From: "Kim Swartz" Date: Fri, 9 Jul 1999 18:06:50 -0400 Subject: Alter Ego Part I of III Title: Alter Ego Author: Bobby Jo Sweet Rating: PG - one really naughty word, and some cussin' at CSM. Keyword: M/S romance Synopsis: Mulder and Scully meet a new contact who forces them to re-examine their lives. Acknowledgements: The names you recognize - Mulder, Scully, Skinner, Smoking Man, Krychek, do not belong to me, and are borrowed without permission from the good people at 1013 and Mr. Carter. No television characters were harmed in the making of this story. Special Agent David Smith is an old dear friend of mine, as well as Tina (Christianne Sandt), Bonnie, Curt and Jim. I ask that they are not used without my permission. Thanks to Steph for reading and correcting me - couldn't have done it without you! - and my husband for putting up with the late nights on the computer. Dedicated as always to my students. Thoughts: It has always bothered me that Mulder was given the nickname "Spooky". He would never be referred to that way by FBI agents - spooks are undercover espionage agents, adept at keeping secrets and hiding in the shadows. I wondered what it would be like for Mulder and Scully to meet a really "spooky" guy - Mulder's complete opposite. A good man with an opposing philosophy on life. Smith and the others are crossovers from my Spycatchers series of books; if you like them, let me know. Feedback of the non-flaming variety is treasured - send to kim@boson.com. Section 1 The agent leaned back against the stair rise behind her and gazed thoughtfully off into the distance. The summer haze still lay across the city spread out in front of her, shimmering slightly against the limits of her sight. The honks and screeches of traffic barely reached her ears through the interior mist of her thoughts. She leaned forward and sighed, laying her head in her palms. She had hoped that her escape to her favorite hiding place would calm the hive of thoughts buzzing through her mind, but a half hour of sitting quietly had done nothing to relax her. Idly she wondered why. The steps she was reclining on led to a blocked doorway into her office building, far away from both the employee and tourist entrances. Since she had discovered this little hideaway the only other people she had seen were a few furtive smokers, and once, to her embarrassment, a couple seeking privacy. Except for them, the place was her own. She enjoyed the view it offered of the capital city. She could catch a peak of the Capital itself if she stretched herself to see through the tangle of roads and buildings in the way. The top of the Washington monument peeked out above the office building behind her. She wouldn't recommend taking a picture for a postcard here, but it was a great view for a resident of the city - for someone who the places of Washington were a part of their daily life. So why were the muscles in her neck still so tense? Her workload was actually rather light right now. She and her partner had not taken on a new case for a few days now, and the latest ones had actually been routine. Of course, for them, routine meant run of the mill abduction cases and another Bigfoot sighting. She moaned into her hands. How did she get here? she asked herself, not for the first time. How did the nice Catholic Navy brat with the MD end up tromping through the woods at midnight watching for lights in the sky? She found that her mind was relaxing a bit, as it fell into the grooves of these old, familiar thoughts. As often as she had asked herself these questions, she had still not found a good answer. She could rationalize to herself that this was her assignment, and like any good FBI agent she wanted to complete it, but she knew that there was more than that. Five years ago, when she had first arrived at this building, she had been assigned to join the ongoing investigation known officially as the X-Files, but mainly known throughout the office as Spooky's Crusade. Spooky, or Mulder, as he preferred to be called, was the other half of the investigative team. Somehow this brilliant, rapidly rising star of the Violent Crimes Division had finagled his way into opening the X-Files and devoting the majority of his time there. Even more astonishing, someone in the highest echelons had decided he needed a partner. And in one of the most strangest personnel decisions anyone had ever seen, the partner that was chosen was the straight laced, no nonsense, non believing scientific woman sitting here on the steps on her lunch hour. When she had first been brought into the section chief's office and told of her new assignment, she had caught her breath and tried to appear calm. She was new to the bureau, but she had already known that a death sentence was being pronounced for her career. Her mind whirled, seeking a memory of what exactly she was being punished for, but couldn't find anything worth this blemish on her record. She smiled weakly at her superior, and prayed that this was only a test of her loyalty and would end quickly. Half an hour later, she was wondering if it was a test of her sanity. She had met her new partner in his dimly lit basement office. After he had welcomed her with an accusation of her part in the vast conspiracy against him and the truth, he eagerly described the details of their first case together. As he threw out terms such 'lost time' and 'Reticulans' she wondered if there was any graceful way to back out and go back to teaching at Quantico. There wasn't, so she had no choice but to go along for the ride. She was surprised in many ways by the results of their first case. First, they managed to get along pretty well. She was determined to stand her ground against the onslaught of unsubstantiated, unproveable theories Mulder threw out at her, and he tolerated her stubborn resistance. She could see he was frustrated by her responses, but he didn't cut her off. As difficult as it must have been, he listened to her, and she respected that. Unfortunately, she had not been able to give scientific reasons for all they had seen there. Much of what she had seen disturbed her, and still did. She didn't like ambiguity, which tended to cling to their cases. She supposed he didn't either, which would explain his need to find some explanation, not matter how strange or implausible, to answer all of their questions. She was surprised to find that need in common, when everything else was at odds. Strangely, during that first case together, she had found herself trusting him. Trust was the primary ingredient of the relationship between two agents, and usually took a long time to build. She had never had a partner before, and even in her private life there were very few people she could bring herself to let into her thoughts. She and Mulder had quickly found a bridge of trust between them. She blushed as she remembered the night when she had found two marks on her back just like the marks found on the victims they were investigating. She had raced into her new partner's room. Before his astonished eyes she had dropped her robe and, clothed only in her underwear, tearfully pointed out the marks to him. She knew what her mother would have said about that maneuver, and for most men she would have been right, but Mulder gently examined the marks, reassured her that they were only mosquito bites, and helped her cover herself again. They spent the night lying on his bed talking about their pasts. She told him things she had never said outloud, and she heard the story of his sister's abduction and his resulting dedication to the search for the truth about his loss. She knew that night a small connection was formed between them, and never again thought seriously about leaving their team. She blinked as she focused back on the present. The sun had begun its slow descent to the horizon, and she glanced quickly at her watch. It was time to go back to the office, where Mulder was waiting with even more stacks of paperwork to wade through. He hated the slow monotonous process of filling out forms, which had made him a little on edge today. She supposed his frustration had worn off on her, which explained her tenseness. She had no love of paperwork, either, but in her mind she found it a much more pleasant experience than a liver eating mutant. Comparisons like this she found helped her keep her perspective. I guess he would prefer the mutant, she thought ruefully, then rose to her feet to go back inside. She gasped as she saw a man standing a few feet in front of her. Instantly she reached to the holster at her side. He immediately raised both hands in the air in the classic surrender position and smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She took a deep breath and moved