between the partners.

"Hello Dana, Mulder," he remarked off handedly, the contempt he had 
for them 'both' now evident in his tone. "What's this? An engagement 
ring? I didn't realize you had time for a social life while you're out 
searching for little *gray* men Dana."

Scully just glared at him while Mulder took a step forward, ready to 
deck Colton if he stepped over the line with his remarks.

"Unless of course," Colton continued, looking over at Mulder's 
advancing, protective form, "you decided to become 'Mrs. Spooky' for 
real. Nah, even you couldn't be stupid enough to risk your 
non-existent future with the Bureau for screwing your partner . . ."

Throwing a paralyzing look at Mulder's angered face Scully donned 
her best professional, impassive mask and looked straight at Colton. 
The only thing betraying her calm was the fury blazing in her eyes. 
Behind them the elevator ding alerted them to the car's arrival. As the 
doors opened, she and Mulder walked in, and she glanced back at 
Colton.

"Go to hell," she said calmly before the doors closed. But she saw the 
shocked look on his face before they shut completely.

Within the elevator's confines, Mulder turned to watch Scully rest up 
against the wall of the elevator car and tip her head towards the 
ceiling. Her breath was a bit ragged, and if he hadn't been looking for 
it, he would have missed its significance altogether.

They'd just suffered a personal insult by none other than that bastard 
Tom Colton, and she knew that this little incident wasn't going to be 
the end of it. If she knew Colton like she was sure she did, the matter 
was far from being dropped.

When the elevator doors opened, she returned her gaze to level, and 
noticed Mulder's concern. Waving him off, she proceeded out and he 
followed her down the hallway to their office. As her heels tapped 
lightly and his soft soled loafers scuffed the tile, Dana Scully had the 
feeling that this was going to be the last time they walked down this 
corridor like this for a long time.

It wasn't more than half an hour later that her feeling rang true. 
Literally. As Mulder was beginning to schedule a trip to investigate a 
possible abduction in Detroit, Scully's phone rang. She picked it up to 
find Skinner's Administrative Assistant on the other end of the line, 
requesting their presence in his office. Immediately.

After she hung up, she gave him a long look, as if memorizing the 
moment.

"Skinner wants to see us. Now," she informed him, the tone of her 
voice denoting the perceived seriousness of the situation.

-------X-----X-----X-------

"Come in," announced Skinner's voice from the other side of the door.

With a bolstering look of encouragement shot between them, Mulder 
and Scully opened the door and made their way into the A.D.'s office. 
One look at his face told them they weren't going to like this. As usual, 
they took their appointed seats and waited to see what Skinner had 
on his mind.

"Agent Scully, may I see your hands please?" Skinner commented 
almost conversationally.

Giving Mulder a little concerned side-glance, she placed her hands, 
palms up on the edge of the desk. Then she met Skinner's eyes. With 
an immense feeling of shame she turned them over, revealing the 
opal and diamond ring. The sigh that escaped from Skinner's chest 
nearly rattled the pictures on the wall.

"You two couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" he asked in a 
tone that could only be described as a combination of exasperation 
and mirth. "It was bad enough when Mulder's place burned down that 
the rumors were flying about him living at your apartment. Then the 
whole 'house' situation, which I know shouldn't be an issue, since only 
Mulder signed the lease, and Scully's apartment is still in her name for 
a while. But with no furniture in it! And now . . . now I have Agent 
Colton informing Internal Affairs that two of my agents are having an 
affair without my knowledge, because he saw that ring."

"I'm sorry sir. We didn't realize what an awkward position this would 
put you in," Mulder informed him, genuinely sounding regretful.

"Well it's too late for that now Agent Mulder. Until I can settle down IA, 
you're hereby being reassigned to different divisions. Mulder, you'll 
remain with the X-Files, however I may end up temporarily assigning 
you a new partner. Scully will go to the Violent Crimes Section, as 
they're in need of some top-notch pathologists. That's it," he explained 
in a tone that brooked no discussion.

They looked at each other in helplessness. Then with a wave of his 
hand, Skinner dismissed them, returning his attention to the reports 
on his desk. Knowing that fighting their reassignments now would do 
no good, they simply got up and made their way out.

-------X-----X-----X-------

"It won't be forever Mulder," Scully reassured him as she put together 
some of her things from the desk she'd claimed as her own in the 
basement office. "As soon as Skinner gets this all squared away, it'll 
be business as usual."

Looking over her shoulder, she found that Mulder had moved from 
where he'd been standing behind her to sitting at his desk. His fingers 
were steepled before him, and his brow was creased in concentration. 
A frown was evident and his eyes flickered between his hands and 
her movements.

"Maybe not," he mumbled distractedly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you were supposed to shut me down when you got assigned 
down here. But you ended up believing in the work. Maybe They'll see 
this as the perfect opportunity to kill the X-Files, because what a 
better way to do that then by taking away my most valuable asset."

She couldn't help but color slightly at his statement. Not only had he 
acknowledged her dedication to "their" cause, but also he'd praised 
her importance to the work, and to him. Plus the way he'd said "asset" 
had made her spine tingle. No double entendre there she thought with 
some humor.

"Fox," she said deliberately, making him raise an eyebrow at her, in 
perfect imitation of her own gesture. "They didn't do this. That 
loudmouth Colton did. And when Skinner slams him and the review 
board about it, I'll be back. You just have to keep things running down 
here until then."

"Now you're being too trusting of Skinner," Mulder commented, 
thinking back to New York and her reluctance to trust in Skinner's 
leniency for their skipping off on "vacation". "I'm not so sure he's going 
to be able to get us back together . . ."

"If there ever was a time I needed your faith in something, it's now," 
she said softly, her eyes speaking to his the volumes of things that 
she couldn't put into words.

Her meaning hit him hard, and made his heart ache. She was right, he 
did need to have faith, to believe that this would all work out. But he 
knew the seriousness of the situation they were in. If things couldn't 
be resolved . . .

"It doesn't have anything to do with faith Dana," Mulder said in a low, 
almost regretful tone and putting every emotion he had into his gaze. 
"It has to do with reality, which you've accused me of not living in too 
often for me to recount. Now you want me to believe?"

She felt the blood rush from her face and simply stared at him. One of 
the multitude of reasons she loved this man had to do with the fact 
that he wasn't afraid to believe. Not like her. And now he was giving 
up, expecting the worst. It was as if the Mulder she knew and loved 
was being replaced by this imposter. One who couldn't *believe*. She 
had to put a stop to it now. Had to give him his faith back before he 
went beyond the point of no return.

"After all this time, you seriously think they could tear us apart?" she 
said determinedly, every ounce of her determination in her words. "I 
doubt that very much."

There was a thick silence that surrounded them both, and just the 
slightest lopsided grin appeared on Mulder's face. He'd remembered 
with her words how he'd begun to rely on her as his strength. Even 
when she didn't agree with him, she'd kept him going. And now she 
was doing it again. Scully looked at the lightening of his expression. 
There was just enough of a grin on his face to give her hope that he'd 
pulled himself up out of his disbelief.

"Remember, 'consults', ok?!" she pushed, then with an armload of 
stuff turned for the door.

Suddenly Mulder jumped up from his seat and raced to her side. 
Placing a light kiss on her lips, he then leaned over to whisper by her 
ear, "I love you. And I'll see you after work."

She gave him a half smile and then headed out towards the elevators. 
Mulder watched her from the door until she was out of sight. It was 
only then that he let himself wonder if they would ever share this 
office, *their* office again.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Colton had finally gotten his revenge, Mulder thought angrily as he 
turned away from the door and went to sit at his desk in the now very 
empty basement office.

Scully had tried to bolster his faith before she'd left. To make sure he 
was in a halfway decent mood, but with her departure, the depression 
and dark thoughts had settled on him like a thundercloud.

Mulder was angry at Colton, but also at himself. He'd known that the 
bastard would get back at him and Scully for the Tooms case, but he 
was as responsible for this as Colton. If he hadn't asked Dana to 
marry him, hadn't given her that engagement ring, none of this would 
have happened. And now they were apart professionally and together 
personally. Somehow it just didn't seem like they could have both for 
any period of time before someone came along and took it away from 
them. But he had never thought the instrument of their destruction 
would come in the form of Colton's vindictiveness and a Bureau 
review boards. Deep down he'd always expected more from Colton in 
regards to creativity.

Of course, that was probably asking too much of the pompous, 
egotistical agent. It still pissed him off that Colton's actions so many 
years ago had almost caused Dana's death. Because that ass had 
pulled the stakeout and not properly informed him, Scully had been 
home alone when Tooms had come for her. Luckily he'd gotten there 
in time and saved her. The insults Colton had thrown at him, the nasty 
behavior . . . none of it would have mattered to him. He had gotten 
used to it. But his disregard for Scully and the deadly chain of events 
the cancellation of his stakeout had caused was more than Mulder 
could forgive. Or forget.

But he knew that Scully was right about one thing. Right now he had 
to focus his attention on his work, and keep going out on cases. Keep 
looking for the truth. He couldn't let her reassignment kill the X-Files, 
or when this whole thing got sorted out, there would be no X-Files for 
Scully to come back to.

With that, Mulder attacked the stack of files on his desk, looking for a 
possible case. One that maybe he could handle by himself. Or at least 
with a partner other than Dana Scully. And as he searched through 
the files and reports, he soon found that there wasn't anything that he 
*wanted* to investigate without her.

With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. It 
was going to be a long day he realized. Then, putting on his glasses, 
he started back on the files.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Scully sighed tiredly as she re-established her desk in the pathology 
lab. It was probably going to be a month at the least of gunshot 
wounds and overdoses rather than the challenges she had with the 
X-Files. Where else would she get mummified bodies preserved in 
cocoons or bodies that putrefied into slush?

Damn Colton and his prying she thought angrily as she sorted through 
the stack of cases one of the other pathologists had passed on to her. 
Yet she couldn't help but be glad about this. If she could have picked 
anyone to bring "their" relationship to the attention of the Bureau, she 
would have chosen Colton.

Since his behavior during their simultaneous investigation in the 
Tooms affair, his accusations against them might be viewed as deeply 
rooted bitterness for having lost the prestige of solving the case and 
capturing the suspect. Even if Mulder's reputation and service record 
were pretty much trashed, her word along with his and Skinner's 
should blow Colton away. And once they'd defended themselves 
against this accusation, they would be safe for a while, if not 
indefinitely.

That one small thing gave her hope. All she could do now was pray 
that the whole thing wouldn't drag out. And that with Skinner's help 
they might be back together again soon, rather than being 
permanently split up.

With that thought tantamount in her mind, she settled in, sitting down 
with the first file and got to work. Five O'clock would not be too soon 
in coming today.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Driving home that evening, Mulder glanced a couple of times at 
Scully's quiet form. She was staring off out the window; her eyes not 
really focused on anything. But what concerned him the most was her 
obsessive, unconscious fiddling with her ring. The engagement ring. 
Which was what had caused this whole mess in the first place.

It was obvious that she wasn't happy about the transfer, even if it was 
supposed to be only temporary. Hell, he wasn't either. He didn't need 
to be a trained Oxford psychologist to figure out what was bothering 
her. Yet the nervous ring moving worried him deeply. It seemed . . . 
well, it seemed like she wanted it off.

Reaching over with one hand, he caught and held both of hers, stilling 
them. She threw him a questioning look and then glanced down at her 
hands covered by his.

There were times she envied him and his intuitiveness into her 
behavior. Must be those psychology classes in college she thought 
wryly. She hadn't noticed her twisting the ring, as lost in thought as 
she was. But he hadn't missed it, and had deduced her concerns 
manifesting themselves in the nervous habit.

As the day had worn on, and she'd gone over case after case, her 
trust and faith had been steadily worn down. By the time she and 
Mulder had left the Bureau that evening, her mind had been 
considering the logical alternatives that they could take that would put 
them back together professionally.

"I was thinking . . ." Scully began, trying to think of the kindest way to 
say it.

"About not wearing it," Mulder finished for her, giving her a caring 
gaze. "Because you think it would make things easier. That if we go 
back into hiding it would protect the partnership."

"You're the one who suggested quitting the Bureau before you let 
them split us up again. And now that its happened and I'm trying to 
save us, you don't want me to?"

"Like you said earlier Scully, it's only a temporary reassignment. 
Skinner promised he'd help us when we first got together. Let's give 
him a little time to see what he can do before we do something we 
can't take back."

There was something in the way he said it that made her believe. 
Maybe it was the fact that he'd been so doubtful about their chances 
of being partners again when she'd last seen him. She didn't know 
what had happened to him while they'd been apart, how he'd pulled 
himself back up. All she knew was that Fox Mulder had his faith back. 
And with his faith, she found that her faith was back too.

-------X-----X-----X-------

They'd been separated professionally for a week before Mulder 
started to wonder what they were going to do to him while she was 
gone. Skinner hadn't said it directly, but he knew that they wouldn't let 
him go on indefinitely by himself.

He had to admit that the fact that he got to go home with Scully at the 
end of each day consoled him a little at their professional split up. 
Dinner conversation had become a chance to catch each other up on 
what they'd done during the day. Just like other couples did. But then, 
they never had been like other couples. So while it was nice, Mulder 
still held tight to the belief that this was still just a temporary situation, 
and that soon Scully would be back where she belonged. Both in their 
office and in their home.

Thoughts of her back in their basement office filled his mind. Soon it 
had wandered from the original, platonic images to some of his more 
imaginative thoughts about his partner . . .

Suddenly there was a knock on the door to Mulder's basement office, 
snapping him out of his favorite daydream about a lingerie clad Scully 
*and* his desk. Wiping his weary eyes, he closed the case folder that 
had failed to keep his attention and looked to the door.

"Come in," he announced distractedly.

At that the door swung open to reveal a thirty something agent, 
dressed in the conservative attire of the Bureau. Suddenly it was very 
clear to him what was going on, and he groaned lightly.

A new partner.

"Agent Mulder? I'm Tom Harris. I've been assigned to work with you," 
Harris stated, walking in to face the infamous Agent Fox Mulder.

Mulder couldn't help but smother a full out laugh. It seemed like just 
days ago when another young agent walked through those doors, 
spouting the same phrase. Except now, years later she was his lover 
and fiancé. And she was also not his partner anymore. She was in 
another department, awaiting the outcome of the hearing Skinner was 
trying to dismiss. But right now though, he had this agent whom he 
couldn't help but not trust.

