From: msbrooklyn@aol.com (MsBrooklyn) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Another Day (1/3) Date: 10 Sep 1995 14:12:26 -0400 Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, Cancerman, Krycek and Mr. X all belong to Chris Carter and TenThirteen Productions. As if we didn't already know that. On the other hand, Ellen Feldman, Winky the Cat and Carmine Cantone are mine. (Apologies to the estates of Margaret Mitchell and Tennessee Williams, as well as to the still-living Thomas Harris.) Another Day By Ms. Brooklyn I'll get him back tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day. These words sprang to Ellen Feldman's mind and echoed there crazily. She was not Scarlett O'Hara and Fox Mulder was most certainly not Rhett Butler. But the scene that had been played out in her living room half an hour ago was something straight out of Gone With the Wind, minus the "frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." He didn't have to say it. He smacked her and called her a whore. That was enough. Adding to the insult was him accusing her of never caring about him in the first place. If he honestly believed that, she didn't want him back. Did she really want him back? Well, one thing was for sure. She'd be damned if she was going to sit in this apartment looking at the bruise that was forming and feeling sorry for herself. A demonic gleam lit her eyes as she grabbed the phone and dialed a familiar number. Alex Krycek couldn't believe his eyes. After Ellen threw him out of her apartment, he stood in the hallway, staring at her door. Ten minutes later, he saw Mulder bolt down the stairs. Curiosity got the better of Krycek then and he followed Mulder's car to the seedy section of town, to a combination strip joint-bar-restaurant that served breakfast 24 hours a day called, appropriately enough, Danny's Legs and Eggs. Mulder had a row of shots lined up on the bar in front of him as he watched a sagging dyed-blonde rub herself suggestively against a metal pole. The more he drank, the better the blonde was looking. It was time to slow down and he motioned to the bartender to start giving him Sam Adams. Krycek took the stool next to him. "Buy you a drink?" "What the fuck are you doing here," Mulder demanded. He knew he should shoot Krycek, but even at this range, he was so drunk he would miss. Instead he settled for looking at his watch. "Thirty minutes? Nice work, Alex. Usually takes me a little over an hour for all the fireworks. Unless---" Mulder's eyes sparkled wickedly. "--Ellen let you use a few accessories." "Accessories?" What the hell was he talking about? "Things that go bzzzzz and require batteries. Jesus, Krycek, get a clue." Mulder finished his beer and started another one. Krycek still looked confused. "Vibrators, boy. Women love vibrators." "Ellen...vibrators?" Krycek took a deep swallow of his Coors Lite. Mulder leaned close enough and whispered conspiratorially in Krycek's ear. "She loves 'em. Plain meat's not enough for her." God, he smelled like a brewery. "Uh, yeah." "You didn't fuck 'er then, huh?" "No," Krycek admitted, sadly. "She threw me out right after you left. Called me every name in the book." "At least she didn't shoot you." "That's true." "Bitch. Rotten little bitch," Mulder muttered. The blonde on the stage was winking at him. Next woman was definitely going to be a blonde. With huge ones. Feldman had small ones, not even a handful. "I can't believe she was doing both of us." "She wasn't," Krycek said, glumly. "Just you." "Just me." Mulder laughed, derisively. "Oh, I believe that. What was she, Cancerman's personal little plaything before he pawned her off on me?" "Huh?" "C'mon, Alex, tell me the truth. I deserve the damn truth for a change. She works with you, doesn't she?" "Yeah," Krycek lied. "I was doing her before she met you. I don't know who she was doing before that. Maybe Skinner?" "I always wondered how she managed to convince him to give her that job up in Legal." God, a stewed Mulder was almost as bad as a stewed Feldman. Here's hoping he wouldn't get shot tonight. "Asshole. The man is a total asshole," Ellen fumed. "Think I can cover this with foundation?" Dana Scully shook her head. "Concrete, yes. Clinique, no. What the hell happened, Ellen?" Ellen rubbed makeup onto the bruise anyway. "Krycek stopped by and Mulder showed up a few minutes later. All hell broke loose. Mulder called me a whore and then he did this to me. Asshole!" "Well, you were having some kind of relationship with the man who killed his father," Scully pointed out. "Did he ever tell me that?" Ellen teased her hair some more. "And what is this, blame the victim? I was using Krycek for information and whatever else I could get out of him. Tell me you wouldn't have done the same." "I wouldn't have," Scully said, in her most holier-than-thou tone. "Bullshit." Ellen went into her closet and pushed aside her work clothes. If she was going out tonight, she was going to have a good time. Scully's jaw dropped when she saw Ellen's collection of clothes and accessories. "Do you own anything that isn't black?" "No." Ellen held up a tiny spandex dress. "This'll fit you, Dana." "No thanks." "Chickenshit. You should learn to cut loose." Ellen held the dress up against herself. "Perfect. He wants to call me a whore, I'm gonna look the part." Scully felt a wave of panic. It was going to be a long, strange night. Mulder pointed to the red-head now on the stage. "Look at her. You think she works for Cancerman, too?" Krycek, now on his eighth beer, shrugged drunkenly. "Nah. But, man, I wish she did. I'd love to do undercover work with her." "I thought you wanted Ellen," Mulder spat. "I used to, until I saw the tits on that one." "Liar. You still want her. "Yeah, well so do you." "Not after you slobbered on her." Mulder smiled wickedly. "But you didn't, did you?" "Maybe I did." "Not likely." Mulder ordered his tenth beer. Or was it his eleventh? "She'd rather do a Doberman first. Think we can arrange that? I'd like to get that one on video." Krycek nodded numbly and downed another beer. "Hey, Mulder, how about a shot of Jagermeister?" "I hate that stuff." "I'm buying." "Okay. But it better not be poisoned." The bartender leaned across the bar and glared at Mulder. God, he hated the spies who frequented this place. "If you don't like the booze, you're welcome to go elsewhere." "Boobs are fine," Krycek slurred. "Beer's not bad, either." "That's right," Mulder agreed. He waved a five dollar bill at the red-head and she bent down, allowing him to stuff it into her G-string. Just as he suspected. She wasn't a natural red-head and she needed to wax. Everything was a goddamned conspiracy. "You're gonna love this place," Ellen told Scully. "Mulder brought me here about a month after we met." Scully's jaw dropped when she saw the name of the establishment. The Pleasure Chest. Adult toys. "I can't go in there." Ellen grinned. "That's exactly what I said to Mulder and he dragged me in anyway. Before I could stop him, he spent over a hundred bucks on stuff. I had no idea what to do with most of it, but he did. Must've been those movies." "Must've been." "Anyway, I'm in the mood to buy myself something to take my mind off of him," Ellen declared. She'd had a couple of vodkas and was feeling dangerous. Scully, on the other hand, appointed herself designated driver and stuck to Coke. Why, oh, why did she let Ellen talk her into coming here? "Can I help you, ladies?" The biker behind the counter smiled at Scully first and then he recognized Ellen. "Hey, where's the boyfriend tonight? You surprisin' him again? I've got some stuff here I know he'd like..." "Actually, I'm in the mood to get myself a little something. Make