her hand off of the holster, but kept it in reaching distance. She glanced quickly around, but they were still alone. She turned back to his face, noting the bright blue eyes twinkling and the grin still twitching up the corners of his mouth. He was about her age, average height with a slim, athletic build. His hair was an uncommon, Nordic shade of blond, dazzling in the sunlight streaming down on him. "What do you want?" she asked brusquely. He shrugged. "I'm a little lost, I guess. I was looking for directions. You looked liked you worked here, so maybe you can help me out." He glanced down at her holster again with a fascinated expression. "What are you looking for?" she asked. She looked him over again, decided he was harmless, and came down the steps to join him at the foot. "Tour office, public relations, something like that?" he said, relaxing as she left her defensive posture. She thought for a minute. "I'm not sure where they are. Go around to the front of the building and check with one of the guards. They can help you." He nodded. "Thanks," he said, and paused a minute. "Look, I got to ask," he said shyly. "Are you a real agent?" She nodded in return. "That's neat. My kids would love to meet you. I'm a teacher," he explained quickly in response to her inquisitive look. "Eighth grade history." "Wow!" she replied, glancing over him again. 'He sure beats Sister Mary for looks' she thought quickly, noting the pale blonde hair and deep bright blue eyes. He was gorgeous in an open, friendly California way. She could easily picture him carrying a surfboard across the sand, breeze tousling his hair... Hold on, girlfriend, she reminded herself. She focused back on his face again. His grin had even widened further. "You have the cooler job. What's it like to work for the FBI?" he asked. She could see the interest in his eyes. Even if it was only for her job, she was grateful. "Well, I don't think it's as exciting as you think, but it has its moments." She found herself tossing her hair back, actually flirting with him. What could it hurt? she thought grimly. After this, its back to the basement for probably all night, and its been a while since her last honest to God flirtation. "My name is Dave," he said, holding out his hand. "Dana," she offered, grasping his hand in return. "Pleased to meet you, Dana," he said. Both fell silent, studying each other's reactions. "Are you here on vacation?" she asked quickly. He shook his head, then laughed, and nodded. "Working vacation. I'm at a teacher's conference at the Hilton. I'm playing hooky today to see the sights." "What brings you to J Edgar?" she asked, then blushed. "I'm sorry, I sound like I'm interrogating you." "That's all right!" he replied warmly. "That's your job, isn't it? I'll confess I'm fascinated with the whole G-man myth. Is it true you have some of Hoover's dresses upstairs on display?" She laughed outloud for the first time in weeks. "Is that rumor still floating around? If they are, I haven't seen them." "Too bad. I can't wait to tell my students I met a real FBI agent. What do you do? I mean, investigate?" No way, she thought, am I telling him the truth. "Violent crimes," she answered. His eyebrows flew up in surprise in a way that was totally enchanting. Dana, what are you thinking? she admonished herself. Sure he's gorgeous and funny but... but what? I'm a single adult woman on my own... To her astonishment an image of Mulder flashed across her mind. She froze for a second, then eagerly pushed all of these thoughts out of her mind. Dave was watching her. "Violent crimes? You mean serial killers and whatnot. That's dangerous. Have you caught any?" He paused for her nod. "Did you ever shoot anyone?" "My partner," she heard herself reply, and moaned inwardly. Dave laughed in shock. "I think that must be an interesting story I would like to hear. Hey, I know we just met, and I don't want you to think I pick up strange women all of the time, but how about lunch tomorrow? If I act in an ungentlemanlike manner, you can shoot me too. Sound good?" She nodded shyly in agreement. He grinned happily, then paused. "I may have trouble sneaking away tomorrow. How about I leave you my cell number and you call me this afternoon? I can give you a set time then." She agreed. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his jeans pocket and a pen. He scribbled a number on the outside of the sheet and handed it to her. As he leaned in closely to hand it to her, his eyes darkened. "Be careful," he whispered, then pulled away. She watched him, feeling her face tighten in a familiar frown. But his eyes were bright again and cheerful. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. She wondered if it had been her imagination, this sudden seriousness in his tone. She had a feeling that Dave tended not to take life too seriously, on the basis of their few minutes together. "I have to get back before my principal knows I'm gone. I'm not too good at this undercover spy stuff," he smirked. "I'll call you this afternoon," Dana replied, a little self-consciously. When was the last time you had a date? she wondered. "Good," he said, and turned to the front of the building. She watched him go, noting his careless stroll down the sidewalk. He moved smoothly, completely unaware of the picture he made in the afternoon light. He was right, she thought dimly, he stood out too much to ever be an effective agent. She sighed, and without glancing at it, put the phone number in her jacket pocket. She hoped she would have enough nerve to call. She glanced down at her watch and sighed. She was really late now. Mulder was going to be a pain in the ass. "Did you get lost?" Scully stood in the doorway and sighed. Ignoring the voice for a minute, she surveyed the chaos that was her working home. Stacks of papers, files, evidence, and unidentifiable things covered every flat surface. Even the chair she had occupied only an hour ago was straining under the weight of a stack of forms. She shuddered at the thought of what a strong wind would do. Probably more good than harm, she admitted. "What happened?" the voice asked again. Finally she turned her eyes to her partner. Mulder leaned back in his chair, feet resting on a tiny clear spot on his desk. His arms were behind his neck and he was watching his partner with dark piercing eyes. She could see the frustration of meaningless work there, almost obscuring a tinge of worry. Jesus, Mulder, can I go to lunch without you panicking? "Nothing. I'm just running a little late. Anything happen while I was gone?" She hefted the bundle off of her seat and on to the floor. Settling in, she turned back to her partner. "Which do you want first, the crappy news or the really crappy news?" he asked. "I guess I'll go with the first," she replied, feeling the first tinges of a tension headache. "Does it involve travel?" She was really beginning to hate life on the road, with the cheap hotels and creepy little towns. Anyone who thought her job was glamorous should try a few evenings in one of the disgusting little "hell-tels" Mulder was always able to dig up, she thought grimly. Mulder glowered. "Travel won't be an issue for a long time. Internal Auditing has developed a sudden interest in our budget. They'll be here in two days to go over our books." "What books, Mulder?" Scully replied languidly. "I thought for financial purposes we were part of VCD." "I thought so too. But as soon as their accounting people caught wind of this they swore they never heard of us before." Scully stood up and moved over to his desk. "What did Skinner say?" she demanded. He gracefully slid out of his seat and leaned over the desk towards his partner. "That would be the really crappy news. He said if no one else has our financial stuff, to make some up. Ourselves. In two days." "Mulder!" Scully moaned deeply into her hands. "Can't he call them off?" Mulder shook his head. "IA answers only to our supreme director Mr. Freeh. And somehow I don't think we can count on him to help us out. Face it, partner, we'll not see the outsides of this room for a long time." Scully sank back into her seat again, morosely kicking at the stack of papers on the floor next to her. She leaned against the table, cushioning her chin in her cupped hands. "That figures," she muttered. She pictured Dave as he had stood infront of her this morning, eyes glowing that particular shade of blue as he smiled at her. God, she didn't even know this guy, but she wanted to. She found herself wishing she could know him much better. "Scully?" Mulder broke into her thoughts. She looked up. He stood awkwardly beside her. The concern hiding in his eyes before was more apparent now. He lightly brushed her shoulder with his