"So Agent Harris, do you believe in government conspiracies?" 
Mulder asked with his best sarcastic tone.

"You mean how it always seems like they take more taxes out of my 
paycheck than I get as take-home, and then the government claims 
they don't have enough money to spend on social programs? Or are 
you talking about things like the CIA dealing drugs in Los Angeles to 
make some extra cash?" Harris remarked casually, but with a 
lightness to his voice.

Mulder looked at the man with some surprise. He was late twenties, 
average build, and his blonde FBI haircut showing the early receding 
hairline. Bright blue eyes shone from behind glasses. They were 
almost Scully's shade, but cloudier. But the one thing that impressed 
him was how he hadn't backed down or gotten defensive at his earlier 
comment. There seemed to be something about him . . .

"Agent Harris, who assigned you down here?"

"Assistant Director Skinner. He and my father were friends in 
Vietnam, and he got me temporarily reassigned to the X-Files. He 
said that you needed someone down here you could *trust*."

At that Mulder couldn't help but let a little lopsided grin break loose. 
Knowing that without Scully, and after Krycek he'd be more than a 
little suspicious of a new agent, Skinner had chosen his buddy's son 
to temporarily work the X-Files. A definite attempt to make the time go 
by easier, and keep Mulder from fouling up like he usually did, and get 
the X-Files closed before Scully could come back.

"Yeah, I do need someone I can trust. So Agent Harris, what's your 
background?" Mulder asked, waving the man to a chair. He sat and 
got ready to hear the kid's undoubtedly impressive list of credentials.

"Magna cum Laude at San Francisco University, with a Bachelors in 
Sociology. I joined the Bureau after that, graduating with special 
training in cryptography. I've spent the last two years in the Chicago 
Bureau office doing White Collar Crime detail, but have been in on a 
few VCS assignments in the last year," Harris explained, his laundry 
list seeming to impress him less than it did Mulder.

"So, why'd you take the assignment to the X-Files? It definitely won't 
help you up the ladder of success around here," Mulder questioned, 
still curious what the kid was doing down there.

"You get the unsolvable cases, don't you?" Harris shot back, 
decidedly more adversarial than he'd been so far.

"The paranormal and unsolvable. But yes, that's what we deal with 
here. But I should warn you that if you stay down here for any length 
of time, you're going to see some strange things."

"Spooky perhaps?"

Mulder was surprised in the way Harris had said "it". He'd gotten used 
to hearing the new recruits spout off tales they'd heard of "Spooky" 
Mulder and his X-Files. But Harris had said it as if he was interested 
in knowing if the rumors about the types of cases were true.

"No, more on the lines of bone marrow horrifying. It's not a pretty 
assignment," Mulder pointed out truthfully. There were times that he 
wished he'd been as forthcoming with Scully when she'd started. 
Maybe if he had, she might never have been abducted . . . For a 
minute Mulder was lost in his memories of working the X-Files alone 
while searching for Scully, until Harris' voice cut through the haze.

"I know. I like the tough solve. Loved playing Clue as a kid and grew 
up wanting to do the deduction work, you might say. And I've seen my 
fair share of shocking and scary stuff. I can handle it."

Harris knew he was going to have to convince Mulder that he 
belonged here, even if only temporarily. The fact that Skinner had 
been able to push through the transfer paperwork in two days had 
surprised him. Then when he'd been briefed, he realized just how 
important the division and the work really was. And how badly Mulder 
needed someone he could depend on. Even if it wasn't the person he 
*wanted* to depend on.

"Alright Harris," Mulder said, relenting to the enthusiasm of the 
youthful agent. Then he glanced at his watch, noting the time. "Hey, 
it's almost lunch time. What do you say I introduce you to what is 
normally the other half of the team? Figure you should see what 
you've got to live up to."

Harris smiled, and Mulder couldn't help but grin. Picking up the phone, 
Mulder dialed a quick number and waited until that melodious voice 
answered the other end.

"Scully."

"Hey there," Mulder said sweetly, knowing that on the other end she 
would be fighting the grin his call caused these days. "Up to some 
lunch? I've got someone I want to introduce you to."

There was a long pause before she spoke again.

"He finally did it, didn't he?" Scully said, knowing what Mulder was 
referring to without him actually saying it. Skinner had assigned him a 
new partner. Now all she had to do was hope that it wasn't another 
Alex Krycek. Or a Phoebe Green.

"It's ok Scully. We'll meet you upstairs, alright?" said, trying to 
reassure her over the phone. There were times that he hated not 
being in the same room with her, just because the unspoken 
connection they had was easier to communicate with than words.

"Sure Mulder. I'll be waiting."

Hanging up at her end, Scully started to get her purse to meet Mulder 
and the mystery agent. And she wondered just how ok things really 
could be when it seemed that the Bureau was putting all the pieces 
together to split them up forever.


Part VIII - Justifying Visions


By the time Mulder and Harris had made their way up to the lobby, 
Scully had been waiting for at least five minutes and was nervously 
tapping her foot.

The fact that she seemed to be a unique curiosity, being stared at by 
every single Bureau department staff member passing by was doing 
nothing to calm her nerves. Plus there was the situation with Mulder's 
new partner.

The idea of someone else covering his back, arguing theories and 
sharing his time like she usually did twisted her stomach. In the years 
that they'd been partnered, she'd gotten quite used to playing those 
roles. The fact that Mulder seemed genuinely all right with her 
"replacement" also worried her. Memories of Krycek and his betrayal 
formed and replayed themselves in her head with the idea of it all.

"Hey Scully," said Mulder's voice from behind her.

She spun around to find her ex-partner and current fiancé along with 
another agent standing there. At the sight of his lopsided grin, she 
felt her heart leap in her chest and had to restrain herself from 
smiling in return. God, she thought, even after all this time he can 
have that effect on me.

"Dr. Dana Scully, Tom Harris," Mulder said as he introduced them, 
Scully taking the hand Harris had offered.

"It's good to meet you Agent Scully," Harris said, sounding sincere.

"And you Agent Harris," she replied, shaking his hand firmly.

In that brief moment they sized one another up. On Scully's part, she 
looked over the younger agent and assessed his age, background 
and probable reasons for choosing the FBI as a career. Harris looked 
over the petite redhead with the blazing blue eyes and saw exactly 
what captivated his new partner so much about his former partner. 
But beneath he could see the force of will, dedication to her job and 
others. And he suddenly knew that Dana Scully was *definitely* going 
to be a tough act to follow.

"Shall we go to lunch?" asked Mulder, who had been watching 
closely the instant assessment being made of each other by Scully 
and Harris.

"Sounds like a good idea," Scully remarked as she headed for the 
door.

Mulder was beside her in a second, his hand automatically finding its' 
place at the small of her back. She nearly sped up, knowing that if 
she did the connection would be broken and the whispers would die 
down a bit more. Except that she found Mulder wasn't going to let her 
distance herself from him like that: physically or mentally.

At the same time, she could almost sense Harris coming up along 
side them. Allowing herself a little sideways glance, she could see 
that he was walking behind them, his angle shielding the view of 
Mulder's hand at her back. Without wanting to, she felt a little better 
about this new partner of Mulder's. But it still wasn't enough to 
remove the dark cloud of concern looming over her.

This was really the first step to getting them permanently split up, she 
knew, and for his witting or unwitting part in the whole thing, Scully 
couldn't help but dislike Harris a bit.

Mulder headed them all to his car and they piled in, Harris 
instinctively taking the back seat. It didn't take long to get to the diner 
Mulder had chosen. After he'd parked and they entered the 
restaurant they found a table and sat down.

Scully snuck a peek at Harris instead of looking at the menu she 
knew by heart. She had a bunch of questions buzzing around in her 
head, but she didn't know where to even start. And the fact that 
Mulder was being so accepting . . . It confused her. She'd expected 
him to be pissed off at having been stuck with someone, not inviting 
him to lunch.

Harris caught her glancing his way and she ducked back behind her 
menu for a second, then placed it defiantly down. Mulder felt the 
tension change around him and looked up to see Scully and Harris 
"facing off".

"So, who did you tick off to get this detail Agent Harris?" she asked 
pointedly.

"Same people as you, I'd assume," Harris replied calmly.

Mulder watched as one of Scully's eyebrows raised, and he wanted 
desperately to warn Harris of the impending doom about to come his 
way. Except before she could launch her offensive, Harris spoke up.

"Seems that my dad's buddy, A.D. Skinner, felt that Agent Mulder 
could use a hand. And I'd been looking for a field assignment with 
some investigative 'challenges'," he commented, flashing her a 
boyish grin that reminded her of Mulder.

"Skinner assigned you?" she nearly stuttered, then threw a accusing 
glance at Mulder for not mentioning that to her. He simply gave her 
his sheepish 'sorry Scully' look before she returned to Harris. "Well 
then, I guess that explains everything."

Both Mulder and Harris looked to see if she was going to say 
anything more, but she didn't. After the waitress had come by and 
taken their order, and she didn't pursue the line of questioning again 
during lunch. They discussed other things, but not Harris' 
assignment. Her shoulders sagged a little as she ate and contributed 
to the conversation, but Mulder could tell she just wasn't into it.

Something about Harris was really bothering her, and Mulder wasn't 
sure exactly what it was. But he was determined to find out.

-------X-----X-----X-------

There had been silence in the car for the most part that evening on 
the way back to their townhouse. Scully had volunteered to drive 
them home, and he'd acquiesced. He figured that the little control she 
got from that would help her state of mind. The introduction of a new 
partner into the X-Files was more than just an inconvenience. It was 
a symbol of the fact that they *could* really be separated 
professionally.

Lunch had gone well for the most part, except for Scully's antipathy 
towards Harris. When they'd had to go their separate ways 
afterwards, Harris had discreetly said he'd meet Mulder downstairs. 
Mulder had then proceeded to give Scully a light but promising kiss in 
the empty corridor before they parted. But he knew that the issue of 
his new partner wasn't over. In fact, he'd been waiting for her to say 
something in the car, but had gotten nothing.

Scully swung by a nearby pizza place and Mulder had gone in and 
come back out with "dinner" for the night. Since she let him choose 
what was on the pizza, he knew that there was something wrong. 
Usually they'd debate about toppings, but there was no such 
discussion tonight.

They came in the house and went about changing out of their FBI 
uniforms and then sat down to eat dinner as if on auto-pilot. The 
pizza was finished without the matter of the newest member of the 
X-Files being brought up, but Mulder knew that things were far from 
being ok. Scully was bothered by the whole thing, but wasn't saying 
anything.

It was her typical "I'm fine Mulder" act, except he had yet to hear her 
say the words associated with it. And the only way he knew to get 
her to talk was to ask her straight out.

"So, what did you think of Harris?" Mulder asked as he tossed the 
paper plates they'd eaten dinner off of into the trash with the pizza 
box.

Pausing, Scully tried to gather her thoughts into some cohesive form 
before she tried to give voice to them. Hell, how was she supposed 
to identify one opinion about the man while she had so many 
conflicting emotions and feelings about him. About his assignment to 
the X-Files . . .

"Pretty green Mulder. I mean, how many times do you think he's 
actually pulled his service weapon?" she commented dryly, rinsing 
out their glasses in the sink.

"Oh come on Scully. I seem to remember a really *green* agent that 
walked in my door over three years ago . . ."

Tossing him a look, she returned to the glasses. She had been taking 
her time with rinsing them, knowing that as soon as she was done 
there was going to be no more avoiding the subject of the partnership 
any longer. She set the glasses on the drainer to dry when he 
verbally blind sided her.

"Would you rather it have been a Bambi look-alike?"

That got her attention, and she turned her head to regard him. He 
stood there, arms crossed against his chest, leaning in the 
doorframe. And the look on his face told her that he *knew* 
something was up with her.

To tell the truth, she didn't know what she would rather have: Another 
traitorous spy, a leggy blonde bombshell, or a partner Mulder actually 
liked and was beginning to trust.

Suddenly she realized that the last one was what she feared the 
most. Because if he could learn to be partners with Harris, and the 
review board confirmed their separation, she could be left out in the 
cold. Stuck in VCS doing routine autopsies till she retired. And no 
more X-Files.

"No," she admitted quietly, moving away from the sink. She then 
walked past him and into the living room, sitting heavily on the couch. 
Staring at the empty fireplace, she was lost in thought until Mulder 
joined her.

"What is it?" Mulder started, coming in to sit beside her.

Of all the reactions he'd seen on Scully, this was a new one on him. 
He'd seen a lot of sides to Dana Scully, but this . . . it just seemed to 
be so silly to be so bent out of shape because Skinner had replaced 
her. Then with a sudden revelation understood what her concern 
was.

God, I'm so stupid, he berated himself mentally. He'd just blissfully 
gone about things, happy that he had someone on the X-Files that he 
wouldn't have to be looking over his shoulder at that he'd missed her 
reaction. That she felt like there wouldn't be anyplace to come back 
*to* if Harris worked out.

"Dana, he's not replacing you," he said carefully, running his fingers 
along her cheek. "You're the one who told me this was only 
temporary, and I believe that. I'll never trust him the way I do you. We 
*are* going to be back in the field together. I know that as sure as 
I've ever believed in anything."

She glanced over at him with a look that told him that she'd believe it 
when she saw it. Just like always. Proof was a vital piece to her 
believing in their being professionally reunited. And his nearly instant 
acceptance of Harris had just made her fears even more 
pronounced. He could read it in her eyes.

"I need you to *trust* in this Dana. I *know* we'll be partners again 
soon," he reassured her with a tentative smile.

Gazing into his hazel eyes, she saw that he meant every word. 
Believed them. And she couldn't fight that. She didn't want to. So she 
let her concerns die down, and nodded her acceptance of his 
assurances. He pulled her close into his embrace and they sat there, 
just appreciating that they had *this* at least, for right now. And that 
they would never be completely separated ever again.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Mulder had been dreading the phone ringing in his basement office 
every day for a week.

When it finally did, it was no surprise. He had expected that it 
wouldn't be long before they assigned him a case after his new 
partner Harris had arrived.

He was concerned as to how Scully was going to react when she 
found out that he was going on an assignment out of state, and didn't 
know when they'd wrap it up. Part if him was concerned about 
leaving her, D.C., everything. While he was gone, who knew what 
could happen. Even though the Consortium had kept their promise, 
there were no real guarantees as to their safety.

