From: "adriana" <marmalad@zaz.com.br>
Date: Tue, 19 Sep 2000 22:28:30 -0300
Subject: As - 3/4
Source: direct

Disclaimer and everything else in Part 1
 
 
******************************

Chapter 21


"Excuse me."

Mara, Betty's daughter, was approaching them, carrying 
Mulder and Scully's orders, when Scully rose from her 
chair. 

"What? What happened?" Mulder held her hand and stood up 
as well. 

Skinner looked at the female agent, too.

"Nothing; I'm fine, Mulder."

"Scully..."

She caressed Mulder's face. "It's okay. I just need some 
air."

Skinner could tell Mulder wasn't entirely convinced, but 
he let her go. 

"I'm just going down the street. I'll be right back." 
She turned to face Skinner. "Excuse me, sir."

Skinner silently nodded at her. Mulder's gaze followed 
her until she disappeared through the front door, then 
he sat back at the table.

"Is she going to be all right?"

The question sounded pathetic even to his own ears. Of 
course it would take a long time for Scully to piece 
together her shattered dignity and be fine again; longer 
than it would take Mulder.

"I hope so," Mulder said, his eyes sagging into the 
table. "For my own sanity, I hope so."

Skinner looked at the man sitting in front of him, and 
felt the urge to beat the selfish bastard into a pulp with 
his bare hands. How could he be such a son of a bitch to 
the point of not seeing what was beyond his own needs 
and purposes, of not seeing his partner suffering? 

But then, where was the novelty of it? Mulder had always 
been like that, even when he was married. Skinner was 
surprised to see that Scully had lasted that long at his 
side, accumulating the functions of lover, co-worker and 
shrink. But then, Scully was an exceptional woman. She 
had stayed and succeeded where others had tried and given up.

Then a second later he looked at the agent's miserable 
expression. Mulder hadn't shaved, wasn't eating, and at 
this point Skinner doubted he would shave and eat again 
until the end of their ordeal. The minute Scully had 
left his side, all the composure and security that 
momentarily gleamed into his eyes were gone. 

Skinner decided to give Mulder the benefit of doubt. And 
for once that morning, he acted not like the superior, 
but as a friend.

"Are you all right, Mulder?"

Mulder said nothing; he kept staring at the plate of 
pancakes Mara had just put before him. When he looked 
back at Skinner, his eyes were blank, seeking a response 
in the air.

"I can't be without her, sir."

Plain and simple as day, Mulder's words hit Skinner 
right in the gut. He knew that there was a real 
possibility that their partnership would not survive the 
hearing. What he hadn't realized was that the lovers 
relationship could end right here, at that diner table. 
And if it really happened, he knew Mulder would not 
stand a chance. Mulder without Scully was not a nice 
sight; it was plain pitiful. He felt bad because there 
wasn't a single thing he could do to help the couple; 
even an offer of support would sound empty and 
insufficient. 

"She is a fighter, Mulder. She's not going to leave you 
like this."

A puff of air that sounded like a snort sagged Mulder's 
shoulders. "She resigned for less than this."

Skinner thought about the letter Scully had delivered 
after the hearing in June. He hadn't tried to talk her 
out of the decision. The document was still locked in 
his bottom desk drawer, without his signature on it.

"She stayed, Mulder."

"Until when? Scully is a proud woman. She worked really 
hard to be where she is now." 

"Maybe now she is where she wanted to be."

"Scully doesn't live on maybes." Mulder lowered his eyes 
back to the plate, repeating in a small voice, "She 
doesn't live on maybes."

Skinner was pushing the eggs on his plate from one side 
to the other. He had lost his appetite.

"You can't act like that, Mulder. She will need your 
strength the same way you will need hers."

Mulder rubbed his face. "She will have my strength, sir. 
I'd never deny that to her. This time I'm ready to 
support her in whatever decision she decides to make."

"She will make the right one."

Mulder started to break some toothpicks in small pieces, 
lost in a place Skinner was not allowed to go. 

"What about the bust?"

"Hum?"

"The bust," Mulder repeated, reaching for another 
toothpick. "That was a bust, wasn't it?"

Skinner fidgeted in his seat. "It was a drug trade, 
supposed to happen in your room."

"What happened? Did you find something?" He smirked at 
Skinner. "No, let me change the question; you sure found 
more than you were supposed to. Did you find the 
UNSUBs?"

"Yes, Mulder. There was a truck parked outside; the 
exchange was being made there."

The team that was keeping vigil outside the motel was 
radioed to check the truck immediately after the fiasco 
inside. And there they were, twelve men that didn't put 
up a fight to the team of fifty well armed officers from 
FBI, ATF and DEA combined. Skinner had been so caught up 
with his agents indiscretion, that he almost missed all 
the entertainment rolling outside.

But then, he had missed even Mulder's car parked by the 
curb.

"But it doesn't make sense," Mulder said, confused. "We 
were there; we heard nothing. And later, when we left, 
there was no evidence of an arrest."

"You were in shock, Mulder," Skinner said comprehensively. 
"It is natural; you had suffered a major trauma."

For him, the man that looked down into his plate holding 
back tears in no way resembled the witty, driven, real 
pain-in-the-ass agent he was used to working with. Once 
again, Skinner felt utterly helpless.

"This is not fair," Mulder said without lifting his 
gaze. "We're together for just two months. This is our 
second weekend together like this. We were supposed to 
be lying in a B&B in Virginia countryside..." 

Skinner managed to swallow without spilling coffee all 
over the table. Two months together? Second weekend like 
that? What the hell... 

Then he understood. 

Holy shit!

They had been lovers for no more than two weeks.

He must have proffered the words aloud, because next 
Mulder looked at him with the eyes of a man that had 
been brought back to reality after shock therapy. 

"I won't talk about it," he said, blushing furiously. 
"Even if I wanted to, you'd never understand." He looked 
like a stray dog lost in traffic with nowhere to go. 
Finally he found his destination and pointed at the 
entrance of the restaurant. "I..."

He didn't complete his sentence; he just went after his 
partner.  

Skinner stared at the man walking towards the door. In 
one thing he had been right: Skinner didn't understand, 
but he wanted to.

He wanted to understand why Mulder had waited this long 
to act on the desire the whole Bureau knew he had always 
felt for his partner. He also wanted to understand how 
Scully, the most straight and by the book agent he ever 
had under his supervision, had succumbed to her partner's 
charm. He wanted to know how they had managed to be one of 
the most efficient teams in the FBI with all this sexual 
tension between them for all those years.   

He wanted to understand what this so called being in 
love thing was like.


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

Chapter 22


There were sounds.

The rain was still falling in large droplets from the 
sky until it splashed onto the ground, spilling whispers 
of water in the grass. It was too late for the sun to 
show up again after the rain, but the rays of light 
would be strong enough to dry the landscape once the 
water ceased to fall.

It didn't matter to him; it made no difference. 

For him, there were only sounds.

The sound of her sweet voice calling his name when she 
ran down the steps of the porch, her tiny feet smashing 
water into wood, then into grass.

He heard air being separated by the sudden movement of 
his long arms being opened to welcome her into his 
embrace.

He heard time going still when he kissed her and she 
kissed him back.

There was the sound of their laughter when he professed 
all the love he felt for her while spinning her around, 
her hair changing the direction of the rain every time 
it swirled around her face.

There was the sound of their joy.   


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


They made it to his bedroom.

As far as he was aware, only their soaked shoes were 
left behind, kicked off outside the front door.

But then, when he opened his eyes, seeing that she was 
real before him, he realized that they were completely 
naked.

She was standing in front of him, her eyes as turquoise 
and quiet as the waters on a virgin beach. 

He wanted to touch her, but he held his desire back. 
There would be plenty of time for that later. Now he 
just wanted to memorize her face.

Blind fingers wandered reverently over the white flesh 
of her forehead. He loved that part of her; from there 
came all the smart remarks and scientific theories she 
shared with him. He cherished that structure of flesh 
and bones that guarded the beautiful mind he loved so 
much.

His lips brushed the pathway his fingers had just 
charted. She closed her eyes and he smiled. He kissed 
her eyes, her nose, her chin. She gripped the hands that 
were cradling her face and kissed his forearm. He moaned 
her name before pressing his lips to hers. She let go of 
his arms and cupped his checks tenderly. One of his 
hands slipped all the way down her arm and onto her 
stomach, his fingers studying the texture, feeling the 
peachiness of the skin that molded her.

He let his fingers cup her breast and felt on their tips 
the beating of her heart. She made a pleasant sound 
against his mouth and he couldn't take it any longer.

Gently yet firmly, he pushed her body along the mattress 
of his bed. 

The first time his naked body touched hers in its all 
extension, he was reminded of sensations already shared 
with others. Yet, with her it was still new.  A myriad 
of sensations, positive vibrations emitted by the 
shuddering body pressed against his own.

He held her head firmly against the pillow, his eyes 
roving over her perfect lithe frame, anticipating the 
caresses his hands were to give her.

He found himself cloistered in the kaleidoscope of 
contrasts their union formed: large frame against a tiny 
one; his hands discovering curves, hers muscles; his 
fingers reaching deepness, hers exploring his length. 
New sensations that he had to discover with her, 
feelings he wished only he could reveal to her. Places 
never explored, opposites mingling together to create a 
new definition of making love. Slowly all his senses 
evaded him. For him there were no more sounds, no more 
voices, no more sight.

He was a blind man; her body was a white page, his only 
link to the world. If he wanted to survive in a world 
without senses, he needed to learn her, to read her. He 
needed to print himself into her with his kisses, his 
caresses, his love. He was a blind man discovering for 
the first time how to read, how to distinguish  the map 
of her and never forget it. 