hand. "It's alright, we can handle this. I can take care of it..." Here comes the Mulder Guiltathon, she thought grimly. Of course he is going to take the blame. Part of her heart was touched by the offer, though. As crazy as Mulder drove her, he did look out for her. Sometimes his carefulness was overbearing, but she still appreciated his efforts. As long as they have been together, she had never carried any of her burdens alone. Somehow he was always there for her, as her friend and confidante. At first she had sometimes watched him at work, and wondered if their relationship would develop into something else. But, the closer they became and the more they shared, the more she was afraid of losing that special friendship. She had to admit, the thought still popped up at random times, but she was beginning to think that particular path was closed off. "No, Mulder, we'll do this together." Her voice had softened. "I should have watched the financial information more closely." His hand touched her shoulder again. She reached up and grasped it tightly for a moment. He watched, eyes turned unfathomable for a minute. He watched the beautiful brilliant redhead at his side for a minute and wondered for the millionth time why she was there. He never could have found a better partner, but it would have been easy to find a more likely one. Their differences were so obvious that it was sometimes difficult to see what they held in common. It bothered him that he didn't know why she had stayed with him through the terrible times they had shared. She had a strong sense of duty, and a strong sense of justice and loyalty, but he couldn't imagine anyone using those as an anchor through their suffering and coming through as strong as she had. He wondered if it was a sense of revenge, but that would be so unlike the kind, forgiving woman he had come to know. She was the only person in the world he could trust to stand beside him in his need, and he adored her for that. She was his best friend and partner, and he never wanted that to change. She had pulled a slip of paper out of her jacket pocket and was staring at it, subconsciously biting her lower lip. "What's that?" he asked her. "I .. ah.. met someone. I'm supposed to call him about lunch tomorrow." He stopped moving, as his mind took off in a whirl. Scully met a ... guy? "Really?" he replied, keeping a disinterested tone. He hoped the shock didn't show on his face. "I'll call him and tell him I need to work," she said tonelessly, and reached for the phone. It was too good to be true anyway, she thought. "Wait, Scully, go ahead," Mulder urged. His words tasted funny in his mouth. "No, you need me here," she replied quietly. He could hear the disappointment in her voice. Mulder felt his throat tighten. "No, we'll manage. You deserve a good time." Scully glanced down at the phone number again. Yes, she did deserve a good time. "But I don't want to abandon..." she looked more closely at the paper and noticed something odd. The paper he had written on was folded very carefully, and thicker than only one sheet. She turned it over and noted the careful creases in the sheet. Then she saw along one of the creases was drawn an arrow. "Scully, go ahead and call," Mulder urged. "Hold on," she replied. Frowning deeply, she opened up the little package. Inside was another sheet folded like the first. Written on it in block letters was the name of her partner. Mulder watched the operation over her shoulder. When he saw the inscription he turned to her. "Who is this guy?" he asked quietly. "I don't know," she replied softly in return. "He said he was a teacher. He acted so... natural, I didn't feel any suspicions." She felt like she was babbling, and silenced herself. She handed him the interior paper, and was left with the outside wrapping. Returning to her chair, she glanced at the wrapping paper. She gasped. "What?" her partner demanded, and raced again to her side. She pointed to the picture on the paper. It was a photocopy of a FBI ID badge, just the like the ones they carried. Except the picture was of a handsome blonde man with flashing blue eyes. "And they call me 'Spooky'" Mulder muttered. He squatted next to her and read the neat handwriting underneath together. Watch what you say. Your office is bugged. Don't worry. I'm on your side. Make sure your partner reads his note. Call me and we'll talk. S Scully found herself staring around her office. Being spied on was not a new sensation for her, but she felt a little unnerved. She couldn't reconcile the friendly open man she met so recently with this. She looked up at Mulder for reassurance. He had opened his note and was reading. We have a friend in common. He asks if Bach is still your favorite. We are both being watched. Follow her directions and we can make our transactions. Both of your apartments, your cars and your office are bugged. Talk only in public places. Trust no one. S He glanced down at his partner. "Go ahead and call your date, Scully," he said, in what passed for a normal voice. "I can handle IA." She nodded, and finally picked up the phone. He answered on the second ring. "Hi," Dave greeted brightly, easing his way out of the crowded conference room and ignoring the lecturer's unhappy glare. He made his way to the main hall, which was mostly deserted. A few teachers loaded down with bags of free goodies clustered in groups around the hall, gossiping happily. He weaved his way between them, picking a deserted sitting area at the end of the hall. He plunked down in one of the couches and leaned back. "Dave?" the voice on the other end hesitated. "Dana?" he replied happily. "Hi! I was hoping you would call. Is tomorrow good for you?" "Yes, fine," she replied, glancing again up at her partner. "What time?" Dave glanced down at the schedule he had pulled out of his back pocket. "Let's see. I've got 'Different Ways of Knowing' at ten and 'Alternative Assessments' at two. Can't miss those. How about twelve?" He listened for her affirmative. "Great. I'll meet you downstairs in the main lobby of your building, okay?" They chatted for a few minutes, then hung up. He immediately made another call. "Hey, boss," he said immediately. "I got a hot date tomorrow. Yeah, a pretty redhead. Say, when does the rest of my luggage arrive? Great. Tell everyone hello. I'll call you and let you know what happened." He hung up, leaned his head back against the couch and grinned, then leaped up to go back into the conference room. Scully glanced up at the clock again. Fifteen minutes after eleven. She fidgeted with the neckline of her new blouse again. Why does lace always have to itch so much? She allowed herself a good scratch then tried to concentrate on her work again. Her innocent lunch date was rapidly becoming much more than she had expected. Part of her ego deflated. Obviously he had made met with her only as a contact to her partner. She thought back on the lonely weekends and nights that had been her habit for the last five years. Dating had been too difficult when at any moment she might be called from her plans to perform an autopsy on a creature that evolved from a fluke worm. Eventually she had lost all of the free time she could devote to socializing, and fell out of the dating game. She guessed that the same thing had happened to Mulder, although they had never talked about it. She knew that he wasn't any more active than her. In fact, for both of them, the best they could expect was a pizza and a movie rental at her place. Many nights had passed that way, especially during a big case when they would both be too tense and focused to stare at their respective walls alone. She enjoyed those times for what they are, but she knew in her heart she needed more, something she didn't think her partner could ever give her. Sometimes when she was alone, she would stick in an old mushy romantic movie and wish for a hero to swipe her off her feet. Part of her had hoped that this white knight would have golden hair and shining blue eyes. Mulder watched as she scratched herself for the fiftieth time. He had never seen that blouse before. It was a brilliant white, with lace detailing around the neck. Maybe a little lower cut than what was normal for his conservative partner. She had left her black suit jacket hanging on the door to prevent wrinkles. The coordinating skirt was long and slim. He noticed how smoothly it lay against her legs, and immediately put that thought out of his head. The shoes were also new, and higher heeled then normal. She had curled her hair in a new style, emphasizing her large blue eyes. He did his best not to stare at this different woman in the room with him. It suddenly occurred to him that his partner was dressed to please