Dead Ringer
by T Bishop and Jacquie LaVa
Rated: R

Category: MSR/X-File

Disclaimer: THIS Mulder and Scully belong to us.  Chris has his own
to play with.  We'd like to think ours and his would get along nicely
together though.


SUMMARY:  Mulder's and Scully's professional and personal
relationship is challenged in a most unusual and dangerous way...


Feedback: Eagerly awaited at 
tbishop27@mindspring.com



Part One --


Whitehaven Park
Georgetown, VA
Saturday 10:13 AM

Mulder yawned and rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his palms.
He'd been on stakeout all night, and without the luxury of a partner
to keep him company.  Ryan McCarty, an old VCU buddy, had roped him
into helping out on this one as a favor; and Mulder had seen no point
in ruining Scully's weekend just because he couldn't find it in his
heart to say no to the guy.  So he'd spent the night listening to
talk radio and surveilling the corner of 35th Street and Wisconsin
Avenue, waiting for the suspect to show - which he never did, of
course.  Thinking about how many hours of his life he'd wasted
sitting in a car watching nothing happen, had been the focus of most
of his morning, putting him in a pissy mood.  He could have been with
Scully last night; Friday nights were almost routine for them now. 
Heaving a weary sigh, he checked his watch; Agent Montgomery was due
to relieve him at the top of the hour.

Across from the suspect's residence was a park, lush and green,
filled with people enjoying what was turning out to be a beautiful
sunny Saturday.  Mulder was thinking he'd like nothing better than to
get out of the goddamn car and join them; take a walk or a jog,
stretch his cramped up legs and let the circulation return to his
bucket-seat-numbed ass.  Just a little while longer, he reminded
himself, then the rest of the day would be his.

He wasn't far from Scully's place.  And as his eyes dully swept over
the target house for signs of life that were not there, Mulder
debated calling her and inviting himself over for a late breakfast or
an early lunch.  Then he thought better of it, for he knew how much
Scully needed her time away from work - work also meaning him.  She
seemed to need a break from him every once in a while; and for the
sake of their partnership, friendship, and blossoming romance, he
tried to respect that.  Although, it was becoming increasingly more
difficult with each day that passed; those little breaks made him
crave her presence all the more.  

They'd recently taken their relationship to that next level and
become... lovers.  And although they hadn't made any formal
declarations to each other, they had at least admitted that the want
and the need was there - and tangible between them.  It had started
with a kiss; not a simple kiss; not that pathetic pass he made at her
on New Year's Eve.  This one was spontaneous and passionate and left
them both gasping for air and stunned by the intensity of gale-force
emotions that nearly swept them off their feet.  It had scared the
hell out of him; so much so that he was afraid to let it go any
further that night.  In fact, he'd played it safe for weeks after
that; waiting until she made the next move; convinced that if he
kissed her again he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

Thank God she finally put him out of his misery.

It happened after he'd returned from England and that whole
frustrating crop circle fiasco.  In his absence, Scully had
apparently experienced some kind of epiphany concerning a man with
whom she'd once had an intimate relationship.  In the space of two
days her entire outlook on life had been changed.  She claimed to
have had a spiritual awakening and was looking at her life from a
whole new perspective.  Mulder had listened very carefully to
everything she'd told him, but he couldn't say he understood what had
actually happened to her.  Later that night her behavior surprised
him even more when she climbed into his bed, offering herself to him
in a way he'd often dreamed but never dared to believe she actually
would.  

That first time had been awkward; they'd hardly exchanged a half
dozen words between them in their nervousness.  They did it though;
they put an end to seven years of sexual tension.  Truthfully, Mulder
admitted to himself, it hadn't been the best sex of his life.  It
ended all too quickly; and they were both so unsure of how they
should act with each other after what they'd done, that they'd just
rolled over and gone to sleep without so much as a 'good-night'
passing between them.  The next morning Mulder wasn't surprised at
all to find that Scully had left before he'd awaken.  One thing he'd
learned about his partner over the years, she needed to assert her
independence.  Her message had come through loud and clear; just
because he'd bedded her didn't mean he owned her.  Scully's
contumaciousness had only served to make him want her all the more. 

After a few days of pervading silence between them on the subject,
Mulder had worked up the courage to ask her if she wanted to go to
the movies with him.  He felt like a jerk asking Scully out on a date
in the hopes that he'd get lucky again; at least she'd had the good
sense to refuse him.

"Don't force it, Mulder," she'd said.  "There's no need.  If it's
meant to be, it will happen on its own."

She was right.  It would.  And it did.  And it felt a hell of a lot
more natural the second time.  They'd been working late, going over
case files at her place; and when they were through, Scully asked him
if he wanted to stay over.  He'd 'stayed over' before, but he knew
she was offering him more than the sofa this time.  After their
encounter that night they'd held each other close; the act itself had
been less rushed and not as desperate as their previous coupling. 
They'd been considerably more relaxed - much more affectionate with
each other.

A week ago Friday they'd had their third 'date?' - an impromptu
dinner after work that led back to his place afterwards, and their
most romantic exploration of intimacy yet.  He'd felt the need to be
gentle with her; to take her tenderly and offer her, without
reservation, his worship.  To show her the love that he was afraid to
tell her he held for her in his heart.  Scully's response had been
spectacular; she'd held nothing back from him.  It had been so
intensely satisfying that he'd actually found himself on the verge of
tears.  No other woman had ever moved him like that.                 
                                   
They'd acted like lovers that night, but still they'd yet to admit
to each other that their intimate trysts were anything more than
sexually driven.  Mulder knew how he felt, of course.  His love for
Scully had been undeniable for quite some time.  He wanted to tell
her, but he wasn't sure she was ready to hear it.  His hope was that
she might reveal her feelings first.  Not that he was worried; he
felt certain she loved him as well.  It was only a matter of time
before she told him as much - he knew this; he would just have to be
patient and wait for her.  

Scully, after all, was a very private person.  After seven years of
partnership and close friendship, Mulder had recently realized that
he knew next to nothing about the woman she was before they'd met. 
He'd been shocked as hell when upon his return from England she'd
poured her heart out to him over tea at his place.  He'd tried not to
let her see his astonishment when she'd confessed to having once had
an affair with a married man - a much older married man - one who
also happened to be her med school professor.  This was not the
Scully he'd always thought he knew, the reserved and proper
professional, perpetually concerned about her reputation.

Before her startling revelation, he'd all but convinced himself that
she hadn't actually had a one-night stand with that nut-case Jerse in
Philadelphia.  Now he wondered about that.  And maybe, if he hadn't
kicked in Phil Padgett's door that day, Agent Scully would have done
the naked pretzel with the stranger in his unfurnished fourth floor
apartment after all.  And then there was Jack Willis - another of her
instructors - Jesus Christ... What the hell was wrong with her?  

He shook his head.  He shouldn't be thinking about her this way.  It
was jealousy, pure and simple, that fueled his resentment and
consequent condemnation of her past relationships.  He, after all,
had a past too; and he'd been just as reluctant to share details of
it with her.  Now that they were 'involved' - yes, he decided that
was probably the best word at this point... now that they were
involved, he should really tell her.  Although deep down he suspected
she already knew that Diana had been more than his 'friend' as Scully
had called her.  She'd been his wife for a brief and utterly
disastrous twelve weeks.  It was a failure he'd chosen not to talk
about with anyone; a very painful chapter in his life that he
preferred to try and forget about.  If Scully did know, she'd been
perceptive enough and thoughtful enough not to ever ask him about it.

After Diana, Mulder had sworn he'd never let himself get THAT
serious about a woman again.  And he'd tried, he really had.  But it
was damn hard not to fall in love with Scully - in fact, for him it
had been impossible.  She was intelligent and beautiful and strong. 
She challenged him, understood him like no one else ever had.  She
was always there for him, whether he needed a comforting hug and some
gentle encouragement, or a kick in the ass and the ugly facts shoved
in his face.  Scully was his truth; a truth he could no longer deny.

Day off or not, he needed to hear her voice right now; knowing it
would most certainly revive his weary spirit.  His cell phone in
hand, Mulder was about to make the call when his eyes caught sight of
a figure emerging from the passenger side of a blue sedan that had
just pulled over to the shoulder of the street about a block ahead of
him.  There was no mistaking that vibrant red hair, or her tiny yet
commanding presence.  It was Scully.  What in the hell was she doing
here?

Mulder expected her to make a beeline for his car, but instead she
crossed around to the driver's side of the vehicle that had brought
her there.  When the man behind the wheel rolled down the window,
Scully leaned in and kissed him. 

She kissed him!

It hit Mulder like a hard punch to the stomach; actually forcing the
air from his lungs in one tremendous huff of sickening disbelief. 
Scully was seeing someone else?  Through horrified eyes he watched
her flash a bright smile and wave good-bye to the man in the car. 
Then she crossed the street before turning to blow a kiss to the
driver as he pulled out into traffic and drove away.

For several stunned seconds Mulder watched until she disappeared
into the crowd at the park.  He wanted to run after her, to demand an
explanation, but he still had twenty minutes left on the FBI's clock
and McCarty would be mad as hell at him if he fucked up this
surveillance.  Though it wouldn't make much difference if he kept
watch or not after what he'd just witnessed; the suspect could do the
funky chicken on the hood of his car and Mulder wouldn't notice him
now.

By the time Agent Montgomery arrived to relieve him, Mulder had
worked up a good head of steam.  Sure, he and Scully hadn't talked
about an exclusive relationship, but that was more or less
expected... wasn't it?  Who the hell was this guy anyway?  Someone
from the Bureau?  A man she'd only recently met?  He wished he'd
caught a better look at the guy or at least had enough of his wits
about him to get the car's plates.  Setting off into the park after
Scully, Mulder was determined to get answers; ready to demand the
truth from her if necessary.

After searching for several minutes he spotted her, sitting alone on
a bench, impatiently checking her watch.  He stopped dead in his
tracks, staying well out of sight, taking a minute to compose
himself. 
Better to approach her calmly and ask her to explain what he saw,
than to accuse her in a jealous rage.  He took a few slow deep
breaths and tried to let go of his anger.  He shut his eyes and
counted to ten,
but when he opened them, all his efforts were in vain, because the
reason for Scully's impatience was suddenly apparent.  A tall, good-
looking man in his late forties was fast approaching her.  And as
soon as she spotted him Scully got up from the bench and hurried to
meet the man; stretching up on her toes to greet him with a very
provocative kiss.  This was not the same man that had driven away in
the car, of that Mulder was sure.  The other man had blonde hair;
this guy's was black and peppered with flecks of gray.

What in the hell was going on?  

Mulder stood, unmoving, and watched as Scully and her man of the
moment put on a show for anybody who happened to care to look in
their direction.  He couldn't understand this; couldn't believe this
was the same woman he'd known and loved for so many years.  Scully -
HIS Scully, in the arms of another man right there in front of him. 
The blood ran cold in Mulder's veins, and his heart screamed its
outrage in loud pulsing beats inside his aching chest.  If he hadn't
seen it with his own eyes he would never have believed it... never.