His wandering hands explored her body, his lips 
acknowledging what made her be Dana Katherine Scully. So 
many small things, small wonders. Her small perfectly 
rounded breasts, her smooth abdomen, the curve where her 
narrow waist expanded to form her hips. Her shaped 
thighs, the copper 'v' forming a fur curtain between her 
legs, red lips hidden behind it. 

He found them. He kissed those lips for the first time, 
his tongue darting forward, searching for the little, 
swollen version of pleasure he new he would find there.

Slowly he started to distinguish sounds again. 

He heard sheets rustling under her feet; he heard the 
soft rasp of his hands over her legs, holding her in 
place; he heard unintelligible, throaty sounds coming 
from her as she urged him against her.

He heard his name coming from her mouth when she came in 
his. Hot, liquid, sweet.

Scully.

He needed to see her face.

His lips where guiding him back through the same pathway 
he had just explored. The flatness of her stomach, the 
salience of her breasts, the shallow hole of her throat. 
The stream of her lips providing him with cool water, 
washing her off him, gifting him with new life.

She needed to know.

He needed to tell her what she was doing to him; he 
needed to tell her what he had read in her book, what he 
had learned. He needed to tell her about her sweetness, 
the tang, tart taste he had found only in her.

The blue beacon of light coming from her eyes blinded 
him again, its intensity wiped from his memory what he 
had read, what he had learned.

But he had to tell her, he had to share with her what he 
had discovered, what he had learned. He had to find a 
way to communicate. 

He kissed her again. He let her roll him onto the 
mattress and straddle him. He let her lips kiss and 
taste him. He let her swallow him, devour him entirely. 
He just stopped her when he was ready to explode.

He pulled her up against him and then rolled her back. 

He looked deep inside of her eyes and then sank 
completely inside of her. 

They rocked together until his finger joined them inside 
of her. Then she stopped, she shuddered, she came. They 
came.


*****


He was holding her against his chest and her small fingers 
were making lazy circles around his nipples. He felt her 
blink against him and place a faint kiss over his heart. 
He pulled the sheets more firmly around their bodies and 
kissed her hair, muttering a soft, "I love you," against 
the red threads.

He could close his eyes and sleep with no fear.

She was there.   


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

Chapter 23


The rain had stopped some time ago. Scully observed its 
last vestiges sliding down the window. She considered 
leaving her place in their bed to close the blinds, but 
she didn't want to disturb Mulder, who was sleeping on 
her shoulder, his left arm resting possessively over the 
sheet covering her breasts. 

They had slept for a couple of hours before she woke him 
up, kissing his nose. She had meant for them to talk, 
but when his eyes locked with hers, they reached the 
silent agreement that talk would come later, that for 
now they would just enjoy their new intimacy. They made 
love one more time and it was almost midnight when she 
finally dragged him out of bed.

She borrowed one of his T-shirts and went downstairs to 
fix something to eat while he picked up their wet 
clothes, scattered all over the floor in the bedroom. 
Thinking about that now, she hoped that he hadn't put 
her pink twin set in the same basket with her jeans. 

He met her downstairs and, after he had picked up the 
duffel bag she had left outside, they ate the cheese 
sandwiches she had made, cleaned up the kitchen and went 
back to bed. When they were settled, he pulled off her 
T-shirt and his boxers, telling her they wouldn't sleep 
until he made her come one more time. She had teased 
him, saying that he better be prepared to stay up the 
whole night. He accepted the challenge and, smiling 
wickedly, went down to business. 

Literally.

She would never defy him again. 

And now there he was, sleeping the sleep of the dead. 
She smiled and brushed a lock of hair away from his 
eyes. He had earned his sleep. 

Slowly, she studied the rest of the scenario surrounding 
them. The walls were covered with objects that had been 
part of his childhood: baseball and basketball banners, 
a small collection of shellfish, the book shelves filled 
with books that, she believed, used to be the focus of 
their owner's attention. If Sam used to be the kind of 
child who loved to nose around her brother's belongings, 
that room must had been paradise to her. 

Sam... That was one of the few times where Sam and the 
man snoring in her embrace were together in a happy 
thought. She wondered sometimes how Mulder would have 
behaved as a big brother. More than once, in the 
beginning of their partnership, she had had the 
certainty that he was trying to use her as a surrogate 
Sam. Thank god he hadn't succeeded. 

He should have been the kind of brother whose sister's 
honor was more important than anything. She could neatly 
picture him as the big brother who would wrestle with 
whoever pulled his sister's briads or stole her candy 
bars on Halloween. Fox Mulder, the Knight in Shinning 
Armor, the savior of young ladies in danger.

Without noticing it, she must have chuckled strong 
enough to make her lover blink against the pale skin of 
her collarbone. 

"Hum?"

She caressed his cheek. "That's okay; you go back to 
sleep." 

She kept drawing loose circles on his shoulder and back 
until he was lulled back into sleep. 

She looked out the window. It was almost dawn already. 
Almost dawn and she was still surrounded by the wonder 
of this man asleep on her shoulder. So comfortable. 
Softy; safely resting in the place where he belonged. 

She kissed his brow. "I wanted so much to be here with 
you, Mulder."

She whispered not to wake him up, but to find him in his 
dreams. If that was how it would be, she was willing to 
let down her walls, to let him teach her how to be, how 
to feel.

She felt herself getting moistened again, but this time 
it was not her body aching for release. It was her heart 
giving him a chance, a chance to show her that having 
his legs entangled with hers and the sheets twisted 
around their bodies was right, that there was no way for 
it not to be. 

At that moment, as the teardrops ran down her cheeks, 
she committed herself to him. They deserved a chance to 
be happy, to free themselves of the demons that haunted 
their lives, that insisted in telling her that it couldn't 
be. Because it could, it would, even if took them 
forever to make it real. But she also knew that forever 
would never be enough, not now. Not when she'd just 
discovered what being loved by this man was like. She 
would need a lifetime to soak up all the pleasure that 
his passion brought to her life, to name all the sweet 
sensations his smiles brought to her soul, to release 
the tenderness and the love she felt for him. Just a 
lifetime, just forever.   

Now she knew what forever was. Forever was the long 
minutes, hours of their lovemaking; forever was the span 
of time that each soft puff released from his nostrils 
took to play with the skin on her neck. Forever was all 
this and some more. And at that moment Dana Scully 
didn't feel the need to measure time anymore: that - 
what they really had - was enough. Forever was enough. 
Because forever was the two of them. Together. Always.


*****


When the first rays of light were streaming through the 
window, warmth and wetness were fighting to wake her up. 
It took her a minute to attribute the warmth to the sun 
tentatively bathing her face and just a heartbeat to 
recognize the wetness as the butterfly kisses Mulder was 
placing all over her torso, up to her shoulder, until he 
reached her lips. 

"Morning," he muffled between kisses.

"Morning indeed," she chuckled against his lips and 
opened her eyes.

He was looking for something in her eyes and she made 
sure to reassure him: She had no regrets. 

"Yes, indeed." He gave her a full smile and bent down 
once again to recapture her lips with his own. 

"Mulder..."

"Hum?" he was too busy kissing the way to her earlobe to 
give her his full attention.

"We need to talk." Her hands didn't stop the caresses on 
his back, shoulders, buttocks, wherever she could reach. 
But just her last statement was enough to get her his 
full attention. He let go of her earlobe and was staring 
at her, vulnerable, expecting. 

"We need to talk," she said again, looking into his 
eyes. They were dark, reminding her of an old tree whose 
hard bark's layer kept falling onto the ground and 
covering it, creating a barrier that, while not so 
difficult to sweep away, was not that easy either. 

"Mulder," she said, lying her fingertips on the skin of 
his face, searching for that mole of his that she loved 
so much. "I don't regret it," she whispered against his 
breath. "There's no regret," she whispered again, 
caressing his lower lip with the tip of her thumb.

"But..." he whispered.

"But what?" 

"There are no buts?"

"No." She smiled up at him.

His face lightened up again and she received the smile 
she was hoping for as well as one more kiss. 

"I love you." His large fingers were working on her 
hair, removing the damp red threads from her brow. He 
gently breathed her name and bent down to join their 
lips for the third time that morning. 

She let go of his face and pulled him completely against 
her. It took them no more than that to be making love 
again.


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

Chapter 24 


His hair was tickling her thighs like it had done the 
night before. She held his head, hoping to steady his 
convulsing body, but it too proved to be useless: he was 
moaning now.

"Mulder, stop," she urged him, smiling awkwardly at the 
passers by that kept staring at them.

He was shuddering, unable to contain his emotions. She 
was delighted for having him so at ease with her, but 
she was also embarrassed because of the show they were 
providing in public.

"I can't, Scully," he said between gasps of air, still 
convulsing. "This is just too good to let go."

She sighed, but started to shake too. "You're terrible."

He caught the hand that was caressing his hair and 
kissed her palm. "No, dear; you are terrific."

He placed her hand on his bare chest. Automatically, she 
started drawing little circles around his nipple. It 
hadn't been her intention, but he finally quieted down. 

"Scully."

"Hum?"

"Show me again what she did?"

"Mulder..."

He started to play with her fingers. "Please."

"This will be the last time, Mulder," she said in a way 
that gave no room for pleading or discussion.

"Okay."

She straightened her tank top on her body and her posture 
against the trunk of the tree to not hurt her back. Mulder 
turned to lie down on his stomach, his chin resting on her 
legs, his eyes eager to see her performance. 

She concentrated in order to find the right tone of 
voice and raised the longest finger of her right hand, 
gesturing to a fictitious passer-by. "I'll show you what to 
do with this finger. Do you see mine? I know what to do 
with it too."

Mulder burst out laughing again and rolled back onto his 
back, his head on the same place. 

"Oh, boy. You mother didn't do that."

"Yes, she did."

"No, not your mother." He adjusted the short sleeves of 
his unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders. "That tiny 
thing that is your mother couldn't do something like 
that."