that a big something. Ten inches would be nice." For the first time in years, Scully wanted to go to confession. They were arguing drunkenly now. Mulder pounded his fist on the table. "Proof. That's what it all boils down to. There's no hard evidence, except the hard evidence I showed her in bed." "You talk a good game, Mulder, but I bet you hardly touched her. We kept you too busy." "Ahhh, I'm sick of talking about her," Mulder groaned. "Y'know something, I'm gonna go into that place next door and treat myself to a few distractions." "Can I come?" Krycek's eyes were glowing. "I'll treat for the peep show." "You're on, Krycek, old buddy." Mulder draped an arm around the younger man. "For a scumbag murderer, you're okay, you know that?" "For a hardass, you're not too bad yourself." He gazed up at Mulder and their eyes met for an instant. Mulder shoved Krycek away. "I'm not that drunk." "Neither am I." They staggered out of the bar and across the parking lot into the parking lot for the Pleasure Chest. As they weaved toward the door, it flew open and the sound of giggling filled the air. Dana Scully stopped giggling when she saw Mulder and Krycek staring at her. She slipped the small brown paper bag into her pocket, hoping they didn't notice. Ellen couldn't hide her shopping bag. "What the fuck are you doing here?" "Not spending as much as you have," Mulder shot back. "Looks like you're gonna be keeping Duracell in business this month." Scully winced. Mulder was drunk and why the hell was he with Krycek? Ellen was also tanked and it looked as though things were going to get ugly. "Duracells last longer than you do and they come through every time." "So did I." "So you thought. I'm good at lying, remember?" "Lying? I thought I said laying." "Bastard! You no good rat bastard!" Ellen dropped her bag and lunged at Mulder, knocking him onto his back. She drove a fist into his stomach and he gasped in pain. "You rotten little bitch!" Mulder grabbed her wrists. "I should've beaten the hell out of you! Look at you! I haven't even been gone a day and you're buying toys and dressing like the whore of Babylon." "Let go of me, Fox, before I scream rape!" "Don't call me Fox, you little tramp!" He got up and yanked her to her feet, still holding her wrists. She aimed a kick for his crotch but he threw her to the ground before she could land it. "Who else have you been screwing behind my back?" "The Army, the Navy and the Air Force, the Blue Berets, and E-fucking-T!" She was on her feet in seconds and took another swing at him, this time connecting with his jaw. "I made alien contact that puts yours to shame." Mulder rubbed his jaw. and shoved her to the concrete again. "If you weren't such a goddamn dwarf, I'd teach you a lesson--" "Mulder!" Scully's voice was sharp and his head snapped in its direction. "Stop it. Now! Go home." "No. She's there." His words were both intoxicated and petulant. "Then go to my apartment and wait for me," Scully said. "I'll be there as soon as I've taken Ellen home." Ellen lay on the pavement, examining the scrapes on her hands and knees. Her pantyhose were ruined for sure. Scully held out her hand. "Come on, Ellen, get up." "After I puke," Ellen said. "C'mon, Mulder, I'll drive you," Krycek offered. "How do you know where Scully lives?" "We know everything." When Scully finally came home, Mulder was sitting on her couch, nursing the beginning of a very bad hangover. His head was pounding and he could tell just by looking at Scully that he was in for one of those famous Scully lectures. Scully was silent as she headed for the kitchen and began making coffee. The silence was worse than a lecture. Finally, she turned to him and spoke. "We'll talk in the morning, when you're sober." Shit. It was going to be a long night. Today was another day. Monday to be precise. Ellen tiptoed out of her apartment, afraid of his door opening and yet hoping it would. And God knew, she was too chickenshit to ring his bell and try to talk to him. Damn it all. She knew what time Mulder usually left, so avoiding him was no problem. The trick would be to avoid him at work. Not that their jobs ever required them to work together. But why did he have to be in the same damned buildings where she lived and worked? Would she ever be able to know a moment's peace at home or work again? The answer was clear as she walked into the lobby of the J. Edgar Hoover building and pressed the button for the elevator. He was right behind her. The bruise on her face wasa glorious technicolor combination of blue and purple and she turned to give him a good look at what he had done. Mulder spun on his heel and headed for the stairs. She watched the door slam and knew that it was going to be downhill from here. "You look awful." Scully fought hard to control her temper. Mulder sneaked out of her apartment sometime during the night and she was positive it was because he didn't want to talk to her about what happened with Feldman. "I don't want to talk about it." Mulder poured a cup of coffee and managed to spill the scalding liquid on his hand. "Shit! God damn it to hell! Why is this coffee so fucking hot?!" Scully raised an eyebrow but said nothing, busying herself with the case files on her desk. Mulder would either talk about it, or spend the rest of the day abusing inanimate objects. He sank into the chair behind his desk and stirred his coffee, moodily. "Of all the jobs she could have, why the hell does Feldman have to work here?" "Did you two have a fight?" "She told you her side, didn't she?" "Yes. I'd like to hear yours." "First of all, fight doesn't describe it. She's been lying to me all along." "About?" "Everything. She works for THEM, Scully. It's all been a lie. I've never felt so used or manipulated in all my life." "Are you sure?" "How else could you explain it? And she admitted offering to sleep with Krycek. For all I know, that was his baby and not mine." "Let's start with something even more disturbing, Mulder." "Such as?" "Such as I can't believe you hit her, Mulder," Scully said. "And such as, I'm appalled by your behavior last night, especially your threats to beat her." "I don't want to talk about it." Scully's Irish temper began to flare. "Too bad, you're going to anyway. No wonder she left. How many other times were there?" "Just this one," he said, softly. "Jesus, Scully, do you think I'm an abuser?" "I don't know what to think, Mulder. You looked like you were ready to make good on those threats to me." "Considering who she works for, maybe I should have. I can't believe she had me fooled so completely." No. Ellen's feelings for Mulder were genuine, that much Scully was sure of. The lust underlying their little argument last night said as much. As for being part of a conspiracy, well, there was only one way to find out. "Did she show up for work today?" "Of course. How could she not miss the opportunity to rub my face in it?" He snarled in frustration. "I need to find a nice, juicy case to get my mind off of things." "Say that again." "I want a transfer." Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a very bad headache. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at Ellen, seeing how pale she was and not even bothering to try to hide a bruise that covered the left side of her face. "I know you've been under a good deal of stress lately, Feldman," Skinner said, quietly. "My ex-wife had three miscarriages and I know what that does to a woman. And forgive me for asking this, but how did you get that bruise?" "Agent Mulder hit me." There, she said it. And she hoped Skinner was going to give that bastard exactly what he deserved. Except, why did she feel so miserable? "He hit you?" The headache was here, an ache that threatened to split his skull in half. "Did you file charges against him?" "No. I don't plan to. All I want is to go somewhere he isn't and start over. Somewhere far, far away." Oh God, don't let her start crying in Skinner's office. Being perceived as a weak, hysterical woman would ruin her for sure. Feldman was on the verge of tears. It was time to stop being a boss and start being a friend. Skinner got up and steered her to the couch, handing her a box of tissues. "Ellen, I think it might be a good idea for you to take a leave of absence." "No! I'm a lawyer, dammit, and I want to practice law for a change instead of being kidnapped and chased and drugged and shot and...and...oh, god damn you, Fox Mulder, what did you do to my nice, normal life?" "Let it out, Feldman. You haven't had an easy time of it, have you?" "No," she wailed. "I've been m-m-miserable." He let her cry and when he was certain she was calm enough, Skinner spoke softly. "I think I can arrange for you to spend a month up in the New York office. You can sublet your apartment to one of the agents who'll be coming down here. At the end of the month, we'll see how things are working out. Fair enough?" Ellen nodded, knowing that if she started to talk, she would cry again. "Do me a favor and take the rest of the day off while I work out the arrangements." As he watched her leave, Skinner reached for his aspirin and resolved to call Mulder in. "She's gone, Mulder." Scully was breathless as she returned to their basement office, from what Mulder assumed was one of Scully's longest trips to the ladies' room ever. "What?" "I went upstairs to talk to Feldman and they said she went home sick." "You went to talk to her?" He was incredulous. "Why?" "Because I wanted to hear her side about working for the enemy." Before Mulder could say another word, the phone on his desk bleated and he was ordered upstairs to Skinner's office. Skinner looked like he was suffering from a migraine when Mulder walked in and Mulder knew instantly that this little visit was not going to go well at all. He braced himself for whatever was coming, knowing that Skinner was going to catch him off guard anyway. "Agent Mulder, I have made it a practice to stay out of the personal lives of my field agents," Skinner began. "However, when one of my staff attorneys comes into my office sporting a giant bruise, well, that's where I draw the line. I want you to know that I tried to convince her to file criminal charges against you but she refused." "Is that all, sir?" "No, Agent Mulder, it isn't. I have no idea what you did to her and honestly, I don't want to know, but if I hear about you hitting Ellen or any other woman again, I'm going to make it my personal crusade to have you thrown out on your ass." He regretted slapping her the second he did it and he regretted it twice as much when he saw how bruised she was this morning. Ellen always did bruise easily and he remembered how careful he had to be not to hurt her in bed. Hitting her was an animal impulse, a little bit of his father, he supposed. Part of himself that he tried to suppress and deny. But it was there. And knowing it was there sickened him. Skinner's expression softened when he saw the pain in Mulder's eyes. Whatever happened between the two of them had not been pretty. "Agent Mulder?" Mulder paused by the door and turned. "Sir?" "If you truly love her, work it out. You'll never find another girl like her." Just what he needed to hear. Mulder slammed the door on his way out. Two doors down. All he had to do was walk a few yards and ring her bell. So why couldn't he do it? Psychologist, heal thyself. Mulder took a deep breath and forced himself to walk to her door and to his shock, there was no light coming from under her door. Okay, she could be sitting alone in the dark. He rang the bell and pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. Not even the sound of Winky trying to sniff him through the door. He still had his keys, but did he dare use them? What if she was in there? Well, dammit, what if she was? It would give them something else to argue about, but at least it would be a start. To his chagrin, Mulder discovered that Ellen changed the locks. That was a smart move, he decided. After all, he did hit her. She would be foolish to take a chance on him coming back to inflict more harm. On the other hand, he learned early on how to pick locks and these Medecos, as tough as they were, were not impossible. But the question remained, should he? And he realized, the answer was 'no'. Every now and then, you had a day that you knew you should never have gotten out of bed. For Carmine Cantone, that day was the day he first met Ellen Feldman. Well, maybe it was the day he met Fox Mulder. Whatever day it was, he certainly regretted it. His life used to be simple. Some mook missed a payment, some mook was now a cripple. Another yutz threatened the wrong guy, that yutz was eating meals through a straw. The laws of the jungle, perhaps, but who was he to argue with survival of the fittest? And then Ellen started dating Mulder and Carmine's days were spent getting one or the other or both out of trouble. Trouble. Those two were constantly in freakin' trouble. They lived for it and by God, it was gonna kill him, not them. Hell, it had nearly killed him this time. Three days in some backwater hospital, with a busted nose. That made four times his nose got busted, but this time, he was gonna have a plastic surgeon make it pretty again. The burns, cuts and scrapes would heal in time and thankfully, there was no permanent damage. Carmine wanted nothing more than retrieving his beloved Monte Carlo and spending the next couple of weeks in his house, watching football and taking it easy. No head-busting for anybody, including Nicky. Maybe he should have put his accounting degree to a better use. Well, he had the next few weeks to think about it and he wasn't going to leave New York for anybody. Damned hicks fed him biscuits and some other slop. He missed his red sauce and white sauce and clam sauce. Carmine's stomach rumbled. Food. Very soon, he told his stomach. Real soon. The cab pulled along the curb in front of the building where Ellen and Mulder lived and Carmine paid the driver, giving a meager tip. Guy had no business driving a cab. Carmine's eighty-nine year old grandmother could drive better than that. He pressed the buzzer and waited for Ellen to answer. What he got was a man's voice. "Who is it?" "Sorry. Wrong apartment." The mook buzzed him in anyway. And these idiots wondered why their apartments got robbed. Carmine snorted derisively and muttered oaths until he got to Ellen's door. He rang the bell and waited. A man answered. Medium build, Carmine's height with dirty blond hair and grey eyes. He stared at Carmine with suspicion. "Yes?" "Where's Ellen?" The man looked confused for a minute, but recovered quickly. "Oh, the woman I'm subletting from. I don't exactly know because the Bureau worked out the apartment swap. You might try contacting them." "Yeah. Right." Carmine looked past the man into the apartment. Everything seemed like it was in order. "I'm her big brother an' if anything is missing when she comes back, I'm gonna come lookin' for ya." The man bristled. "I'm a Federal Agent. I do not pilfer other people's belongings." "Ya better not." Carmine was rewarded with a door being slammed in his face. He shrugged and rang Mulder's bell next. Mulder opened the door and his jaw dropped. "Carmine?" Carmine pushed past him. "Whaddaya got ta eat? I'm friggin' hungry." "I have some pizza," Mulder replied, slightly dazed, confusion clouding his features. A ghost. Had to be. He believed in ghosts. But did