Scully was cheating on him.    

This was worse than Phoebe's infidelities, worse than Diana's
abandonment; because this was Scully - the last person on earth he
ever thought would betray his trust.  He couldn't even bring himself
to follow after them when they walked away, leaving him standing
there confused and awash with emotional agony so strong it crossed
over into the realm of physical pain. 


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


Scully hung up the phone and sank down onto the window seat cushion
in front of her fireplace.  She was completely confused by the
conversation she'd just had with Mulder.  Well, perhaps she needed to
re-phrase that... the conversation she DIDN'T have - all the words
left unsaid between them.  It had been damned odd.

She'd spent most of the day in and out of her apartment; cleaning,
doing her laundry and running all the errands she never had time to
complete during the week.  She and Mulder had not seen each other the
night before, even though Fridays had become more or less an
established evening - and more lately, night.  When they were just
friends, Fridays had represented popcorn and some sort of beverage,
and really bad movies - or several hours of in-depth case discussion,
as if their weekday conversations weren't enough.  But the office
atmosphere had never been able to compare with the easy flow of
camaraderie they shared when Friday came along and they got away from
the basement.  Even though becoming intimate had taken their
affection for each other to a different level, there was still so
much she didn't know about Mulder.  He could be almost too intense,
too needy - and then he could withdraw and clam up tight; hiding
behind a veneer of sarcasm and biting commentary.  And though she'd
been on the receiving end of his intensity, lately - and she
shuddered a bit at the remembered heat of that single-minded passion
he'd shown her - today he'd shown her the other side; the one she
hated to see.  

She had called him early in the evening, wanting to hear his voice;
find out how the surveillance had gone.  His cell phone had rung
forever, which had worried her a bit - usually he picked up on her
call within three rings.  They had both been issued brand-new
Meridians, which had caller ID, so he had to know it was her, yet he
wouldn't pick up.  It was almost as if he didn't want to talk to
her... but that was silly, she thought to herself as she counted the
tenth ring; maybe he was in the bathroom and she'd just caught him at
an inopportune time.  After seventeen rings he finally answered, and
his voice was dull and flat.  

"Mulder."  Scully was immediately thrown off-balance by his tone;
then figured he was just grouchy about being stuck on car duty, and
so she made her voice extra bright and warm, just for him.

"Hi, it's me.  Finally done with the house baby-sitting?"  There was
a long silence; she could hear Mulder breathing, then he spoke one
terse word.

"Yeah."  That was it?  Scully frowned.  What was the matter with
him?  Stake-outs usually didn't make him this pissy.  Actually, that
was the perfect word for the vibes she was receiving through the
phone.  Pissy.  She took a deep breath and tried again.  

"Are you hungry?  I could fix some dinner.  I didn't really get a
chance to eat today, but I know from agonizing personal stake-out
experience that you usually munch your way to gastronomic nirvana..."
She chuckled lightly, expecting him to join in.  He didn't.  There
was another heavy silence, and then his low voice tossed out a full
six-word sentence.

"What did you do today, Scully?"  Innocent enough question... but
for the tone she caught in his syllables.  She shook her head in
confusion, but kept her voice light and easy.

"Oh, nothing exciting.  Typical Saturday routine; well, typical for
me, I guess.  Errands, cleaning... you know."  The silence following
her friendly reply was thick enough to caulk bath tile.  He breathed
an impatient-sounding sigh into her ear, and his voice took on a more
definitive edge.

"You don't say.  Well, I'm glad to hear you had such a productive
day.  Look, I gotta go, Scully.  Later."  And with that abrupt word,
he disconnected, leaving her staring down at her cell phone in
stunned disbelief.  What the hell...!  She shook her head, hard.  Had
she even been speaking to Mulder, she wondered?  THE Fox Mulder, FBI
agent, partner and new lover; the one who had held her naked in his
arms just a short week ago; whose exquisite loving had moved her to
tears?  Sure, they hadn't said much in the way of words, still fairly
shy with one another - but she knew the way of his heart; she hadn't
needed words.  

The way he had slipped his trembling fingers along her sensitive
spine, as the increased tenor of his breathing fluttered against her
neck; the utter tenderness of each kiss he pressed on her skin, as if
she was made of fragile, paper-thin china; every deep thrust of his
lean hips as he took her soaring to new heights... all of this spoke
to her and told her everything she needed to know.  Mulder had always
loved her; of that she had no doubt.  But last week she knew that he
was falling IN love with her, the same way she was falling for him. 
She knew the words were a breath away, for both of them...

Well, she knew - until today.  Now she wasn't sure of anything; as
she slowly laid the phone down, and fought back tears of confused
hurt, she went back over the entire week; searching for any small
event which could have made him angry at her.  But she couldn't
dredge up a thing.  She leaned back in the window seat and stared out
unseeingly at the fading sun.  She was in for a long Saturday
night... She brushed the dampness from her face in surprise, unsure
of the exact moment the tears had begun to slip down her cheeks.  She
rested her head against the cold window glass, and let them fall.


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


She lied to him.

Scully lied to him.

He didn't know what hurt more, her infidelity or her deceitfulness;
though both were unforgivable - especially from her.  He'd given her
his trust, not to mention his heart, and she'd chosen to regard both
as wholly inconsequential.  He'd been hurt by women before; this was
nothing new... he just hadn't expected it from her.

Well, he was a big boy.  He could handle this.  After all, he'd
survived Diana - barely - but he'd survived.  There was pain now but
he'd get over it, eventually... maybe.

He couldn't believe this was happening.  Just when everything seemed
to be finally coming together for them... how could she take
advantage of him like that?  Was their friendship a lie too?  What
absolutely blew him away was the fact that he'd been so wrong about
her.  After everything they'd been through together, to see her now
in this new harsh light... he didn't want to believe it.

But he'd seen her with his own eyes, kissing those other men... 
Jesus, he thought, it's not bad enough she's involved with someone
else - there has to be TWO of them!

And suddenly he was furious at her.  He picked up his new cell phone
- the one that had delivered her lies - and he threw it as hard as he
could.  It hit the wall with a loud 'crack' and bounced back onto the
hardwood floor breaking into tiny pieces of plastic and electronic
circuitry, scattering in all directions.  He just stared at the mess,
thinking how she'd shattered his world in much the same way. 


Later that night as he lay on the sofa staring sleeplessly up at the
ceiling, knowing he would never be able to face his bed again and the
memories of her there, Mulder wondered how long he would continue to
love her despite what she'd done.  He'd loved Diana for years after
their divorce... And what he felt for Scully was so much deeper.  

Scully...

She'd been the biggest lie of all.  He wondered, had she purposely
set out to deceive him?  Or was he somehow to blame - having put her
on a pedestal - imagining her as someone other than who she really
was?  She'd shocked him with her confession about her adulterous
affair.  And he'd been confused by her interest in that writer.  He'd
been angered by her lack of judgment and what he saw as a moral lapse
with that maniac Jerse... but maybe... maybe she was just being
herself, all along.  How could he have been so stupid?  So blind? 
The evidence had been right there in front of him the entire time. 
Some fucking hotshot behavioral psychologist he was; he'd gotten his
own partner completely wrong.



By sunrise he'd made up his mind not to be angry with her.  After
all, she wasn't trying to hurt him; she'd lied to spare his feelings.
Of course, that didn't make it hurt any less.  But as long as he
didn't harbor resentment toward her, they could at least continue to
work together.  He couldn't be intimate with her again, but Mulder
didn't want to lose her as a partner, even though their friendship
would never be the same after this.  He worried what their
partnership would evolve into though, now that the trust that had
been such a vital part of their working relationship was gone.  



All day Sunday he knew he should get out of the house... or at the
very least off the sofa, but as hard as he tried he couldn't will
himself to care enough to do anything but just lay there and brood. 
Scully had called him again - well, she'd tried.  He'd refused to
answer the phone, listening to her soft voice over the answering
machine speaker instead... 

"Mulder, it's me.  I've been trying to reach you on your mobile but
the damn thing isn't working..."  He heard her sigh.  "Or maybe
you've turned it off.  Whatever.  I just wanted to check in and see
if everything is all right.  Umm... You sounded upset yesterday.  I
hope I wasn't the cause of it.  If you get this message and it's not
too late... or even if it is late, Mulder, call me, okay?  I'm
worried about you."

The concern in her voice sounded genuine.  It was all he could do
not to run over and grab up the phone and tell her how much he loved
her and beg her to let those other men go.  What he ended up doing
instead was curling up into a ball of pain on his sofa and crying
until his head ached so bad that he made himself sick.



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



Monday morning found Scully exhausted and wrung-out from too much
worry and not enough sleep.  She had given up on calling Mulder,
after her midnight attempt had yielded nothing but frustration.  He
wasn't answering; of course there was a remote possibility that he
wasn't home - except she had also tried his cell number.  No, she had
to accept that for some reason known only to Mulder himself, he
didn't wish to speak, maybe to anyone but certainly not to her.  She
was clueless as to why.  

She had tossed and turned for the remainder of the night; had
finally given up on sleep as well, and had arisen early, grainy-eyed
and stiff.  After a hot shower, she'd felt worse; listless and achy. 
She'd quickly gulped down a mug of black coffee and headed off to
work.  

All the way to town, she replayed her Saturday conversation with
Mulder; picking it apart in her mind.  What was said between them...
what had been an inflection in his voice.  He had sounded cold,
almost hostile.  Almost... suspicious of her.  Scully stopped for a
red light, nearly too late; she braked in a hurry, trembling in
reaction as the car in front of her loomed way too close in her
windshield.  She dropped her head on the steering wheel and fought to
get her pounding heart under control.  This was ridiculous!  Why
would Mulder be suspicious of anything she did?  She hadn't seen him
off-duty since mid-week; had only spoken to him twice outside of
regular working hours.  So maybe they hadn't gotten together on
Friday... she knew he was all right with it; with not seeing her. 
Something had happened between Friday and Saturday.  Scully's eyes
narrowed in concentration, trying to fit pieces of an ill-fitting
puzzle together.  She was thinking so hard she missed the green light
and only an impatient honk from the car behind her shook her out of
her meditative state.  She hurriedly rammed her foot on the
accelerator and her car shot forward.  A quick glance at her watch
showed her she still had enough time to stop by the dry-cleaners
before she had to hit the basement.  And, to be honest - if she ended
up being a bit late... she told herself it wouldn't be so bad; told
herself it wasn't because she didn't want to deal with whatever was
wrong with her partner.  It just wasn't...

She was driving toward Pennsylvania Avenue, on the parkway that ran
along Rock Creek, when she noticed the car in her rear-view mirror. 
A nondescript beige sedan, it was riding her bumper.  Scully sighed
and sped up a bit, figuring she'd been wool-gathering.  A few seconds
later, she glanced in her mirror again - and the car was almost on
top of her.  She frowned and pushed at the accelerator a little more;
the car behind her got even closer.  Scully gaped into the mirror.