"I swear, Mulder. I had never seen my mother like that. 
She sure learned a thing or two in those twenty and plus 
years she lived on the Base," she added, joining him 
with a laugh.

Despite the tension she was feeling the afternoon before, 
she had definitely had a good time with her mother driving 
her to the airport. They were late and if it wasn't for 
Margaret's skills as a driver, Scully would have missed the 
plane to Boston. And then, she had experienced the shock of 
her life: her all too serious, too sweet, too much of a lady 
mother had blown her horn at at least two drivers who had cut 
her off on the highway, sworn against each red light they came 
across, dragged Scully along the corridor towards the glass 
boarding gate, and, of course, had that classic argument with 
the truck driver that had tried to take her place in the park 
lot. Margaret had been so high on her adrenaline that when 
she had handed the ticket to a stunned Scully, she slumped into 
her daughter's arms laughing her head off. She thanked Scully, 
saying that it had been a long time since she had had that 
much fun. 

Suddenly, Scully realized she was laughing alone.

Mulder had pulled his sunglasses on and was holding his 
bottle of Gatorade on his chest. 

"Your mother went to all this trouble to send you to 
me?" he asked quietly.

Scully thought back about her mother's last words to 
her. 'You take care, honey. And listen to him.' Scully 
had already handed her ticket to the clerk when her 
mother told her to say hi to Fox.

"She told me to say hi."

Mulder pulled his body into a sitting position in the 
grass. He didn't look at her. "Did you tell her?"

Scully crossed her legs into an Indian style and looked 
at a group of teenagers playing volleyball some feet 
ahead of them in the park. "Not too much. I didn't have 
that much information."

Mulder nodded and took out his glasses. "I think it's 
time for us to have that talk."

She didn't want to talk about that; she thought she 
wanted to, but she had been wrong. She didn't want to 
hear about his life with another woman. She didn't want 
to know how they had met, how they had fallen in love 
with each other. 

He lined their sandals along the tree where she was resting 
and took a sip of her water. She pulled her bangs away from 
her eyes and held them atop her head with her sunglasses. 

"Did you know my parents have a beach house in Virginia, 
Scully?" He finally looked at her. 

She shook her head.

"Well, they do. It's a large house. I think they bought 
that when I was fifteen, or sixteen." He chuckled 
softly. "In summer that house used to rock. I would 
invite a bunch of friends and we would spend at least a 
week there, during school break. It used to be fun."

Scully imagined a group of adolescents with hormones 
pleading to be wasted from their bodies. Yes, definitely 
a lot of fun.

He continued, not giving too many details of that 
passage in his life. "They bought that house because 
they couldn't bear the thought of spending another 
summer on the island without her." He lowered his eyes 
for just a moment, then looked back at her. "I spent a 
week of my honeymoon there, Scully."

She pursed her lips and lowered her eyes to her lap, 
praying for God to give her the strength she would need 
to hear about it.

"I was happy. I had finally found someone that would 
stay with me and care for me, that loved me. After 
Samantha's abduction, I'd been in need of that stability 
for years. With Diana I found that."

Scully grabbed her cap and started to trace lines on its 
brim with trembling fingers. Something wasn't making 
sense. If he had been this happy with Diana, how could 
his mother have assumed that his marriage wouldn't last? 
And if he had loved and trusted that woman to the point 
of marring her, why did her aunt hate him that much? 

Why had they divorced? 

"Mulder," she called tentatively.

"Yes."

She looked back at him to find his eyes staring 
reluctantly at her. "Why does her aunt hate you?" At 
his pained expression, she tried to rephrase her 
question. "I mean, she deliberately ruined the night 
for you..."

"She knew I didn't love Diana enough, her parents knew 
that too. But still..." He breathed deeply and turned 
his face away from hers. "After the divorce I was with her 
one more time, Scully. And it was the last time, I swear." 

Scully heard the beating of her heart start to falter, 
but she didn't interrupt him.

"You were missing. It was the second case they gave me 
before I gave up all together. I was investigating something 
in Seattle;  she was there visiting her parents, and her 
aunt was there, too. We ran into each other and then... 
Anyway, that night, if she still had any hope for a 
reconciliation, she buried it for good." He looked for her 
eyes again. "I called her by your name, Scully." She gasped. 
"And I didn't mistake your names; I really called for you."

Her lips were moving, but she was too shocked to say 
anything. 

"She cried, Scully," he said in a low voice. "And I felt 
miserable. It had already happened once before, during a
one night stand. But Diana was not a stranger and I thought 
I could hold myself with her."

"Mulder, you loved her..." she managed to whisper.

"I thought I did; I was wrong."    

She needed to breath. She needed to take the refreshing 
breeze into her empty lungs. He had called for her, more 
than once. And she still had been missing. It had been 
over four years ago. He had been lusting for her since then, 
even before then. She told herself not to assume that he 
had already been in love with her at that time; he barely 
knew her. 

But there were other things. He had been thinking about 
Diana in that room with Gibson, she was sure of that. 
She also had seen his face when they were holding hands 
in that hospital, and later, when she had been shot. 

"Gibson..."

"Gibson knew I was thinking about her, Scully. And he 
also knew that I was terrified, because having her back 
would mean that I'd have to tell you."

"And why didn't you, Mulder?"

"I was afraid of your reaction. I didn't know how you'd 
take it. I mean, for Christ's sake, I had been married 
once and, in five years, I never told you that."

"I would have respected you, Mulder, and you know that. 
It was personal at that time, none of my business."

He took her hand between his and squeezed it fiercely. 
"But it was, Scully," he said between gritted teeth, 
even with anger in his voice. "If you had told me this, 
that it was none of your business, you'd have killed me. 
I would have been devastated."

"Mulder..."

"I wanted your anger, Scully; I wanted you jealous of 
her." His voice softened. "But when we started going out 
together, I pushed it aside. I wasn't thinking about 
her. I knew I needed to tell you, but I just..." He 
released a puff of air. "I was afraid because I couldn't 
lie to you."

"Lie to me about what?"

He caressed her check with his free hand. "She was the 
one who asked for the divorce, Scully. I'd never tell 
you that I wasn't happy, because I was. And I'd never 
say that I regretted my marriage, because I didn't. And 
I still don't."

She wanted to cup her mouth and cry. She wanted to turn 
her back on him and run away from here and never come 
back. She didn't want to be so dependent on him. Didn't 
he know what he was doing to her? Having her there, 
holding her hand like that, his thumb caressing her 
cheek, and telling her that he didn't regret having 
gotten married? For crying out loud, the night before they 
had made love for the first time, and this morning they 
had skipped breakfast and almost missed lunch, too.

Ashamed, she realized that she wanted him to tell her 
that his marriage had been a mistake, that he had been 
too young, that she had taken advantage of him in a 
moment of crisis. But it hadn't been like that, and she 
believed that, if Diana hadn't asked for the divorce, 
he would still be married to her.

She tried to free her hand from his, but he held it 
firmly against his chest.

"I love you, Scully, only you."

She lowered her eyes, incapable of holding his gaze in
hers. "You loved her too, Mulder. And you still care. 
What guarantee does it give me?"

"You gave sense to my life, Scully. With all the other 
women, even with Diana, I thought I had everything. And 
I was happy with that, really." With his index finger he 
tilted her head and smiled at her. "But with you I 
discovered things that I wasn't even aware existed. In 
the beginning you scared me, but later you became vital 
to my life."

She felt a single tear rolling down her face and he 
wiped at it gently with his thumb. "Forget that 
conversation about you making me whole, Scully. I 
didn't know what being whole meant at that time. This," 
he pressed her hand firmly over his heart, "is the real 
thing. I can't have less than that, Scully."

"How can you be so sure that this is the real thing, 
Mulder?" she asked, still not so secure about his words. 
"You've been there before. How can you be so sure that 
this is me?"

He moved closer to her, her hand still in his and his 
thumb on her cheek. "With any other woman I've been 
involved with in the past, I was always looking for 
something. Respect, tenderness, friendship, loyalty, 
love... You name it." His eyes were immersed in hers 
when he spoke again. "I can't pinpoint exactly when I 
stopped looking, Scully." He traced the contour of her 
eyes, her nose, her lips. Each caress sending waves of 
warmth and love to her heart. He was looking in 
wonderment at her, a man blessed with a miracle. "One 
day, looking  at you, I just thought: it's over; I found 
her."

She was too overwhelmed with emotions to hold back her 
tears anymore; she let them  slide free along her face 
and threw her arms forward around his neck, bringing him 
against her. She took his lips with her own in a deep, 
passionate kiss. In a second he embraced her around her 
waist and opened his mouth, his tongue swirling around 
hers, caressing her teeth, the inside of her cheeks, the 
roof of her mouth; hers doing the same for him. For a 
long time they remained like that, just kissing, 
tasting, feeling, living, their tears mingling with 
their saliva. And the same thought pumping with the 
cadence of a heartbeat: he loves me, he loves me, he 
loves me. 

Finally, they came up for air and she pecked his 
honey like lips one more time before resting her head on 
his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered against his 
neck. The skin of his face shifted against her brow when 
he placed a kiss on it. "You're welcome."

She touched her nose to his and smiled.


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


"Mulder, we're out of milk," she said, closing the 
refrigerator door.

It had been a short walk from the grocery store to their 
home, but the packages they were carrying were getting 
heavier by the minute, awkward to carry under the 
glaring sun.

She had mopped at the sweat that had broken onto her 
brow and had pulled out her cap; it was burning her 
head. Through the dark lenses of her sunglasses, she had 
seen that Mulder wasn't having as much trouble, even 
with the extra burden of a plastic bag. He just kept 
walking, whistling and smiling.

Their conversation had renewed both of them and she 
would have been floating like a helium balloon if it 
wasn't for the too heavy package.