Another part of him was worried for himself. The fact that he was 
going out there with an agent he really didn't know did nothing to 
boost his self-confidence. He'd learned to depend on Scully; knew 
she'd come to his rescue, cover his back. Now he had to expect and 
trust that Harris could do the same.

Yeah, right Mulder, he told himself. You might as well wait for a UFO 
to land on the White House and prove that little gray men exist.

But overall, he was thinking that he was glad she wasn't going with 
him on this one. The case was back in Minnesota, and he knew what 
memories that place brought back for him . . . Pfaster and her 
last-minute rescue in that house. He knew that she'd remember the 
same thing, and he was almost happy that she wasn't going to be 
with him just so she wouldn't have to go through it. At the thought, his 
old friend "guilt" started creeping in and he wondered what he could 
do to ease the situation of his leaving her behind, just like his 
"ditching" her back in the old days.

Scully had been called in early for a pathology consult so they'd had 
to take separate cars in today. So as Mulder drove home, he had an 
inspiration. He stopped at a florist shop near the house, choosing a 
dozen white roses and some violet heather stocks and had them 
wrapped up. By the time he got in the door, Scully had obviously had 
some time to kill, and had changed out of her work clothes and was 
just heading for the kitchen from upstairs. She heard the door and 
looked down to find him walking in, looking like a rumpled GQ poster 
boy with the bouquet of flowers in hand. When she made her way to 
the entryway, he held out the floral token.

"These are for you," Mulder announced with a broad grin.

Giving him a smile in return, Scully took the flowers from him. She 
turned and headed into the kitchen, laid the flowers on the counter 
and then went hunting for a vase. After a few minutes, she came 
back to the sink, all the while feeling Mulder's eyes watching her. And 
she knew what he was looking for. So she gave him the next best 
thing.

"When are you leaving?" Scully asked calmly, running water into the 
vase.

"Tomorrow morning," Mulder replied, wrapping his arms around her 
waist. Then with a jolt of surprise he caught on. "How'd you know I 
was leaving?"

She turned in his arms, hands full of roses and heather and looked at 
him seriously. Then she stifled a laugh and averted her gaze. Before 
he could ask her what was so funny, she glanced back up and told 
him.

"Mulder, you have never, I repeat *never* bought me flowers before. 
So when you walked in with this huge bouquet, I knew it was in 
apology for something you were about to do."

"Am I that obvious?" he asked jokingly, his sheepish look emerging 
on his face.

"Only to me," she said with a breathy tone to her voice with enough 
of a drop in the pitch to send goose bumps down Mulder's spine.

That and the intense heat that was burning for him in her eyes had 
his body and emotions edging for overdrive. There had been days 
that he had never believed that any woman would ever look at him 
like that. Even more years when he secretly wished that Dana Scully 
would look at him like that. And now, she was doing just that, and he 
realized that against the fire that was there, he had never stood a 
chance against those eyes of hers. He'd been lost that first day.

"So, where are you and Harris off to?" she asked lightly, breaking the 
gaze and returning to the liquid filled vase. With a quick release of 
her fingers, the flowers dropped right in.

She felt him tense up and there was a long pause, and she wondered 
why. They didn't keep secrets. Especially not since Chilmark. It 
hadn't been a 'written' rule, but they'd made it a point not to keep 
things from one another. But Mulder wasn't telling her something. Or 
he was considering not telling her.

"Minnesota."

She froze.

For a second, images and memories of running through that house, 
trying to escape Donnie Pfaster's clutches assaulted her mind. The 
ropes and the duct tape; the bathtub and shampoo; the mad race for 
the door; the struggle at the bottom of the stairs before Mulder 
stormed in. She closed her eyes tight and ruthlessly slammed the 
door shut on those memories. She forced herself to relax, knowing 
that Mulder was right there and had more than likely taken note of 
her rigid posture and was about to ask if she was alright. So she beat 
him to it.

"I'm fine Mulder. I . . . I was just remembering for a minute. But it's ok. 
It's in the past."

Mulder pulled her tighter and watched her carefully. He knew that she 
had dealt with the aftermath of that night, but he still worried. Some 
scars just never fully healed. Hell, he should know. He had more than 
his fair share of them on his psyche and soul. And a lot of them were 
because of the pain this woman that he loved and cherished had 
gone through because of him.

"You know, I think we should do something to take your mind of the 
situation," he said lowly, a hint of a hidden meaning in his words and 
tone.

She couldn't help but grin.

"I think that would be precisely what the doctor ordered," she 
murmured before he leaned over and kissed her neck.

In one swift move, he turned her around and grabbed her, lifting her 
up in his arms. She chuckled a little at his impetuousness. Then he 
was walking for the stairs and up to their bedroom.

"You know Mulder, maybe we should set up a bedroom downstairs?" 
she commented between kisses as he rounded the corner and 
stepped into their bedroom.

Laying her gently on the bed, he gazed at her hungrily. He was going 
to have to be without her for who knew how long, and he wanted to 
leave for Minnesota with something to keep in his head to replay and 
in his heart to hold onto.

"What's the fun in that Scully?" he replied, then joined her on the bed,

"What about dinner?" she got out as his lips trailed along her throat.

"Oh, I know what I want for dinner," he murmured against her skin as 
his fingers reached up and under her shirt. "And Dr. Dana Scully's on 
the menu."

She moaned a little at the feel of his exploring hands and decided 
that they could have "dessert" first.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Mulder and Harris had caught their flight to Minneapolis and were 
now on their way to meet with the agent in charge of the case. While 
Mulder drove their rental car to the Bureau's branch office downtown, 
he thought about everything that had happened in the last few 
weeks.

First and foremost was the engagement.

He'd been so pleased that she'd liked the ring. That she'd said yes, 
without trying to make him reconsider the consequences of his 
asking, of their getting married. The fact that Margaret Scully had 
been ecstatic about it helped too. Now all they had to do was find the 
time to get married.

Then there was the reassignment.

Even knowing that Scully was going to be with him after work, it just 
wasn't the same. There were no glances across the basement, or 
raised eyebrows at his crazy ideas. No, things were definitely not the 
same without her. And now, with this total separation, it hadn't taken 
too long for the loneliness and isolation he'd felt "before" her settled 
in again.

Glancing beside him, Mulder noted his new partner, no "temporary" 
partner he corrected, watching the speeding landscape with some 
wonder. It wasn't like having Scully with him. Even when she was 
brand new there had been friction. But Harris and he had chiseled 
out some kind of unspoken understanding on that first day. They both 
knew where they stood with the other, and dealt with things on a 
honest level.

Like at the airport in D.C. earlier. Mulder had just about yelled at the 
younger agent when he'd suggested they attempt a different 
approach on this case. And instead of blowing it off, he'd come back 
at Mulder with a verbally smooth, words-you-need-to-look-up-in-a-
dictionary laden rebuke. His tact was so unusual, Mulder had stood 
there, more stunned than angry. It took a special skill to tell someone 
off and have the recipient of that lecture just sit there in flabbergasted 
shock. But Harris had that. That impressed him. So did his 
willingness to dive into the cases with such enthusiasm. All in all, 
he'd found Harris about as trustworthy as Skinner himself, which was 
saying a lot.

But he would never replace Scully. His heart ached as he thought of 
her going home to an empty bed. One that he usually shared with 
her. God, he loved her. And now all he had to do was solve this case 
so he could get back in time for the IA hearing and get his partner 
back again. In their office and in his arms. Where she belonged.

-------X-----X-----X-------

That night as Mulder lay on his motel bed, television belching out 
basketball scores, he pondered the case files and tried to keep his 
mind off Scully. He was really glad that she wasn't with him on this 
one. The parallels to Pfaster disturbed him. If Scully had been 
there . . . he didn't even want to consider what memories it would 
bring back. Her one minor flashback at the house before he'd left had 
been disturbing enough without her having to feel like she was 
reliving it. God knew he felt like he was.

On the other side of the wall, he could hear absolutely nothing. The 
flight and the preliminary investigation earlier that day had knocked 
Harris out. Well, he thought with a sorrowful grimace, at least one of 
us will be able to get some sleep.

The truth was that he hadn't slept alone since the hospital stay, after 
the apartment bombing. And now, well now he realized that sleeping 
in the same bed with Dana, sleeping with her put him to sleep. He 
was actually *sleeping* since they'd been together. The insomnia 
was gone and the nightmares cut to nearly nothing.

Tonight though, he wasn't so sure if he'd be as lucky.

Disgustedly tossing aside another file, he reached for the next when 
the phone in his room rang. Detouring his grab, he picked up the 
phone at the bedside table instead.

"Mulder."

"I'm looking for a *Fox*," whispered a low, sexy female voice on the 
other end of the line. A very familiar sexy voice.

"Scully?!?" he stammered out, surprised at the nature of the call as 
well as her finding them in the field.

There was an exasperated sigh at the other end of the line, and her 
regular tone of voice came back.

"Mulder, this isn't going to work unless you go with me here," she 
said exasperatedly. But he could hear the grin in her voice as well.

"Oh, sorry," he said apologetically, even if he didn't mean it. Where 
his 'puppy dog/I'm sorry Scully' look normally sat, a wicked grin was 
plastered on his face. Except she couldn't see it. But knowing each 
other like they did, he could bet that she knew that it was there.

"Yes, this is *Fox*," he intoned back to her in a husky voice. If she 
was willing to start this, he was more than willing to go along.

"So *Fox*, do you want to know what I'm wearing?" she said whisper 
soft in her best bedroom voice.

His blood pounded in his veins and he gulped down the nearly golf 
ball sized lump in his throat that was choking him. With Dana's little 
seductive comments, he was feeling rather exposed. God, he missed 
her already, and they hadn't even been away for a full day. Well, he 
mused if he couldn't be home *with* her, this was the next best thing.

"Please, tell me Dana," he murmured low, easing back onto the 
mattress.

So as he listened to her voice, letting her weave her spell over him, 
he somehow knew in the back of his mind that somehow he was 
going to sleep tonight.

-------X-----X-----X-------

The smoke wafted into the room before Skinner saw the figure come 
through the extra door. Considering the chess game he had decided 
to play, he was sincerely surprised that he hadn't received a visit 
from the chain smoking manipulator before now.

One cigarette was extinguished in the crystal ashtray that Skinner 
invariably tried to get rid of, but found he needed and another one 
was lit. The older man looked at the AD where he sat behind his 
desk.

"I thought you were assigning Wallace to Mulder," the older man 
asked in a tone that said it was more of an accusation than question.

Skinner knew exactly why They wanted Wallace in the basement. 
For the same reasons they'd originally sent Scully. To shut down the 
X-Files.

He knew that the Consortium had wanted to toss the pretty brunette 
under Mulder's nose, hoping he'd do something to damage his 
relationship with Scully. Yet he'd sent Tom instead. Not because he 
was concerned for Mulder and Scully's relationship. Hell no. The 
bond they had was too strong for anyone to break, but he'd wanted to 
keep the X-Files open and successful. And he'd known that Tom was 
the man for that particular job.

"Wallace is too valuable in her division. Agent Harris was 
transitioning out of a two year assignment, and had put in for a 
change to VCS. So, since the X-Files are under the VCS umbrella, 
and there was an opening there, I sent him."

There was a moment where the two men's eyes met in a battle of 
wills. It only lasted for a moment, but the victor was never really in 
doubt. After Mulder and Scully had challenged the Consortium and 
gained a measure of freedom, Skinner had realized that there were 
new ways to beat the rats back into their holes.

"Besides, Agent Harris is a fine agent. I would have thought that 
Agent Mulder's welfare would be utmost on your mind," Skinner threw 
back, tempting the black lunged bastard to try something, "especially 
after his near-fatal accident at his apartment building."

Silence reigned while Cancerman took a long drag on his cigarette 
and nodded before he slunk out of the room. He didn't like the hand 
that he was having to play now. Since the threat of exposure, the 
Consortium had been simply staying out of it. But, he thought evilly, 
now that the Bureau was investigating them on they're own, the 
threat of Mulder and Scully might still be eliminated.

Once the cloud of putrid smoke left the room, Skinner looked down at 
his calendar. The hearing about Mulder and Scully's fate was in two 
days and he had yet to speak with either of them. They needed to get 
their stories straight; set up a game plan. With Mulder out of town on 
a case with no scheduled return date, that left Scully in pathology for 
him to connect with and begin the process of figuring out how to beat 
the Bureau.

Actually, it was perfect, he thought to himself as he buzzed his 
assistant and told her he was going to be out of the office for a while. 
Then he stood and headed for the door. If anyone had the ability to 
take on the IA board and win, it was her.

Scully was mentally and physically exhausted. She had just finished 
her tenth gangland autopsy for the day. She hated the gunshot 
wounds. Especially when they were perforating the chest cavity of 
five-year-old children. The whole thing just wore on her, making her 
day drag on, letting the tiredness settle in her bones.

Plus, on top of all that, she missed Mulder. He'd called saying that he 
and Harris would be back that evening, but it had been a long 
separation. That and the fact that the issue of the partnership was 
still up in the air hadn't helped her any.

Because she was reaching up to turn off the overhead lighting, she 
missed seeing the door open and a very familiar figure come in.

"Agent Scully?" Skinner said carefully, trying not to disrupt her if she 
was working

She turned suddenly, and Skinner quickly took note of the nearly 
disheveled air about her. There was something to be said about 
when she and Mulder were apart that made him all the more certain 
that they needed to be partnered together.

Of course, the massive amounts of bodies she'd done that day, by 
the looks of the stack of autopsy reports more than attributed to her 
less than perfect appearance.

As he walked a step inside the door, she quickly began to remove 
her scrubs. Irrational fear began to seep into her soul. Why was he 
here? Had something happened to Mulder, she thought. Oh God!

"Sir?" she asked, doing her best to keep her voice level.

"I think it's time to start formulating your battle plan for the Internal 
Affairs hearing."

Scully let out a sigh of relief, and then had a dozen emotions run 
through her in a split second. There was something, a glint of light 
she could only identify as vengeance flicker in Skinner's eyes, she 
couldn't help but smile. That bastard Colton wouldn't know what hit 
him.

With that, she tossed the scrubs into the recycle bin and met him at 
the door. It was time to go on the offensive again. Just like with the 
Consortium. And again, she inwardly knew that when going up 
against her *and* Mulder, no one stood a chance. Not even Colton, 
the I.A. board of review or the entire FBI.