ghosts eat pizza and complain about the sauce? Carmine sniffed the cold slice with disdain. "How's it hangin', bud?" "Carmine, where the hell have you been?" "St. Catherine's Hospital in Pinellas County, Florida. The nuns there were meaner than the one's in my parochial school. When they were ready to discharge me, they smacked me with rulers til I got outta bed." Carmine bit into the pizza warily and then attacked with gusto. "Where's Ellen an' where's my car?" "But...we thought you were dead," Mulder spluttered. "I was wearin' my Saint Christopher medal." Carmine winked. "Now, where's my car?" "FBI impound lot," Mulder managed. Carmine didn't look too bad, aside from the bandage over his nose and the cuts on his face. "Safest place for it, really. Nobody would think of stealing it there." "No shit. Did they search it?" "I told them the car was supposed to be haunted and that Scully and I would handle a search. They know enough about Spooky Mulder to avoid contact with your car." Mulder grinned wryly. "I had it washed and waxed, though." "Youse is good people." Carmine finished the pizza and leaned back, expectantly. "So where's Ellen? I nearly shit my pants when some guy answered the door." "Guy?" "Yeah. He's sublettin' the joint. I figured maybe she moved in with you." "We broke up." Carmine was no longer relaxed. "It ain't none a' my business, but I wanna know why any-freakin'-way." "A lot of things. She...was pregnant and she lost the baby when Uplinger tested that drug on her." Mulder looked down at his hands and forged ahead. "Things weren't the same after that. And we thought you were dead. And then I asked her about Krycek...." "And?" "She told me she offered to sleep with him for the information. Since she knew where to look for me, it didn't take a leap of logic to know she did it." "Oy." Carmine stared hard at Mulder. "You blew your stack, didn't you? No, don't deny it, Mulder. I know you. You don't like to get mad, but when you do, you explode and then you regret it later. So tell me, hero, what did you do when she told you?" Mulder closed his eyes at the memory. "I slapped her." Carmine was on his feet, dangerously close to Mulder. "I don't respect a guy that hits women. A lot of the men I deal with, they beat their women to keep 'em in line. If they found out their woman was screwin' around, they wouldn't stop with a little smack. They'd beat the hell out of her. Izzat what you did, big man? Huh? Is it?" "No! I just...a slap...God, I can't believe I did that." Getting beaten up by Carmine was no more than he deserved. "My father used to hit my mother," Carmine said, softly, dangerously. "An' he hit my brother, Frank, the priest," Carmine crossed himself, "an' he hit my sisters, Connie and Angie. My father hit me the most, cuz I was the oldest an' I was supposed to keep the rest a' them in line. One day, my father, he came home, an' he started yellin' at my mother cuz the linguine wasn't the right texture. He hit her as usual. I musta been fifteen, then, an' I threw my father through the fuckin' window. He never hit nobody after that. What about you, Mulder? Did your old man smack you and your mother? Or is hitting women somethin' you picked up at the FBI?" "I'm sorry.... I didn't mean to hit her..." "Yeah, I'm sure you are, but I axed you a question, you pussy faggot bastard, an' I wan' a answer. That answer is all that stands between you and a shallow grave somewhere, so it better be good." Mulder felt weak, nauseous. These were things he never discussed with anyone, even Ellen, although he told her a little. And yet, Carmine had just told him about being beaten by his father. Could he do any less than tell Carmine the truth? Haltingly, he began. The words came easier than he expected them to. She really liked the apartment. A Battery City condo, overlooking the Hudson River. These condos did not come cheaply, but thanks to the FBI's apartment swap program, she was paying her normal rent. Even Winky was enjoying the view. Okay, Winky was not happy. He could tell Ellen was troubled and he mewed plaintively as she picked at the pile of food she brought home from Katz' Delicatessen in the Lower East Side. Absently, she handed Winky a piece of Kosher corned beef. "Here, you little beggar." New York City was her home and if she couldn't find herself again here, she wouldn't find herself ever. On the radio, WPLJ was playing Jon Secada. She always liked this song, but today, it was another nail in her heart. Just another day without you. Yeah, Mulder, she thought angrily, give me another reason to make it through the day without you. The bruise was fading, but it was taking its time and the stares of other people were grating on her nerves. Why did he have to hit her? She could forgive him calling her that name, but he hit her and that was something he swore he never would do. And what about that horrible accusation that she never cared about him at all? How could he believe something like that after all they'd been through together. God, what was with WPLJ today? They were out to get her. It was a conspiracy. They were playing George Michael's One More Try. If you love me, say you love me, if you don't just let me go. Sing it, George. And teacher, there are things that I don't want to learn. Ellen pushed her sandwich away. Her appetite was gone. =========================================================================== From: msbrooklyn@aol.com (MsBrooklyn) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Another Day (2/3) Date: 10 Sep 1995 11:37:19 -0400 Sorry, looks like there's going to be three parts. Anyway, same disclaimer as Part One applies. Another Day (2/3) by Ms. Brooklyn "I'm a psychologist," Mulder was saying. "I should've known better, should've stopped myself...." "The least you could'a done was apologize to her." "Yeah." God, he was actually looking forward to Carmine pounding him, but to his surprise the big man backed off. "You better think hard about what you want, Mulder. And you'd better be able to admit you were wrong." Carmine actually found himself feeling sorry for Mulder. "Maybe she did offer to sleep with him, but she didn't go through with it." "How do you know?" "Cuz she would never have been able to face you again. An' you should've trusted her enough to hear her side. Oh, but I forgot. Trust no one. If ya can't trust nobody, ya got no business socializin' with the rest of the world." Carmine stepped back and shook his head. "I ain't gonna beat you up, Mulder. Chances are, you're doin' a damn fine job on yer own. Here's some advice, though. She's a very forgiving girl, Ellen is, very understanding. You may wanna stop wallowing in self-pity an' self-loathing long enough to see if she's as miserable as you are." Mulder remained silent. Anything he said could be used against him. "She's in New York, Mulder. Where else would she go?" With that, Carmine departed, closing the door quietly. A shallow grave was looking good about now. Scully was running out of reasons to work in the forensics lab and it was with a reluctant sigh that she walked in to the basement office. Mulder was still miserable, but he also looked eager. Something was up. "What?" "Carmine's alive." "WHAT?!" Mulder grinned. "He came to my apartment last night looking for his Monte Carlo and Ellen, in that order." "I'm glad I missed that one." Scully sat down and searched for something, anything, to avoid another conversation about Ellen. If he missed her so much, why the hell didn't he go find her? "Yeah. Lucky you." Mulder busied himself again, only to be interrupted by a knock on the office door. Skinner held up a thick file folder. "The New York office requested you on this one, Mulder. Three bodies in three