a man. The realization stunned him. Scully? The thought made him a little uncomfortable. He had never known her to dress for anything except work or comfort. She had been his rock from the very beginning of their partnership. He relied on her to keep him in life. He treasured her for being the only stability in his life, and for her wisdom and courage. This change, small as it might seem to others, unnerved him. He began to wonder about the reason for her extra effort. Was she maybe really attracted to this guy? "Scully?" he started hesitantly. "Um?" she replied, turning his way. Mulder had his chair leaning against the wall behind him. He twisted a pencil in his hand as he spoke. "What's this guy like?" "Dave? Oh, I don't know. Nice." She leaned back in her chair, too. She had been waiting for the interrogation all morning. After the phone call yesterday, silence had reigned in their tiny office for maybe fifteen minutes. Then Mulder had rather loudly announced his desire for a decent cup of coffee, and asked his partner if she cared to join him on a quest to the Starbucks on the corner. She had aquiensced. The next half hour had been spent in heated debate. "Are you comfortable doing this?" Mulder had demanded anxiously. She nodded. "Mulder, I had agreed to see him before we knew ..." she hesitated, then continued. "You recognized the phrase, linking him to that senator..." "Yeah, I think he's a legitimize source, but I don't know of what." He took her hand suddenly and turned her around to face him. She lifted her chin to span the foot of difference in height between them. "I just want to make sure you're safe," he said, trying to read her feelings in her eyes. Too late he saw the stubbornness brimming within them. "Mulder, I am fully capable of handling a lunch date. I want to find out what's going on as much as you do. Let me do my job." He lowered his head in acknowledgement. He knew he was overprotective of his partner sometimes. But he still worried. "I can follow you..." "Mulder!" she exclaimed. He relented. "All right, as long as you are willing. No unnecessary risks, though okay?" She gave him her famous one eyebrow look. "Yes, I know I'm preaching to the choir on that point. But do we have a deal?" She agreed, and the matter was settled, until the next day. "What does he look like?" Mulder continued. He had seen his picture from his ID, but he wanted to hear it from her. Something was still bothering him about this lunch date. Never before had a contact tried to reach him through Scully. He trusted her abilities completely, but he would have been very happy to follow along and keep a watch on the meeting. Scully sighed. "What do you care, Mulder?" He looked hurt. "I'm just curious. He's stealing my partner away from me for an afternoon. I'd like to know more about him." "He's not stealing me, Mulder. Its just a date. You told me to go, anyway." "I know, I'm glad you're going. I'm just curious about him. I mean, you picked him up on the street, you should know something about him." Scully tried to catch her partner's eye, but he refused to meet her glance. If she didn't know better, that he was acting for their unseen audience, she would have sworn he was jealous. That she couldn't even imagine. "He's a teacher, Mulder. Eighth grade history." "That's what he said." he replied slowly. "Mulder!" she exclaimed. "You are paranoid!" She stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. "Gee, no one has ever told me that," he replied dryly. He watched her grab her jacket from the door and slip it on. "I'll be back by two," she said. "Be careful," he said quietly, finally meeting her eyes. She paused at the concern she saw there. As frustrating as he was, he did mean well. "I'll be fine," she replied calmly, and gave him a little smile that warmed his heart. "Have a good time," he said. "And by the way, you look beautiful." She paused, smile growing wider on her lips, then slowly shut the door behind her. When he was sure she was gone, he made a decision. He reached for the phone next to him and dialed a number from memory. "Yo, guys, need a favor," he asked the voice at the other end. "Can I stop by?" "Hey, Mulder," Frohike replied. "Anything for my hero, right, but you picked a bad day. We're a little busy." "Too busy to learn about Scully's date?" "Scully has a date?" "Bought a new rather low cut blouse for it." "Come on over." "Figured." When Scully stepped out of the elevator into the main office, the first thing she saw was her reflection in the wavy metal surface of the opposite elevator. She touched her hair, which had been in the company of a curling iron for the first time in months that morning. She noticed the appreciative glances of the men who swirled around her in the crowds, and felt supremely self-conscious. More to the point, she felt silly. This wasn't her. She didn't like being stared at. All morning she was conscious of Mulder trying not to stare at her, dressed up to impress a guy she didn't even know. His compliment was flattering, but it made her even more aware how strange she was acting. That thought was disturbing to her. She didn't want her partner to see her trying to impress a man, especially one who was only taking her out on business. That knowledge depressed her. It had been a long time since any guy had shown her interest. Sometimes it felt like all of the male agents she worked with went far out of the way to avoid any hints of interest. Even poor Pendrell never worked up the nerve to ask her out. She was at the point where she probably would have said yes. She had reached the security measures at the front of the lobby. She waved at the guards and slipped through to the heavy glass doors. Outside was another perfect sunny Washington day, the kind she never had the time to see and enjoy anymore. She took a deep breath, feeling the fresh warm air deep in her lungs. "Hey, agent woman." She heard a friendly voice call from behind. She turned to see Dave behind her, arms folded across a crisp white Oxford shirt. He wore a sedate red tie, and tan slacks. He looked just like a teacher fresh from a conference. She wondered briefly about the notes they had found. How could they connect to the gorgeous young man infront of her? "I'm parked down at the corner. Do you mind if I drive? The people at the hotel told me about a great restaurant I'd like to try." She nodded, and followed him to his car. She laughed outloud when she saw it. A yellow Mustang convertible with the roof down. He looked her way. "You don't mind, do you? I always wanted a convertible, which is rather outside the range of a teacher's pay. I figured it was worth it to spend a little more for a week's rental." Still laughing, she assured him it was fine. He opened her door for her, then raced around to his side. She noted the package of hair clips on the dashboard. "Help yourself," he urged. He started the engine, ignoring for the moment her puzzled look as she carefully pulled her hair away from her face. The cool air felt good as they pulled away from the curve. It was worth the loss of the time fussing with the curling iron. "Okay," he said as they maneuvered through the noon traffic. "This car has been completely Raided. No bugs, so we can say what we want in here. I bet you have some questions for me, and I'll answer what I can." "Who are you?" she asked first. "Special Agent David Smith, San Francisco office. Known to most people as Smith, but you had better call me Dave on duty, Agent Scully." He smiled reassuringly at her puzzled look. "Sorry for the cloak and dagger routine, but we need to take some precautions. Let me explain. My orders are to deliver to you a series of packages that will be delivered to me over the next couple of days. I'll give them to you to share with your partner." "What are these packages?" She asked. Her mind spun. She had never met an agent with this kind of talent for undercover work. During her years at the FBI she had worked with a few of these "spooks". Even Mulder had taken an undercover assignment once. And she had been on the receiving end of a couple scams, even a fake version of Mulder. No one had ever been this smooth and comfortable at the deception. Who are you? She wondered again silently. "I don't know," he replied honestly. He glanced over. "To be honest with you, I don't want to know. A little knowledge in my business is truly a dangerous thing. All I can say is that what you are investigating has some very important people very nervous." "Who?" she asked, afraid she already knew the answer. He shook his head. "Don't ask me, Dana, it only puts us both in danger and my life is already difficult enough. Just trust me." "Can I?" she asked. He didn't answer at first, until he reached a red light. Then he turned and focused all of his attention on her eyes. "Yes" he said quietly. "There are good guys out there, Dana. People on your team. Trust them." Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity she saw. He turned back to the road and immediately brightened. "What do you say we grab some lunch?" She agreed. She mentioned a little cafe she knew nearby. "Sounds great. Once we step out of this car we're just a couple of people on a date. Treat me like you would any first date. I would guess you have that routine down pat now?" She nodded, not wanting to think about how long ago her last date of any kind occurred. If he wanted to think that she was a woman in demand, she wasn't going to change his mind. He grinned, reminding her for a second of the smile of another agent she knew. Oh, well, she thought grimly. Maybe its just business, but it seemed like Smith was the kind of guy who could make business fun. "Mulder?" "Hey Langley, what's up? Anything on her date?" "Get your ass over here now." Click. "What is going on?" Mulder asked, as soon as Frohike had the door unbolted. He pushed his way in, looking for answers from the other two men in the room. No one answered. Byers motioned for Mulder to take a seat. He refused. "Come on, guys, what is he? Can we trust him? Tell me!" "I personally didn't believe he was real," Langley declared, pushing his long stringy hair back from his head. "What the hell, guys!" "How did you find this guy, Mulder?" Frohike exclaimed, shaking his head. Mulder replied, "He found me. Is Dana safe?" He demanded. He jaw tensed even further. He clenched the chair infront of him, his knuckles an ivory white. "He's a good guy," Langley answered quickly, noting his friend was quickly escalating to terror. "She's in good hands." They could see the agent relax slightly. "Great. Now who is he?" Frohike motioned to the computer screen. "I have a little information - not much. He's been kind of a pet project of mine. We've talked about making him our May centerfold." Mulder studied the screen. His eyes went first to the blurry black and white image of a young man leaving what appeared to be an office building. He was talking to an older dark-haired man a few steps beside him. The young man was smiling, in contrast to the angry look on the older man's face. Mulder noted his handsome features, and a small knot formed in his stomach. He coughed, and turned to the information printed on the side. "He had FBI ID," Mulder muttered. "I guess that part is true." He read the section of the man's personnel file printed on the screen. "David A. Smith. Member since 1991. Out of the San Francisco office. Looks pretty standard to me." "That's where you're wrong, my man," Frohike replied excitedly. "It's all fake. If you had tried to pull up any info through your clearance, you would have never found anything. You would have thought he was bogus." Mulder looked up at his jubilant, obtuse friend. "So he's not one of us? What are you telling me?" "Oh, he is," Langley reassured him. "But he's even spookier than you are." "What?" the agent began to tense up again. "Special ops, Mulder," Byers decided to cut through the crap his partners had been piling up. "Really special ops. This guy is under the deepest, deepest cover we've ever seen. He's so classified he doesn't even know who he really is." Frohike exclaimed, "And you saw him here first!" Something in the personnel file caught Mulder's eye. He scrolled to the top of the form. "Wait a minute, Smith is his alias. Where is his name?" The Gunmen glanced at each other. "He doesn't have one, at least as far as anyone knows. He has no history before his appearance at the San Francisco office, and precious little after. His specialty is the really tricky ops. If you want to find out the deepest government secrets Mulder, forget the X-Files, this is your boy. He's seen and done it all." "Is he in with my cigarette smoking friend?" Mulder asked, wondering what kind of monster was currently lunching with his partner. Byers shook his head. "No way. Smith doesn't go for the dirty stuff. He prefers to play fair. He's always shown loyalty to the crew supposedly running this show. He knows so much, that he can pick and choose the assignments he wants and no one has the nerve to tell him differently. He's an American hero if you can believe in that sort of thing. If he's working with you then he likes you or you definitely have someone very highly placed on your side." "Great." Langley suddenly giggled. Mulder looked over, one eyebrow perched in an uncanny imitation of his partner. "Did you say he was on a date with Scully?' He giggled again at Mulder's nod. "Well, Smith has a bit of a reputation with the ladies. He has a long history of sweeping them off their feet." "The ladies do seem to like him," Langley agreed. "Hearts broken all over the world. I guess women find him to be quite the stud puppy." Frohike argued, "No way, Scully is too level headed to fall for his line. Right, Mulder?" Mulder was thinking about the new blouse that his partner had worn that morning. And the curls softly sweeping across her face. "Uh, yeah, yeah. Hey guys, thanks, I better get back to the office. I want to hear how things went." He hurriedly grabbed his jacket and raced to the door. As soon as he was gone, Frohike turned to the others. "That was cold, dudes," he lectured sternly. His partners howled with laughter. "I'm upping the ante," Langley offered. "I'll say within two weeks they're down to one hotel room. Loser does the cooking and dishes for a week." "Forget it," Byers shook his head. "Did you see his face? It's a sucker bet and you know it." "He'll break down any day. The jealousy is going to kill him," Langley agreed. "Afraid your heart will be broken, dude?" he asked Frohike. He shook his head. "No, I just think the lovely Agent Scully has better taste then either of them." He stood his ground as his friends hooted. "Just wait and see," he said. Scully had to put her napkin up to her mouth. She was laughing so hard she thought she might embarrass herself with the bite of salad she had just taken. She glanced at Smith, who was watching with a bemused expression. This started her on a fresh gale of laughter. Their lunch was going better than she had hoped. Smith was enjoyable to talk to as well as look at. He had her laughing from the moment they had seated themselves at a small table in the corner. At first it was with observations of the other diners sitting around them, then stories of his trips to the White House and Capital as a tourist. Then Scully had asked him, mainly in curiosity as a test of his cover, of time as a teacher. He had spun tales from the trenches like a ten year veteran. As she spent more time in his company, she was becoming even more impressed with his ability to work undercover. She noted how easily he had secured a seat with a clear view of the room. As he laughingly described their companions in the cafe, she could see how carefully he had sized up everyone around them, seeking any kind of suspicious behavior. She had found herself with a higher respect for the project she and her partner shared. Obviously, what they were being given in these packages was important enough to take this gifted agent's time. "So Jim ended up getting in school suspension for a week." Smith finished. He watched the beautiful woman cracking up across from him and felt contentment. He had not been thrilled when his boss had told him his latest assignment, but the time spent with this fascinating woman was erasing any resentment he held. After all, so far it was an easy assignment. He was kind of curious what it was he was delivering to her and her partner. He had followed his normal policy in situations like this - the less he knew, the better it went. She wasn't the normal dour cloak and dagger type he usually dealt with. He certainly didn't have to pretend very hard to be interested in her. He noticed that Dana had calmed down and was watching him. He gave her one of his famous glowing smiles. "How did you get to be a FBI agent?" he asked her. This question intrigued him. She wasn't the stereotypical spook, for sure. She shrugged. "I trained as a medical doctor. After I finished, I thought about private practice, but it just seemed so ... dull. When I was approached by a recruiter I thought that the Bureau might offer a chance for action and advancement." Was it her imagination or did he shrug just a little bit? "Do you work alone? The movies tell me that agents always work in pairs." She was surprised at that question. Why did he want to talk about Mulder? "No, I have a partner. His name is Fox Mulder," she added. She felt a flush touching her cheeks