Skinner looked at the petite agent he'd learned to respect and admire 
as her face set in an impassive mask, and her eyes blazed with 
determination. She wasn't going to go down without a fight.

As she walked past him, Skinner glanced heavenward. God help 
them, he thought, because they were going to need it.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Mulder had gotten in late the night before the hearing, the case he 
and Harris had just returned from had practically solved itself, his 
profile helping them track down their suspect easily. Meanwhile his 
partnership with Harris had gone smooth enough, they had worked 
well together in Minnesota . He'd been exhausted when he got home, 
so Scully had practically sent him to bed as soon as he walked 
through the door.

When he woke, he found himself needing to watch Scully. Almost as 
if to reassure himself that they were back together. He'd been at it all 
day, since they'd woken up that morning till the second they sat down 
in the chairs facing the IA board. She had put on one of her most 
serious suits, a black one which left no doubt as to her 
professionalism. Of course, he looked at her and saw his sexy fiancé. 
But that was because he knew she was wearing some of the black 
silk lingerie he'd bought her under it. He smothered a grin at the 
image and tried to put his mind back into the hearing.

Scully considered carefully the plan that she and Skinner had come 
up with as she sat there in the chair. Mulder had been less than 
taken with the idea when she'd informed him of the decision she'd 
reached with Skinner without his consent or input. He didn't want her 
putting herself into a potential mudslinging campaign with Colton, but 
she insisted that she could handle it.

And to tell the truth, Mulder knew she could handle herself. He was 
the one who was going to be more resistant to admitting the truth. 
More because of the fact he didn't want to besmirch Scully's 
reputation. He'd known that all the years they'd worked together the 
gossip about her "sleeping" with "Spooky" Mulder had tainted her 
career, and now that it was real . . . He was really afraid that the 
"Good Ol' Boys Club" would toss her into a hidey hole in Quantico for 
breaking the unwritten commandments.

As the testimony from Colton and his confederates continued, 
Scully's foot restlessly rocked up and down, the black pump darting 
in and out of Mulder's vision. As soon as they called her, he knew 
she was going to be up and running. Bad as he wanted this thing 
resolved, he knew that working pathology for VCS had been driving 
her crazy.

Finally the head of the investigative panel called her name, offering 
her the chance to tell her side of the story. She was up and to the 
seat at the head table before Mulder could blink. She settled in, 
looking very much the perfect FBI agent: calm, professional and 
determined.

Inwardly Mulder prayed for the poor, unsuspecting men on that panel. 
Because he knew that they were in for more than they bargained for. 
Hell had no fury like a Scully scorned, he thought humorously.

"Gentlemen, I would like to address the claims made against myself 
and Agent Mulder. First of all," Scully began in her most professional 
voice. Behind her, Mulder was fighting between being in awe of her 
and grinning like a fool. "Agent Colton alleges that Agent Mulder and 
myself have been carrying on a long time affair. This is not the case, 
and I refute those allegations."

Colton sat on the other side of the room and his eyes widened at her 
words. It was just then that he remembered how deadly Dana Scully 
was in verbal combat. That skill had been hers in the Academy, and 
he'd seen professors brought to their knees by her analytical theories 
and conclusions. Suddenly he was quite afraid that his impetuous 
need to get back at "Spooky" and "The Ice Queen" had been a tragic 
mistake, and his career was going to suffer for it.

"Agent Colton was one of my colleagues, and we went through the 
Academy together. Several months after I was originally assigned to 
the X-Files, Agent Colton asked me, as a favor, to take a look at a 
crime scene for a case he was working on. At that time, I questioned 
him about if he was requesting Agent Mulder become involved, and I 
was informed that this was "his" case, but I could bring Agent Mulder 
with me," Scully explained, recounting the whole case, section by 
section.

As Scully went on with her dialogue, Colton began to squirm in his 
chair. He knew what was coming next, and was beginning to regret 
his rash decision back then. It was ammunition that he never thought 
she would ever have the opportunity to use against him, let alone 
have the desire to do so. But he'd attacked her where she was most 
vulnerable: her career and her partnership with Mulder. And she was 
coming back at him swinging.

"And as Agent Colton informed me that he'd canceled Agent Mulder's 
stakeout, which was not interfering with his investigation, it became 
obvious to me that some levels of jealousy and revenge were being 
played out in his use or abuse of power. His subsequent inability to 
reach Agent Mulder to alert him to the canceling of his stakeout was 
unconscionable," she explained stiffly, the tone of her voice clearly 
voicing her disdain for Colton's behavior.

Scully paused a moment, letting the board members absorb the 
information she'd just divulged to them. She'd never gotten the 
chance to lodge the protest with the ASAC like she had told Mulder's 
answering machine she was going to that night. But the facts of the 
matter were all in the reports, so there was no way he could deny it. 
And then there was the fact that the suspect ended up at her 
apartment . . .

"Agent Scully," came a decidedly male voice from the board and she 
locked stares with him. "Have you been having a 'relationship' with 
Agent Mulder?"

There was a long minute before she took a deep breath and 
answered him. Behind her, she knew that Skinner and Mulder 
probably were on pins and needles waiting for her response.

"Agent Mulder and I have had a 'relationship' for over three years 
now sir," she said defiantly. "But I assume you want it defined more 
clearly than that. We have been partners, best friends, confidants 
and steadfast supporters of each other for many years. Those things 
are more than any tawdry sexual escapades that you're looking for. 
They are deeper than any sexual act could be. And overall sirs, I 
have to tell you that they are more dangerous than sleeping with 
one's partner."

She paused slightly, gathering her fire for the next sentences. And 
even though he was several feet away, she could feel Mulder with 
her. His belief and his faith giving her courage and strength.

"The truth of the matter is that Agent Mulder and I would go to the 
wall for each other, sacrifice ourselves for the other and have done 
so *many* times since I was assigned to the X-Files," she informed 
them matter-of-factly. "And no matter *what* direction our 
'relationship' has or *hasn't* taken, the desire to protect each other 
will *not* change, because it was a vital and constant part of our 
partnership *long* before any suggestion of 'impropriety' on our parts 
was ever made."

There was a silence that fell around the room after the last syllable 
passed through her lips. Mulder felt like jumping up and hugging her. 
After that speech, he suddenly had no doubts about their future.

"Agent Scully, Agent Colton has alleged that you're engaged," 
another of the panel members spoke up, cutting the silence with his 
words, and producing a murmur among the small group of people in 
the room.

"Yes sir. And other than taking some of my overwhelming vacation 
time for a honeymoon, I don't see how it will be affecting my job here 
at the Bureau."

Again it seemed to Mulder that Scully's answers were throwing them 
off the track that they so wanted to railroad them onto. It seemed like 
every comment that they tried to make to lead her into admitting that 
their relationship now, as a couple was more dangerous now than 
before was getting thrown back into their faces. And he had to admit 
that he was loving every minute of it, watching Scully rout the entire 
male bastion of the FBI with her cool analytical demeanor.

There was a discussion going on at the review board table before 
her, and Scully could feel her heart hammering in her chest. If they 
asked her the most damning question of them all; if she was sleeping 
with and marrying her partner, she didn't know how they'd deal with 
it.

"Agent Scully. Agent Mulder," the chairman of the IA board 
announced. He paused while Mulder got up and made his way over 
to the table where Scully sat. She pushed back her chair and stood 
beside him. If they were going down, she was going to be standing 
for it. And she was going to be at his side when the word came. Just 
like they always were. At each other's side. Through *everything*.

"At this time, I see no reason that any 'relationship' Agent Mulder or 
Agent Scully might be in would cloud their judgement in the field 
more than it already has done so in the past. I hearby conclude that 
pending a decision by their superior, that they may return to active 
duty as partners, effective immediately. As for Agent Colton, his 
motives and behavior in this matter and in his previous association 
with Agents Mulder and Scully will be investigated further. This 
hearing is now closed."

With a sharp slam of a wood gavel, the proceedings were shut, and 
the members of the panel began to get up from their seats. Mulder 
and Scully turned slowly towards one another and communicated the 
depths of their pleasure through their eyes.

As soon as the last opponent left, Mulder reached over and took 
Scully tightly in his embrace. She in return looped her arms around 
him and they hugged tightly.

"Oh God Scully, you did it!"

"We did it Mulder."

"Congratulations," said a voice, and they turned to see Mulder's 
*temporary* partner, Tom Harris standing there with a small grin. The 
elation that they'd been feeling was now tempered a bit by the fact 
that the man that Skinner had put into place to help them was now 
out of a job, so to speak.

"Oh God Harris, I'm sorry," Scully said first, realizing that Harris had 
truly enjoyed the challenge of working the X-Files. And now he had to 
give it up so she could take her place back.

"It's ok. Besides, you two can't get rid of me that easily," he said with 
a knowing tone in his voice.

Both Mulder and Scully looked from Harris to Skinner, who was 
standing back and observing the whole affair. It seemed like he knew 
what Harris was talking about, and was just waiting for one of them to 
ask.

"Sir? What does he mean by that?" Mulder asked, loosening his grip 
on Scully, but still keeping an arm wrapped around her hips.

"I've permanently assigned Agent Harris to the VCS, with a 
stipulation that any and all requests from my office for his services to 
the X-Files will be granted, provided he isn't on a case," Skinner 
explained.

"Well, I guess it's a win-win situation all around," Mulder said quietly, 
focusing more on Scully than anything else.

"So *partner*, do you want to help me move my stuff back 
downstairs," Scully said with a bright grin.

His responding smile nearly lit up the room with its intensity and he 
took her hand and started them for the door. They were back where 
they belonged. Now it was just a matter of time before they had 
*everything* they wanted and deserved.


Part IX: Renewing Visions


There had been a prevalent feeling of deja vu for Scully when she
returned to the office she was once again sharing with Mulder.

The trip down the elevator, giving sidelong glances at her former, now
once again partner Fox Mulder was surreal. Then as they made their way
along the corridor that she'd traveled all those years before for the
first time, she felt nostalgic. But once she was at the doorway,
looking inside the room that held so many memories for her, she
couldn't move. Her emotions held her in place.

How many times are they going to try and split us up before they
figure out that it just isn't possible, Scully thought as she watched
Mulder walk straight into the office, his arms loaded down with her
box of desk items and papers. You'd think after we both came back from
the dead to be with each other that they'd know that a little thing
like a Bureau review board was *nothing* to this thing between us.

As he set her box down on her desk, he turned and looked at her,
finding her standing stock still in the doorway. It was almost as if
she was afraid to walk inside. Or savoring the moment. And knowing
Scully like he did, he'd put his money on the latter.

"Welcome home," he said with a wry grin.

She smiled back at him as he reached into the box and fished out her
nameplate. With a deliberate motion, he placed it on the desk that had
become hers.

Scully was back.

Look out paranormal bad guys, Mulder thought to himself, Mulder and
Scully are back on the case.

Once he had set out her nameplate, she broke from her place at the
door and started the process of unpacking. It wouldn't be a long job,
she realized, as she started to open the drawer and drop her pens and
pencils in. As she did that, she found a notepad and some pens that
weren't hers. Reaching in, she pulled out the red pens and the notes
and held them up for Mulder to see.

"Harris?" she asked, curious.

Taking in the sight, Mulder had to think for a moment before he could
answer her. Just watching her there had mesmerized him to the point
that he couldn't form a coherent sentence, let alone an answer.

"Yeah. I guess he didn't clear out everything from the desk before. . .
 well, before his assignment changed," he explained carefully.

They shared a glance that spoke about more than leftover office
supplies. The separation had made for some changes for their
relationship. Now, they had to find that connection again that had
made them such a good team and recapture it.

It had to do with unspoken gestures and looks. The ability to know
what the other was thinking and where they were at any given moment in
time. It was something that they had somehow always had between them.
The connection was unbreakable, but could be dulled. Just like the
last month had done to it. Now was the time for them to start working
again and building on everything they had.

But before they could begin to do that, a quiet rap at the door
startled them. Two sets of eyes gravitated towards the doorway and
found Agent Harris there, case file in hand and a tentative smile on
his face.

"Agent Mulder, Scully," he began, walking in as he held out the file
to Mulder. "A.D. Skinner asked me to bring this down for you. He said
that if you decided it was your "kind" of case, to write up a 302. He
even offered to assign me to help you if you need me."

Mulder and Scully looked at one another, then back at Harris.
Something in their eyes told him what their answer was going to be.

"Okay, so you can call me if you need anything," he said with a sigh
and headed for the door.

Scully snapped out of her reverie and raced after him. Carefully she
wrapped a hand around his bicep and stopped him. He turned and looked
at her.

"By the way Tom, I never thanked you for everything you did for Mulder
and I. Plus I really want you to know I appreciate your being there
for Mulder. For being a partner to him," Scully said sincerely.

"You're welcome," Harris said with a lump in his throat, then he
headed back out the door, closing it behind him.

Staring at the wood door, Mulder and Scully had the impression that
they were going to be seeing Harris in the future. Without a doubt.

"So, Agent Scully, what do you think Skinner would be giving us
already?" Mulder asked as Scully turned back towards their desks and
made herself comfortable.

Without a second thought, she reached over and looked at the
preliminary report that Harris had brought downstairs. After a few
moments, it was pretty obvious that this was the kind of "quest" that
Mulder liked: abduction and missing time.

"The kind that makes me question my sanity at wanting to work on the
X-Files," she replied as she handed him the folder while she smiled
her enigmatic smile at him.

Ah yes, he thought. Things are back to normal.

-------X-----X-----X-------

The drive home was more satisfying than either of them had expected.
Just thinking about being together on the job again was exhilarating
to both of them. Mulder hadn't felt this alive since they been on
their first case together after they'd admitted their feelings for
each other.

As for Scully, the fact that she was out from behind a desk, out of
the pathology department and back in the field made all the difference
in the world to her attitude. She couldn't believe that she'd spent
those two years when she'd joined the Bureau teaching. It seemed like
a lifetime ago that she was slicing up bodies and explaining
procedures every day.

But now that they were a team again, there were still some things that
they had to do.

One: get used to working and living together again.

Second: plan their wedding.

As Scully considered these two things, she had to admit that the first
was going to be easier than the second. They hadn't said much about
the wedding since he'd proposed. About all they'd done was tell her
mom about it, and then dealt with the disaster it had caused within
the Bureau.