days in three boroughs." New York City. It figured. The one place he didn't want to be. "Sure." It was only after he walked out of Mulder's office that Skinner allowed himself a smile. They were both miserable and they were both too damn stubborn to work things out on their own. Sometimes, Cupid needed a little help. "Yeah, the guy is a real nutcase," Lee Wilkes exclaimed. He handed another file to Mulder and beamed at Scully, as if he were proud that New York could produce such singularly vile people. "They found another body in Staten Island this morning." Scully looked over Mulder's shoulder. A little girl, no more than five years old. Snatched from her day care center. "Do we have a path report?" "Uh, well, that's kind of a problem. The kid's family are Jehovah's Witnesses and they're trying to block the autopsy," Wilkes explained. "So far, they've got a temporary restraining order. Legal is working on that." He rolled his eyes, expressing dislike for lawyers and Witnesses at the same time. Mulder stared past Wilkes at a subway map. "He's hit Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens and Staten Island. Is there one subway route that takes you to all of those places?" Wilkes rubbed his chin. "Staten Island's a bitch to get to. You gotta drive there, take a bus over the Verrazano or take the ferry. The ferry. Shit! Of course! The N or the R train! Both of them stop at Whitehall Street, where you connect with the ferry. And look, both of 'em run near where the other bodies were found." It was a slim lead, but it was a start. "I'd really like to look at that body," Scully mused. Wilkes shrugged. "We can go see what the lawyer's up to." Her first week here and they hit her with a thorny First Amendment problem. Ellen loved every second of it. A family was trying to block an autopsy for religious reasons and the ACLU was providing free legal services. This could drag on for days, all the way up to the Supremes, if need be. Meanwhile, other children were at risk. That was the crux of her argument. Other children. And what judge didn't love little children, especially if he wanted to keep his job? She was interrupted by a knock on her tiny office door. "Yeah?" Wilkes winked at Mulder and Scully as he turned the knob. "Hi, how's the court order coming?" Ellen, still focused on her computer screen, hadn't turned around yet. "Ron Kuby is talking about getting involved. This could get messy." "That's why we pay you the big bucks." She turned around with a half-smile on her face and fought hard to keep it there when she saw Mulder and Scully standing behind Wilkes. "Uh....oh, um..." "Agents Mulder and Scully," Wilkes explained. "They're taking over the case." "Nice to meet you both," Ellen said coolly, without bothering to extend a hand. She got up and brushed past the trio. "Excuse me, I have work to do before my argument this afternoon and I'm sure at least one of these two can handle the case without me." Wilkes whistled softly. "Now there goes a prize bitch. Guess she thinks she's too good to associate with us lowly field agents." Mulder and Scully exchanged startled glances. What the hell was Feldman doing here, of all places? Damn it all! What the hell was HE doing here? She put all those miles between them and here he was, rubbing it in her face. If she transferred to Iowa, would he follow her there, too? Damn him! Damn him! Ellen fumed as she flipped through the pages of the law reporter, looking for her case. Just the distraction she didn't need with so vital an issue to work on. Well, he knew she was in the city, but he was never going to find where she was staying. "She's got a condo at the Harborview," Wilkes told Mulder. "Don't tell me that you're into short, bitchy women?" "I surround myself with them." Mulder grinned wryly. "Thanks, Lee. I owe you one." "Please, you're taking this case. That's enough. Better you than me interviewing those Jehovah's Witnesses." Wilkes winked at him. "Don't tell me if they succeed in converting you." Ellen peered anxiously at the small army of attorneys for the other side. One of Ron Kuby's associates was there and no less than four ACLU attorneys surrounded the Sand family. The mother looked dazed from the loss of Tara and the resulting publicity, but the father stared at her with pure hate, as though Ellen would be the one to personally perform the autopsy. There was nobody at her table. Alone again. Naturally. As usual, the press had staked out this hearing and there were observers. She looked at the faces. Could one of these be the killer, watching the aftermath of his handiwork? If only Wilkes were still on the case, she would have insisted he be here to check out the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the back of a head that looked awfully familiar. Oh, no. "I'm telling you, Scully, this guy likes the attention. He wouldn't miss this for the world, " Mulder explained. "Our killer is somewhere in this crowd." "If he is, he's not wearing a sign." "No, but maybe I can spot him anyway." "Order in the court." The bailiff's voice boomed as he announced the session number and that Judge Morton Weisbrod was presiding. Judge Weisbrod was somewhere in his seventies and he peered sternly at the crowd and then at the cluster of attorneys representing the family. "Mr. Tyrone?" "Yes, your Honor?" "Who ARE all these people?" Tyrone flushed slightly. "Co-counsel from the ACLU, Mr. Hyams is presenting an amicus argument for Freedom of Religion and ---" "Your Honor," Ellen interrupted. "This is highly irregular. I haven't been informed of additional arguments." "Nor have I. Mr. Hyams, you may submit a brief, but I am not going to hear your arguments." Weisbrod paused, as if expecting to be contradicted. "As for our friends from the media, please remember that this is a court of law and not a game show. I will not tolerate any disruptions. Is that clear?" Ellen glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Mulder's. She looked away, quickly. In all the time they were dating, he never came to see her at work. That pissed her off. She assisted on his investigations, drafted his warrants and listened to him whine about his job, but he never once bothered to see what she did. Jerk. The anger built steadily and she directed its full fury at opposing counsel. "...The Federal Bureau of Investigation believes in the fundamental right to freedom of religion," she concluded. "But we also believe in another fundamental right -- the right to life. How many other children are going to die because we are being denied access to valuable evidence? Evidence that could stop this killer. The government recognizes the rights of individual citizens but we have a responsbillity to protect all of our citizens, especially the children. Therefore, we move that the Government's motion be granted. Thank you." Damn. She was good. Mulder felt a flush of pride that this was his girlfriend -- no, former girlfriend. Why hadn't he ever sat in on her arguments before? Scully nudged him. "I think she won." "I think so, too," Mulder said. "I wish I could congratulate her." "What's stopping you?" God, for somebody who wasn't afraid of Fluke-men, Mulder was a wimp when it came to his relationships. "Court is adjourned," Judge Weisbrod announced. "I'll have a decision sometime this afternoon." There was a slight commotion as the reporters and spectators left. Ellen remained at her table, slowly packing her briefcase. Alan Sand, father of the victim, was at her elbow. "Miss Feldman." She turned, not sure of what to expect. Sand spat full into her face and stormed out of the courtroom. Ellen took off her glasses and laid them on the table, fumbling in her purse for a tissue. "Why is it