"What the hell -"  The car's front bumper actually touched the rear
of her car, kissing it lightly; Scully was getting pissed, wanting
nothing more than to see a police car zoom up beside this idiot and
pull him over.  A few seconds more, and suddenly the car behind her
rammed her, hard.  Scully's head snapped forward, and her instant
panic had her almost slamming on the brakes.  Her car picked up a
little more speed and she managed to stay in her lane.  She fought
down the panic and concentrated on getting off the parkway and out of
this moron's driving space...

Suddenly he zipped around her, pulled up sharply beside her and
swerved, ramming into the driver's side and pushing her off the road.
Scully cried out in fear; her sweaty palms slipping on the wheel as
her car was forced into the rocky berm.  She fought to keep control
of the vehicle, but she couldn't hold it.  The car spun into one of
the few inclines along Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway that had no
guard rail; over the embankment she went, the car bouncing hard as it
hit water.  Here the creek widened and got deeper, and Scully's car
plunged in, nose-first.

Inside, Scully became frantic as the car began to sink rapidly.  The
engine had died the minute it came in contact with the creek, and
Scully realized with dread that she couldn't open the power windows. 
She knew she had to equalize the pressure inside the car in order to
get the door to open and make her escape.  Her eyes anxiously
searched around inside the car for something she could use to break
the window; her briefcase looked like the best choice.  Scully picked
up the heavy satchel and began to ram it hard over and over into the
driver's side window, until at last she was rewarded with a shower of
pebbled safety glass and rushing water.  She willed herself not to
panic as the cold brackish creek began rapidly filling the interior
of her car.  She had forgotten the first rule of submersion danger -
to unfasten the seat belt.  By the time Scully's common sense
surfaced it was almost too late for her to escape.  Panic threatening
to overtake her, Scully scrabbled to unfasten the sodden belt,
lifting a tear-streaked face above the rushing water; blindly
fighting fright and weakening arm muscles.  She finally managed to
unlock her belt, and with waning strength pulled on the door handle
at the same time she pushed at the door itself.  She sobbed in
frustration as the door still refused to budge.  Water rolled over
her mouth and she swallowed some in her panic; coughing and
sputtering as she continued to fight with the door.  Its sudden give
was a blessed relief as she pushed her way out, panic re-asserting
itself as she realized with horror just how deep this section of the
creek got - and that she had to swim to break the surface.  She was
so tired, and she ached so badly from the cold water...


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



After checking his watch for the tenth time that morning, Mulder
vowed he would not look again.  Scully was uncharacteristically late,
and though he wasn't looking forward to facing her after ignoring her
calls the day before, he couldn't help but worry about what might be
delaying her... or whom.

Particularly whom.

Wallowing in self-pity and jealousy, he stared blankly at the case
file in his hand, having no memory at all of the page he'd just read.
Was she with one of them right now?  Was that why she was late?  He
wondered what excuse Scully would offer him this time - what lie.

Just as his anger started to build, the phone rang, and despite
himself he grabbed it on the first ring.  "Mulder," he barked
anxiously into the receiver.

"It's me."  The tremulous tone of Scully's voice struck a fearful
cord in him.  "I'm in the ER at Washington Hospital.  Someone forced
my car off the road into Rock Creek this morning."

He sat at attention, forgetting everything else in his sudden
concern for her safety.  "Jesus!  Are you okay?"

"I'm fine.  Just a few bumps and bruises, mostly I'm shaken up and
really, really wet.  My car..."  She sighed.  "My car on the other
hand is totaled."

"I'll come and pick you up," he offered immediately.

He was half way out of his chair when she told him, "No.  Don't
trouble yourself, Mulder.  Really.  There's no reason both of us need
to miss work today.   I'll take a cab home.  After I put a call in to
my insurance company, I'm going to spend the rest of the day trying
to forget what happened."

"Are you sure?  It's no trouble.  I can be there in twenty minutes,
Scully."

"No.  Really.  It's not necessary."

He didn't want to push any further.  He'd made the offer.  If Scully
preferred to take a cab, then so be it.  "Tell me what happened.  You
said you were forced off the road?"  Mulder nervously worked his
bottom lip with his teeth as she explained the incident, how her car
had ended up submerged in the deepest part of the creek.  By the time
she'd finished her story he was ready to drive right over to the
hospital and pick her up regardless of her insistence that it wasn't
necessary.  But she hurried off the phone then, explaining that the
doctor was back and she needed to go, telling him that she'd see him
at work the next morning.

The rest of the day was a struggle for Mulder to get through.  The
hours dragged by, and more than once he considered what work-related
excuse he might use to drop by Scully's and check in on her.  His
concern for her well-being superseded his distress over recent
revelations about her personal life.  Part of him still wanted to
believe that it wasn't really true, that he'd just imagined it all,
that Scully couldn't possibly give her love to anyone but him.  He'd
mostly convinced himself of that as he was heading over to her
apartment after work that afternoon, but two blocks from his

destination Mulder was confronted with the ugly and undeniable truth
once again.

Stopped at an intersection, Mulder caught sight of the occupants of
an approaching vehicle; the brilliant and familiar red hair of the
female passenger first grabbing his attention.  It was Scully.  But
Mulder didn't recognize the man driving the car.  Not wanting to jump
to any conclusions, he made a U-turn and followed, determined to get
to the bottom of this once and for all.  He trailed them into
downtown DC, coming up with one plausible explanation after another;
finally deciding that this was probably Scully's insurance man, and
he was just bringing her to get a rental car.  That was working quite
nicely until they pulled up in front of the Phoenix Park Hotel,
giving the valet their car and walking hand in hand into the high-
priced establishment.  There was no shock this time; Mulder just felt
sick to his stomach.

He figured they were heading into the Dubliner, a popular Irish pub
inside the hotel.  Mulder had been there only once, but he thought it
was the kind of place Scully might enjoy.  He considered going in and
confronting her, putting an end to this whole charade, here and now. 
His anger had returned with a vengeance.  All dolled up in a sexy
cocktail dress, smiling and laughing with her date as they made their
way into the hotel, Scully sure as hell hadn't looked like the recent
victim of a near-fatal auto accident, as she claimed.  Another lie? 
Another man?  What was going on with her?

Mulder had parked his car in a nearby garage and then sat there for
over an hour trying to work up the nerve to go in and face them.  In
the end he couldn't do it.  What good would it have done anyway? 
Other than giving him the satisfaction of catching her in a lie and
watching her try and squirm her way out of it...  he didn't need that
kind of revenge.  Maybe someday he would feel the need to hurt her
for doing this to him, but at the moment he was still too in love
with her to want retaliation.  Drowning his sorrows seemed a much
better use of the rest of his evening.



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



Scully leaned against the elevator wall, trying to ease the soreness
in her lower back.  She probably should have stayed home an extra
day; Skinner had wanted her to, but she was anxious to see Mulder. 
After their phone conversation yesterday, she had actually been able
to get some sleep.  Talking to Mulder had made her feel better. 
She'd heard the concern in his voice, and took it as a good sign; a
sign that he had returned to himself and had gotten past whatever
problems he'd faced on Saturday.

The doors opened and Scully straightened, rubbing at her bruised
shoulder.  Slowly she walked down the silent corridor and opened
their door.  Her eyes eagerly searching for Mulder, she found him
standing with his back to her, flipping through files.  At the sound
of the door latching closed, he didn't look up, but continued to
search the files.  She stood there in front of her desk, willing him
to look up and greet her as he always did.  When he persisted in
ignoring her, Scully frowned in confusion, setting her purse down;
softly she cleared her throat.

"Good morning, Mulder."  She stared at him, silently begging him to
turn around and visually acknowledge her.  He didn't.  Aside from a
shrug and a half-baked movement of his head, his back remained turned
to her.

"Scully."  That was it; her name uttered in stilted, cool tones. 
Scully frowned again; what on earth was going on?  First the strange
coldness of the weekend, and now this...  She removed her jacket and
hung it on the coat rack, then moved to his side and stood staring
pointedly at him, until he finally turned to her and returned her
stare.  Her eyes widened in shock as she took in his overall
appearance...

Mulder looked very badly hung-over.  His hooded eyes were red-rimmed
and dark smudges ringed the puffy flesh underneath.  His skin was
pale and even from a few feet away she could smell the lingering
fumes of what had to be one hell of a drinking binge.  She didn't
understand - Mulder never drank to oblivion.  She could count on one
hand the number of times she'd seen him toss back more than two beers
- yet something had driven him to imbibe heavily.  Worry evident in
her face, Scully reached out a hand and laid it on Mulder's forearm;
she could feel his muscles tense under the small weight of her palm. 
He met her look of concern with a steady stare.

"Mulder... are you all right?  What did you do last night?"  His
eyes narrowed ominously at her soft words, and he shrugged again; a
very subtle move that eased his arm gently, enough for her to let him
go.

"I'm fine - and I didn't do a thing last night."  His gaze bored
unsmilingly into Scully's perplexed eyes.  His voice was low and
deliberate.  "How about you, Scully?  Did you spend last evening at
home resting up after such a trying day, hmm?"  Scully's eyes
reflected more confusion as she caught the biting sarcasm in his tone.

"Yes, after I was released from the ER I went home and had a long
soak in a hot tub, hoping it would ease my sore muscles.  I spent the
rest of the evening just trying to relax, trying to forget the idea
that someone would actually want to force my car and my person off
the road and into Rock Creek."  She searched his eyes carefully as
she spoke - and saw disbelief lurking there.  

Mulder didn't believe her.

Why on earth wouldn't he believe her?  It didn't make sense.  His
body language was hostile; tight and inexplicably angry; his
muttered, "A long soak, I'm sure that must have helped -" tossed out
at her as he slammed the file drawer shut and moved to the door,
yanking his jacket off the coat rack.  He slipped it on and faced her
briefly, eyes not quite meeting hers, as he inquired, "I'm going for
coffee.  Do you want anything?"  

Still perplexed and concerned by his attitude, Scully sank down into
her chair, now aching all over; she fumbled in her purse - for some
of the pills the ER doctor had prescribed for her.  She opted to
forgo the Soma for now, knowing that the muscle relaxant would make
her too drowsy.  The pain killers were the better choice; she'd be a
bit spacy, but at least she'd be able to stay awake.  Shaking two
Vicodin out into her palm, she looked up to find Mulder watching her
closely.

"Tea would be nice, Mulder - listen," as he turned to go, "Are you
sure everything's all right?  You seem... upset.  Please, if
something's wrong, tell me."  Her plea yielded a long silence, and
then his soft reply, as he walked out the door.

"There's nothing wrong, Scully - nothing.  I hope you feel better...
soon.  I'll be back in a little while."  Then he was gone; leaving
her more upset and worried than ever - and determined to get to the
bottom of what was shaping up to be a really odd mystery.