Mostly, she thought, the reason they had been avoiding the subject was
because there really hadn't been any time to do anything about it.
They'd been split up professionally so quickly after the engagement,
and then their attention had been split on working on their separate
assignments and figuring out how they were going to get back together.

Now thought, it was time to start dealing with it.

"Mulder?" Scully tentatively began, trying to figure out how to start
this conversation.

"Hmmm?" he replied with his usual half-paying attention voice.

"When do you want to get married?" she asked, point blank.

At that, the car came to a screeching halt as Mulder's foot slammed
into the brake. Scully went flying forward, held back by her seatbelt,
then nearly smashed back into her seat. Her eyes flashed over to meet
his surprised ones.

"Uh, sorry Scully. I. . . "

He looked at his fiance on the other side of the car with the shocked
look on her face and realized just what he'd done.

Oh shit, he thought as he stepped on the gas and got them moving
again.

Once Scully mentioned the wedding, he realized that part of him was
scared to death of what they were planning, how it seemed that their
course was now directed and dependant on this one event. Secondly
though, he wondered if this was what Scully really wanted. If she was
doing this because he had asked her, and that she felt they were
supposed to get married now. It was what normal people did.

Except that they weren't normal people.

They didn't need a ceremony or a piece of paper to make them any more
than they already were. A wedding was just a public forum for that
bond. A legality in proper society.

But he had asked her, even when she had told him that she didn't need
him making grand gestures. They were fine the way they were, she had
said. There wasn't any need. . .

And he'd just gone ahead with it. Gotten a ring, made the decision
that they belonged together. Of course, part of him wanted to make
sure that if anything happened to him, she'd have his benefits from
the Bureau, plus the Mulder inheritance. And she'd be 'Mrs. Fox
Mulder', he realized with a little male pride.

It was just doing the deed now, and he just wasn't ready to face what
a wedding entailed. Besides, he'd done the asking, the least Scully
could do was decide when and where she wanted to get married.

"Look, you just tell me where and when, and I'll show up," he remarked
as he steered the car through the afternoon traffic towards their
townhouse. He took a second to glance her direction as the cars in
front of him slowed. Once he did, he was wishing he hadn't.

She was glaring at him.

With the "Scully death glare."

The one that said she was less than amused.

Suddenly his answer wasn't the smartest one he'd ever given. Inwardly
he squirmed, waiting for the follow-up to that stare. It wasn't long
in coming.

"Mulder. . ." she said in the steel toned voice that he dreaded and
dreamed of.

He was starting to think that he was going to have to tell her why he
was concerned, and why he was scared, but with the grace that only
Dana Scully had, she simply sighed lightly and gave him a slight smile
and a shake of her head.

"How about we talk about this later?" she asked, laying her hand on
his arm.

Mulder simply shrugged his shoulders, and the matter was closed for
the moment. As it was, they had other things that they wanted to
concentrate on. Like the fact that they were almost home and that much
closer to their house and their bed.

They might have different ideas about the wedding, but there was no
question in their minds, hearts or bodies that they needed each other.
As the traffic crawled along, Mulder started to regret the day they'd
taken the town house, even if it was closer than their old apartments.


Sighing, he let loose of the wheel with one hand and reached over to
catch Scully's hand, lying on her lap. As his fingers curled around
her hand, his fingers brushed the ring there. Inwardly he shivered at
the thought, and outwardly he gave her one of his lopsided grins. No
matter what happened, he loved her more than he could say. And she
loved him back.

That was all that mattered right now.

That, and getting home and ripping off her clothes and. . .

Soon, he told himself. Just another few miles and they'd be home.

Finally the traffic seemed to speed up, and they  moved quicker.
Reaching their exit, it wasn't long before they pulled up in front of
the town house, both of them looking at it as if they hadn't seen it
for years.

Shutting off the engine, Mulder hurriedly made his way out of the car
and was on the sidewalk waiting for Scully to get out  before she had
even gotten a foot on the pavement.  Shutting the door behind her, he
took her hand an they headed to the front door at what Scully deemed a
very quick pace.

Not that she was complaining. Far from it as she slammed the door
behind them, throwing the locks as Mulder kissed her neck while
pulling off her trenchcoat. Once that pooled to the floor, she turned
and faced him, her hands reaching into his hair and then latching her
mouth onto his.

Sliding her hands down, she slipped her fingers under his jacket and
coat, and shoved them down to his elbows, where the material stuck.
She then pried his hands from around her so she could push his clothes
farther down.

It was Mulder that broke the kiss and backed up a step. Then he came
back in, invading her 'space' and ran his hands along her arms, then
along her sides as far as he could reach, his head resting along side
of hers. His breath caressed her ear, and his five o'clock shadow
rasped at her cheek. All in all, he was more than sexy at that moment.

"Now then," Mulder suggested with a leer and a soft, rich voice that
sent chills through her, "since I have the ok of the Director of the
Bureau to 'fraternize' with my partner, as long as it doesn't effect
my work, how about we take this upstairs and really stretch the
boundaries of 'fraternization'?"

Rather than answer, she leaned into his neck and kissed the side of
his throat.

Seconds later, she was scooped up in his arms and they were on their
way to the bedroom.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Two weeks had passed since Scully had returned to the X-Files and they
had only been given a single case in that time. That one had been the
one Skinner had sent down to the basement with Agent Harris.
Unfortunately, before they had even gotten a chance to start on it
that day, it had been "pulled" for no apparent reason. Now they were
still waiting for approval on Mulder's latest request for
"investigation". And while they waited, they'd attacked the filing
that had been screwed up in the last "purge" of the files and caught
up on their paperwork. Everything that Mulder hated most about
bureaucracy.

That was earlier though. Right now, Agent Dana Scully was patiently
waiting for her partner and fiance to return with their lunch. And
while she waited, she had taken out her "reading material" as of late.

Bridal magazines.

Mulder didn't know that she had them. Not even her mother did. She'd
felt silly as anything buying them on her last stop at the grocery
store. The clerk had smiled at her and she'd shot the woman a look
that said "Don't say a word". The clerk hadn't.

So she'd spirited them home and shoved them under the couch. Later she
moved them to her briefcase and then to work. Now, she sat at her desk
looking at wedding dresses, the book laid out open on top of autopsy
reports and investigative leads.

She was trying her best not to chuckle at the insanity and irony of it
all.

Of course, she couldn't help herself.

She was still giggling when she heard the footsteps at the door.
Hurriedly she swept up the book, flinging it into the bottom desk
drawer and slammed it shut. Then as she heard Mulder open the door,
she picked up the report before her and set her mouth in a serious
frown.

"Hey Scully," Mulder said as he came in the door, paper bag and two
iced teas in hand. "Food's here. Now then, the lady had tuna on whole
wheat with no mayo and the bag of reduced fat chips. . . Scully, are
you ok?"

She looked up from the report with an innocent expression.

"Nothing's wrong. Why would there be?" she asked lightly.

"No reason," Mulder remarked lightly as he placed her food on her desk
and then turned towards his. Once he had settled in, spread out his
lunch and was getting ready to take a bite, he looked up at her frozen
in place, and decided to hit her with the punchline.

"Oh, and by the way Scully," he said with a grin, "the report's upside
down."

Her gaze shot down to the report before her and she realized that in
her haste to get it in front of her, she'd picked it up wrong,
resulting in the folder being inverted.

Caught, she thought both embarrassed and nervous at the same time.

"So, you want to tell me why you're reading a report upside down, or
are you just going to let me guess?" he asked around a mouthful of
pastrami and Swiss sandwich.

"Ummm. . . "

"Hidden message perhaps?"

Oh, he was enjoying himself. Obviously he knew that she had been up to
something, and was now fishing for the answer. And after his little
'comment' about her arranging the wedding, she wasn't about to feel
silly in starting already.

So she decided she'd keep her secret a little longer. Even if it meant
lying a little to him.

Finally, she pulled herself together and came up with the answer to
get herself of the hook. Closing the file and putting it down, she
tossed it lightly across the office until it landed on his desk.

"Open it," she said authoritatively, and he blinked at her, then
proceeded to open the folder. "Three pages in, tell me what you see."

"It's an autopsy photo," he remarked nonplussed. "But what were you. . . "

"When I read the report, I though that the case sounded familiar. So I
was looking at the photo from a different angle. . . "

"And you had it upside down."

Now it was clear to him that she'd been trying to. Taking a different
look at something to get a better idea if she was right. And he was so
sure that she had been hiding something. . . He'd just had that
feeling for the last couple of days, but he guessed he was wrong. He
handed the file back to her with a sheepish look and returned to his
lunch.

Scully gave a slight smile and reached for her lunch. As she took a
bite from her sandwich, she realized that she was going to have to be
more careful in the future, or at least ready with a quick alibi.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Dana Scully had many things that she liked to do.

But this, she thought as she looked at paper samples and party favors,
was *not* one of them.

Her mother had dragged her on a Saturday morning when she would have
rather stayed in bed with Mulder to a wedding fair. A *wedding fair*.
God, she never had imagined in her life that she'd actually go to one
of these things. She's always thought that the women who went to these
things were just the flamboyant rich girls who wanted violins and
wedding cakes that reached the ceiling and dresses with ten-foot
trains.

Now here she was, probably the most practical woman on earth, tasting
cake samples and flipping through fabric swatch books.

"Why are we here again mom?" Scully asked again as they rounded
another series of booths.

"Because Fox has basically dropped this wedding in your lap, and now
you have to set it up," Maggie Scully reminded her gently. 

"You know, we could just go to city hall and get the judge to marry
us," Scully remarked as she stared at another frou-frou dress with
enough lace to classify it as an X-File in her mind. God, how could
anyone wear this, let alone afford it, she wondered silently.

"Dana," Maggie said softly, and then her daughter turned to look at
her. "You both want to do this right. I know that. You know that, and
so does Fox. It's just. . . . I think he doesn't know how to do this,
so he's having you take care of planning it."

She sighed at her mother's logic. After her near-discovery at Mulder's
hands in the office, she'd ended up telling her mom about the wedding
plans and how she was responsible for where and when. 

Her mom had been thrilled when Dana had called and said that they had
made a decision about the wedding, but that she was going to be doing
it all on her own, as Fox had opted to let Dana make the decisions. So
Maggie had volunteered to help coordinate things. Her first suggestion
was to mention that they could take in the wedding fair that just
happened to be at the Fairfax Community Center that Saturday.

So here she was, making decisions about hers and Mulder's wedding on
her own.

It seemed that ever since they'd gotten engaged, things had been
crazy, rough or both all at once. Not that it was really hurting their
relationship, but she just felt so alone and separated from Mulder.
And the fact that they had been apart professionally didn't help
either.

Just last night, she and Mulder had discussed the wedding party and
ended up disagreeing again.

// "What do you mean you want the Lone Gunmen to stand up for you?"
Dana Scully asked with a tone in her voice that made her shock and
displeasure very well known.

"They *are* my best friends. Besides, who else could I ask? Skinner?"
Mulder had retorted.

"Why not? I'd think that after everything he's done for us that you
might find him to be your "best" friend these days."//

Mulder had flopped over on the couch at that point, unwilling to
continue with the conversation. Finally he'd just given her the same
old thing and gone off to look at the case files he'd brought home
with him.

And she'd sat alone wondering if they were going to survive until a
wedding, or if the engagement was going to break them before that
happened.

"Mom, what would you say if I told you that I'm not sure that Mulder's
and my relationship was going to be able to survive a marriage?"

Maggie turned and looked at Dana with surprise written across her
features. She had no idea. . .

"Dana, its rough, I'm sure to work and live together. I mean, it
probably seems like every second of the day you're together. But even
if you aren't agreeing about the wedding plans, you know in your heart
that Fox loves you. And you couldn't live without him in your life
either."

"I know mom," Scully said as they rounded the next corner, "and maybe
that's part of the problem."

At the corner booth, there was a picture of a seaside wedding, very
simple and intimate. And in that second, Scully knew just what she was
going to do.

"Come on mom, I'm done looking," she said, taking Maggie's hand and
leading them out the door.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Mulder wandered the living room, feeling like he'd just committed the
ultimate sin.

The truth was that all he'd done was slept through Scully leaving that
morning to go to the wedding fair with her mom. Then he'd gone looking
for the last case's notes in her briefcase and come up with the bridal
magazines. Once he'd picked them up, he had scanned the pages, finding
noted scribble in Scully's handwriting on some of them. She'd been
making plans for their wedding.

And she had said nothing to him about it.

Why she hadn't said anything to him mystified him. And yet, it made
sense. He'd put the whole thing on her, told her that she was going to
have to plan this wedding pretty much on her own. Make her own
decisions. . .

So she was doing exactly what he had told her to do. She was planning
it by herself.

But somewhere in the silence and stubbornness, he'd missed the fact
that she wanted him to help. That she needed him to make decisions
with her. So she didn't feel like it was just her in this
relationship.

That he wasn't just sitting back and waiting for her. He'd wanted her
to prove that she was committed to this by handing the wedding details
over to her. But in doing so, he'd made her feel as if he wasn't
committed to it himself.

How could I have been so stupid, he wondered as he felt his old friend
guilt creep up on him. Somehow he just couldn't get it right.

When he heard the jingling of keys in the door he jumped up from the
couch, and sprinted for the door. He got the bottom latch undone and
yanked the door open, revealing Scully there. She hadn't been gone for
more than a couple of hours, and he hadn't expected her back so soon,
but he was glad she had come home. He needed to explain. . .

"Hi," Mulder said as he stood there, looking at her in the open
doorway.

"Hi yourself. Can I come in?" she replied lightly, and he ushered her
inside, closing the door behind her. He watched her walk in and drop
her coat on the arm of the couch. Something was wrong, he could tell.
Quickly, he knew that he had to tell her what he'd figured out/

"Scully. . ."

"Mulder. . ."

They both stopped and started to laugh a little. 

"You first," they said in unison, then started to laugh again.
Somehow, without even trying, they were back on track. But there was
still the explanations to give.

"Scully, I need to tell you some things, and I need you to listen," he
explained, turning and running a hand through his hair. "I've been
feeling that maybe this wasn't the best course of action for us to
take. I mean, the marriage and all. I was concerned that you were
doing it just because you thought that was what we had to do. And,
Dana, I need you to forgive me, because I though that it was the only
reason you agreed."

Scully looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. Which she thought maybe
he had.