that during all the great crises of your life, I always find you without a handkerchief," came a soft murmur by her ear, as a Kleenex was pressed into her hand. Ellen mopped her face. "Rhett?" "Hello, Scarlett." Mulder sat on the edge of the table and wiped her glasses with a sheet of blank legal paper. "You were wonderful today." She took her glasses from his hand and stared down at them, not knowing what to say. She settled for, "Thanks." "Can we...talk somewhere?" "I have to get back to the office and work on another motion. Weisbrod's going to weasel on this and I'm going to have to go before the Court of Appeals." She spoke rapidly, and stuffed the rest of her papers haphazardly into her briefcase. When there were no papers left, Ellen looked up into his eyes and they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. "I..." "We..." Mulder smiled self-consciously. "You first." "No, go ahead. You always said I talk too much anyway." "I'm sorry." HIs fingers traced the yellow-green bruise. "Especially for this." Tears that had been threatening to come since she saw him that morning welled up. "I can't....not now, Mulder." "Can we meet tonight to talk about it?" "I...I...." She wiped the tears away angrily. Dammit. Her emotions had been out of whack for over a week, now. And now Mulder probably thought she missed him. "Please?" She shouldn't have looked into his eyes. But she did. And she relented. "Neutral ground. Not my place. Not your hotel room. Someplace public, where I can call a cop if you go psycho on me." He nodded, afraid of saying the wrong thing if he dared to open his mouth. Ellen fumbled in her briefcase for a sheet of paper and jotted down an address and directions. "Meet me here at seven-thirty. I assume you've already found out my phone number, so if you're going to be late, please call." "I'll be there," he promised. "And I won't be late." Scully was waiting outside. "How did it go, Mr. Butler?" He blushed. "You heard that, did you?" "Yes, and if you start calling me Miss Mellie, I'm going to dissect you in your sleep." She smiled up at him. "Well? What did she say?" "Dinner tonight at seven-thirty." "Must be that magical Mulder charm." "Must be." The Cloister Cafe was Ellen's favorite place in all of New York City. It was once a convent and had beautiful stained glass windows. Outside was a fountain that ran into a small enclosure filled with goldfish. There was soft, romantic lighting, classical music and the best cappucino in the whole city. She arrived five minutes early, still dressed in her suit and still stressed by the day's events. A cab pulled up and Mulder got out, smiling self-consciously as he paid the driver. In his hand, he held a single white rose. "Here." "Thanks." She held the door for him and the waiter directed them to a table outside, in the corner, just past the fountain. Mulder looked around, his eyes following the grape vines that were wrapped around the electical wires. "I like this place." "It's one of the few quiet spots in the city." Ellen sat down and placed the flower on the table. There was no way she was going to be able to eat tonight. Her stomach was churning. Mulder perused the menu, not sure where to begin. A waiter stood at his elbow. "Something to drink?" "Iced mochaccino," Ellen said. "Make that two." More silence. He put the menu aside. "What are you having?" "I'm not hungry." She looked like she'd been skipping three meals a day. "You should try eating something." "I said I'm not hungry." Suddenly, she felt less like Scarlett O'Hara and more like Maggie the Cat. The tin roof was burning hot beneath her feet and she was trying desperately to hang on. Jump, Maggie. Jump. There's life in that girl, Brick. I'm alive! Maggie the Cat is alive! Ellen shook her head, as if to clear it. God, she felt like she was losing her mind. "Sorry. I didn't mean to push." "It's okay, Brick ---uh, Mulder." Definitely losing her mind. Mulder smiled. "Brick? Have we forsaken Margaret Mitchell for Tennessee Willliams?" "Mendacity, Mulder. Isn't that what this evening is all about?" "I guess it is, isn't it?" The waiter put their drinks down. "Your order, please?" "That's everything for now," Mulder said. The waiter vanished. "Mendacity," Mulder echoed. "Nice choice of words." "Better than 'whore', don't you think?" He winced. "I was wrong about a lot of things." "Oh? Didn't Cancerman tell you how much the taxpayers had to pay every time we fucked?" Meow! Way to go, Maggie the Cat. "Ellen, I'm sorry. I never gave you the chance to defend yourself." "Defend myself? Defend myself?! How dare you---" "Damn, this is turning out all wrong. What I mean is, I want to hear your side, Ellen. I made some pretty nasty accusations." "Yes. You did." "Well?" "Well what?" "What's your side?" Ellen was torn between leaving and skewering him with the truth. "Ah, Mulder. The truth. That's all you really care about, isn't it? Are you sure you want to hear it?" He swallowed hard. "Yes." "I tried contacting your informant first. He warned me never to try that again. Then, I called Krycek and tried to find out where you were being held. At first, he wouldn't admit he knew, but I got that much out of him. He wouldn't tell me more, so I offered to do anything he wanted because he said they were going to kill you andI believied him." She looked away, fingers ripping the petals off of the rose. "I went with him to his apartment and he...kissed me...and I...told myself it wasn't happening, that I was someplace safe and warm and this couldn't be me." Mulder felt a lump in his throat. "Anyway, he got angry and threw me out, but he gave me the address first." "That's it?" "Yeah." She stirred her mochaccino. "No. There was a date. Just one. Right after they caught Tommy Ybarra. I agreed to go out with him if he helped me find Ybarra." "I thought VCU found Ybarra." "I know you did. But you were wrong and I never bothered correcting you." "Did you....do you...have feelings for him?" "No. I could have, I think, but not any more. He was so sweet when he was helping me and he wanted me to like him so badly, but....oh God damn you, Mulder, why didn't you tell me he killed your father?" "I didn't think I had to warn you to stay away from him, Feldman. The man shot you, kidnapped you, tried to rape you -- what the hell were you thinking?" "Probably the same thing I used to think about you. Basically decent. Just goes to show you what a judge of character I am." "A man who tried to rape you is basically decent?" "At least he didn't pretend to be something he wasn't, the way you did. I feel like I've been sleeping with a stranger all this time. You never told me anything about yourself. No, you buried everything that was important because you never really trusted me. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?!" She grabbed her purse and threw twenty dollars on the table. Far too much money, but she didn't care. "I came here to talk about us, but all we've done is talk about what I did wrong. Well, what about what you did?" Mulder grabbed her arm. "Wait!" Her hand flew up to protect her face and she gasped. That was all he needed to see. He released her immediately. "Please don't go." Wordlessly, she wrenched free and ran from the restaurant, her high-heeled pumps tapping rhythmically on the sidewalk. Mulder threw another twenty on the table and ran after her, following her down streets he didn't recognize until they were in a small park. Tompkins Square Park. He recognized the name, recalling numerous riots and dead bodies that were synonymous with it. There she was, sitting on a bench, crying. "Ellen?" God, why didn't he just go away? "Kleenex?" Maybe the ground could open up and swallow her. She took the Kleenex from his outstretched hand and blew her nose. Mulder crouched in front of her, eyes pleading with her. "Can't we talk a little longer?" "I d-d-don't think w-w-we have anything l-left to talk about," Ellen hiccupped. "Is he bothering you, lady?" Two Guardian Angels moved into position behind Mulder, waiting for an excuse to get their hands dirty. She shook her head and they moved on, reluctantly, shooting Mulder looks that could freeze a red giant. "If I could take it back, I would. I'd give anything not to have raised my hand to you." Mulder cupped her face in his hand, stroking the bruise with his thumb. "I'm not going to ask you to forgive me, because I can't forgive myself." Ellen slapped his hand away and got up. "Why is it always about how much YOU'RE suffering?" His mouth hung open as he stood up, shoulders hunched in defeat. "Ellen..." She began pummeling his chest with her fists. "I hate you, Fox Mulder! You're the most self-centered, depressing bastard I've ever met. I'm tired of your conspiracies and your ghouls and your ghosts and your aliens and especially your emotional baggage! I hate you! Do you hear me?! I hate you!" He took a step backward. "Are you sure?" "No," she moaned. "That's the whole problem. I can't stop being in love with you. Even after...after..." Mulder pulled her into his arms, feeling her struggle for a moment and then her body shook as she sobbed into his chest. It looked like there was something left to salvage, after all. =========================================================================== From: msbrooklyn@aol.com (MsBrooklyn) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: Another Day (3/3) Date: 10 Sep 1995 11:37:22 -0400 Same disclaimers. Here we go. Another Day (3/3) By the prolific, terrific Ms. Brooklyn Scully studied the police photos of Tara Sand and compared them to the other victims. Something was not quite right about this. All of the victims had been strangled, except for Tara, who had been beaten severely and strangled. Scully pursed her lips and took a closer look at the photos. What if Tara wasn't the most recent victim? What if....? She reached for Tara's file and began flipping through it, her blue eyes blazing with consternation. There, among the pages, Scully found the killer. Mulder led Feldman to his hotel room, holding her as though she were a wounded bird. Once inside, he kissed her, a sweet, tentative, hesitant kiss. She stiffened and then relaxed, as he massaged her shoulders. Taking that as encouragement, he kissed her more deeply and pulled her closer. Breaking the kiss, Ellen backed away, gasping for breath. It felt wrong. It felt right. She didn't know which end was up any more. "You...you can leave if you want," Mulder said, cautiously. "I guess I'll stay. For a while." "Good." He looked her over, eyes lingering on every inch of her. "I don't know where to start." "Neither do I." He touched the bruise on her face once more, as if to make certain that it was really there. "You know I didn't mean to hurt you, don't you?" "I don't....I'm scared you'll do it again...or worse." Ellen sank down on the edge of his bed. "You hit me, Mulder. We both know that means the potential for abuse is there. The question is, what do we do about it?" "It's standard procedure to tell a woman to leave a man who...who..." He trailed off. "Logically, you should leave, but I don't want to lose you. Not like this. Do you really want to end it?" "God, I don't know! You bottle everything up inside and you explode when you can't handle it any more." "Carmine said the same thing." "Carmine?" "He's alive. I forgot to tell you. He came by, looking for you and his car." "Ohhh." She felt dizzy and leaned forward, head between her knees, trying to stop it. These dizzy spells were becoming far too frequent. "Are you okay?" He put his hand on the nape of her neck Ellen jumped up with a sharp cry. She looked at Mulder and then at the door. "I have to go....I have to...." She fumbled with the door for a second and bolted from the room. This time, he didn't follow. A few seconds later, there was a knock at the door. He threw open the door, heart pounding in his chest. "Mulder? Are you alright?" Scully peered up at him. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Then again, knowing you, that may not be a mere figure of speech." "Ellen was here but she, uh, left." "Ellen." Scully licked her lips and stared down at the file in her hand, anything to avoid looking at him. "Are the two of you back together?" "I don't know." His eyes closed briefly. "She still loves me but she's afraid of me, Scully. I touched her and she panicked." "How did you touch her, Mulder?" Scully's tone was suspicious. She recalled all too well how Mulder behaved when his water was drugged and how angry he could get under ordinary circumstances when provoked. "Did you grab her?" "No. No, I was as gentle as I could be. Do you think she'll ever trust me again?" Mulder groaned aloud. "I must be a grade-A idiot. How can she trust the man who trusts no one?" "That's not entirely true. You trust me." Their eyes met for what seemed like an uncomfortably long time until Scully cleared her throat and changed the subject. "There's something I want you to see." Mulder took the file and spread the pictures out on the bed in the order Scully had placed them. He stared hard and understanding lit his features. "Jesus Christ. It's so obvious. How did I miss it?" "You've had your mind on other things." Mulder reached for the phone and dialed Wilkes' number. "Hi, Lee. I need an arrest warrant for Alan Sand. He's our killer." Ellen sat on the terrace, a steaming cup of hot cocoa in her hand, watching traffic below. She could see a few stars in the sky, but the rest were obscured by the street lamps. As she predicted, Judge Weisbrod upheld the lower court's injunction, which meant she had to finish drafting an appeal. With a sigh, she thumbed through the case folder again. And found a frightening detail. She reached for her phone and dialed a familiar number. The phone in his pocket bleated for his attention and he reached for it while maneuvering through the dense Manhattan traffic. "Mulder." "Mulder, Sand is the killer." "Feldman?" How the hell did she guess that? And why did she call him? The hell with it, he wasn't going to question it now. "I was snooping around the case file. All of the bodies were found within three or four blocks of the N train line, except for the one in Staten Island. Sand lives in Staten Island. He's also a conductor on the N train. No wonder the sonofabitch is blocking the autopsy. He probably killed his daughter first and liked it so much he tried it on other little kids." Mulder smiled, pleased by the fact that she called and that she was smart enough to make the connection. "We have the full case file here and Scully found Tara Sand's hospital records show a history of concussions and broken bones. In fact, we're on our way to question him now. Care to join the party?" She laughed softly. "I've done enough of your job, thanks." "Um...Feldman?" "Mmm-hmm?" "Would it be all right if I stopped by your apartment when we're done? I'd really like to see you." She hesitated. "I need to see you. Badly." "You know where I'm staying, don't you?" "I would be a lousy FBI agent if I didn't." "All right. I'll wait up for you." "Bye." Scully stole a glance at her partner. "Everything okay?" "It looks like everything is going to be just fine." It was well past two a.m. when he showed up and he was as nervous as a teenager on his first date. There were fine lines of exhaustion around his eyes and Ellen noticed them immediately as she let him into the apartment. Winky purred excitedly and rubbed