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

Part Two ---


When he wasn't out of town on a case, Mulder's regular Tuesday night
routine included pick up ball at the Bureau gym.  It was nearly ten
o'clock and he'd just arrived home, sweaty and tired after taking out
most of his anger and energy on the court.  He hobbled his aching
body into the kitchen looking for something cold to drink, cursing
when he was interrupted by a knock at the door before he could make
it even as far as the refrigerator.

He almost swore again when he saw who was standing in the hall. 
Scully.  Regarding her coolly, he leaned his weary bones up against
the door frame - not inviting her in.

"Hi," she said, and he noted how nervously she was fidgeting with
her keys.

"Hi."  There was nothing at all welcoming about his tone.

"I'm sorry I didn't call first."  She studied him anxiously. 
"Mulder, I think someone is trying to kill me."

A closer look and he could see she was trembling.  "What are you
talking about, Scully?  What happened?" 

She tried to see past him into his apartment, as if she thought he
might not be alone.  "Is it all right if I come in?"

He shrugged and stepped aside, allowing her to pass, but making no
move to invite her any further than the entry foyer.  "So what's this
all about?"  He could tell his aloof manner was making her
uncomfortable, but found that he liked having the advantage.

After eyeing him uncertainly, she drew a shaky breath.  "I don't
know.  I was taking a walk through the park in my neighborhood and
somebody took a shot at me!  I swear the bullet passed not two inches
in front of my face!  I took cover and tried to see the shooter, but
whoever it was ran off before I could mark him."

"Are you sure you were the intended target?"

"If not, the sniper was a damn lousy shot.  I was alone on the
path."  She looked at him, annoyed.  "Mulder, what's with you? 
Someone just tried to kill me!  And for the second time in two days!"

He would have been more moved by her act if he hadn't witnessed her
amazing recovery the night before.  Yesterday he'd been genuinely
worried; tonight he was more angry at himself for wanting to believe
her than anything else.  "I'm sorry, Scully.  I'm really tired.  Can
we talk about this tomorrow?"

She studied his face a minute, then sighed and nodded.  "Would you
mind if I stayed?  I don't want to be alone tonight.  I know I won't
be able to sleep if I'm by myself."  The pleading look in her eyes
tugged at his heartstrings.  He couldn't refuse her.

His assenting nod won him a thankful smile, which he chose to
ignore.  Turning his back on her, Mulder peeled his sweaty T-shirt
from his body, then threw back to Scully as he headed for the
bathroom, "I'm gonna hit the shower.  Make yourself comfortable."

And that she did.  When he emerged from the steamy bathroom twenty
minutes later, he found Scully waiting for him in his bed.  He had
been planning to sleep on the sofa again, but she called to him as he
tried to casually hurry past her out of the bedroom.  "Mulder, I
already locked up."

"Thanks."  He knew he wasn't going to get out of this unless he
wanted to make a big issue of it tonight.  She turned back the sheets
on his side, patting the mattress gently.  Her eyes sent a seductive
message that would have set him on fire had the circumstances been
different.

Walking slowly over to the bed, he reluctantly slipped in between
the covers, immediately turning his back to her.  Scully snuggled
close, her naked form spooning up behind him.  What used to feel so
perfect - the warm softness of her skin pressed against his - now
caused his body to tense.  He shut his eyes against his anger, but
all he could see were visions of her betrayal, taunting him.  He
wondered if she was sleeping with any of the others.  And then he
hated himself for letting the thought even enter his mind.  It was
just too painful to imagine; Scully giving herself to another man...
She'd made him feel he was the only one; that his touch affected her
as no man's ever had.  Now all he could do was wonder how much of
Scully's passion had been nothing more than play-acting, just another
sham for his benefit.

Mulder remained stone-like as she nuzzled against him, but when her
hands began to roam he had to put a stop to it.  Turning abruptly to
face her, he grabbed both her wrists, giving her a stern look - his
sudden forcefulness causing her to draw in a tiny gasp of excitement.
But his gruff, "Don't, Scully," broke through the momentary sexual
tension.

She drew away, confused by his rejection.  "What?"

"I told you I'm tired.  And we both have work tomorrow."

"It's more than that.  Something's been wrong for days.  What is it,
Mulder?  Please tell me."

'Just do it, Mulder,' he told himself.  'Get it over with.'  "I've
been thinking about our relationship.  We may have made a mistake."

"What do you mean?"  She searched his expression fearfully.

"This - US - it isn't working out."

"You've changed your mind?"

"I guess I have.  I'm sorry, Scully."  The pain in her eyes was
almost too much for him to bear.  He had to remind himself that she
was cheating on him.  That he was HER victim and not the other way
around.

"I don't understand."  Scully's voice came as a choked whisper, and
even in the darkness of his bedroom Mulder could see the tears of
hurt glistening on her beautiful face.

But he was resigned to follow through with this.  It had to be done.
"These things are never easy.  But we can be glad that we realized it
wasn't going to work out before it got too serious.  At least this
way we can still work together... still be friends."  He couldn't
believe he'd used that terrible cliche on her.  Maybe she hadn't
noticed, he thought, seeing that she didn't seem to be listening to
him anymore.  Scully had retreated inside herself - he could almost
physically see the walls she had begun building for her own
protection.

After several moments, Scully wiped the wetness from her cheeks.  "I
should go," she said decisively, and started to move away.

He grabbed her hand to stop her, noting how icy cold her delicate
fingers had suddenly become.  "Stay.  It's a big bed.  I'll sleep
better tonight knowing you're safe."  She considered his request,
then nodded silently.  Mulder was surprised that she'd agreed so
quickly; that gunman at the park must have really put a scare in her.
Part of him wanted to hold her and give her a feeling of security
while she slept - but he forced himself to let it go.  As desperately
as she needed him right now, he couldn't give her that anymore.  He
turned his back to her again and willed himself to forget she was
there and go to sleep.



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



She hurt in every muscle and was bone-weary, yet Scully couldn't
sleep.  She lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, tears welling
in her eyes and slipping down into her hair.  Next to her on the wide
bed, Mulder hugged the edge of the mattress and lay with his back to
her, snoring softly.  She could feel the resentment building up
inside; tempered with hurt and laced with residual pain over his
rejection of her, not an hour ago.  She wiped at the tears; they
flowed freely now and her fingers couldn't keep up with them.

Outside the bedroom window, tree branches swayed gently in the night
breeze; through the half-open window she could hear them rustle. 
Their leaves threw dancing shadows across the silent room, and that
play of gray and black on the walls of Mulder's bedroom brought the
memories flooding back; memories of a night not so long ago, when the
leaves skittered on his walls and the breeze touched the glass of his
windows as he'd held her pressed tightly underneath his driving body.

Scully lay next to her partner and best friend; the man who knew
her, sometimes better than she knew herself - and her aching body
remembered the feel of his hands sliding over every inch of her skin;
lips following fingers; eyes silently adoring her; words of awe at
her beauty, her desirability, tumbling over his seeking tongue as he
moved within her soul... 'So perfect, feels so right, Scully - God,
nothing ever felt this good...'  And she'd gasped the affirmation
back to him as her limbs had wound about his lean frame, holding him
firmly and matching move for move.  

Turning on her side, Scully watched Mulder sleeping; needing him to
awaken and tell her why he'd changed his mind; why he didn't want her
- and why so suddenly he didn't think an intimate relationship was
the best thing that had happened to both of them; the best since that
day so long ago when she'd first shook Mulder's hand and knew somehow
he would become the grounding focus of her world.  And it broke her
heart to think she might be losing that all-important relationship.  

One of her hands reached out to him; trembling fingers traced a
feather-light random pattern down the smooth muscled plane of his
back.  His skin was warm and satiny, and her hand was greedy from the
lack of him.  She touched him over and over, along the only place on
his body accessible to her.  As she finally felt the exhaustion
overtake her, she was able to lull herself into a semblance of sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, eyes heavy and gritty from the tears
and the deprivation of solid rest... Mulder was already up and gone.



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



Tapping his fingers impatiently on the dash, Mulder waited for
Scully to return to the car.  She'd forgotten her lab reports for
their current assignment, so they'd had to stop by her apartment on
their way over to Georgetown University, where they had an
appointment to meet with an expert who would hopefully be able to
shed some light on what was turning out to be a very baffling case. 
It occurred to Mulder as he sat there waiting, that they might not
have needed the help at all if they hadn't both been driven to
distraction all week with personal matters.  Since Tuesday night and
his horrible 'We can still be friends' speech, neither of them were
functioning at even half their usual capacity.  Scully's body had
been reporting to the office each day, but her mind was somewhere
else entirely - and her heart wasn't in her work either.  She passed
off her general inattentiveness as a side effect of the medication
she was taking; but Mulder was certain it had more to do with the
tensions hanging between them than anything else.  And he found he
was no better able to concentrate than she, his mind constantly
wandering to thoughts of Scully and why she seemed so distraught by
their personal breakup when she apparently had a full dance card - to
put it politely.

Of course, some of Scully's emotional dismay could be attributed to
her continued insistence that someone was trying to kill her. 
Although it was now Thursday and there had been no further attempts,
she still held to her claim that someone out there had marked her for
death.  Mulder had all but decided that the two near-fatal incidents
had just been coincidence - a case of road rage and a stray bullet
(gang activity was not unheard of in Georgetown).  But just in case,
he'd been extra watchful whenever he and Scully were outside of the
safety of the Hoover Building.

"Jesus, Scully, come on," he muttered under his breath, then checked
his watch and sighed.  He wondered what in the hell was taking her so
long.  The last couple of days he'd had very little patience where
she was concerned - when he wasn't trying to ignore her completely,
his comments to her were curt and intolerant.  He'd chewed her out
for a full ten minutes for her forgetfulness this morning.  Scully
hadn't said a word, just absorbed the abuse; but now she was clearly
paying him back by making him sit out in the goddamn car for an
eternity while she was inside, probably touching up her fucking
makeup or something else equally as important.

"About damn time," he said out loud when his dawdling partner
finally made her exit from the apartment building.  She was crossing
the street toward him when the gunning of an engine and the loud
squeal of tires caused Scully to momentarily freeze in her tracks -
right in the middle of the road.  "Shit!  Scully, move!" Mulder
yelled, seeing the beige sedan barreling down on her.  She started to
run, but the car swerved purposely to hit her, and she had to dive
out of the way, contacting the road hard and rolling several feet
over the rough pavement.

Mulder couldn't get out of the car fast enough.  As he ran to
Scully, he tried to see the plates on the car that was now speeding
away - but there were no plates - and the escaping vehicle was now
too far away to see the driver.  Damn it!  By the time he reached
Scully his heart was pounding.  Kneeling beside her he asked as his
eyes searched over her, "Are you hurt?"  Very slowly she sat up and
he could see she'd suffered some cuts and abrasions on her arms and
legs; one knee looked particularly bad, it was already starting to
swell.