And now she discovered that they had forgotten to get 
the milk.

He didn't even lift his eyes from the newspaper he was 
reading at the kitchen table.

"Mulder," she said again, taking the newspaper from his 
hands. "We have no milk."

He leaned back on the chair and crossed his hands behind 
his neck. "No big deal, unless you're going to use it 
now."

She turned to the sink to wash some potatoes. "No, I'm 
not. But tomorrow we'll have no milk to drink at 
breakfast."

"We'll manage, Scully." She heard the shuffle of the paper 
when he turned back to the news. "We can have orange juice 
tomorrow." 

"You like pancakes for breakfast."

"Yeah," he said, distracted.

"So there will be no pancakes tomorrow."

At his lack of response, she looked back at him. He was 
too absorbed reading the sports section.

"Yes," she said, chopping the potatoes. "Definitely no 
pancakes tomorrow."

She opened the refrigerator to catch the onions they had 
just bought. "It's a pity," she said, feigning 
disinterest. "You know, since you told me that you liked 
to have a glass of milk before bed, I have this fantasy. 
Me and you and milk and bed..." She found the onions and 
started to look for tomatoes. "I was feeling like doing 
it tonight, but since we don't have the milk, that's 
okay. We can do it..."

She didn't bother in completing her sentence; she heard 
him throwing the paper aside and grabbing his keys, then 
the door closing when he went back to the grocery store. 
She sighed and shook her head, trying to decide if they 
should have green or red tomato salad that evening. She 
decided they were having green salad with the chicken 
she would cook later.

She had already chopped the rest of the vegetables and 
was brewing some coffee when she heard him calling her 
outside. She left the magazine she was reading at the 
table and went to see what he wanted.

He wasn't alone. A couple was talking with him at the 
gate. He looked at her and smiled, beckoning her to his 
side. When she got closer, he introduced the couple to 
her.

"Scully, meet my cousin Daniel and Emma, his wife. Emma, 
Daniel, Dana Scully." Mulder smiled smugly at Daniel. "I 
told you she existed."

Scully smiled at the couple and noticed how much Daniel 
and Mulder were alike: the same intelligent eyes and 
wittiness vivid in a beautiful face. Emma radiated 
energy and kindness, her open smile making Scully 
sympathize with her immediately.

"A stunning existence, I must add." Daniel kissed her 
face softly. "It's really nice to meet you, Dana."

"Dan, don't make her blush." Emma admonished her 
husband, then turned to Scully and hugged her. "It's 
nice to finally meet you, dear. Fox always speaks so 
highly of you."

"I bet he does." She took one of the bags from his 
hands. "I'm making some coffee. Don't you want come in?"

"Not today, honey; we're running late. We still have 
some gardening to do before mom comes back from 
Florida." Emma was patting Daniel's arm as she spoke. 
"But tomorrow we could have dinner together. What do you 
think?"

Mulder wrapped her red hair around his finger in lazy 
curls. "We have nothing planned for tomorrow night. What 
do you think?"

She smiled up at him. "Sounds good."

"Then it's settled; we'll be looking for you around 
six." Daniel shook Mulder's hand and kissed Scully's 
cheek. Emma did the same with both of them and soon the 
other couple was gone. 

When they got back into the kitchen, Mulder put three 
cartons of milk into the fridge and kept the last one. 
She didn't give much importance to that, assuming that 
he was just going to have some of it with coffee. But 
when he took the carton and pulled her with him, she 
protested.

"I'm making dinner."

"I want supper. With milk."

He let go of her hand and turned off the flame.

"Mulder, dinner..." she babbled.

"We're going out to dinner later."

"But..."

They were already on the stairs and he stopped. "Look," 
he said, deadly calm. "You wanted milk, I got you milk. 
And now I want to drink." He smiled leery at her and 
shook the carton. "Care to join me?"

She laughed and slapped his divine behind, motioning him 
forward. "Show me the way, Milky Man."

He did.


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

Chapter 25


Even without being fully awake, he knew he was alone in 
bed. Last he remembered, they were lying on their sides, 
the flesh on her back keeping his bare chest warm and 
the tips of his fingers counting the beating of her 
racing heart after their lovemaking.  

His chest was not warm anymore. He reached out for her; 
he just found a handful of sheet.

Cold sheet.

More alert now, he rolled onto his back and opened his 
eyes. His old bedroom was so familiar, but now seemed 
empty because she wasn't there. He turned his head in 
the direction of the bathroom; maybe all the beers and 
barbecue they had at Daniel's had finally caught up 
with her.

She wasn't there. The bathroom door was ajar and there 
was no light coming from there. He swallowed hard, 
trying to contain his fears. 

Since she had come after him, rare had been the times 
when he had looked at his side and she wasn't there. 
While in bed, leaving would mean a quick trip to the 
bathroom or to the kitchen for some snacks. There hadn't 
been a single occasion when one of them had been gone 
long enough to cool the sheets.

Her side of the bed was cold.

He looked at the digital clock on the night stand. It 
was three o'clock. Where could she have gone at three 
o'clock? Panicked, he threw the sheets aside and went to 
the window. There was light coming from the front porch.

He sighed, relieved that she was fine before another wave 
of panic assaulted him: what could he have done wrong to 
put her away from him?

Everything had gone so right for them since she had 
arrived. They talked and she had forgiven him. He had 
done his best to prove to her that she was the one, that 
there would never be another woman for him. He thought 
she had understood. 

She seemed to be happy when they were at Daniel's. She 
had laughed, she had asked questions about his childhood 
and made fun of him afterwards. And later, after they 
had made love for the first time that night, she gave 
him the package his mother had sent before going to 
Florida with Aunt Jane. Blushing, she told him that she 
would be happy helping him to build his new memories. He 
covered her body with his to prove to her that she 
already was his best new memory.

He started to look for his boxers among the clothes they 
had left on the floor. He found it between her black 
skirt and his khakis.

He found her sitting on the front porch, wrapped in a quilt. 
He called her before stepping outside; he didn't want to 
startle her. She turned at him and smiled.

"Come back to bed," he said very softly. "It's cold out 
here."

She opened the quilt in a mute invitation for him to 
join her. He stepped forward and sat behind her. As his 
arms were longer, he hugged her around her shoulder and 
held the quilt together around them with his other hand. 
She kissed his neck and leaned on him.

He nuzzled her hair. "What's the matter?"

"I'm just saying good-bye," she whispered. 

He felt a lump in his throat. "Good-bye?"

Her hair brushed against his shoulder as she nodded. 
"Yes. This time tomorrow we'll be back in D.C., back to 
the normal life."

"Back to a new life, Scully. Don't forget that."

"Even with the X-Files?" She turned to face him, her arm 
resting on his thigh. "We won't be alone anymore, 
Mulder. Diana will be there with us."

He bent down slightly and kissed her lips. 
"Temporarily."

"I know." She played with the button of his shirt and he 
smiled; he loved to see her wearing his clothes. "But 
she will know, Mulder."

He bent down and kissed her again. "I'm not hiding you 
from the world, Scully. Not anymore."

She cupped his face and touched her forehead to his 
chin. "I don't want that, either, Mulder. I just..." She 
shuddered. "You were married to her, Mulder."

"And she already knows that I'm in love with you."

She smiled but then became serious again. "When we're in 
town it will be easy; we can spend the night in each 
other's apartment. But when we're out of town? I mean, 
Mulder, we can't just share a bed with her there, with 
us. It would be too much painful for her." She caressed 
the hair on his nape. "If it was me in her place... I 
wouldn't be able to bear the pain, Mulder."

He pulled her onto his lap and held her close to him. 
What a heart this woman had. With all the problems, all 
the adjustments they would have to make to work together 
and pursue a personal relationship, and she was worried 
about his ex-wife's feelings. He was sure Diana would 
not have such consideration if she was walking in 
Scully's shoes. 

"She will manage, Scully; she is stronger than you 
imagine."

She shivered against him. It was getting colder by the 
minute. He once had heard that dawn was the coldest 
period of the day; a theory that proved to be right.

But he had another theory of his own and they still 
hadn't had the time to test it. He started unbuttoning 
her shirt. She looked at him quizzically and amused. 

"Have you ever made love on a front porch?" he asked, 
nuzzling her neck.

She chuckled sensuously and reached for the opening in 
his boxers. "We'll freeze our asses out off here, 
Mulder."

He caught her in his arms, quilt and everything and lay 
her down on the wood floor. He kissed her breasts while 
his fingers flamed her insides. "Body heat, Scully; body 
heat."

She whimpered and arched her back, her small hand 
caressing him, making him hard. He buried his head into 
her neck and she guided him inside of her.

They just went back inside when the first rays of light 
appeared in the sky.


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

Chapter 26

Skinner had just hung up his cell phone when Scully and 
Mulder reappeared in the front door. Their twenty minute 
break seemed to have worked wonders on them. They were 
holding hands and, even though apprehension was still a 
strong emotion on their faces, they seemed to be more 
confident about themselves. 

They sat back at a now empty table and Skinner gestured 
to Mara to bring them more coffee. 

"I told Betty to take back your orders since you weren't 
here. Do you want something to eat?"

"No, sir. Thank you." Even Mulder's voice sounded more 
steady now. "We had a bagel outside. We're fine."

"I'm glad to hear that, Mulder."

He was being sincere; for a minute back there he had 
feared they were ready to give up on the game.

"Well," said Skinner, back into his A.D. mode. "I called 
the lab while you were out. We had some luck; Danny was 
there. He'll investigate all the phone calls that were made 
yesterday, be sure that you weren't called. I believe we'll 
have something tomorrow. But until then, is there anything 
else you want to share?"

"Meaning what, sir?"

Skinner was surprised with Scully's narrowed eyes; he 
would expect something like that from Mulder, not from 
her.