himself against Mulder's ankles. "Sand signed a full confession and his wife waived the restraining order. Scully's doing the autopsy personally," he said, eyes searching Ellen's face. She looked slightly scared and vulnerable. "That's great.." She felt awkward. "Would you like something to eat or drink? I have Snapple Iced Tea in the fridge and fresh bagels." Mulder shook his head. "No, thanks." He reached into his overcoat and pulled out a small bag. "I would've brought you something more romantic but the only place open was the Korean deli down the street or the drug dealer on the corner, and I wasn't sure whether you liked 'shrooms or joints." Ellen smiled despite the lameness of the joke and took the bag. "I'm afraid to look." "Your loss." "All right, all right." Reluctantly, she dipped her hand in and pulled out a potpourri scented tree-shaped car air freshener and a box of Cracker Jacks. "Are you trying to tell me my car stinks?" "No. That was the closest I could get to a bouquet of flowers at this ungodly hour." "And you didn't want me to say that you don't bring me flowers." "If you start singing that horrible song, Feldman, I WILL hit you again." Oh shit. How could he say something so stupid? Ellen took a step back and said nothing, eyes searching his. "I guess I'd better leave." "Maybe you should stay." Mulder turned from the door. "Huh?" "You'll only be back, so stay and try facing your problems instead of running away and hiding in your dingy, little basement." Ellen raised an eyebrow in challenge. "C'mon, Mulder. You're an Oxford-trained psychologist. (She lapsed into her best Jodie Foster imitation) Why don't you point that high-powered perception at yourself, Dr. Mulder and tell me what you see? Maybe you're afraid, hmm?" "Alright, Clarice, how about a little quid pro quo?" Ellen shuddered. Fiction was a little too close to the truth for comfort. "Do you want to cuff my hands behind my back?" She smiled wickedly. "Wouldn't be the first time." He returned the smile. "No." Another uncomfortable pause. "Look," he said, quickly. "Can we sit on the couch and talk til the sun comes up? I have so many things I should have told you, things that I want to tell you..." "All right." Hesitantly, she sat down, knees drawn up to her chest. Mulder purposely sat on the far side of the couch, resting his hands on his knees. Before he could begin, Ellen spoke first. "I want to ask you something." "What?" "What the hell were you doing, drinking with Krycek after all the shit you gave me?" Mulder grinned sheepishly. "I was so drunk, Feldman, I didn't have a clue." "You were sober enough to throw me around, Mulder." Ellen nibbled on her lower lip. "I'm a little afraid of you, to be honest. Make that a lot afraid of you." "I don't want you to be." "You hurt me and you threatened to hurt me even worse." "I was drunk." "Does that mean you get violent when you've been drinking?" Ellen blew a strand of hair from her eyes. "When I first met you, you were going to be suspended for punching out Skinner. You told me you weren't drunk. Now I'm inclined not to believe that." "My water was drugged. Scully'll tell you, if you don't believe me." "Drugged," she echoed. "It seems you can get violent without being drugged, doesn't it?" "I swear it'll never happen again." "I don't believe you." He couldn't blame her. His father said similar words to his mother. Was that what he was destined to become? "What do you want me to do?" "How about therapy?" "No." "You're right. You're smart enough to play head games with the best of them. So what do you suggest?" "I don't know, Feldman." "Are you proud of what you did?" "Jesus, how can you ask that? I've told you I'm sorry." "But now you want me to forgive you and trust you again. Do you have any idea how hard that is?" Mulder swallowed and closed his eyes. "Yes, because I'm not sure I can trust myself. I think...that maybe I enjoyed it." "You liked hitting me?" "I must have, because I threatened to do it again, didn't I?" Ellen got up and rummaged in the refrigerator. Any excuse not to look at him. "Feldman?" He was right behind her. "I....oh, God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." Look at him. He was absolutely pathetic. Unless it was an act. "I have no intention of becoming a domestic abuse statistic," Ellen said, coldly. "Look, I'll try therapy if that's what you want, but I'm a psychologist and I know the routines--" "And it didn't stop you, did it?" "Do you have any idea how hurt and angry I was? Krycek kept telling me what the two of you were doing behind my back and he was the person responsible for my father's death." "But you never told me that. Do you think I would have gone near him?" "After everything he did to you, I was surprised you did." "I was using him. The same way you use your informants." She shuddered. "You don't honestly think I would have...with HIM, do you?" "No." "What about me working for Cancerman?" He laughed. "It sounded good at the time." "Idiot, Mulder! You fool I can forgive the whore comment, and maybe I can even let the fact that you hit me slide -- although I'm not sure about that-- but what really rips my heart out, is the fact that you never trusted me to begin with. How the hell am I supposed to trust you when you don't trust me?" Finally, she was angry. After a week of moping and feeling sorry for herself, her anger was like being born again. "Who the hell do you thing you are the only person who ever got lied to? And why the fuck do you think that gives you a license to put yourself on a pedestal? Christ, you're so fucking arrogant. The truth is out there. Hmmph. It could jump up and bite you square on the ass and you'd think it was working for Cancerman, too!" Ouch. He deserved that. "I trusted you, Ellen, but ---" "Not completely? That's no good, Mulder. You can't build a relationship on that and I assume you wanted a relationship, not a fuck-buddy." "It's hard for me to trust anybody." "So why even bother leaving your apartment every day? You trust Scully, Mulder. Hell, she knows more about you than I do, and I'm jealous of that. I know I have no right to be jealous of your partner, even if she is gorgeous and with you for more hours than I ever see you, but I am." "Really?" "Oh, don't get me wrong, I don't think you have the balls to sleep with her. I'm jealous that you've told her everything and I've gotten the Reader's Digest Condensed version of your life. I opened up my soul and my bed to you, Mulder. Contrary to what you think, I don't do that for everybody." "Not even ET?" A feeble attempt at humor, but look, she was smiling. "You are such a putz. What am I going to do with you?" "Forgive me and give me another chance?" "Alright," Ellen said. "But we have to take it slow and I expect the truth from you." "Agreed. And you have to promise to stay out of the Pleasure Chest." "Only if you stay out of Legs and Eggs." In unison, "And no more drinking with Krycek." After that, they were able to talk earnestly. By five-thirty, she had fallen asleep in his arms on the couch. Her small body was curled snugly against his and he watched her sleep. They stayed that way for over an hour. Mulder caressed her lightly and watched the sun rise over the Hudson River. He had never seen a sunrise in New York City and he had to admit, it looked spectacular. The light touched the glass and metal of the skyscrapers and reflected off of the water. A flock of seagulls circled lazily, starting another daily quest for food. >From the open window came the sound of garbage trucks rattling along the FDR Drive. Another day had begun. Never quite the end. And now that our heroes are back together, it's time to start stirring up trouble again. Moohoohaha.