"Now do you believe me?" she asked bitterly, wincing through her pain.

He quickly gathered up the papers for her that had scattered over
the roadway and slipped them back into their file.  Scully didn't
wait for him to offer her a hand getting to her feet.  And she
hobbled back across the road and up the stairs to her apartment,
stubbornly refusing to lean on him for support.



"All right, so someone IS trying to kill you," Mulder acquiesced
with a sigh of frustration as he shut the door behind them.

"Thank you!"  Scully collapsed onto the sofa, looking over her
injuries and frowning as she realized one of her best suits was
ruined.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Scully."

She waved off his apology.

Mulder sat down across from her on the love-seat.  "Okay, let's
start from the top.  Who would want to kill you?"  She gave him a
'You've got to be kidding' look.  "Scully, our enemies are not the
kind to miss their target.  Whoever this is has made three
unsuccessful attempts in less than a week.  This isn't a professional
hit man, at least not one worth his salt."

"Someone from one of our old cases?" she hypothesized.

"Maybe.  I'll run a check and see if anyone we put away has been
recently paroled."  He studied her for the moment, knowing he had to
ask and wondering what her reaction was going to be.

"What's the matter?"  Apparently he'd been staring at her a little
too long.

"Scully, is there anyone else you can think of who might want to
kill you?  Someone you've maybe had an argument with recently, a
friend... someone you're involved with?"

"No."  She looked at him confused.  "Mulder, what are you getting at?"

Okay, he was just going to have to lay it on the line.  Be blunt and
get it out in the open.  "Look, I know you've been dating other men. 
Could one of them be angry with you..."  He shrugged uncomfortably. 
"Jealous?"

"What ARE you talking about?  Other men?  I'm not seeing anyone. 
Whatever gave you that idea?"

Her feigned innocence infuriated him, as did her boldfaced attempt
at deception.  She was staring right into his eyes and lying to him! 
"I saw you, okay?"

A piece of a bewildered laugh escaped her.  "What exactly did you
see?"

"Saturday morning at the park.  I saw you with both of them.  And
Monday night... I followed you and your 'other' date downtown to the
Phoenix Park Hotel."

She gave him a look of incredulity.  "I don't know what in the hell
you're talking about, Mulder."

God, she did it again!  Looked right into his eyes and lied!  He
lost his temper then, shouting at her in his rage.  "You can deny it
all you fucking want!  I know what I saw!"  The shocked look in her
eyes as she digested his accusations angered him even more, as did
her next furious words.

"This is insane!  Jesus, Mulder, how could you even think such a
thing?  I would never -"

He cut her off, unwilling to listen to anymore of her mendacity. 
"You know... I don't even care if you admit to it!  I know what I
saw!  I saw you kissing two different men within a few minutes of
each other!  And then I saw you on a date with a third man a couple
of days later!  I wouldn't have even brought it up - because
obviously you've gone through great lengths to keep your promiscuous
behavior a secret from me - but out of concern for your safety, all
possible suspects should be considered."

Her cheeks darkened.  "Promiscuous?"

"A few other terms come to mind but you probably wouldn't like
them."  His eyes narrowed in an accusing glare as she seethed in
reaction to his words.

"I'm offended that you have such a low opinion of me. Mulder,
whatever you believe you saw, I swear to you it wasn't what you
think.  And it wasn't ME!"

"Whatever you say, Scully."  Her eyes widened in disbelief as she
caught his condescending, sarcastic tone.

"Mulder!  Why won't you believe me?  I thought you trusted me."

That was it!  He couldn't stand it any longer!  Nothing but lies and
denials and now she was chastising HIM for not trusting her!  He got
to his feet and headed for the door.  He had to get out of there, get
away from her... before he really lost his temper.

Scully followed after him, limping and cursing as she tried to get
to him before he could leave.  "Ouch!  Shit!  Goddamn it, Mulder,
wait a minute!"

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

"Don't leave.  Please," she begged.

"I'll call you later."  He opened the door and she put a hand out to
stop him from leaving, but he couldn't stand the thought of her
touching him and quickly moved out of her reach.  That simple gesture
hurt her badly, but he was in no mood to feel remorse.  "You'd better
get some ice on that knee," he told her, and then he hurried out the
door.    



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


In the bathroom, Scully cleaned off the last of her scrapes - a
nasty one across her knee - and bit back the tears of pain - pain
borne more from Mulder's wild accusations than from the raw edges of
her torn skin.  Her breathing had long since returned to normal but
her heart continued its rapid beat in time to the anger and
disillusionment still trapped within.  She tried not to replay his
words but they returned over and over as she dried off her knee and
applied ointment.

And she fumed out loud, to herself.

"How could he even imagine such behavior of me?  I held him in my
arms and made love to him - made myself vulnerable to him -"  It was
all she could think of, dwell upon - as she reached into the medicine
cabinet and found one of her prescriptions, shaking out a muscle
relaxant and downing it with a few swallows of tepid water.  She
needed the pain pills as well, and though she knew the brand new
refills were out on the coffee table in her living room, she dug
through the medicine cabinet until she found an old bottle of
something from a previous injury - and fished out the remaining four,
deciding she was in enough pain to justify double-dosing.  As she was
about to bring them up to her mouth the phone rang... Mulder!  It had
to be Mulder, calling her!  

She hurried into the bedroom as fast as her sore, stiff body would
allow, but by the time she reached the phone the caller had given up -
disconnected without bothering to leave a message.  Scully slumped
down on the bed, her hand opening and the pills rolling off her palm
and onto the comforter.  She hurt too much to get up and walk the few
steps needed to enter the bathroom and pour another glass of water. 
The hurt was all over, even worse than before.  Now the pain was
centered, more identifiable; and so deeply inside her she doubted it
would ever leave.  If the caller had been anyone except Mulder, she
would be decimated by the fact that he hadn't even tried to contact
her - to make some sort of an attempt to mend what had broken between
them.  But if the call HAD been from Mulder, then he'd not cared
enough to leave her a message...  that upset her even more.

No one had ever given her this much pain.  None of the men from her
past had caused her to feel this kind of disillusionment and
desperation.  She'd never really let those relationships get to her;
not like this.  Not like Mulder.  He'd had over seven years to become
as necessary to her as breathing; she had absorbed him so fully there
could be no going back.  Scully wiped hot tears from her eyes,
pressing shaky hands to her damp face.  Her head was pounding and she
actually felt feverish.  She wondered how much more of this she could
endure.

She ached for Mulder's tenderness; for his embrace, even though she
was furious with him - though the pain he'd caused her would remain
with her - she ached.  Falling back across the bed face-down, burying
her hot cheeks in the slippery cotton pillowcase, she just wanted to
stop thinking about it; just stop.  So tired - she was so tired.  Too
many days worth of close calls had caught up with her.  Every muscle
was sorer than ever; she told herself to get up and get that glass of
water so she could take the pills and attain some measure of relief,
but her body was telling her 'no' - and her heart was just too raw to
care... and her mind wouldn't let her rest, either.  Her mind made
her think about it, dwell on it. 

Mulder had accused and then run, not even sticking around to listen
to her denials.  Well, perhaps his body had been present, there in
front of her - but his mind had already evaluated the words, found
them lacking in whatever credibility he seemed to require, and then
vacated the premises, a few minutes before his tight-lipped, "I'll
call you later," heralded his physical exit from her apartment.

Scully had put out a hand, needing to stop him from going; wanting
to feel skin on skin, at that moment even angry skin.  The idea that
her need would supersede her frustration and hurt at his attitude...
well, that made it all the more pathetic, but she couldn't stop
herself.  So she had reached out, and Mulder had sidestepped, just a
little; enough to sting, to inflict yet another wound.  Her hand had
dropped heavily to her side, and he had walked out - again.  

Scully buried her head deeper into the cool pillowcase and did her
best to will it all away... tried her best to pretend she was
succeeding when the cotton absorbed the fresh tears trickling from
her eyes, and the goose feathers muffled her small sobs.  It didn't
help that he'd at least believed her to be the victim of someone's
murder plot; that he accepted the danger in which she seemed to have
fallen.  The physical pain she felt was nothing compared to the agony
her poor heart had to suffer, when Mulder accused her, and then
didn't believe her.  The withdrawal of his arm from her reaching hand
was the crowning touch; surely it wasn't possible to survive that
much heartache.  She couldn't take one iota more of it; just
couldn't... then her damned short-term memory served up a nice plate
of visual for her viewing pleasure, as she pressed her hot face
harder into the pillows - and that memory did the trick:

Mulder's eyes; or rather, the look in those beautifully expressive
eyes.  In all their years together as partners and friends, the one
place Scully had always been able to read him was in his hazel-clear
eyes.  They showed every emotion; every belief, hope, fear and need. 
They spoke to her more eloquently than uttered words, deep in the
night when he'd hovered over her trembling form; asking her silently
to let him in, let him come into her heart and show her a universe
which was hers for the taking.  In those eyes she'd lost huge pieces
of herself, gladly; time and time again he'd lifted her soul and
wound it through his as his eyes made love as sweetly to her as his
driving body.  She'd never minded the temporary loss of self; knowing
it would be returned to her newer, improved, healthier than ever -
more loved than ever.  She grew accustomed to that look; craved it,
longed for it - and until today that look had always been there for
her to cherish.

Until today.  As Mulder had turned away from her toward the door,
she'd gotten a small glimpse into his soul through the eyes which had
swept her bare and dismissed her as lacking; as something less than
the Dana Scully he once knew; and that look was playing over and
through her as if the needle was stuck in one damned groove; one
place where the tune was horribly off and the words especially cruel -
and she couldn't clear it.  She couldn't bear it, either - the
pounding of her head made her sobs thicken, until the pressure became
too much.  She reached for the last four pills which she'd spilled on
her bed, telling herself she could force them down her dry throat
without water; knowing her legs wouldn't support her if she tried to
get up again - convincing herself it wouldn't do damage to her
ravaged stomach if she took so many...

Not when she was dying inside.



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



There was angry.  There was furious.  And then there was dangerously
enraged.  Mulder considered himself in the latter category at the
moment.  After brooding half the day, his conscience had finally
gotten the better of him and he had decided to give Scully the
benefit of the doubt; on the off-chance that he'd been mistaken, or
that his own paranoia and jealously had been wreaking havoc with his
imagination.  Had that been the case, he would have owed Scully one
hell of an apology; and he was prepared to forgo all dignity and beg
on his hands and knees for her forgiveness... had that been the case.

But it was not.

Putting his investigative skills to use, Mulder had returned to the
Phoenix Park Hotel.  He questioned the bartender and waitresses at
the Dubliner Pub, showing them a photo of Scully.  He'd been relieved
beyond words when they all denied ever having seen her.  But then the
bartender had suggested that he talk to the desk clerk of the hotel,
and Mulder couldn't leave without that final verification of Scully's
innocence...