as she said her partner's name. He saw the flush. Hmm, maybe all of those rumors are true, he thought. He had heard the suspicions of their relationship. None had been confirmed, though, so he felt comfortable using a dating relationship as a cover story. Mulder's loss, his gain, he figured. He had to admit, this woman fascinated him. He decided to push a little further. "What is he like?" "Oh, he's ... Mulder. I don't know how to describe him," She could feel the flush deepen. What is wrong with me?! "Very talented, very dedicated to his work." And so much more, she added mentally. Describing their relationship was difficult, and she was asked so often and rarely understood. Smith smiled. "Should I be worried about competition?" Dana saw that slow, sneaky smile and almost melted. How much of this was just an act? Then she peered into his light blue eyes, and saw the flash of interest hidden within. "No, we're just partners professionally. You don't have to worry." Do-uh, she admonished herself mentally. Did that sound stupid or what? Smith's grin widened. "Good. Because I would really like to take you to dinner tomorrow night, if you would indulge me." It's just work, she told herself, willing her heart to beat a little slower. He has to ask anyway as part of the show. "I'd love to," she replied quickly. "Good!" he said, glancing down at his watch. "Because I need to take you back to your office so I can reach 'Alternative Assessments' in time. I'm supposed to take notes so I can make the presentation to the other teachers on my team at the school." "It sounds interesting," Dana replied, as Smith helped her into her trench coat. "No, it doesn't sound interesting," he answered honestly. "And its not interesting. But its part of life in a classroom. And you are very beautiful," he added in a matter of the fact way. Dana caught her breath. She glanced over her shoulder at the handsome face behind her. He winked, and led her to the door. When she had finally reached her basement office, she was already fifteen minutes late. She had spent a few minutes in the relative safety of the ladies room pulling her widely ranging emotions back into check. As she leaned against the sink, two happily gabbing secretaries came in. They took one look at her unusual outfit and hair and closed in for the kill. "Agent Scully, I love your outfit! Special plans today?" Dana looked at her and paused before speaking. No one at Ma Bell, CNN or their own technology lab had even created a more efficient system of communications then the secretary pool. She knew if she told the truth Louis Freeh himself would probably know by three o'clock. "I had a lunch date," she said proudly. The ladies' eyebrows flew up in surprise. The second one replied in confusion, "But I saw Agent Mulder picking up lunch at the cafeteria!" This deflated Dana only a little. "Not with Mulder," she answered calmly. Neither lady could contain their gasps of surprise. Dana revised her estimate. Mr. Freeh would be informed in fifteen minutes, at the latest. She excused herself and hurried down to her office. "How'd it go?" Mulder asked immediately as she entered the room. He was leaning back in his chair with his feet on his desk, a freshly sharpened pencil in hand. Scully immediately checked the ceiling above him for hanging pencils. The last time he tried that, he had almost lost his right eye as gravity reasserted itself on his toy. "It was really nice," she replied honestly. She didn't elaborate, ignoring the curiosity she saw in his eyes. She sat down at her table and picked up where she had left off, attempting to put their financial data into some kind of coherent order. "Come on, cough up some details. What happened?" She sighed and put down her pen. He was not going to give up easily. She suddenly felt very reluctant to talk about Dave, especially to her partner. "We had lunch. It was good. We're going out again tomorrow night." She stared him down, trying to send a strong message to let the matter drop. He caught the look and backed down, disappointed. He knew he would never get any 'juicy details' from his partner, but he had hoped for some impression of the guy. He had spent the last hour trying to concentrate on his paperwork, but instead thinking of the charming blonde man spending time with his partner. His friends had reassured him that Scully was in no danger, but he worried about the other agent's Cassanova legend. 'I just don't want her to get hurt' he told himself over and over. "Bullshit" his small inner voice kept answering, but he squashed that the best he could, trying not to think what that voice was trying to tell him. They left the subject alone the rest of the day, concentrating on the work that needed to be finished. By seven o'clock both were exhausted, and developing headaches from the numbers that floated infront of them. They leaned back at the same time to stretch. "Mulder?" Scully said, turning to her partner. "Um?" he replied, stifling a yawn. "I'm hungry," she replied. He leaned forward again. "What to go out and grab a quick something?" She glanced down at her clothes. Twelve hours was a long time for silk and linen. The wrinkles didn't look too smoothable. But they could not speak freely at home, and she did feel a duty to tell him the professional aspects of their lunch meeting. She decided to compromise. "Let me run home and get comfortable, and then we can grab a bite. Acceptable?" He agreed. "Luigi's in an hour?" She nodded, and quickly reassembled her work into a portable stack. They were not finished for the evening. She assumed that after their meal they would set up camp at one of their apartments for a late night of work. She waited for him to finish gathering his belongings. The hostess waved at Scully as she entered the deserted restaurant, and motioned to the bar. They regularly ate dinner there when they were working late nights, and were recognized by the entire night staff. She saw her partner at the bar, beer glass in hand, absorbed in the basketball playing on the overhead TV screen. She moved to his side, and gently stroked his right arm above the elbow. He flinched, then relaxed immediately when he saw who had joined him. She silently tilted her head toward the back of the restaurant, and their usual table. He nodded, picked up his drink, and followed her to the back. Scully immediately began to spread her papers around her at the table. Mulder watched her, lost in thought. She had changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt in preparation for a long night of work. Her hair was roughly pulled back in a pony tail, with a few strands falling loose around her face. She's still beautiful, he realized suddenly. Then he looked down at his half empty glass and sighed inwardly. The 'beer-noculars' had arrived early this evening, he thought wryly. He wasn't comfortable with such unprofessional thoughts about his partner, although any red blooded man would have had the same opinion. They had separated in the office parking garage, promising to meet in front of the restaurant. He had only rushed into his dark, cramped apartment to drop off his tie and suit jacket, but had paused to check his messages. One was from the Gunmen. They had promised to try to find any information about these packages that were being delivered. "Sorry, man," Frohike's recorded voice informed him. "I got nothing for you. I'll keep trying, but don't hold your breath." Mulder had rushed to the restaurant, hoping to have a few minutes alone to ponder the new ideas that had found a niche in his overactive mind. Who is this guy they are trusting? He wondered again. He was a FBI agent. He knew that certain fellow employees were expected to hide themselves: to lie to others to place themselves among dangerous people to obtain necessary information. Some information was considered important enough for some moral standards to be loosened. People such as foreign spies or Mob informants risked their lives for this information. Was it fair for him to judge these people when he benefited from their work? He thought back to the precious little he had seen of Smith's background. He had worked undercover in some of the most dangerous hot spots in the world - foreign and domestic. Frohike had assured him of Smith's good reputation, but the assignments he saw in his file lay in a gray area close to black ops, the most repulsive of assignments. He thought of his first important contact, the man only known as Deep Throat. He had admitted to committing atrocious acts, for what he had believed at the time were the best reasons. Mulder knew that people drew their own lines. He had always believed that to find the truth he must honor it. There were other paths he