"Fox, how could you even doubt how much I love you?" she questioned
him gently, coming and turning his face to look at her. "I know that
you have a passion that sometimes overpowers mine, but that doesn't
make mine any less strong. I *want* to marry you. I want to be your
wife and grow old with you. There's nothing that I want more."

Mulder looked into her blue eyes and found himself lost there.
Reflected back at him was his love ten fold. How he could have
questioned her was beyond his own logic now. But he wasn't done yet.
He walked over to the couch and showed her the magazines he'd found.
She sighed and took them from his hands, knowing now that he knew
she'd been planning the wedding, but keeping it from him. She was
about to apologize for keeping it from him when he started to speak
again.

"And then I put this wedding on your shoulders because I wanted. . ."

"You wanted to be sure that I wanted this," she finished for him, a
little smile of understanding on her face. He gazed at her, reminding
himself again of how well they understood each other. "And in making
me do the work, you made me question whether you really wanted this.
Made me keep secrets because I thought you didn't want to know what I
was doing. So, all this time we both wanted this, even if the other
thought otherwise. The question is Fox, why were we second guessing
ourselves?"

A moment of silence rested between them as Scully waited to see if
Mulder would or could answer the question. Finally, he did.

"Because we were scared," he replied simply, and she nodded slightly.

At that, Mulder had to smile. It seemed so crazy that they could have
thought.. . . But now they were back to where they had been when
they'd started this thing all those months ago. Or maybe all those
years ago when she'd walked in his door. Either way, they were
together in all the ways that mattered: heart, mind, soul and body.

"Anyway, I've made a decision. You said you wanted me to chose where
and when we'd get married. But I still want to run it by you. . . "
Scully began nervously. 

"In two weeks, on the six month anniversary of our 'realization' that
we loved each other, I want us to get married in a civil ceremony on
Martha's Vineyard. We'll keep it simple, friends and family only.
Everyone gets called and invited, and no one stands up for us. This is
a formality Fox. We already know we belong together. This just shows
it to the rest of the world."

Mulder reached over and pulled Scully into his arms. Sometimes she
amazed the hell out of him. How she could find the perfect solution to
what he thought was the toughest problems continued to shock and
surprise him. What he would do without her, he didn't even want to
think about. They belonged together. There would be no one else for
him like this, or vise versa.

"Alright then," Mulder said softly, holding Scully in his embrace,
"two weeks on Martha's Vineyard It's a date."

And they sealed the decision with a kiss.

-------X-----X-----X-------

"But Sir!"

Mulder tried to protest, but their boss wasn't having any of it. They
were stuck on the case, and that was that.

The fact of the matter was that they weren't scheduled to start their
vacation for a few more days, and the wedding was the third day of
that. They *could* still make it back for the wedding if the case
didn't flow over into the weekend.

Then Scully's hand landed on his arm and stopped him. His head
swiveled so that he could see her, and there was something in her eyes
that made his breath catch. He could literally see the argument in the
blue pools there that told him that they shouldn't fight it.

"Agent Mulder, you realize that it would be looked on favorably if you
went on this assignment. Especially since you fought so hard to
convince the Bureau that your "involvement" would have no impact on
your professional relationship," Skinner explained with a tone that
explained to them both what he meant underneath it all. They needed to
prove to the department that they could do their job and be lovers.

"Alright Sir, when do we leave?" Scully asked, her voice serious as
ever.

"Three hours. The travel arrangements are listed inside the case
folder for you. Good luck," Skinner said without a smile.

She knew exactly what Skinner meant by his words. He was giving them
this assignment as both a warning and a test. The higher ups wanted to
be sure that their agents were capable of doing their jobs. That they
wouldn't run off and screw like rabbits when they were supposed to be
finding murderers.

And that was something Dana Scully wasn't about to let them wonder
about for more than a few moments. Wedding or ghosts or Mulder be
damned. She was good at her job. Married to Mulder or not. And she was
determined to show them that.

Reaching over the desk set, Scully picked up the case file and then
handed it to Mulder. Then she was up from her seat and heading for the
door before either Skinner or Mulder could react.

As Mulder hurried to catch up with her, Skinner said a prayer to
whomever was listening up there to keep Dana Scully calm until they
got back.

Or there was going to be hell to pay.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Mulder and Scully had packed and hurried to the airport to make the
flight out. Once they were on board, there was nothing to do but sit
tight and wait until they got to their destination in Glendale,
California.

As the plane silently crossed the Midwest, Scully sat beside Mulder,
torn between paying attention to the preliminary case report she was
trying to pound out on her laptop and watching him sleep beside her. 

Finally the matter was decided for her as the battery in her laptop
gave out, blacking out the screen as the AutoSave kicked in and saved
her work. But she was now without any entertainment until she got the
thing recharged. So she let her thoughts and gaze rest on Mulder.

A rough jolt of turbulence shook the plane like a dog with a rag,
waking Mulder, and his eyes quickly fluttered open.

"Dana?" he said softly, but with a concerned edge to it. He knew that
she had never gotten comfortable flying on these long distance trips,
and the sudden, rough turbulence would no doubt rattle her.

He looked over to find her staring out the window, her hands gripping
the arms of the seat.

Suddenly, another sound pierced the cabin of the airplane.

Thunder.

Then he realized what Scully was looking out the window at as a bright
flash illuminated the window.

They were flying into a lighting storm. 

Moments later, the seatbelt sign came on. People scrambled to fasten
them as the plane bucked and rolled with the weather.

There was another bright flash that seemed to illuminate the entire
cabin, and Scully reached over to catch Mulder's hand. He latched hold
of her and held on tightly. Images of Max Fenig's last flight flashed
through Mulder's mind. Could they be after Scully, or the both of
them?

Suddenly, beneath the roaring sound of the thunder outside the plane,
the crack of something striking metal cut through the plane. Then
there was a grinding sound that did not sound good at all. A moment
later, the plane dipped a bit to one side, but continued to fly.

"Fox?" she asked with a hushed voice. Somehow, she knew that the sound
meant something bad.

"I think lightning just struck the plane," he whispered to her.

"I really wish we hadn't gotten shipped off on this assignment,"
Scully remarked, her voice just a bit more shaky than she would have
liked. 

"Me either. If we were home. . ." he trailed off as the airplane
shuddered under his feet.

"We'd be getting married in a few days," she replied, taking his hand
and gazing at his face. It was starting to feel like this might be. . .

"Too bad we couldn't get married now," Mulder mused as the plane
fought to stay level. "I've even got the rings and the license in my
pocket. I figured in case we had to run to the church. . . "

"Nice idea, except for the fact that there's not a priest or reverend
or anything on this plane to do it," she replied with a slightly
raised voice as the plane lost a few feet in its altitude and the
engines seemed to get louder. Within the plane, the people were
starting to get a bit more vocal, and concerned.

"Excuse me," interrupted a growling male voice. Mulder and Scully
looked across the aisle and recognize one of the passengers that they
had taken note of when they had first boarded the plane. He had caught
Mulder's attention first, and he'd nudged Scully until she caught what
he was looking at.

The man was decked out like Elvis Presley. From the sideburns and
glasses to the white jumpsuit. Since they had a layover in Las Vegas,
Mulder had assumed that the man was on his way to do a show there or
something. But now. . .

"Yes?" Mulder replied, curious about this man's interruption.

"I'm an ordained minister," the Elvis dressed man announced over the
rising noise inside the cabin.

Mulder and Scully looked at one another. She with disbelief and he
with an ironic gleam. But Scully couldn't leave it at that.

"Ordained?" she questioned, more than a hint of Scully skepticism
flavoring her voice.

"Yes ma'am. Ordained minister of the Church of Elvis," he explained.
"I'm heading in to our chapel in Las Vegas."

At that, Mulder started grinning from ear to ear. He watched as Scully
continued to look at the man with an incredulous look, and he had to
fight to keep from laughing. 

Well, he thought, he had asked for a minister of the 'faith' in his
silent wish for someone to marry them. Who better than 'the King'?

Scully watched the thoughts forming behind Mulder's eyes, and was
growing more and more astounded. He wasn't. . . 

"Mulder, you're not seriously considering this," she asked with
astonishment.

Before he could answer, the cabin lights flickered off for a moment,
and the plane again sunk, this time much further than it had before,
then rose as the lightning and thunder surrounded the plane. Then the
captain came over the loudspeaker.

"Ladies and gentlemen, As you may have noticed, we've flown into a
surprise storm that has been creating some heavy turbulence.
Unfortunately, the storm also has damaged part of the plane's
navigation and elevator controls. We're attempting to find the first
airport in the area and set down. Please keep calm and stay in your
seats."

There was silence throughout the plane as the words sunk in. The plane
was damaged and they were going down. The only question was how long
the pilots could keep them in the air.

"I think that at this point Scully we don't have much of a choice," he
replied, fishing for the marriage license from his pocket, along with
the wedding rings they'd gotten. Handing the license over the aisle,
the two men barely made the relay as the plane shook. "Its for
Virginia. Is that ok?"

"Its cool man," said Elvis. "Under the circumstances, we'll keep this
short."

After a second of looking at the license, Minister Elvis was ready to
begin.

"Do you Fox take Dana to be your wife, t for the rest of your days?"

"Yes," Mulder said, his voice barely carrying over the sounds of
people and that of the plane and the storm.

"Do you Dana take Fox to be your husband, for the rest of your days?"

"Yes," Scully agreed as well, her eyes focused on Mulder's.

"Place the rings on your fingers."

Mulder opened his hand to reveal the simple gold bands they'd chosen.
But on the inside of the rings, Mulder had suggested the phase "My
Truth, My Light" be engraved, and Scully had agreed that it was
somehow fitting. Carefully, Scully helped Mulder guide the ring onto
her finger as the plane bucked, and then he did the same for her.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Minister Elvis announced with a
Southern drawl.

They looked at each other, hands clasped as they leaned in to kiss for
the first time as spouses.

Then, the plane dropped like a stone. . . 


Part X: Living Visions


There was a sudden sound of hissing as air rushed out of a stress rupture near the wing, causing the pressure in the cabin to drop. Breathing masks popped from their compartments above the passengers' heads, and there was a scramble by everyone to get them on without hyperventilating. 

Mulder and Scully broke their grip on each other's hand long enough to pull down their masks, get the oxygen flowing and put them on. Across from them, they could see the Elvis minister pushing the yellow plastic cup over his mouth and nose, shoving his sunglasses askew.

As the noise inside the plane continued to increase, their altitude continued to decline at a rapid rate. More than once, the plane seemed as if it was pulling up, then slipped again into a decent. Listening to the creaking of metal straining to stay together, Mulder could only hope that the pilots could hold their course and find a place to land before the wing fell off.

His only regret he decided, as they faced their possible demise, was that he'd waited so long to marry Scully, that and all the time they had wasted, denying their true feelings for one another; being partners in name only when they could have shared more. As those thoughts ran through his head, he glanced over at his partner, his love and now his wife, sitting beside him, her knuckles white from holding his hand and the armrest in a tight grip. The sight of her there made his heart thud in his chest harder than the controlled panic the diving plane could ever cause.

Scully pried open her eyes and glanced over at Mulder, needing to look at him as the plane violently shook beneath them. He was staring at her. With a look that mixed fear and love and a thousand other things in it. And without a doubt, she understood why.

"Mulder, I just want you to know that I don't regret a single day of our partnership before now," she said through the mask, over the cries inside the cabin and the squeal of the engines and steel outside of it.

Even with the mask over his mouth, she could see the light in his eyes that told her that he had that grin on his face. The lopsided smile that reflected his amusement at her or circumstances.

How she could read his mind even at a moment like now caused him to question how deep their bond really went. There never was a reason for words after all. And he knew that she could see the answer in his eyes.

Then the lights went out in the cabin and she could see him no more. 

In the darkness, the screams got louder, as did the fear level of the passengers inside the nearly black cabin. Mulder and Scully held on for dear life. Of all the times their lives had been in peril, this time they realized that there was nothing they could do to save themselves. They had to depend on the skills of the pilots and plain luck.

"We're going to try to land at Birmingham International," crackled the overhead speakers as the Captain spoke. "Passengers and flight attendants, take your crash positions!"

Quickly Scully and Mulder tucked their heads down, pressing their foreheads to their knees. Yet they refused to let loose of the other's hand. It was as if it was a lifeline between them. And if they let go, they would lose the other. 

The plane dipped lower and seemed to almost level off before the sound of metal ripping permeated the cabin. The wing had finally sheared off at the engine. Soon the plane was dropping, bucking to stay straight and aloft.

The last thing Mulder remembered before the impact was Dana calling his name as her hand slipped from his. Then, everything was gone.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Fox Mulder lay unconscious and bleeding on the tarmac at Birmingham International Airport, oblivious to the sounds of sirens, screams and yelling.

The triage teams were descending on the scattered wreckage in rapid succession. Water and foam sluiced past him and dozens of other bodies in rivulets as the fire department tried to put out the flames. The moans of the injured beneath the wreckage grew fainter as time went on, minutes ticking off hours and days of a person's life as they suffered.

A crew of paramedics came upon Mulder's body, covered with pieces of seats and metal from the planes fuselage. Once the debris was pulled away, they were accessing his injuries and lifting him up and away from the carnage.

Putting him onto one of the makeshift ambulances: a flatbed trailer truck covered with a high tarp, Mulder and half a dozen other survivors made their way to hospitals across the city, each being sent where they could be cared for best.

It wasn't until he woke up in the hospital that he could comprehend just what he'd been through. And to have his memory begin to slowly come back to him. 

He tried to move in the hospital bed, only to nearly pass out from the pain. He felt worse than after surviving the boxcar fire that time in Farmington. Yet he'd come out of that alive and it looked like he would survive this time too. It appeared that his luck was holding.

After he brushes with death and all, he'd gotten familiar with the smell of a hospital, and didn't even need to open his eyes to tell where he was. From the taste in his mouth and bout of nausea, he could tell that he'd been under anesthetic recently. The feel of his stomach told him that it had to have been severe enough to require abdominal surgery. Not his favorite, but he was alive. He wasn't about to complain, considering they had thought they were going to. . .

Then it struck him hard. Harder than the crash. Something was something wrong. He could feel it, like an open wound in his soul and suddenly a desperate fear gripped him. 

Scully.

He abruptly began to remember pieces from the crash. And the fact that Scully's hand had pulled from his as the plane hit. 