The discreet desk clerk had been reluctant to comment at first -
until Mulder flashed his FBI badge - and then the man couldn't have
been more helpful.  "Yes, that's her.  She's a frequent guest here."

"Do you know the name of the man she comes here with?"

The clerk laughed.  "Which one?  The lady's got quite a few
gentlemen friends.  About four or five at the moment.  Most are
married, they don't register under their real names.  You wouldn't
believe how many Smiths and Jones we have as guests here each day. 
Not very original but it's rather obvious when you're checking in
without any luggage what you're here for."

Mulder showed him the photo again in disbelief.  "This is the woman?
You're absolutely positive?"

The clerk had looked again at Scully's picture one last time and
nodded with certainty, leaving Mulder bewildered as ever at his
partner's apparent secret life.  He'd made up his mind right then and
there that he was going to get the truth out of her, no matter what
it took.


Blinded by his ire, Mulder found himself parked in front of Scully's
apartment again, with little memory of the drive that had taken him
there.  This was it.  The end.  Their partnership couldn't possibly
survive the confrontation that was about to occur.  Her betrayal was
bad enough, causing an ache that he was certain would never leave
him... but her lies were beyond the pale - he could never forgive her
for abusing his trust.  He'd once referred to her as his
touchstone... the standard by which he judged the value and truth of
everything else in his life.  If Scully was a fraud, how could he be
sure of anyone or anything ever again?

He couldn't bring himself to think about the details; about the
other men and what she did with them in that upscale hotel on North
Capital Street.  If he thought about it he knew he'd go insane with
jealousy.  He was already on the verge of madness, doubting
everything he'd ever believed in.  He swore to himself as he strode
up the steps to her apartment that if she dared lie to him one more
time, she would see a side of him she'd never seen before - at least
not directed toward her.

In her hallway he passed a delivery man carrying a huge bouquet of
flowers.  The man smiled and nodded at Mulder on his way out the
door.  The lingering smell of roses and lilies that hung in the air
even after the man had gone sickened Mulder; reminding him of the
lobby at the Phoenix Park... God, it was already starting, he thought
grimly as he walked the final steps to her door - little
inconsequential things were going to serve as unsuspecting reminders
of his pain.  He'd lived through it before - to this day he couldn't
eat pistachio ice cream without thinking of Phoebe, or smell Chanel
No. 5 without an image of Diana popping into his head.  There were so
many things that would remind him of Scully; he would never be able
to escape the grief.  Their history together was long, but in a few
minutes it was going to come crashing to an end... Swallowing over
the hard lump in his throat, he knocked on her door.

Nothing.

This time he pounded louder, using his fist.

Still nothing.

"Scully!  Come on, open up!  It's me!"  It didn't occur to him that
she might not be home; he was too convinced she was trying to hide
from him.  Frustrated, he tried the doorknob and was surprised to
find it unlocked.  How could she be so careless when she knew there
was someone out there gunning for her?  Opening the door he went
inside, calling her name out as he entered.  "Scully?"

He found her immediately, asleep on the sofa.  Well, he decided,
passed out was probably more accurate considering he could smell the
whiskey halfway across the room, and noted the mostly empty bottle of
Jack Daniel's setting on the coffee table.  She was really out for
the count - hadn't even heard him pounding on the door.  And then his
eyes took in the prescription bottles and empty glass.  "Christ,
Scully," he muttered.  She knew better than to mix pills and alcohol.
What was she thinking?

And as he got closer, he saw more of the picture... dozens of opened
capsule halves, littering the floor.  He ran the last couple of steps
to her side, panic propelling him.  Both bottles of pills were empty
and there was a granular residue inside the glass... a suicide
cocktail?  He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Turning to Scully, he found her pale, her lips blue... She wasn't
breathing!  And for several horrifying seconds he couldn't find a
pulse either.  "Oh God - no!"  He fought to still his trembling
hands, and then finally he picked up the faintest of beats - very
slow - but she was still alive.  Before he did anything else he ran
to the phone and called 911.  Then raced back to Scully, carefully
lifting her off the sofa and setting her on the floor so he could
begin mouth to mouth.  Her eyes fluttered for the briefest of moments
and she groaned something incoherently.  Mulder cupped her face in
his hands, ordering her, "Hang on, Scully, paramedics are on their
way."  Pressing his mouth over hers, he pinched her nose closed and
began breathing for her, forcing the air from his lungs into hers to
sustain her life.

Between breaths Mulder continued to exhort her to fight, to not give
up, demanding that she stay with him.  But Scully wasn't responding,
and it was scaring the hell out of him.  Her body was limp and cool
to the touch.  He was sweating, short of breath, his own heart wildly
pumping; so much adrenaline coursing through his veins.  Her pulse
was growing weaker with each passing minute.  She was going into
arrest... dying... her body too overwhelmed with depressants to keep
functioning.

"Damn it, Scully, don't you do this to me!" he yelled at her,
shaking her by the shoulders - trying desperately to reach her.  She
was deathly silent in response.

It seemed like forever before the paramedics showed up, when in fact
it had been less than ten minutes since he'd made the call.  They
knocked and hollered through the door announcing themselves. "EMS!"

"It's open!" Mulder called back, thanking God that help had finally
arrived.

The EMTs wasted no time getting right down to business, questioning
Mulder even as they knelt over Scully, evaluating her condition. 
"What did she take?" the older of the two asked; according to the
patch on his jacket his name was Dave.

Mulder produced the empty bottles of Vicodin and Soma, and Dave took
them, giving the labels a quick study.  "Shit.  She just had them
filled today.  Barbiturates, narcotics and alcohol - lady wasn't
messing around."  As he used a penlight to check the dilation of
Scully's pupils, he asked Mulder, "How long has she been unconscious?"

"I don't know.  I found her like this."  Mulder combed his fingers
nervously through his sweat-dampened hair.  This isn't happening, he
tried to convince himself as he stared at Scully's lifeless body
being attended to on the floor.  Why would she do something like
this?  Why?

"Do you know if she has any medical problems?" Dave asked, snapping
Mulder out of his temporary daze.

"None recently, except that she was in a motor vehicle accident
three days ago.  That's why she had the prescriptions," Mulder
responded, trying to keep his cool.

"Is she allergic to anything?"

"No."

"What's her name?"

"Scully... Dana Scully."

Dave quickly glanced at Scully's left hand before asking the next
question.  "You the boyfriend?"

Mulder shook his head.  "I'm her partner.  We're FBI agents."  As he
said it he realized that it wouldn't be true much longer, whether
Scully survived or not.  Her career as a field agent would be over. 
The Bureau would confine her to a desk job or one of the labs - they
took attempted suicides very seriously in law enforcement - she
wouldn't be allowed to carry a weapon anymore.

Dave slapped at Scully's cheeks, trying to get a response.  "Dana! 
Dana, can you hear me?"  She didn't answer... didn't move.  "I'd say
that's a big no.  Okay, patient is unresponsive.  Curt, you got
vitals for me?"

Curt had been busily checking Scully while his partner had been
speaking to Mulder.  "BP 60 over 30, pulse 24, respirations 4, temp
97.6."

"Let's bag her, get a line in, and I want an amp of D50 and some
Narcan stat!" Dave directed, beginning to carry out some of his own
orders even as he spoke.

Curt worked feverishly to place a large bore IV.  Once it was in,
the Narcan and D50 followed in quick succession.  Almost immediately
Scully's respirations picked up as well as her pulse and BP.  Even as
her condition improved, Dave called out, "Let's transport her stat. 
We can push the charcoal en route."

Curt groaned, knowing what a mess that damn stuff made, both on the
way down and particularly on the way back up.  He really hated
cleaning up after one of those runs, but as Dave had seniority, this
unpleasant task always fell to Curt.

They quickly transferred Scully onto a gurney and whisked her off to
the waiting ambulance.  As Mulder ran along behind, he called out,
"Where are you taking her?"  A chilling sense of deja vu haunted him
until he forced himself to shake it off.

"Georgetown ER!" Dave shouted as they loaded Scully into the back of
the transport.  Curt climbed in after her and they closed the big
doors.  Soon Mulder was witness to the scream of their sirens as the
ambulance sped away, out of his sight.  He jumped into his car, and
followed closely, determined not to lose her to a fast ambulance once
again... 



Mulder stood next to Scully's small, pale form in the ICU at
Georgetown University Hospital.  The sight of all those tubes and
wires attached to and emanating from her was a frighteningly familiar
scene, he lamented.  God, nothing scared him like seeing Scully with
such a tenuous grasp on life.  She'd come very close to dying tonight
- was in a coma now, and the doctors couldn't promise him that she
would pull through.  As he kept vigil beside her hospital bed, Mulder
felt completely drained -  exhausted physically, mentally, and
emotionally.  He didn't understand any of this.  This woman lying
before him barely clinging to life looked like the Dana Scully he'd
known and loved for seven years, but her actions were so
uncharacteristic he found it difficult if not impossible to believe
it was really her.  Scully was strong, a survivor, she cherished
life... he couldn't imagine her distraught to the point of suicide.

He had no idea Scully was in such a fragile state of mind.  He knew
she was upset over their breakup, but he couldn't have foreseen her
doing something this drastic... this final.  

Reaching out, Mulder ran the back of one finger down the length of
Scully's ashen cheek, the softness of her skin evoking memories he
couldn't bear to think about now.  She was so beautiful... And he
loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone.  "Why?" he rasped, so
filled with pain and despair that he had trouble getting even that
single word out.  Why would she do this to herself?  Why the other
men?  Why would she lie to him and destroy his trust in her?  Why was
his whole fucking world crashing down around him when for the first
time in his life he'd found real happiness?  

Why?!!

Hot, angry tears fell from Mulder's eyes as he tried in vain to
understand why Scully would do this to him.  A week ago he'd been
convinced of her love, and certain that she was the only person he
could depend on.  Now he felt that he didn't know her at all, as if
she had become a complete stranger.  And yet he still loved her more
than he ever would have believed it possible to love... He was losing
his mind. 

Behind him he heard footsteps approaching rapidly and he pulled
himself out of his introspection, turning his tear-streaked face to
see a very distraught Maggie Scully looking back at him with fearful
eyes.  She was slightly out of breath as she spoke.  "I got your
message, Fox.  I hurried here as fast as I could.  What's happened to
Dana?"  He stepped aside, allowing her to see her daughter's
condition.  "Oh, dear God," she whispered in horror, moving
immediately to the bedside.  

"She's in a coma, Mrs. Scully."  How was he ever going to explain
all this to Scully's mom when he didn't understand it himself?

Maggie took a deep, calming breath, exhaled, straightened up her
spine, then turned to Mulder and asked him directly, "What happened?"