"Meaning that the OPR board probably will investigate 
this last assignment of yours, see how the two of you 
acted while in the field."

Mulder closed his eyes and cursed, then he reopened them 
and looked at him. "We acted like we were supposed to 
act: we went there and solved the case, reported to the 
SAC and came back to D.C. That's all."

"They'll want to see your report. Is it finished?"

"Yes, sir; it is. In fact, we delivered it to you just 
before we left yesterday." Scully looked directly at 
him. "Kimberly has it. I'm sure you'll find our report 
on your desk Monday morning." 

"Okay. I'll check it then. But there are other urgent 
things I need to talk to you about." He breathed deeply 
before looking back at the agents. "The final papers to 
officially reopen the X-Files were ready to be signed on 
Wednesday. Since you were out in the field, I kept them 
in my desk." He paused for a minute to choose the right 
words; he would be walking in some gray areas and wanted 
to be prepared. "It means that the X-Files may remain 
closed depending on the result of the OPR." Their faces 
became pasty white. "So, if something strange or out of 
ordinary happened while you were working together, it 
would be better if you tell me now."

The agents glanced at each other before responding to his 
question. "No, sir. Nothing different happened. We just 
acted like ourselves."

Skinner didn't know if it was a good or bad thing, but 
it would have to do. "Well, this can help. If the SAC 
has no reason to file a formal report about your 
behavior, most likely there will be no reason to file a 
formal reprimand."  

"There's no need for a reprimand, sir." 

He didn't want to scare them, but Mulder was getting 
agitated and defensive again.

"This is a good thing, Mulder. But you have to face all 
the possibilities."

"Such as..."

"I can tell you without a doubt that your SAC in the 
case will be contacted, Mulder. A report of his own will 
be requested. They will compare notes."

"Which notes, sir?"

"Yours, Scully's and the SAC's notes. They'll look for 
discrepancies about your behavior."

"Skinner," interrupted Mulder, impatiently. "Quit beating 
around the bush; what the hell are you talking about?"

Annoying and a jerk; the real Mulder was definitely 
back. 

"Sure, Mulder," said Skinner, involuntary flinching his 
nose, pissed to the bones. "In the OPR they'll want to 
know if you were really working, and not just screwing 
around." Skinner looked innocently at Mulder; he too 
could be as annoying and a jerk.

But when he saw Mulder's hand closing into a fist and 
his eyes assuming a dangerous shade of red, he knew he 
had exaggerated in the dose of his medicine.

"We don't screw around, sir." 

Mulder's voice was nothing but a whisper, a very 
menacing whisper. And Scully's face was red with fury;  
she was really offended, which hadn't been his intention. 

"I wouldn't expect less of you, agents," he said, trying 
to fix the situation. "But they will. In their ancient 
minds, working together and having a relationship are 
totally incompatible activities."

"For crying out loud, we weren't alone there. We were 
working with three local police officers, and Agent 
Fowley was there, too. They saw how hard we worked to 
solve the case. Are they supposed to make reports about 
us, too?"

Skinner had never been so afraid of fire. He had never 
seen Scully gesturing that much with her hands while 
talking. She couldn't let her Irish temper get the better 
of her. Of the two, she was the one he counted on to keep 
a level head. Nothing could save them if they both let 
anger rule.

"So show them how hard you worked, Agent Scully. You 
have to prove to them that your new status didn't 
interfere in your judgement."

She snorted. "Interfere with my judgement? Sir, I had to work 
twice as hard to prove to Mulder and Diana that a murdered man 
hadn't come back into the land of living people as a cat 
claiming revenge against the ones that supposedly had killed 
him."

Skinner wondered if he looked as dumbfounded as he felt. 

"Hum, Agent Scully; you've lost me now. You what?" 

"Hadn't done your homework before handing it to us, 
Skinner?"

Skinner sighed in exasperation, but said nothing at 
Mulder's snide comment.

Of course he had read the case before handing it to the 
X-Files trio. But all he had read was that a series of 
murders was happening in New Orleans and that there was 
a total lack of suspects. The investigators had pieced 
together that the victims had known each other at some 
point of their lives, but that was all. Nothing 
suspicious hung on the new victims, except that they had 
been in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Trust Mulder 
to turn a simple case of murder and the mystical 
atmosphere of the city where they occurred into an X-
File.

"The same cat was always found in the locale of the 
crimes, sir," Scully explained. "From the beginning 
Agents Mulder and Fowley knew that the cat was connected 
to the crime or the victims, they just didn't know how. 
Agent Mulder suggested that the cat was doing the 
killings."

Skinner just looked at her. "What about Agent Fowley?"

"Diana agreed it was worth a shot." Mulder smiled smugly 
at Scully. "We decided to investigate it while Scully 
performed the autopsies and forensic work to get the proofs
she needed to believe us."

Skinner remembered having seen Scully direct that look 
at Mulder before. This time he had the sheer impression 
that that raised eyebrow meant that Mulder wouldn't get 
any tonight. Mulder must have sensed the same thing 
because his smile was gone in no time.  

"And did you come up with a suitable closure for the 
case?"

"Yes, sir." Scully sipped some of her coffee. "Further 
investigation showed that all the victims had, somehow, 
been related to Paul Gallagher, a man that had been 
killed a couple of years ago. Collecting evidence, we 
got to his ex-lover, Amanda Lukas, who happened to be 
the owner of Mr. Miou..."

"Mr. ... Miou?"

"The cat, sir."

Skinner motioned for Scully to stop; he wasn't in the 
mood to hear about another crazy occurrence today. He 
already had too many things to digest. 

"That's okay Scully. I'm sure I'm going to get the real 
scoop once I read the report."

"But I can assure you, sir, that the cat had more to say 
about it than its owner."

"So now we're going to open an X-File about cats that 
talk, Mulder?"

Skinner masked his amusement at the defeated look he saw 
on Mulder's face excusing himself to use the restroom.

As he left the table, he remembered something he would 
never admit to Mulder; he wouldn't be the one to turn 
Scully's small victory into her partner's triumph.

He recalled having read something about a cat's 
appearance in the report.


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


Chapter 27
  

Scully grabbed the edge of her pillow and turned onto 
her side. She was counting the minutes, barely able to 
hold herself. She just wanted to catch the plane in the 
morning and leave that city from hell.

No; she wasn't being fair. The city wasn't that bad. 
Actually, it was beautiful, surrounded by the magic and 
sensuality that made New Orleans one of the most 
romantic places in the U.S. Things would definitely have 
been better if they had flown there for the right 
reasons: just for some romance.

Instead, they were there because of a cat.

Mr. Miou had been in each one of the five crime scenes 
they had visited. Be it an alley, or a staircase, there 
was Mr. Miou greeting them with his deep purrs, 
announcing his presence. 

Diana had noted him for the time at the second crime 
scene they had visited, commenting to her and Mulder 
that the cat seemed familiar to her. Scully's great 
mistake had been her comment that cats looked all the 
same to her. Well, except for the color of their fur and 
eyes, they were all the same, weren't they?

But not to Mulder. If Diana had said she had seen the 
feline before, of course they would check it out; it 
could be helpful.

So there went her former partner and their new one after 
the story of the cat's life while she made autopsies and 
collected evidence in order to prove right their theory: 
the cat was involved in the crimes.

She collected evidence from each one of the bodies: 
gunpowder from gunshot wounds, the right angle on knife 
blows, the chemical composition in each poison sample. 
But not even a caramel fur of Mulder and Diana's main 
suspect. 

She sighed and clutched the sheet firmly against her 
body. 

In her opinion, Amanda Lukas, the cat's owner, was 
responsible for the deaths. All the victims had crossed 
at least once in her life, and not in a pleasant way. 
Each one of them had humiliated Paul Gallagher, her 
former lover in the past. And the last one of the 
victims had been Janet Gallagher, Paul's ex-wife. In 
Scully's opinion, they had reasons enough to keep Ms. 
Lukas in custody and make some further investigations. 

But Mulder and Diana at that point were convinced that 
Mr. Miou was Paul reincarnated, and chose to follow the cat 
into yet another alley. 

And they had found Mr. Miou ready to attack Officer 
Brandon, who, curiously, happened to be Amanda's new 
lover.

After a heated battle involving trash bins and a bunch 
of stray cats, the group of three ended up in the 
hospital. Diana had four stitches on her forehead and 
three on her left hand, Mulder had five stitches on his 
forearm and Officer Brandon would spend the night in the 
hospital due to a slight concussion. While visiting her 
boyfriend, Amanda had assured the three federal agents 
that the killings would stop now.

Mr. Miou had been taken to a foster home for animals.       

And it had been up to Scully to bring Mulder and Fowley 
back to the hotel after they had had the necessary 
tetanus shot.

A bandaged arm snickered around her stomach and pulled 
her against his bare chest.

"Still awake?" he asked sleepily.

"Tonight was too intense. My adrenaline's still high."

She spit the words at him to let him know that she was 
still fuming, mad out of her senses with him. It seemed 
that he wouldn't buy any of it.

"Uh, Scully. It must have been fantastic because I 
remember nothing. Do you want to do this again, see if I 
get some insight?" He slipped his tongue inside of her 
ear after having bitten her earlobe. The son of a bitch 
knew exactly what to do to drive her crazy. 

"Actually we can't do it again because we didn't do it 
once."

He moved his hand upwards and insinuated his fingers in 
the opening of her pajama top. "I fell asleep on you?"

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the thumb that 
was caressing her sensitive nipple in lazy circles. She 
barely whispered "Yes, you did."

He licked her jaw and she sighed. "It's a shame. We have 
to fix this."

He moved the hand that was resting bellow her pillow and 
pulled up her pajama top. His palm slid warm against her 
belly and her spine went cold. She felt the hair that 
covered her arms and legs bristling, making the silk 
blue layer that had been protecting her since she had 
gone to bed extremely uncomfortable. She opened her 
mouth to protest, to tell him to stop. She just managed 
to emit a throaty moan.