Now she was God knew where and injured, no doubt. He couldn't see how anyone could have walked away from the crash uninjured. But still, he didn't know where she was, and that frightened him more than he could grasp.

The piercing scream of her name issuing from his mouth was heard by the nurse's station down the hall and beyond.

As a nurse and an orderly rushed in, he began to focus his rage and fear at them, his fear fueling his vivid imagination as it began to lead him to horrible images of her lying in a coma somewhere within the hospital, or in surgery. Or worse. . ..

"Dana Scully! Where is she?! Tell me where she is!"

They tried to calm him, both of them pushing down on him as he attempted to sit up. He wasn't going to rest until he knew Scully was ok. She wasn't by his side, so he knew she had to be hurt. Considering the shape he was in, he had to assume that she was as banged up as he. But that didn't mean that the staff here at the hospital couldn't tell him her condition. Or her whereabouts.

Unless they weren't allowed to say.

Hysteria set in and Mulder redoubled his efforts, nearly pulling out his IV and he struggled to get up.

"Where's my *wife*?! Where's Dana Scully? Is she here?! Tell me! Scully!!!!"

It wasn't until a doctor was sent in, a syringe and bottle of a sedative in his hand that Mulder realized that he wasn't going to get an answer. As the nurse held his arm still, the tall, heavy set doctor eased the needle into his arm and slowly injected its contents into Mulder's blood stream.

Waiting a few minutes for the medication to take effect, the nurse and orderly held him as he mumbled Scully's name over and over. When they were convinced he was going under, they started out the door, leaving Mulder fighting to stay awake. But it was a futile battle. And as he faded into drugged sleep, he could still make out the nurse's voice in the distance.

"Poor man. How are they going to tell him that she didn't make it?"

-------X-----X-----X-------

Assistant Director Walter Skinner had been looking over the last week's worth of reports for the divisions when his phone rang. Without a second thought, he automatically picked up the receiver, bringing it up to his ear.

"A.D. Skinner."

"Walt, it's Meg," came Scully's mother's voice over the line. As he listened closer, he could hear the concern in it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern starting to creep into his bones.

"Dana told me that she and Fox were having to fly to Glendale tonight. There's a report that a plane went down in Birmingham just a few hours ago. She didn't tell me what flight, but. . . "

She left the last words unsaid, but Skinner knew what she was thinking. Mulder had mentioned off-duty that Margaret Scully had confided in him the fear and unease she had had the night before Scully's disappearance. Now, she seemed to be referring to a new premonition. One that had led her to call him.

Quickly he dug in his top desk drawer for his remote. Across the room, a small television set stood, that he often used to keep up with news of the day and review video taped evidence. As he clicked it on, the sight assailed him instantly.

"Delta flight 1310 out of Washington D.C. made a crash landing at Birmingham International Airport in Alabama at 10:00pm tonight. The plane had wandered into an electrical storm after leaving Atlanta, and radioed that lightning had struck the aircraft."

Skinner looked away from the screen to the pad of paper on his desk, showing the flight he had just sent Mulder and Scully on for Glendale - 1310.

Margaret heard his quiet intake of breath, a near hissing sound that she knew wasn't good.

"They were on that plane, weren't they Walter?"

"Yes Meg, I'm afraid they were. I'm sorry."

There was a pause on the other end of the line as she considered his words. He was responsible for putting them on that plane, just days before her daughter's wedding to the man she considered her son already. Now, they could both be dead. . . She had to get to Birmingham. If they survived, if even *one* of them had survived, she needed to be there for them. For *both* of them.

"Are you coming with me to Birmingham?" she asked resolutely.

For a moment he was stunned, sitting there behind his desk in his office. Was he going to Birmingham? Yes, there was no question about it. But to hear Margaret Scully ask him if he was going made him both upset and nervous all at once. What she must think of a man who had put her daughter into danger yet again with the man she loved only a few days before she was supposed to get married. . . He heaved a sigh and steeled himself. He owed it to Mulder and Scully to do this.

"I'll call the airline and reserve tickets for us. I'll meet you at the Delta counter at National in four hours."

With that, he hung up the phone quickly, then picked it up again and called the Bureau travel agency for two tickets on the first plane to Birmingham.

-------X-----X-----X-------

On the other side of Birmingham, the crisis was still taxing the overworked staff of Valley Lutheran Hospital. Luckily, the brunt of the crash had fallen on other hospitals, but they still had more than enough people being admitted. 

The nurses at admissions were busily trying to keep up with the updates and changes in the patients from the crash and communicate them to the command post that had been established at the airport. Names and medical information was pilling up, as well as DOA's and unidentified people that were being cared for at their facility as well as others across town.

All that concern for detail meant a lot to the families of the people who had been in the crash, but most of them probably didn't realize how vital that task was.

For Dana Scully, it was the most important and the most desperate issue she could grasp. Because she wasn't who they thought she was.

Somewhere during the crash, she'd lost her ID, so she had been admitted as a Jane Doe. Normally, she would just have announced who she was and found out where Mulder was. But the fact that she couldn't speak due to the tube sticking out of her mouth that was attached to the ventilator was a sort of preventing her from doing just that. And from what she had heard of the doctors speaking about the punctured lung and the near shut down of her automatic respiratory system, it seemed to be a necessity for the moment. 

Looking at herself with the limited range of her sight past the tube and the splinters of pain of her body when she attempted any movement of her head, she got a chance to assess the damage.

Both her hands were immobilized due to what she understood to be stress fractures. So she couldn't talk or write to get her message across. 

As she looked down at the soft casts and was appalled to see that her wedding and engagement rings were gone. It felt like a violation to her. She hadn't had the wedding ring long enough for it to be taken off, and the engagement ring had become a part of her now.

But besides that, she had yet to see Mulder. She knew that if he was ok, he would have come looking for her. If he was in the hospital, he would be still doing what he could to track her down. Yet the fact that she was still as of yet "unidentified" bothered her. And it scared her.

He couldn't be dead. She knew that for an almost certain fact. She'd always expected that she could tell if he was dead in her heart. But the numbness that resided there now shocked her. Did that mean he was gone, and she'd been wrong, or did it mean that he was alive, yet unsure if she was alive?

As she thought about her husband and their situation, one of the nurses came in and checked on her vitals, talking animatedly as she worked. Then she left, with Scully in the same situation she'd been in minutes before.

The fact that she couldn't identify herself to the medical personnel frustrated her to no end. If she could have, she would have done something to let them know who she was. But she was helpless until her hands could move or the tube was removed.

But what was worse was the fear. The thought of Mulder injured somewhere, alone. Maybe even. . . No, she admonished herself again. He wasn't dead. He *couldn't be*. She had survived, so he would have as well. He was probably as injured as her, and unable to come looking for her.

That made sense, she thought to herself. And she consoled herself with the thought of him alive and wanting to look for her. Until he arrived, she would have to wait.

Still, it was hard to wait in silence.

-------X-----X-----X-------

The chaos of the scene was still apparent to Skinner and Margaret even after arriving 12 hours after the tragic crash. 

He'd been surprised when she had called and even more so when she had asked if he was going to Alabama as well. But then, somehow he should have known that she would contact him. He had spoken to her when he'd stumbled upon Mulder and Scully's changed "relationship". And with Mulder's entire family gone, and Melissa Scully dead, Meg Scully was all Mulder and Scully had. And in a sense, vice versa.

They had arrived at the same airport as the crash, and pieces were still being moved into one of two hangars for the reconstructive analysis. A third of the 200 passengers on the plane had died the moment the plane hit the tarmac. The rest were a varied state of injuries ranging from ICU cases to minor broken bones and scrapes.

After stopping at the Delta information center set up for providing information on the passengers of the plane, Skinner and Meg Scully had yet to find out where Mulder and Scully lay in that framework of survival rates.

As they entered the second hangar, the smell of charred bodies that hung over the building assaulted them. Black body bags rested on the floor in neat rows. Behind him, he could almost sense Maggie balk at the sight, and he understood. Even after being in Vietnam, and all his time with the Bureau, he had yet to get used to the sight or smell of violent death like this. And he hoped he never would.

"I need to see the agent in charge," announced Skinner to one of the uniformed cops. He pointed off towards the command post desk, with a group of men crowded around it, a mix of FBI, FAA and local police and emergency services. Nodding his thanks at the trooper, he started off purposefully for the men, Meg Scully following in his wake.

"Gentlemen, I'm Assistant Director Skinner of the FBI" he introduced himself, swiftly passing his credentials before the group of men. "I had two of my agents on board, on their way to an assignment. Do you have any sign of them?"

The men looked from one to another. Finally, one of the assistants, with a list of the wounded and killed brought over her clipboard. She handed it to one of them, and stood back.

"What are they're names?" questioned a tall, older looking man who was partially covered in sweat and dirt. Obviously one of the first on the scene, if Skinner didn't miss his guess.

"Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully."

Scanning the list, he flipped each of the five pages in succession, taking care as he did. He stopped twice, then started again, as if checking his facts before he said anything.

"I have a Fox Mulder registered at Birmingham General. He was listed in serious but stable condition."

"And Dana Scully," questioned Margaret, her voice edged with fright as she finally asserted her presence.

There was a long pause, and the man glanced at the assistant, who met his gaze, then dropped it. He looked back at Margaret and Skinner, his face downcast.

"We have a DOA who had a badge identifying her as Dana Scully. We haven't been able to verify her identity beyond that without DNA or dental records."

"Are you saying. . ." breathed Skinner as Maggie clamped a hand over her mouth.

"The body was burned beyond recognition. I'm sorry, but unless the DNA or dental records show otherwise, I'm afraid that Ms. Scully is dead."

Margaret turned and leaned into Skinner's chest as the impact hit, and he let her, putting his arms around her as the first tears started to fall. From both of them.

-------X-----X-----X-------

When Mulder eventually woke up for the second time, it was to the concerned faces of Mrs. Scully and Skinner. In truth, he couldn't have been happier to see their familiar faces, but it also instantly troubled him. There was something that he was supposed to remember. . .

Suddenly it hit him. If they were both here, who was with Dana? Where was Scully? Then the nurse's words came back to him in a rush of pain and disbelief.

Dead.

She was dead.

Dear God, no. . .

Skinner and Maggie watched as Mulder's body almost visibly pulled in on itself. It was as if he had suddenly lost everything that mattered. And in a way, he had.

"Fox?" Mrs. Scully's quiet voice said. He could hear fear as well as a question in her tone.

"She's dead," he said quietly, a shocked quality to his voice that Maggie had never heard before. As she replayed it in her head, she realized what it was.

Defeat.

Part of her wanted to just take Fox in her arms and hold him like Dana would have done if she had been there. But the fact that her daughter wasn't there for the man she loved was the reason that he was feeling this pain. This loss. Seeing him like this, similar to when Dana had disappeared, she knew how time had only deepened what was already between them. And this time, she feared that he wouldn't recover.

But she still had to give him hope. Hope that she wasn't even sure she had herself. For without his Scully, Mulder was half of himself.

"Fox, they. . . they found Dana's ID on a body on the runway after the crash. They still haven't run dental records to confirm it, but. . . " she began, but stopped in mid sentence, unable to say anymore.

"But she hasn't shown up in any of the other hospitals identifying herself as Dana Scully," interjected Skinner, trying to be as tactful as he could about the delicate issue. Looking at Mulder, he could tell that part of him was dead or dying as they spoke.

With Skinner's words, the reality began to set in. Mulder hadn't wanted to believe it, even moments ago. He had hoped that he had been imagining things. That he had heard the woman wrong or that they were talking about someone else. But now he knew that he hadn't. And the look on both Skinner and Mrs. Scully's faces assured him that it was true.

The truth of it tore him up inside.

Maggie watched Fox's emotions dance across his face in rapid succession. She bit her lip as she tried to imagine his pain. She'd already felt the brunt of it when she'd heard. But there was still one more piece of news she needed to hear.

"Fox," Mrs. Scully asked gently, "one of the nurses said you were asking for your wife when you woke up." 

Mulder averted his gaze instantly at the mere mention of the change that had only happened a few minutes before the crash.  He still was having his own problems dealing with the fact that his lover and partner who had become his wife on board the fated plane was gone. Now he was faced with staring her mother in the face and explaining himself to her. How was he supposed to tell his mother-in-law what they had done?

"We thought. . . " he began, then faltered.

"That you were going to die?" she asked softly, a spark of happiness suddenly falling upon her at the implications. If she had lost her daughter, at least she might have gained a son-in-law. 

He nodded his head, unable for a moment to speak as the images flooded his mind. The fear and elation all wrapped together. 

"There happened to be a minister on board, across the aisle from us. He performed an abbreviated service before. . . " he paused, choking back sudden tears, "before the plane crashed. We wanted to be together at the end."

Skinner looked at Mulder and remembered again the first time he had met Agents Mulder and Scully. The rumors had abounded that they were an 'item', but when he'd seen them, he had known better. They were partners, in every sense of the word. Yet they didn't know it. It had confused and amused him. Now, the partners were one, and separated again. Somehow it didn't seem fair.

"I'm glad that you did Fox. I'm glad I can call you my son," Mrs. Scully said as she finally broke down and pulled him to her, the two of them finding temporary solace in comforting each other.

-------X-----X-----X-------

When the word filtered in to her hospital room, Scully couldn't believe her ears.

Dana Scully had been declared dead on the scene. 

It explained everything. Why Mulder or her mom hadn't searched her out among the casualties of the crash. How her ID had been missing and she'd been coded a Jane Doe. Obviously some other person's body had ended up with her ID beside it, and they had made the "logical" leap that this was the body's identity.

Damn, she swore to herself. When she got back to work with Mulder, she was going to remember that logic wasn't always the smartest route after this fiasco.

But it still left her with a problem - how she was going to make the medical staff aware of her identity and have them contact Mulder.

She was still on the respirator, even though she was conscious and aware of her surroundings. The doctors were still concerned that the lung would collapse if forced to breathe without assistance. 

If her hands had been able to, she would have gestured for paper. As it was, the different doctors and nurses had all come in and out, checking on her, and made sure she was comfortable in her hospital bed. It was comical actually. At this point, she would have traded in comfort for pain if it would get them to help her communicate her identity.

Inwardly she sighed. Damn the Bureau and their last minute assignments and damn her luck for being 'lost'.