How in the hell was he supposed to look into this dear woman's eyes
and explain to her that her daughter tried to kill herself tonight? 
He couldn't.  The more he looked at Margaret Scully, remembering all
that she'd been through... he just couldn't.  And the longer Mulder
stood there unable to speak, the more overwhelmed with his own pain
he became...  And then he just lost it.  Fell apart.  Started sobbing
and threw his arms around Scully's mom, nearly crushing the petite
woman as he leaned on her for comfort.  She held him firmly, somehow
finding the strength to support his much heavier frame as he cried it
all out - the pain, the guilt, the fear, the frustration, and the
anger - all shed within sorrowful tears that he couldn't control. 
Maggie rubbed soothing hands up and down his back, trying her best to
calm him, offering him consoling words that she needed to hear
herself.  Several minutes passed before Mulder was able to regain
some sort of composure.  Scully's mother had helped him to a chair
and pulled up another beside him for herself, squeezing his hand as
she waited patiently for Mulder to collect himself.  

"I'm sorry," he apologized for falling apart on her.  

"It's okay, Fox," she reassured him.  "I know how much you care for
her.  But please tell me now, what happened to my baby girl."

"It was an intentional overdose.  She tried to kill herself."  He
refused to look Maggie in the eyes as he delivered the news.

"No."  Margaret Scully shook her head in firm denial.  "That's not
true.  My Dana would never do something like that."

With a heavy sigh, Mulder began to explain all the details as
Scully's mother sat there stunned by his words.  By the time he'd
finished telling her the whole story she was as bewildered as he was.
But once she'd had time to absorb it all, she strongly rejected the
idea that her daughter would have betrayed her partner or tried to
take her own life.  Adamantly shaking her head, Maggie explained to
Mulder, "I simply won't accept it.  Fox, I know what you think you
saw, but Dana isn't capable of that kind of deceit."

"Maybe that's why she tried to kill herself."

"I don't believe that either.  Suicide is a mortal sin.  My daughter
would not go against her faith."

"Mrs. Scully, I don't claim to understand her behavior.  I just know
what I saw."  Maggie shook her head again, rejecting the very idea.

"No... No!  I don't believe it."  Mulder took a shaky breath and
tried to make the distraught woman understand.

"I SAW her, Mrs. Scully.  I saw Dana kissing those other men with my
own eyes.  I KNOW what I saw."

Maggie wasn't buying any of it.  "Dana would never do that, Fox.  It
was only a couple of weeks ago that she came to my house elated.  She
told me that you and she had started seeing each other.  I can't
remember the last time I saw my daughter that happy.  And now you
want me to believe that she's been dating other men - married men..."
Maggie shook her head again with firm conviction.

Briefly Mulder wondered if Scully's mother knew about the
relationship her daughter had with her married med school professor. 
"There is a precedent -" he began, but Maggie cut him off sharply.

"If you mean Daniel Waterston - Dana was very young then and that
unscrupulous man took full advantage of her."  Mulder nodded,
remembering that he'd wanted to pound the guy even ten years after
the fact when Scully had told him about the affair.  Maggie's assured
decisiveness about this piece of her daughter's past helped to ease
some of his concern, especially upon hearing her next words. "Believe
me, Fox, Dana would never allow herself to get involved with another
married man.  Daniel Waterston was a painful lesson."  

Mulder sighed wearily.  "I don't know what to believe anymore, Mrs.
Scully."

"You and Dana have always believed in each other.  Why stop now?"

"You want me to turn a blind eye to all the evidence?"  Maggie shook
her head and grasped both of Mulder's cold hands, squeezing them
gently.

"I want you to let your heart decide what the truth is.  You know my
daughter - better than anyone."  Mulder hung his head and fought back
fresh tears, finally raising his head and gazing at Scully's mother
with despair clouding his eyes.

"I thought I did."



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

Part Three ---

If Scully was innocent as her mother insisted, then how else could
all of this be explained?  Mulder left the hospital resolving to get
answers, but fearful that what he would find would not support Maggie
Scully's assertions.

He began his investigation back at Scully's apartment, looking
through her address book, e-mail records, anything that might give
him a clue as to the identity of these mystery men.  He searched
every logical place, and a few that were downright illogical, but he
found absolutely nothing.  Okay, he told himself, so she knows how to
be careful and cover her tracks - she's an FBI agent, that only would
follow.  Her phone records might give him something.  He'd call the
Gunmen and have them see what they could do in that regard.  Going
through official channels would involve paperwork - and he wasn't
ready to share his and Scully's dirty laundry with everyone at the
Bureau.  For now he would handle this unofficially.


He went back to the Phoenix Park Hotel again that next morning,
hoping the desk clerk could  give him descriptions of the men Scully
had been there with; and maybe figure some way of tracking at least
one of them down via a credit card that may have been used to pay the
bill for a room.  He wasn't sure what he was going to do if he found
one of them.  Ask him point blank, 'Hey, while you were fucking the
woman I love did she happen to mention to you why she would want to
rip my heart out and stomp it to a bloody pulp?'  Or maybe he just
needed to have that final blow dealt; confirming what he already knew
had happened between Scully and those men, up in the swanky rooms of
this posh no-tell motel.  It occurred to Mulder as he approached the
front desk that he wasn't trying to prove Scully's innocence - he'd
already convicted her in his own mind; he was just looking for the
hard evidence to prove to the rest of the world that Dana Scully was
guilty as sin.

The desk clerk recognized Mulder immediately.  He shook his head in
amazement.  "Your timing sucks.  You just missed her, buddy."

"What are you talking about?"

"That little redhead you've been trying to track down, she checked
out not five minutes ago."

"That's impossible.  She's..."  Oh, God - no.  No.  It couldn't be. 
The realization struck Mulder hard.  And the sinking feeling of dread
in the pit of his stomach at the terrible mistake he'd made, left him
unsteady on his feet.

"It was her.  She had the Texan with her this time.  They registered
as Mr. and Mrs. Smith, but I overheard her call him Jimmy -"  Mulder
missed the rest of what the man was saying because he couldn't hear
anything over the pounding of his own heartbeat.  The sudden
awareness that he'd been completely wrong; that he'd harshly accused
Scully of betraying him when in fact it was HE who had betrayed her,
by his distrust and suspicion - it weighted his conscience to the
point of absolute devastation.  He wandered away from the puzzled
desk clerk, sick with grief over what he had done...

He walked across the grand hotel lobby, bumping into anyone who
happened to be in his path as he unconsciously made his way toward
the exit.  He was replaying everything that had happened since last
Saturday, this time with the knowledge that Scully obviously had a
double, an unrelated twin that bore such a striking resemblance to
her that even he had been fooled.  He'd treated Scully deplorably all
week.  He couldn't even imagine what she must have been going
through, not understanding where all his sudden hostility had come
from.  No wonder she'd been so distraught when he'd abruptly broken
off their relationship.  God, what he'd put her through!

He'd driven Scully over the edge with his cruelty; hurt her so
profoundly that she preferred death to the pain he'd caused her to
feel.  Mulder pictured her now; heartbroken, confused, rejected and
abandoned by the one person she'd come to believe she could always
count on.  'Don't leave, please,' - they were the last words Scully
had spoken to him; spoken in desperation after he'd wrongly accused
her of infidelity and refused to believe her sincere and honest
denials.  If only he'd listened.  If only he'd stayed...

The loud blast of a horn shook Mulder awake just in time to jump out
of the way of a speeding taxi.  He'd been so lost in thought that
he'd stepped blindly off the curb onto the busy street.  The angry
cabby flipped him the bird as he swerved around Mulder and sped by. 
Instead of shaking him up however, the incident gave Mulder focus,
reminding him of the hit-and-run attempt on Scully a couple of days
before.  He wondered now if she was really the intended target after
all.  What if whoever was trying to kill her had mistaken Scully for
her double?  That would mean that whoever this other woman was,
Scully's doppelganger, she was in danger too.

He had to find her before it was too late.  But first he had to tell
Maggie Scully that she'd been right about her daughter all along.



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



Sometimes there would be a soft wet weight on her forehead, and
sometimes a dry, warm feeling.  Sometimes she dreamed of the oddest
things; comfort foods like bread and caramel butter, and poached
eggs; her favorite green sweater and ships fashioned out of clouds -
or maybe it was the other way around.

Her back ached...

One single candle next to the bed, and a solitary perfect blush rose
glistening with dewy pearls... no, the pearls were real, weren't
they?  He'd unwound them from the rose's stem and fastened them
around her neck and she murmured, 'No, Mulder, they're too much,' and
his soft response of, 'Don't worry, they were my mother's and I
always wanted to give them to you -'

The light from the candle hurt her eyes; too bright and now shining
in her eye, just one eye - a hopeful, 'Wake up, Darlin'!'  And no I
don't think I want to open my eyes just yet because I'm lying in
Mulder's arms wearing pearls and a smile and he's kissing the smile
off my lips - and I really want to see how many kisses it takes to
stretch from my mouth to that mole on my right hip.  Well, Mulder
cheats of course, since he's using his tongue and I love it, love him
but I think I forgot to tell him... Ten kisses and twenty licks... or
is it the other way around...?

The nurse who was swabbing Dana Scully's forehead paused in mid-
swab, wondering if she'd heard something from her unconscious
patient; was that a sigh; a sob?  She looked closely, looking for any
sign of regaining awareness; fishing in her pocket she pulled out a
small penlight and gently lifted one of the comatose woman's eyes;
shining the light and looking for any movement, whispering to her,
"Wake up, Darlin'..."  Nothing.  Poor little thing... such lovely
blue eyes.  Well, she was a firm believer in the power of prayer -
and she'd never lost a patient. Not on her shift.  She'd visit the
chapel later, and light a candle or two...



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



It wasn't easy facing Margaret Scully, even though he was bringing
her good news - that her faith in her daughter had been well placed;
that Dana was the honorable and decent woman her mother had
steadfastly believed her to be.  Still, for Mulder it was a painful
act of contrition, a humble apology for even casting a shadow of
doubt over Scully's good name.  He told her mother everything; held
nothing back.  His vitriolic jealousy... the horrible things he'd
said to Scully, the accusations which still rang in his own ears and
made him want to gag... the way he turned his back and withdrew his
support - his heart - from her.  

He'd never felt so ashamed of himself as he did entering Scully's
hospital room that morning; seeing her lying there at the mercy of
all those tubes and wires, and knowing every bit of it was his doing.
He took it all in though, as punishment for his sin; the IV - the
intrusion of its sharp needle bruising Scully's delicate flesh, the
droning monitors recording and reporting her frailty, the rasping of
the ventilator forcing air through that awful tube down Scully's
throat and into her lungs, the pallor from her brush with death
desecrating Scully's lovely complexion, the worry and sorrow in
Maggie's eyes as she watched over her daughter and prayed for her
life... He forced himself to endure it, knowing that he deserved this
guilt.  He'd earned every agonizing moment of the disgrace he felt
standing before Scully's mother and admitting he'd been completely
wrong about her daughter.  But what he didn't feel he was worthy of
was the kindness and sympathy Margaret Scully offered him in return,
or her compassionate words in spite of his transgressions.  