"Did you say something?" he asked as he removed her top.

"I'... mad... oh... you." 

In her fogged mind, Scully thought about her grammar 
lessons in fifth grade and Sister Angelica telling her 
group that English wasn't such a complex language, that 
it wasn't that difficult to put a verb between a subject 
and a object. Sister Angelica had been so very wrong. 
Every time Mulder had one of his limbs between her legs, 
English proved to be the most difficult and incoherent 
of the languages.    

He chuckled against her ear. "Wrong answer, Scully." He 
kissed the curve where her jaw met her neck. "I want you 
crazy."

Between a groan and another, he also got rid of her 
pajama bottoms. He positioned himself right behind her 
and placed both hands on her waist, pulling her securely 
against him. She freed one of her hips from his hold and 
placed his free hand back where she wanted it. 

Oh! And, of course, he had other abilities: even one 
handed he could strip their clothes without loosing his 
hold on her. He had discarded his boxers and now she had 
all of him pressed up on her back. 

His breath was warm against her nape. She bent back her 
head, seeking more of his warmth, finding his lips 
pressed against her hair. 

"I want you as crazy as you make me, woman."

Somewhere around her brain, in that tiny part that 
insisted on keeping working despite his proximity, 
she registered that he was losing his ability of speech, 
too. Good. It meant that now she would need just another 
couple of caresses before having him lost in her. And 
before she got lost in him. 

"Oh God, Mulder."

She turned her head on her pillow and kissed him. He 
hooked his arms around her waist and turned her over on 
the mattress. Briefly she opened her eyes to find his 
hazel pools glaring intently at her.

"I want to be on top," she groaned between smacks and 
wet kisses.

"Whatever you want, Scully," he panted against her 
mouth.

She rolled him onto his back and straddled him, letting 
just the tip of him slip inside of her before stopping.

"Scully," he groaned, exasperated.

It was hard, but she had to do this. "You ditched me."

He cupped her neck and pulled her against him, trying to 
kiss her mouth again. She didn't let him. "I went after 
our suspect."

Her hands were slipping on his slicked chest, making her 
lose her balance, her control. "Mulder... You... 
after... cat."

This time he pulled her completely against him and 
kissed her mouth. "No shop talk while in bed. We had 
agreed about it."

He had a point. But it was before he had ditched her. 

But he was so irresistible. And she was aching for him. 

She let him in inside of her and they groaned in unison.

"God, Mulder. This feels... so good..."

Large hands cupped her buttocks and pushed her forward 
to meet him in his thrusts, quickening their movements.

She was so close...

"Come.. with... me...Scully." 

She felt his trembling finger entering her, looking for 
her tiny nerve. She held her breath as he stroked her 
clit, rubbing it in small circles, back and forth. Her 
nostrils weren't pulling enough oxygen into her lungs. 
She wanted to breath through her mouth, but she feared 
the butterflies floating inside of her would fly away 
and she would lose her control. She was getting so hot; 
her moisture melting into him, making him slide even 
further into her. 

Butterflies escaping from each pore in her body.

From her mouth.

"Mulder..." 

She cried, falling from the edge of her sanity, meeting 
him halfway.

She slumped against him and bit his shoulder, hard. When 
he cried her name, she didn't know if it was for pain or 
pleasure. But she knew that in the end he would be happy 
anyway. 

When the hand that was caressing her back didn't move 
any more sweat, she knew it was time to dismount him 
before they began to freeze. She lay on her side, 
facing him. He smiled down at her and kissed her lips.

She didn't kiss him back.

"What's happening?"

She saw concern growing in his eyes and decided to do 
nothing about it. He deserved some suffering after what 
he had done. 

He turned onto his side and propped himself on one 
elbow. "Come on, Scully. Tell me what this is now."

"You ditched me, Mulder. I told you to wait for me and 
the back up but you didn't listen to me."

"Scully, we went after a cat."

"A cat that you believed to be a murderer."

He chuckled and looked startled at her. "And he pulled 
the trigger? Stabbed that woman? Come on, Scully. You 
can do better than that."

She didn't turn down her gaze. Her face was burning and 
she felt the pins and needles floating in her scalp, 
typical signs of embarrassment. Couldn't he just see 
that she didn't want him running around with that woman? 
And besides they had really been in peril in that alley.

"Goodnight, Mulder."

When she tried to turn over, he grabbed her firmly 
around her shoulders. "Oh no! You're not going to sleep. 
Tell me what is this all about."

"You could have been killed."

"Scully, they were just cats."

She pointed at his arm. "So tell me: what is this? Agent 
Fowley is injured too and Officer Brandon is at the 
hospital. And don't you look at me like that because you 
know I always worry when you do this kind of stupid 
thing."

He caressed her face with his knuckles. "It's my job, 
Scully. And it's yours, too."

"My point, Mulder. Why didn't you wait for me?"

His silence was her answer.

"You can't keep doing this, Mulder. Don't try to protect 
me like that."

"You have to give me time, Scully. I'll learn."

She let her hand slip up and down along his arm. "Learn 
what?"

He pulled her against him and kissed her soundly on the 
lips. This time she allowed her tongue to caress him 
back.

"Just give me time, okay. I won't do it again."

He touched his forehead to hers.

She closed her eyes and decided to at least try and 
believe in him.


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


Chapter 28


From his spot in the doorway, Skinner saw that the 
couple was discussing something, but they stopped as 
soon as they saw him approaching their table.

They weren't happy.

"There's just one more thing I need to discuss with 
you," Skinner said, sitting back in his place at the 
table. "That was your first assignment back in the 
Bureau, with a new partner. There's the real possibility 
that Diana will be called."

"She didn't spy on us, sir. She was there to work."

Skinner wondered how Mulder could be so obtuse.

"Mulder, whoever did this, set you up, had everything 
very well orchestrated. Nothing was left behind, from 
the day of the A.D.'s rendezvous with Trajan to the 
location of your motel. But I don't know if we can prove 
that you were cheated. Evidence shows that you were 
there willingly."

"But it was a set up, sir," Scully said. "Please, don't 
tell us you don't believe this."

"It's not about whether I believe it or not; it's about 
what we saw." 

Scully lowered her eyes. "Nobody had the right to see 
that, sir; nobody."

"Scully, please; we did nothing wrong."

"Mulder, for them our very existence is wrong."

Skinner looked aside in respect for the couple. He 
agreed with Scully: things would not be right. Not so 
easily, anyway.

"Mulder, didn't you notice anything different? Any kind 
of suspicious phone calls? Is there the possibility that 
you were followed without knowing it?"

"Sir, we were not hiding the fact that we were seeing 
each other. And we essentially spent this whole week 
out. We just came back on Thursday evening.  We saw 
no body, we talked to no one other than Diana. And even 
with her, we just talked at the airport and said our 
goodbyes, see you tomorrow."

"What about yesterday? What happened before you left the 
office?"

"Diana and I, we went to your office to hand in our 
report. Scully stayed in the basement putting some files 
in order."

Scully reluctantly looked at Mulder. "Mulder, did you 
say anything to her?"

Mulder looked surprised at her. "Don't you even go 
there, Scully; she had no reason to do something against 
us. This is nonsense." He turned his gaze to Skinner; he 
flinched under the hazel intensity. "I didn't talk to 
anyone about our plans because we hadn't planned on 
stopping at that motel. It just happened."

"What?" Another new piece information and Skinner was 
afraid to hear about it.

"We were heading to Virginia... but..." Mulder stopped, 
gasped and cleared his throat. Then he completed in a 
very small voice, "we had to stop."

"Mulder, if you were heading to Virginia, how could you 
have ended up in Baltimore?"

Silence.

Skinner was a man of facts. He liked to hear out all 
the parts involved and then get the best solution to a 
problem. Sometimes it turned out to be an easy task, 
like how to pay attention in a conference and at the 
same time mentally list all the items he needed to get 
in the grocery store on his way home; or how to watch 
the football games on TV while checking reports in the 
office. But that morning, every time Mulder or Scully 
came with an explanation, he got worried.

"No, Mulder; there must be something wrong. If nobody 
knew where you were heading, how could they have spotted 
you so easily without following you?"

"Sir, believe me: somehow they did."

"But how? God, we're not talking about an ordinary 
Volkswagen Bug. We're talking about a truck that could 
easily hold a lab in it."

"Skinner, for the last time: we saw nothing."  

Mulder spelled his last words the same way Grandpa 
Skinner had told him he couldn't have sex until he was 
eighteen. No matter that he was twenty and had lost his 
virginity at sixteen: if he tried to argue with Grandpa 
Skinner, thing would get worse. Once again he turned to 
Scully, seeking support; maybe the two of them could 
combine forces and talk some sense into that partner of 
hers. 

But he had never seen her turning all those shades of 
red at once, not even the night before.

Suddenly he didn't want to know anything else.


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


Chapter 29


Scully was rearranging the files in the cabinet when he 
got back from Skinner's office. He stopped at the doorway 
and just stood there, admiring her. 

Her hair was pinned up on the top of her head, two red 
strands falling on her face. Absently, she pushed one of 
the strands away from her eyes with the back of her 
index finger. She was wearing her glasses and chewing on 
a pencil, sexy as any woman who packs a gun should be 
allowed to be. 

One file in particular caught her attention and she put 
it atop the cabinet to take a better look at it. And he 
used this opportunity to take a better look at her 
stockinged legs, the first one since this morning, when  
he had been enclosed in the circle of said legs in her 
shower. They had missed breakfast in favor of their sexual 
indulgence, but the trade had been worth it.

More than worth it. 