could have taken in his search that may have drawn him closer, but he had not been willing to give up his personal morality to do. Maybe, he mused, that was the difference between him and X and Krychek and the others he had met on his search. Did this man Smith have the same code? He knew Scully's loyalty lay with honesty, too. Mulder knew his partner was a large part of his determination to toe that line. She was the most honest and honorable person he had ever met; he would never want to disappoint her by falling below those standards. He wondered what she would think of Smith's background. "So, tell me what he said," Mulder urged his partner, feeling he had waited long enough for the details. Scully paused, thinking back to her afternoon meeting, mentally choosing which points to share. "Well, tomorrow night will be the first delivery. There will be two more after that." "How is he going to do it?" her partner inquired. Scully replied, "At night. While we're out, he'll slip me the envelopes, when he feels it is safe. Dave said the packages are small - probably computer disks or printouts, so we should be able to do this very discreetly." "At night?" he asked, "You mean, like on a date?" Scully surprised herself by giggling. "Dave thought that would be the best cover story. It looks like I'm in for a busy week." Mulder didn't smile in return. His mind wandered back to Langley's warning. "Hey partner," he started slowly. He paused and looked down at his now empty cup. She caught his hesitation, and with a frown leaned over to touch his hand. "I ran a check on your new friend today," he continued. Her frown deepened. Lines ran down across her forehead in a well established pattern. "What did you find?" she asked. "This guy's an old hand at this sort of thing." He described what he had learned that day, omitting the personal details for now. Scully listened carefully, absently playing with her spoon after stirring her coffee. She remembered her impressions from her date that day. "I could see his professionalism today. If I hadn't known, I would have never guessed he was playing a role. Do you trust him?" she asked. He shrugged. "He's well connected," she continued. "If he has information for us, and is willing to go to these lengths, it must be important." "We've been lied to before," he reminded her. "What do you think?" She considered this for a few minutes. The waitress placed her salad infront of her, and a basket of greasy breadsticks infront of her partner. She motioned for a refill of coffee, as she lost herself in thought. "Let's do it," she finally stated. "At least for one night. He may supply us with a few good leads we can use." Mulder asked quietly, "Do you feel comfortable with him?" "Oh, yes," she replied easily. "I had a good time today," she confided. "What's he like?" Mulder asked, with a forced casual tone. "He's funny," she answered, leaning her head on her hand and staring off in space. "I don't think he takes anything seriously. He had a convertible with the roof down. It's been years since I rode in a convertible!" "Oh," Mulder replied. He couldn't think of anything else to say. They grew silent, and nibbled at their meals. When they were finished and Scully motioned for the check, he continued the conversation. "I guess you don't mind having to pretend you're on a date or two with him, then?" "Not at all," she answered. "I didn't feel like I was pulling a duty. I enjoyed it. Though its been such a long time since I've been out with a man that I'm surprised I remember what its like." "Gee, thanks," Mulder replied, surprised. She caught the unintended meaning, and turned back to her partner. "You know what I mean. Its different when your working with somebody. When was your last date, Mulder?" "Wow," he said thoughtfully. "What year did Clinton become President?" "See what I mean?" she continued animatedly. "When did we stop having lives, Mulder? Do we have to give everything up for this quest?" They paused in the parking lot, leaning against Scully's car. "I guess we just got busy," he answered slowly. He hadn't thought about dating for a long time. He didn't realize that it was a concern for his partner. "Yeah, I know," Scully replied darkly. "Follow me to my place? We can finish up most of this paperwork tonight, if we give it a few hours." He nodded, moving to his car door. He watched as she pulled away into the night, and wandered briefly what his partner was like when she wasn't 'on duty'. He figured he would never find out, and wandered then why that thought made him so depressed. Scully was running late again. This had always been a very unusual occurrence, and one she swore to herself she would not repeat again soon. They had worked at her apartment until the small hours of the morning, but had finally configured their financial data into a somewhat coherent form. Shortly after two o'clock the swirls of papers in the middle of Scully's living room floor had coalesced into a tidy report ready for the representatives of Internal Auditing. On either side of the finished product, the agents leaned back against couch or wall and took deep breaths. Mulder picked up his cup and swigged the last of his fourth cup of coffee of the evening. Neither spoke, preferring to bask in the peacefulness of the late night. Scully watched her partner tiredly lean his head back and stretch. Exhaustion was evident in his languid movements. She caught his eye, observing the effort it was costing him to keep them open. "Do you want to stay here tonight?" she asked him suddenly, catching him off guard. He stared back, mouth dropping slightly open. She realized that her statement could be taken in a different manner, and blushed slightly. "You're beat, Mulder. You're welcome to the couch for the night." Several emotions flickered through his mind at the invitation. For a second he imagined several possible endings for the evening, none of which would be professionally appropriate. Surprise quickly followed these images; shock that he would think of such things with his trusted partner and best friend. He consoled himself that it was only his tiredness effecting his thoughts. He really wouldn't want her to mean... no, he was just tired and not thinking straight. Sometimes the beergoggles would stay on long after the beer had worn off. He had spent nights lying on his couch, staring at the ceiling and wondering. But, just to make sure these strange thoughts didn't come back, "No, I think I'd better get home and let you rest. I'll see you in the morning." He gathered his belongings and quickly exited. Scully walked him to the door, locking it after him with a mind full of strange ideas. She glanced at the clock, and decided that a relaxing bath might help her sort out her brain. Why had she asked him to stay? She wondered as she ran a tub full of hot water. She poured out a capful of her favorite bath oil, and watched the stream of water swirl into soft, cushiony bubbles. Late night bubble baths were her secret weakness. When she had too many thoughts weighing on her mind, Scully found a long soak in a candlelit bathtub could help her sort out her concerns and find the best solutions. Many of her best insights on a case had occurred while up to her neck in soapy water. She hoped her late night dip could ease these disturbing ideas about her partner from her mind tonight. Why had she asked him to stay? There was an obvious answer - the one she had given him. It made sense, and was true, but some nagging little voice in her head reminded her it wasn't the only reason. Deep down, the thought of Mulder sleeping on her couch was ... comforting. She didn't want him to stay for romantic or sexual reasons, she was sure. Just the idea of him there was ... comforting. Part of her sort of missed him when he left. So, he's my friend, I like his company! She argued with herself. What if it had been Dave here? She pondered, would I have asked him to stay? She colored slightly, as a picture of her date passed through her mind. She thought of his smile, his laughter, and the way he listened eagerly as she talked. Yes, romance came to mind as she remembered the way they had walked together after their lunch, talking about trifles as they window shopped. He was so charming and encouraging. She liked the way his eyes had taken in her new clothes with a friendly look of appreciation. Maybe their meetings were only for business, but as she looked back on their time together, some of his attentions had not seemed completely professional. She pondered briefly, nylon scrub in hand, about their evening plans tomorrow. He said he had reservations at Jeanine's, a new French restaurant that had recently opened to rave reviews. She pictured Dave sitting