But she could do nothing about it but hope that Mulder and her mom could hold on long enough for her to get some kind of message to them that she was alive. The thought of Mulder thinking she was dead was beyond frustrating. Knowing him like she did, she was now even more concerned for his safety. She could only hope that he was somewhere that her mom could keep an eye on him, lest he do something stupid.

That night as she slipped off into a drugged sleep she wished that there was a way she could communicate with Mulder. She found herself wishing that the psychic abilities she had exhibited when she'd hit her head in Oregon were hers again. That she could walk the paths of dreams to let Mulder know she was alive and waiting for him to come to her.

-------X-----X-----X-------

Mrs. Scully and Skinner had been shooed out of Mulder's hospital room long after visiting hours were over, and after he'd received the evening special of painkillers and sleeping pills, he'd been out and feeling no pain. 

Yet something woke Mulder up the middle of the night. As he stirred awake, trying to bring his senses up to par, he realized that it was a woman's voice, calling his name. Aware now, he sat up in bed, straining to hear, and recognized the voice.

It was Scully's voice.

Suddenly she stood there, looking at him. A gauzy apparition in white. And all he could think of was what he would give to have her truly there with him. Make her whole and real again. To bring her back to him.

"Oh God Scully! What could I have done differently," he wondered aloud, anguish he'd been trying to suppress threading through his words.

"Absolutely nothing Fox," she said in a whispered tone, her red hair whipping about her pale face as if she was being buffeted by the wind. "We can't control our destinies. You should know that better than anyone."

He rubbed his hands over his face, as if to dispel the vision, or simply to wipe away the last of the sleep. When he raised his eyes again, she had moved closer, her lips only inches away from him. Desire and longing flooded him as he looked at her. At one moment, he was almost tempted to reach out to her, but as he looked closer at the edges of her, he could see the blurring of her shape. The verification that the woman who stood before him wasn't real. She was simply a ghost of the living woman that he wanted.

"I want you so much Dana. I want you to be alive," he said with utter despondency.

"I'm here Fox, closer than you think."

He frowned at that, his eyes welling up with wetness. He shook his head, denying the image before him.

"You're gone Scully. I have to admit that to myself now, before I lose my mind in hoping that you're alive. Wishing that you're real. Believing that there's a miracle still out there for us. . . " he murmured, his eyes starting to feel the effects of the medication again.

With that, she seemed to become sad, and part of him felt guilty for causing her more pain, even now. Even with his harsh words, she came to him and ran a phantom hand through his hair as his eyes started to close, his head falling back on the pillow. Then he felt her go, drifting away from him, and even as he called for her to stay in his mind, in his heart, she was drawn into the distance.

Yet before he lost consciousness, he was certain that he could hear her voice, soft and musical, piercing the veil of sleep to reach him one last time. Two simple words that were so unScullylike.

"Believe, Mulder."

-------X-----X-----X-------

The next morning, Mulder had awoken to visitors again and a better prognosis for his recovery and possible early release. Little did he know that while he was hearing about taking things easy and limited duty when or if he returned to work, that a note had been passed as a favor from one nurse at Valley Lutheran to an attending intern at Birmingham General. 

That intern had in turn had passed it to the head surgeon that had been on call the night of the crash, and who had ended up doing Mulder's surgery, but had not followed up with him. Until now.

The short, brisk knock at Mulder's door was the simple prelude to the final destination of that note.

"Excuse me, Mr. Mulder," came the physician's voice at the door.

"Yes?" he said in a inquisitive tone. It wasn't like he didn't have a lot of medical staff checking in on him, especially after the blowup when he'd first woken up, but this man's courteous nature seemed counter to another blood-letting or 'how are you feeling' speech.

"I've been passed this message from one of the staff at Valley Lutheran Hospital," he said, walking into the room and nodding his acknowledgement of the other people inside the room - Mrs. Scully, Skinner and Mulder's doctor. "I understand its from one of the other crash victims, who just today was able to get this message out. They say she was very insistent that it be delivered to you as soon as possible."

That had Mulder's curiosity piqued. The only other passenger that they, no 'he' he reminded himself, had "met" on the plane was the Elvis minister. But he knew that Earl Ray was in the same hospital he was, two floors down with a broken pelvis and both legs in traction. God, what a horrible fate for a Priest of the Church of Elvis but to be unable to move his hips for eight weeks, he mused in almost his old humor. But the question still remained, who was at this other hospital that knew him?

With that, the man held out the slip of paper to Mulder, who hesitated for a moment. Then, taking the note from the doctor's hand, Mulder pushed back the page and looked at the three words on the paper.

It was in a hand that he could read as well as his own and it caused him to suck in a startled breath.

'Mulder, it's me'

The sudden understanding of the message hit him like lighting. Without another word he was struggling to get out of bed, offering no explanations in his single mindedness of needing to see her. . .

Skinner and an orderly were instantly there, trying to push him back towards the bed. Mrs. Scully was talking to him, trying to get him to explain himself. Yet nothing would deter him, his body a flurry of movement and his right hand grasping the piece of paper like a lifeline. Finally he let loose with the words that he knew had to be said and would explain all.

"Let me go! She's alive! Scully's alive!" he repeated over and over until the words sank in with the people around him.

Margaret pried the paper from Mulder's hands ever so gently as Skinner nearly forced Mulder to sit down. The shock of Mulder's announcement was still very mixed between disbelief and astonishment. It wasn't until Mrs. Scully started crying that the truth was finally accepted.

"Meg?" asked Skinner, still doubtfully of this announcement. Then again, if anyone could pull off something like this, he had to admit it would be either of his two rogue agents.

"It's her handwriting Walt. She's alive!"

-------X-----X-----X-------

Less than an hour later Mulder was wheeled into the room by one of the medical staff. It had taken him and Skinner quite a long time to convince them that he had to make it across town to make sure that what everyone was now almost convinced of and what Mulder felt in his heart wasn't a lie.

But once Mulder's eyes caught sight of the shock of auburn hair against the pillow, he had no doubts. Then she slowly turned towards him, her blue eyes piercing his soul, and he felt again the same relief that had accompanied a similar gesture from her over two years back. When she'd woken from her coma and returned to him.

And now she'd done it again.

Taking the grips from the orderly, Skinner pushed Mulder's chair to the side of the bed, and settled him as close to Scully as possible. Within seconds, Mulder had one of her casted hands covered with his own, his eyes shinning with happy tears at the sight of her, the feel of her. At the moment he'd seen her, he'd felt part of him come alive again.

"Hi Scully."

She smiled at him, her heart expanding in her chest. He was there with her, Skinner and her mom behind him as well. She had been found and she was going to have the chance to be with Mulder for the rest of their lives. She knew she couldn't have asked for more.

"Hi yourself," Scully barely got out past the damage and disuse of her throat and voice. 

She coughed a few times and Mulder instantly laid a hand along her cheek. The doctor had explained how she'd been intubated until that morning because of the damage done to her lung, and Mulder realized that the first thing she had done when she could talk was send the note to him. In the scheme of things, it wasn't much, but it was the most important message he'd ever received. Worried suddenly as she coughed some more, he laid his fingers over her lips, trying to keep her silent. But she wasn't buying any of that. Days without knowing where he was or being able to speak had her wanting to say what was on her mind.

"You know, for a man who believes in fluke monsters and little gray men, you sure didn't have a lot of belief in me," Scully hoarsely whispered.

"A momentary lapse of faith Dana," he replied tenderly. "I promise that I won't believe the next exaggerated report of your death until you tell me its' true."

She smiled at that. One of the rare Scully smiles that Mulder was certain made him grin like a fool when she shot them his direction. But then, today he had a perfect excuse. His wife and partner was back from the dead. 

"You know Agent Scully, between you and Mulder, you make resurrection seem commonplace," remarked Skinner suddenly, with his usual brand of dry humor.

He laughed softly at Skinner's attempt at a joke. How many times had one or the other been in that position? Enough that he knew now that he didn't want to go through this again. But there didn't seem to be any other option. Not in the line of work they were in. They just had to make every day count from here on out.

And when they got home, he was going to make sure of that.

With that thought in his mind, he lifted her casted hand to his lips, brushing them along the exposed fingers.

"So Scully, when are they letting ya outta here?" he asked with a voice that set every nerve ending she had on fire.

God, she had missed him.

"A week. They said my lung and hands should be healed by then enough to head home," she replied, twisting her hand just enough to graze his fingers with her own. He gave her a lopsided grin and squeezed her hand the slightest bit harder.

Around them, their guests were feeling a bit like voyeurs, and after the doctors both had beat a hasty retreat, Skinner moved over to Meg, placing a hand on her shoulder. She tore her eyes away from the sight of her daughter and son-in-law to look at him. After a simple nod, she understood, and he escorted them out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

Even though they hadn't even given a thought to the fact that they'd had an audience, Mulder and Scully did notice when everyone had discreetly left the room.

"We've been ditched here Agent Scully," he said humorously, referring to the empty room. Then he suddenly turned serious. "I missed you Dana. I thought I'd never see you again. I was so out of my mind with grief, I even hallucinated that I saw you just last night. Spooky, huh?"

Her eyes widened a bit at his words. Last night, she thought for a moment. She had been wishing she could reach him using those lost psychic powers last night before they had removed the tube from her mouth this morning. So if he'd seen her, that meant. . .

"You could say that," she mumbled under her breath with a knowing grin that sent Mulder's eyebrows shooting for his hairline.

"Are you saying. . ."

"I don't know. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, maybe. . . " she trailed off, almost unwilling to say more. 

He was stunned. Could she have contacted him on a psychic plane? Reached out for him to try and contact him the only way available to her? If her past psychic experiences hadn't happened, he wouldn't have believed it, but perhaps there was more to it. Maybe they had a connection deeper than either of them had realized.

"I guess it's just another X-File," she remarked with a wry grin, bringing his train of thought up short.

Shaking his head, he knew that it really didn't matter. So in answer he simply leaned over and kissed her.

-------X-----X-----X-------

It had been a little over two weeks since Dana Scully-Mulder had returned home to Maryland with her husband, Fox Mulder after being released from the hospital in Birmingham nearly 100 percent. In that time, she'd started to get used to the extra ring on her finger and the fact that they were married.

Over all it was a strange transition, but as she thought more about it, it wasn't that different. All she had done was change her name. Everything else was still the same. They had even started talking about when they'd be back to work. It was starting to feel like things were back to normal again.

Except that a week ago Mulder had suggested they get married. Again. And now, wandering around the upstairs bedroom, she was more nervous than she'd ever been in her life. Because today she was getting married in the home she shared with her partner, friend and husband.

Because of the plane crash they had been married on the plane, then their wedding plans had been cancelled due the fact that everyone thought she was dead. Then once everything was straightened out and she and Mulder had found one another again, all of their plans were now scrapped. 

She had contended that it really didn't matter. They were married, and that was what counted. Mulder on the other hand wasn't satisfied with that. they were going to have the proper ceremony - with friends and family in attendance. So here they were, having that small, informal wedding, and she had to make her entrance.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the doorknob and went out onto the landing, heading for the staircase.

She stood at the top of the steps dressed in her wedding gown. The off-white dress had been a concession. Mulder had wanted pure white with a veil and the whole nine yards. She had complained that she felt hypocritical marrying him wearing "virginal" white, and nixed the idea of a veil. So the off-white, simplistic floor length gown was agreed upon. She descended the stairs from the upper rooms and made her way to where Mulder stood waiting for her at the foot of them, smiling up at her. 

She held out a hand which he eagerly took, and tucked it under his arm. He had been willing to rent a tux and be as decked out as she, but she had told him that his best black suit was better. It was what she expected of him. That and his awful taste in ties.

When Mulder had protested, she had simply and sweetly explained that she loved him for everything he was, sexy Armani suits and poor taste in ties included. So he had been certain to choose one of his more. . . interesting ones for the service. At the sight of him in it, she had grinned even wider. 

Slowly they walked into the large open area of their living room. A fire blazed in the fireplace and all the furniture had been pushed against the walls, hollowing out the center of the room. Flowers and candles were everywhere, giving the space an ethereal feel. As they looked, they found the people closest to them there, ringing the room - Walter Skinner stood next to Maggie Scully. Scully's brothers and their wives were there as well. On the other side, Byers, Langley and Frohike stood.

Father Carson from the local parish had been happy to do Maggie Scully a favor by officiating over her daughter's wedding, even though he knew he was simply revalidating their vows. Scully and Mulder stopped before him, the candle and fire light giving them a glow that was only outshone by their love.

As they stood there, looking at one another, they dimly heard the priest speaking, talking about the importance of marriage and the sanctity of their vows. All that mattered to them right then was that they were with one another and surrounded by the people they cared about most. The words the priest was saying were secondary.

Finally he got to the part where they were to say their vows. It had been another bone of contention between them. This time Scully had been the one to be traditional about it, while Mulder had wanted to say what he felt without boxing it into some old trite words everyone repeated.

"Mr. Mulder, Ms. Scully," whispered the priest, bringing them back to the service. As the priest nodded his head in Mulder's direction, they both realized the moment was upon them.

Politely clearing his throat which somehow had gone as dry as the Sahara, Mulder struggled to get his vows right.

"Scully. *Dana*. There were times when I was lost that you found me. Times when I thought no one believed in me, yet you supported me. You have been my constant, my savior, my love and my light. Now, today, I pledge myself again to you as your husband, your friend and your partner for the rest of our days. I love you Scully." 

He felt her hands tighten around his, and knew she was pleased with his words. They had chosen not to reveal them until today, and now he was hoping that his words were worthy of whatever she had prepared.

"Mulder. *Fox*. I didn't know what love was until I found you. I didn't realize I was missing half my soul. You are everything I have ever wanted and needed - my partner, my friend and my lover. And today I pledge to you again my loyalty, my heart, my soul and myself for as long as we live. I love you Mulder."

Suddenly it was Mulder's turn to tighten his grip on their clasped hands. They smiled at each other, a tenderness to their gazes that was seen and felt through the entire room. Lost in a place that was filled with only the two of them, they had to be pulled back to the service again. Following the priest's instructions, they placed their wedding rings on each other's finger's again, the action bringing back the plane crash to them for a brief second before the image was wiped away under the new memory.

Standing there, hands clasped and hearts joined, they could almost see as reality everything they had ever wanted - being partners, being married, living together for the rest of their lives.

And as the priest finally pronounced them husband and wife, again, there was a sudden round of applause from the people surrounding them and they leaned in for their kiss.

Their visions had finally become a reality.

-End-