During her reading, she raised one eyebrow and he 
smiled. Even now, after five years, that movement still 
had the power to send him to distraction. And her 
movement combined with that skirt she was wearing were 
motives to cause him some concern. Like in the 
beginning, Dana Scully still turned him on just by 
breathing the same air as him. And to have her there, 
sharing the same space with him five days a week, 
knowing for the past week exactly what those layers of 
clothing were hiding, wasn't a good thing for his blood 
pressure.

He needed to ask his mother if there was any case of 
heart failure in the family. If so, he needed to see a 
cardiologist ASAP.

"Fox, could you please step aside? I need to get my 
purse."

Diana's words drew Scully's attention towards them. He 
turned his head and saw Diana standing awkwardly behind 
him, trying to gain access into the room. 

"I'm sorry, Diana. I got carried away for a moment back 
there," he apologized, making room for her to step into 
the office.

"You've been doing that constantly of late," she said 
back, looking at Scully in a way he didn't appreciate. 
She picked up her purse that was hanging behind a chair 
and headed back to the door. "I never saw you so carried 
away, Fox," she said before leaving.

While closing the door, he turned his internal knob and 
assumed his Profiler!Mulder self, then tried to 
distinguish all the emotions he had seen in Diana's 
eyes. There had been hurt, longing, regret and another 
one he couldn't identify.

He went to his desk still thinking about it when the 
blinking icon on the computer screen caught his 
attention. He had mail. He forgot Diana's existence the 
minute he clicked the virtual envelope and found the 
message they had been waiting for the whole day. 

"Hey, Scully; that B&B in Virginia confirmed our 
reservation," he said without stopping his reading; he 
needed to be sure that they were booked in the room 
whose windows opened to the lake he had seen on the 
Internet. She would be glad; she had wanted that room as 
much as he had. "And we've got the room that faces the 
lake."        

He made a one-hundred eighty degree turn with his chair 
expecting to see in her face a smile that matched his 
own. 

And again he found her looking at him like he had lost 
all of his senses.

He was getting tired of that.

"What now, Scully?"

She closed the iron cabinet, the impact of her heels 
hitting the floor telling him there was a storm coming. 
This time he was prepared.

"Mulder, did you see her..." 

"Yes, Scully; I did. And I'm sorry if it offends you, 
but that's how things are going to be. She knew what she 
was getting into when she came back from Europe. And 
I've already told you I'm not hiding you from the world. 
Or from her, for that matter."

For a moment she had stood there, in front of him, open 
mouth and confuse stare. Then she stirred her head and 
tried to speak again.

"Mulder, we're at work. We established no rules but this 
one: not getting distracted during work hours..."

"And I respected that until five minutes ago, when I 
came back from our supervisor's office and officially 
finished my shift. Just then I stopped and took my first 
good look at you since this morning." He sighed. "I'm 
just human, Scully. I acted like SuperMulder for five 
years; give me a break."

Her shocked semblance vanished in two seconds and she 
smiled at him. "What I'm going to do with you, Mulder?"

"I had an idea or two this morning, but your alarm clock 
hates me."

She ruffled his hair. "Come on, partner; let's go. We 
have a room to check into in Virginia."

He didn't wait for a second invitation.

He shut down the computer and grimaced as he pulled his 
jacket on. On their way to the garage, he noted how hot 
it was. And cursed at his and the other male agents' 
fate, having to wear that ridiculous suit and tie when 
it was at least eighty degrees outside. 

Luck of Scully and Diana that, like most of the other 
female agents, were wearing skirts and short sleeved 
shirts at work. 

"I forgot to pack my conditioner, Mulder."

He unlocked the door on his car and immediately turned 
on the air conditioner.

"You're not traveling with this thing on, Mulder."

He turned off the air and counted to ten.

"You don't want to stop at your place to get it, do 
you?"

She opened the CD case he kept on his dashboard and 
started to flip through it. "No, I don't. But could you 
please stop at a Seven-Eleven so I could buy some?" 

"I think we can do that."

They had already left the building and she still hadn't 
chosen anything to listen.   

He held her hand when she went past Otis Redding for the 
second time. "Why don't we listen to Otis? I bet you'll 
like it."

Through the corner of his eyes he saw her studying the 
CD. "You surprise me all the time."

"Don't like good, old Otis?"

"Don't know a lot of things about good, old Otis."

He considered singing 'Try a Little Tenderness' to her, 
but why scare her off if they had the CD in hand.

She inserted the plastic disk into the CD player. As she 
pushed the play button, the radio spilled back to them 
Otis's soul in an emotional lyric.


'I've been loving you
Too long
To stop now'


He had forgotten that that was the first song on the CD, 
otherwise he would never have listened to this while 
Scully was at his side. 

The fact that he had already told her that he was in 
love with her, that she was the most important person in 
his life, that there would never be another woman to him 
made no difference; those were his feelings for her that 
he just let come to the surface when he was ready to do 
that.

But this music had the power to peel the protective 
layers he had so carefully constructed during all his 
life and that he had just become conscious of its 
existence when he met Scully.

He reached for the gear lever at the same time as his 
eyes peeped at her face. 

A curtain of red hair covered her eyes partially. Her 
head was slightly bent forward while she accompanied the 
hypnotic voice. He ached to touch her, but he feared 
that if she returned the gesture, he would not be able 
to hold himself back and claim the desperate singer's 
plea as his own.


'Don't make me stop now'     


What would he do if Scully ever told him that they 
couldn't be anymore? Would he be able to let her go and 
keep going with his life? Or would he get over his pride
and beg her to let him stay with her? 

He remembered her nails sliding down his back the night 
before, his tongue circling her navel this morning. He 
remembered having breakfast in bed with her for the first 
time at the summer house, their walks along the beach, the 
sound of her laugh. There were so many new things about her 
that he was discovering now and that made him love her 
even more. 

He could never get over her.


'Don't make me stop now
Darling, believe me, please,
'don't make me stop now'


He didn't want to stop ever. If she just allowed him to 
love her the way he would like to...

He felt a warm weight on his thigh and lowered his eyes.   

She was stroking the fabric of his slacks, her attention 
fixed on the movement of the cars ahead of them. 

Was she conscious of what she was doing? 

"I love this song, Mulder. Hadn't heard it in years, 
though."

"Of all his music, this one's my favorite."

She smiled, looking at him. "What about this one? 
'Tenderness', isn't it?" she asked, checking the CD's case
again.

"You know nothing about ole Otis, Scully. This one is 
'Try a little tenderness', child," he explained.

Another Scully look. "Child?"

He smirked at her, knowing that he was getting into a 
good one. But he couldn't just resist; he had to tease 
her. "Why? Don't you like it?"

Another Scully's look. That could be really interesting.

"You know, Mulder; I bet this child here could give you 
a little tenderness."

He inhaled all the oxygen he could gather into his 
lungs, some of the scent of her perfume coming along 
with it and heading directly to his groin. He was a 
troubled man.

Thank God.

He was still thinking about what to tell her when she 
zipped down his fly. Another wave of cold sweat assaulted 
him.

"But I don't know if you deserve it, Mulder."

If he could speak, he would tell her one thousand one
hundred and four reasons why he deserved it. However, 
their current situation inside a car in movement told 
him he should use what little was left of his driving 
lessons to keep them alive and not to miss their exit.

He pushed the gas pedal further when she squeezed him.
"God, Scully."

His boxers and his shirt were getting damp and he was 
sure she knew that. He could sniff his own arousal in 
the air filling the car. 

He turned to find her smiling sweetly at him.

"Do you need more tenderness, Mulder?" 

He shook his head 'no' but muttered a strangled 'yes'.
And sweat sliding down his back.

"You got me confused, Mulder." She was squeezing him in 
and out. "Do you mean yes" - in - "or no" - out.

He just meant for them to get safely to Virginia, and 
soon. 

"Scully... stop..." he grunted, his eyes barely 
fluttering open. 

"Don't want stop..." 

He missed the exit.

When he pushed down the brake pedal, preventing them 
from hitting the car in front of them by just one inch, 
she stopped. 

"Gee, Mulder; I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

She was frightened, her rounded open eyes looking like a 
oversized pair of blue marbles. Her face was flushed and 
she was squeezing him 'yes'.

And now he would be manly and do what any respectable 
macho man would do.

"Get out now."

"Mulder, I... I said that I'm sorry... I didn't mean for 
this like that..."

"Scully, just shut the hell up and get out of here."

"Mulder..."

"Now!"

Quickly she released her seat belt and opened the car's 
door.

"My wallet is in my jacket's pocket. Get my credit card 
and pick up a room."

"Room? Mulder, where do you want me to..."

He would have laughed at Scully's scared, confused face 
if he didn't have to deal with the tangible problem in 
his lap.

"The motel, Scully; there's a motel over there." He 
pointed at the motel across the street.  

Scully looked at his choice of a motel and shivered in 
that warm August night. "Mulder, we could just keep 
going; we're less than an hour from Virginia... I 
promise I'll be quiet... We can wait for you to 
recover..."

The unsteadily rise and fall of his chest betrayed the 
supposed calmness in his voice. "Scully, you can cross 
the street and get into that motel now or I can go there 
myself."

She stared at his problem. "You can't be serious..."

He pushed the red button on his seat belt; he would show 
her how serious he was.

She slammed the door shut. "No; that's okay. I'm going."

"I'll be right over. You better be finished when I get 
there."

He waited while she crossed the street before making a U 
turn in the highway, which was surprisingly quiet for a 
Friday evening in the summer. And besides, who cared? In 
his condition, the best move to take would be to stay away 
from movement and crowded spaces.

He decided against parking in the motel's parking lot; 
he estimated that two hours would be enough for them to 
take care of his... situation and take a nap afterwards. 
That lake in Virginia and their exquisite room would 
have to wait a little longer. 