across a small, candlelit table, smiling in that already familiar way. This was going to be a wonderful night out. She frowned suddenly, soap paused on its way to scrub her shoulder. She imagined standing infront of her closet, picturing the very few clothes she had for evenings wear. None were suitable. She should probably run to the mall at lunch and pick up something nice. Maybe black and short. What the hell, maybe red and really short. She thought she was finally spending an evening with a man who would notice the effort, so she may as well have some fun. She shook her head, wondering where this sudden aggressiveness was coming from. He was a very attractive man, though. It would be a shame to let him get away. She giggled softly, and sunk even further in the water. But now she was standing in the doorway of her office, over forty minutes late. She wondered if Mulder had worried about her, and realized what an absurd thought that was. She slipped in the room, noticing he had his head down pouring over a stack of folders on his desk. When she shut the door, he looked up, and blinked. His brow was wrinkled with worry and something unidentifiable. "Hi," he said, watching her pour a cup of coffee. She was back into a standard Scully suit - neutral colors forgotten five minutes after viewing. "You got a delivery today." "What?" she asked, moving over to his desk. He reached behind him and picked up a long white box, festooned with red ribbons. A small card dangled from the bow. She asked curiously, accepting the package from her partner, "Who could this be from?" "Probably not our Morley loving friend," he answered, watching her carefully unwind the ribbons fastening the box. She opened the lid and gasped. Inside were two dozen roses of different colors and sizes. She picked a red one from the bunch, held it to her nose and inhaled. She held up the box so her partner could see the contents. "Maybe I need to talk to Frohike again," he said, as she opened the card. She smiled as she read the inscription. I didn't know what you liked, so I thought I would try a variety. They reminded me of you - little charming bits and pieces all mixed together to make something beautiful. "They're from Dave," she told her partner. She breathed their scent in again, and turned to search the cabinets for a big enough container. "How sweet," Mulder replied dryly. He watched her carefully arrange the bouquet in an old jar and place in on the desk next to her work. "I never figured you for a fan of dead plants." Scully didn't turn away from her observation of her gift. "It is sweet," she answered dreamily, gently fingering a drooping pink petal. Mulder's brow wrinkled in consternation. This was definitely not the old reliable Scully he knew so well. As she played with the blooms in front of her, he let himself ponder this new behavior. He could remember the time their superior's secretary had received flowers at the office from her boyfriend, and Scully had described with a frown her behavior as unprofessional. Could she be falling for this guy? Mulder had to admit, the flowers were a smooth maneuver; definitely above and beyond the call of duty. He thought again about the warning the Lone Gunmen had given him. Agent Smith had a strong reputation as a womanizer. Mulder worried if Scully was the next victim on his list. He sighed and reached for a sunflower seed. She was a big girl, she could handle him, he told himself. Don't meddle, or she'll only get extremely pissed at your for doubting her. Then he caught a glimpse at the expression in her eyes as she contemplated her flowers. She had a smile lurking on her lips, and a faraway look in her eyes. She didn't notice his scrutiny - her mind was miles away. What if she was falling for him? No way, his brain protested, she's too smart to fall for a cheap come-on like this. This is Scully! Brilliant, dependable, serious Scully. Then why does she have such a hopeful look in her eyes? She must know he can't be serious! He's a spook! A deep cover professional liar, caught up in God knows what lies and betrayals. No one to carry on a relationship with! Mulder was starting to panic. Could he warn her, make sure she wasn't serious? He watched her playing with her gift. If he told her what he knew of Smith's reputation, she would be furious at him for his overprotectiveness again. He knew she hated this need to protect her, on a case and off. She would be even wilder for interfering in a possible relationship. It was doubtful she would even believe him. He thought darkly, what if she accused him of being jealous! He would be risking their partnership. He decided to wait and see what happened after their date that evening. Hopefully, she would discover Smith's intentions on her own. Having made his decision, he relaxed, and was able to return to his work. She gave the blooms one final sniff, and returned to the documents on her desk. The morning passed slowly. Another agent from Violent Crimes had left a file for Mulder to read over and offer suggestions. He had a reputation for finding a new approach to a case which would often lead to success, and was often asked to help out. He considered this paying his dues so he could devote most of his time to his beloved X-Files. He had passed the autopsy report to Scully. They bantered ideas back and forth. Several times they called the agent in charge of the case to ask questions or clarify a point. At some point they both grew intrigued by the case, and the delivery that morning was forgotten. "Good morning, Agents," their supervisor greeted them from the doorway. Assistant Director Skinner didn't often visit them in their basement hideaway, so both of them leapt to their feet in surprise. Scully asked quickly, "Sir, did we have a meeting this morning?" Their boss shook his head. "No, I happened to be downstairs here anyway, so I thought I would drop in with my news. I'm sending you to Minnesota for a new case you might find interesting." Mulder and Scully shared a look of concern. "Can I come in? I think you'll like this one, Mulder. Reports of disappearances in the woods, sightings of a creature in a lake, right down your alley." "Sounds intriguing, sir," Scully answered, as Mulder quickly scribbled a note and handed it to his boss. "But we may not be able to leave right now." Skinner gave Mulder a puzzled look. He put his finger to his lip, and motioned to the paper. Someone bugged the room. Need to stay in town. Will explain. Meet in your office later? Skinner read silently, and frowned. He glanced at Scully, who shrugged in return. "Why don't you come up to my office this afternoon, and we'll talk about it?" He suggested to the agents. They nodded in relief. He glanced at the large bouquet on Scully's desk. "What's the occasion?" he asked her. She smiled faintly. I have a date tonight." Skinner raised his eyebrows in return, but didn't reply. He couldn't help glancing at Mulder, who wore a stony expression. He had heard the rumors floating around yesterday about Scully's plans, but didn't believe them. Deep in his heart of hearts, he thought that his two best agents would make a wonderful couple, if they could be discreet enough to keep it out of the office and not endanger their work. He believed they had an agreement amongst themselves along that line, which was working well so far. He guessed he believed wrongly. "I'll see you around two," he informed them, then exited to return to his office upstairs. Mulder turned again to his partner. "I didn't think he knew the way downstairs." "I guess he wanted a change of scenery," she replied with a shrug. Mulder answered dryly, "I guess you could get tired of all the bright lights and working air conditioning. Want to go get some lunch?" Scully paused before answering. She had the feeling that their lunch discussion wouldn't only be about their meeting with Skinner, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to fend off Mulder's inquisitions into her evening plans. Besides, she had been looking forward to her shopping trip. Most of her clothes purchases were quick and painless and involved simple, coordinating clothes and catalogues. This was going to be a treat. Then she saw his expression. Placid, but the hazel in his eyes flickered. He was disappointed. She decided to compromise. "I have errands to run. After lunch, why don't we go down to the second crime scene? I'd like to check out your ideas of the killer's approach." She was rewarded with a rare wide smile. They would be able to talk freely there. She wanted to learn more about what he had found in Smith's background. She smiled secretly as she gathered her things to leave for lunch. There was a lot more she wanted to learn about this stranger.