He imagined the Sumo wrestlers he had seen on TV two 
nights ago engaged in another kind of dance for exactly 
four minutes before picking up his jacket on the passenger's
seat, right where Scully had left it, and held it in 
front of him. That thing would be useful for the first 
time today. He locked the doors and decided to leave 
their bags in the truck, no need to take them with him, 
and headed to the building.

He found Scully at the clerk's desk, still signing them 
in.

"You're not finished yet?"

"There was a problem with your credit card."

He had never seen Scully apologize that much.

"Is it solved?"

"Yes, sir; room 15."

"Thanks. Let's go, Scully."

The hall seemed to have no end, and when he found their 
room, he inserted the key into the lock on his third 
attempt. He didn't have that much trouble in locking it 
behind him. His left hand loosened the tie around his 
neck while his right one fumbled with his belt. 

When he pulled his shirt over his head he noticed that 
Scully was looking at him bewildered. She had just 
gotten rid of her shoes. 

"Do you need a written order, Scully?"

She unzipped her skirt and pushed it down with her hose 
and panties. With renewed vigour, he sat on the bed and 
got rid of his slacks and boxers. 

Next he knew, a warm, naked bundle threw herself at him, 
knocking him down on his back in the bed. His socks were 
still on.

"Uncle Foxy is enthusiastic," she said, playing with 
'foxy'.  

He pulled her body against his and kissed her lips. 
"Uncle Foxy is enthusiastic, euphoric, ecstatic."

She started to squirm in his embrace. "And rambling," 
she laughed against his lips.

He laughed with her and rolled them in the bed. "Stop 
mocking me."

"I can't, Mulder. You've been acting so weirdly today... 
Ouch, Mulder," she moaned.

He had two of his fingers inside of her and his mouth on 
her breast; if she kept talking after that, he would 
give up and call it a night. There was a John Houston 
movie on TV later tonight. 

"Mulder, stop."

Stop?

No, she couldn't have asked him to stop. The bells 
ringing in his ears must have been fooling him. 

But she was; she pushed his hand away.

"Scully? What? Did I hurt you...?"

She smiled up at him and took him in her hands. "No; 
you're not hurting me." She ran her finger from his tip 
to his base. "But you were the one with the problem, 
remember?"

Oh, yes; he remembered. How could he forget when she was 
doing that thing to him? 

He let his head fall onto her shoulder and started to 
kiss her neck, his tongue sweeping the hole in her 
collarbone. He moaned her name against her skin. Her 
scent invaded him, turning his world upside down.   

"Let me help you, Mulder."

"If you keep that up, Scully, I..."

She was reducing him to a puddle on the bed; even these 
slurred words had been difficult to him. 

"Please, Mulder..."

She was pleading to pleasure him. Pleading...

"I can't do it twice..."

She pulled him up against her mouth and kissed him. "You 
will. Trust me... you will..."

He trusted her. 

He trusted her enough to let her make him come. And he 
trusted her that, when the time came, he would be able 
to come again inside of her. 

That was what he thought when he spilled into her hands 
and kissed her, that he would come inside of her, later.

When the colors exploding in his eyes lost some of their 
intensity, he found her smiling up at him. 

"You lie down. I'll clean you up."

He was too exhausted to do anything more than simply 
nod. She left the bed, her body swinging on her way to 
the bathroom. He closed his eyes and sighed, waiting for 
her. She came back a few seconds later, carrying a damp 
wash cloth. Tenderly, she cleaned him with the warm 
cloth, her lips leaving a path of kisses all over his 
body. When she was through, she went back to the 
bathroom and closed the door. He heard the sound of the 
toilet being flushed and then water running. 

The click of the door being opened announced her return. 
She lay down facing him. 

"You're good at this."

"It was the least I could do after putting you in this 
situation. Am I forgiven?"

He chuckled. "Forgiven? Scully, if I knew that this is 
the way you would apologize, believe me, I'd have made 
it crystal clear all the times you gave me a hard on."

He waited for a smart remark of her own that didn't 
come. He turned his head slightly in her direction to 
find her studying him intently. 

"I didn't know you cared that much, Mulder."

"I did, Scully," he said serious. "Maybe not from the 
very beginning, but I cared."

"I'm not even your kind of woman..."

He turned onto his side and cupped her cheek with one 
hand. "You became the only kind of woman I'll ever need. 
That's not enough?"

She smiled softly. "Will do."

He kept caressing her face until he thought she had 
fallen asleep. He pulled the soft red quilt over them 
and got closer to her, his arm thrown on her hip.

"Make love to me, Mulder," was her simple request.

He did. He lay his body over hers and made love to her 
the way she deserved to be loved. Tenderly, carefully, 
cherishing and worshiping every inch of her, reassuring 
her that he loved her, kissing her with all his sorrow 
for making her believe that he could never love her 
because she was short, because she was red, because she 
had freckles all over her skin. Saying that he loved her 
because she was short, she was red and had freckles all 
over her skin. That he loved her for all the novelty she 
had brought into his life. Saying that he loved her for 
all that without telling her a word.  

Afterwards, when they were satiated, he rolled onto his 
back and she followed him, curling her small body 
against his. She took one of his hands into hers and 
kissed it.

"I love your hands. You could hold the whole world in 
them."

"I needed big hands to cup my big nose," he joked.

"Don't say it; I love your nose." And as to prove it to 
him, she kissed the only piece of his body he hated.

"You can't be serious, Scully. Look at this; it's 
monstrous."

"I love everything that is a part of you, Mulder, that 
makes you what you are," she whispered hoarsely, looking 
into his eyes. 

A new kind of sensation spread itself all over him, its 
warmth filling his eyes with tears. That was the closest 
she had gotten to telling him she loved him. He would 
cherish that moment and her words until the day he 
closed his eyes to eternity.

He smiled at her and she smiled back. She had 
understood. 

"We can nap for a couple of hours. Interested?"

"You wanted to leave earlier, Mulder..."

"We're booked until midnight."

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. "Just 
for a couple of hours."

"And then we go."

"And then we go."

He turned off the lamp on his bedside table and closed 
his eyes, the sound of her breathing lulling him into 
sleep.


*****


He woke sometime later with the sheets on his stomach 
and Scully's warmth on his back. He looked at his watch. 
They still had twenty minutes. 

She had one of her arms on his side, her hand resting on 
his belly. He covered her hand with his. The hand that 
carried his world in it. The hand that he carried in 
his. 

She was right. He could carry his whole world in his 
hands.

He closed his eyes, deciding to join her in sleep for 
ten more minutes. Then he would get up and take a quick 
shower before waking her. It wasn't even a quarter past 
eleven yet and they were booked until midnight anyway. 
They would be arriving in Virginia around one-thirty. 
That was fine; they could sleep in tomorrow and then 
decide what to do afterwards. 

Thinking about all the places he was going to take 
Scully to, he drifted off into sleep.


*****


At eleven forty-two, the loud pop of the door hitting 
the wall woke him up.


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

Chapter 30 


Skinner was frustrated. 

He had been sitting with Mulder and Scully for over one 
hour trying to sort out their situation and had gotten 
almost nothing.

He wasn't exactly mad at them. For all they had told, 
they were innocent in all of this, as he was expecting.

What bothered him was to know that they might be 
punished because of something that had escaped their 
control. And he wasn't considering the bust and its 
aftermath.

They had waited this long to what? To have their affair 
exposed like a cheap sex performance, like the ones you 
pay a couple of dollars to see on the adult channel. 
Skinner knew that deep feelings ran between them, that 
they couldn't be sold that cheap. 

But he also knew that any further help would be out of 
his hands to give. He hoped that at least the phone call 
had been a mistake, that they really hadn't been called 
on their cell phones. He hoped that his help would be 
enough to give back some of Scully's dignity to her, and 
that she didn't leave Mulder. 

"Believe us, sir: somehow they knew where we were going." 

He nodded at Mulder. 

"I don't know how much I can do to help you," he said, 
addressing both Mulder and Scully. "I hope the lab's 
results will provide something in your favor, but other 
than that, I kind of have my hands tied until Monday 
morning."  

Scully looked out the window, Mulder's hand between 
hers. "I just wanted to understand why." She looked back 
at Skinner. "Why they keep doing this to us?" Not 
waiting for an answer, she looked back out the window.

"Is there anything else you want to know, sir? I mean, 
if there's some blanks in what we told you..."

Mulder sounded defeated, lost. Skinner had the feeling 
that most of the agent's sorrow came from the hollowness 
they had heard in Scully's voice. 

"No, Mulder; that's fine. I told you I didn't want to pry 
into your relationship." He gestured to Betty for her to 
take their check. 

"I'll pay for this, sir."

"That's okay, Mulder. Don't worry. Take her home."

Mulder muttered a thank you and urged Scully onto her 
feet.

Skinner stood too and shook hands with Mulder. "I'll 
stop at the Bureau on my way back and take your report 
home with me. I'll also call your SAC in New Orleans and 
ask for a copy of his report when he has it done. In the 
mean time, you go home and rest."

"Thanks for your help, sir. We really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, Scully. I may call both of you 
tomorrow. I think it would be a good idea for us to meet 
at the Bureau first thing Monday morning, before the 
other agents arrive."

"No problem, sir."

He felt uncomfortable to ask this, but he needed to. 
"Where will I find you?"

"I'll be in my apartment and Agent Mulder will be in 
his, sir."

Skinner ached for Mulder's surprise and disappointment 
at Scully's words. It was the right thing to be 
done, but Mulder looked like he would burst into tears. 
Scully also looked like she would give in to tears, but 
after his earlier confession, Mulder was his main 
concern.

"Okay. Take care, agents."   

When Mulder and Scully turned their backs to Skinner, 
she in front of him, their synchronized steps carrying 
them to the entrance of the restaurant, Skinner saw that 
one thing had already changed that morning.

Mulder didn't have his hand on the small of her back.


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

End Part 3/4