"Fox, I know how you must feel, but you have to let go of the guilt.
Dana needs us to be strong for her right now.  To help her get
through this.  I'm sure when she wakes up the two of you will work
things out."  Mulder shook his head decisively, his reddened eyes
haunted.

"No.  I didn't trust her, Mrs. Scully.  She could never forgive me
for that."  Maggie held onto her patience and patted Mulder's arm
reassuringly.

Dana will forgive you," she insisted, wishing she could make him
understand.  "She loves you, Fox."

"And look where it's gotten her!"  Mulder shot a glance in his
partner's direction, renewing his remorse.  He shook his head again,
stubbornly.  "What I've done is unforgivable.  I wouldn't accept
absolution for failing her as I have.  Without trust Dana and I have
nothing.  And there's no point in pretending otherwise.  She knew
that."  He looked at Scully again, watched her lying there helpless,
tears shimmering in his dark eyes as he thought about the heartache
and emptiness she must have felt to bring her to the point of such
hopeless desperation that taking her own life seemed the best option.
"I have to go, Mrs. Scully.  I may have made a mess of your
daughter's life - and for that I'll be eternally sorry - but I'm
determined to get to the bottom of what's been going on; to find out
who this other woman is, and what, if anything, her sudden appearance
has to do with the attempts on Dana's life."

"Can't that wait, Fox?  Dana needs you here.  Your presence has
given her strength in the past..."

Mulder met Maggie's pleading eyes with only a fleeting glance;
unable to face her motherly desperation.  He would have liked to have
offered her some comfort - Maggie was such a dear woman - but he
couldn't do it.  He didn't belong here.  "I'm sorry.  I can't.  I
really have to go now."  She just stared after him as he walked out,
adding one more worry to her already heavy burden.     



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



Mulder had given his phone number to the desk clerk of the Phoenix
Park Hotel, instructing the man to call him immediately should
Scully's look-alike return.  Three days passed before he heard
anything.   But on Monday afternoon, as he screened the calls through
his message machine, he got word that the woman and a male companion
had checked in to the hotel under the name Davis.  

Ignoring the other messages, Mulder hightailed it over to the hotel.
It was a strange thing meeting Scully's double, face to face.  He'd
felt an irrational twinge of jealousy when he knocked on the door of
room 308 and a middle aged man appeared after several long seconds,
still struggling into his robe, hair mussed and sweaty.  "What?" he
snapped, glaring at the unwelcome interruption.

Mulder flashed his badge and the man's eyes widened.  "I'm Special
Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI.  I'm looking for a woman who I believe
checked into this room with you earlier today."

"What for?"

"I believe her life may be in danger, Sir.  I need to speak with her."

"Oh, Christ," the man muttered in frustration, thoroughly disgusted
with the sudden change of events.  "Elise," he called over his
shoulder.  "There's a federal agent here looking for you."

Mulder didn't have to wait long, and there she was.  "Can I help
you?"  The voice was all wrong, and now that he was standing only
inches away he could see other differences too, but the similarities
between Scully and this woman were unbelievable.  Anyone, even
Scully's own mother, would have easily confused the two from only a
few yards away.  It should have eased his conscience a little; he'd
made an honest and understandable mistake, but Mulder didn't see it
that way.  He shouldn't have been so quick to mistrust Scully - he
shouldn't have mistrusted her at all!  Regardless of what he thought
he saw, her word should have been enough to cast reasonable doubt
even when the evidence for conviction seemed to be concrete.  Scully
would never have lied to him - and he KNEW that!  At least he SHOULD
have.  And yet he'd let his jealousy and his paranoia fuel his
suspicion and destroy his trust and faith in the one person whom he
never should have doubted.

Considering the attempts on Scully's life a legitimate cause for
investigation, he brought both the woman and her companion in for
questioning; but Mulder got a grilling too when Assistant Director
Skinner finally caught up with him in the hallway outside one of the
interrogation rooms.

"Agent Mulder!  What in the hell is going on?  I've been trying to
reach you and Agent Scully all day!  Since last Friday, in fact! 
Mind telling me why neither of you answers your cell phones or checks
your messages?"

"It's a long story, Sir."  And one I'd rather not tell you, Mulder
added silently.

"Then perhaps you'd like to take this conversation into my office."

"Sir, I think you'd understand better what I have to explain, if I
show you something first."  And with that Mulder opened the door to
the small room where Scully's double was awaiting questioning. 
Skinner raised a brow in surprise, seeing what to him looked like a
very inappropriately attired Agent Scully, clad in a low-cut dress
and strappy high-heeled shoes, sitting alone in the room looking back
at him with a blank, disinterested stare.  "Her name is Elise
Heartman," Mulder told him.

Skinner took a second, longer, look.  The woman popped her gum at
him and gave him a bored glance, turning her attention to her
fingernails as if they were ultimately more fascinating then either
of the men presently gawking at her.  Mulder closed the door and
Skinner shook his head in amazement.  "The resemblance is uncanny."

"Isn't it?  She had me fooled.  Of course when you get up close to
her you can see the differences, but from a short distance away she's
a dead ringer for Scully."

"So what's this all about?  What have you got her on?  Impersonating
a federal agent?  She pulling some kind of a scam?"

"No.  I just brought her in for questioning.  I believe someone
wants her dead, and has been targeting Scully by mistake."

"This has something to do with that person who ran Scully off the
road last week?  Where IS Agent Scully, by the way?"  Mulder's guilt
was obvious as he regarded his boss, trying to decide how and what he
should say.  For several reasons Mulder had kept the news of Scully's
hospitalization a secret; first and foremost being his desire to
protect Scully from the gossip he knew would spread quickly through
the Bureau once it was officially on record that she had attempted to
take her own life.  And once the word got out as to why, he was
fairly certain there would be an OPR hearing and a reprimand in both
their files for letting their personal relationship become a
hindrance to their partnership.  He didn't give a rat's ass about his
own reputation, but he couldn't bear the thought of Scully suffering
that kind of humiliation on top of everything else she'd been
through.  "Agent, I asked you a question.  Where is your partner?"

Mulder gave up the news begrudgingly.  "Georgetown University
Hospital.  She's been in the ICU in a coma since Thursday night."

"My God!  What happened?  Why wasn't I informed?"

"Sir... She O.D'd on prescription drugs."  The horror on Skinner's
face turned to absolute disbelief as Mulder spoke his next three
words.  "It was intentional."

"What?!!"

"It's all my fault, Sir.  And it's a personal matter, so I'd
appreciate it if we could keep this off the record for the time
being."

Skinner stared at Mulder hard.  "What the hell did you do?"  Mulder
sighed and looked away; unable to retain continued eye contact with
his boss.  A hard hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to
Skinner's narrowed gaze, and Mulder reluctantly met that stare with
an equally determined one of his own.

"I'd prefer to discuss it outside the Bureau, if you don't mind."  

Skinner searched his agent's eyes for something that might explain
all this.  What he saw told him the answers would not be easy to
hear.  "I've got a meeting in," he checked his watch, "shit - five
minutes.  Finish up with whatever it is you're doing with her," he
indicated the door to the interrogation room, "and meet me over at
The Rock at 4:30.  Be prepared to spill your guts, Mulder.  If you
expect me to cover for you on this, I want to know what the hell's
been going on."

Mulder nodded.  "I'm trying to sort it all out right now."



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



"You know, I've got rights.  You can't hold me here without an
attorney."  Elise Heartman wasn't happy at all about being the
subject of an FBI investigation, despite the fact that Mulder had
assured her repeatedly that she was not a suspect and had not been
arrested, merely detained for questioning.

"Miss Heartman, if you want your attorney present it's certainly
your privilege to have one here, but it's really not necessary.  I
told you, you're not a suspect.  I'm only trying to determine if you
have any enemies who might want to see you dead.  Anything you could
give me would be greatly appreciated.  My partner has had three
attempts on her life."  Mulder watched her reaction carefully, as he
had been throughout the interview.  He could tell she was nervous,
even though she was doing her best to hide that fact from him.  Her
defensiveness and resistance concerned him.  While Mulder could
understand some resentment at having her rendezvous interrupted, the
hostility Elise Heartman was projecting his way seemed
disproportionate. 

"Look, Agent Mulder, I'm sorry someone is trying to kill your
partner, but that's her problem, not mine.  I don't have any enemies,
so I really can't help you with your investigation.  Can I go now?" 
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him expectantly.

Okay, appealing to her concern for fellow man didn't work very well.
Maybe she needed to have the obvious pointed out to her.  "Your life
could be in danger."

She glanced around the room casually, trying to appear unworried. 
"I hardly think so."

Mulder sighed.  If she refused to cooperate there was nothing he
could do.  He really couldn't hold her against her will, but he was
certain there was a connection between this woman and the attempts on
Scully's life; especially after he found out that Elise Heartman
lived in Scully's neighborhood.  Just as he had mistaken one for the
other, one of Elise Heartman's boyfriends could have done the same...
especially if he was blinded by jealousy as Mulder had been.  "Miss
Heartman, I still have to interview your boyfriend.  I'm wondering if
he knows about the other men you're seeing."  That touched a
sensitive place and Elise lost her cool.

"You have no right to interfere in my life like this!"

"I'll take that as a no," Mulder remarked dryly.  At least he'd
gotten through her nonchalant facade.

"Who and how I choose to date is not the business of the federal
government!"

"Are you a professional, Elise?"

"Professional what?"  The look Mulder gave her spoke volumes; she
stiffened and clenched her fists in anger.

"How dare you!"

"I'm sorry.  I had to ask.  I didn't mean to insult you."  Mulder's
insincere expression belied his words, and Elise's eyes narrowed in
fury. 

"Well, you have!  And I'm not sticking around for any more of this!"
With that she got up from her chair and made for a fast escape.

Mulder jumped up and grabbed her arm to stop her.  "Wait, please!"

The irate redhead jerked her arm, trying to break his hold, without
success.  She spat at him, "Let go of me or I'll file assault
charges, Agent Mulder!"

On her demand he immediately released her.  Regardless of their
validity, assault charges would have been the nails in his coffin
when the shit hit the fan with the professional review panel, as it
all too soon would.  But he was desperate to get answers from this
woman, so when she reached for the door handle he put his hand on the
door to stop her from opening it.  "Miss Heartman, just one last
question.  Could one of the men you're involved with be trying to
kill you?  Out of jealousy maybe?  I can offer you protection if
you're willing to cooperate."  The final look of hatred he received
from Elise Heartman's face could have turned him to stone - and he
briefly wondered how he could have ever mistaken her for Scully.

"Agent Mulder, for the last time, nobody is trying to kill me.  I
don't need or want your protection.  Just stay the hell out of my
life!"  And with that she yanked on the door handle hard and Mulder
had no choice but to let her go.

"Shit," he swore under his breath after the woman had gone,
frustrated that she'd given him nothing to follow up on.  Despite the
fruitless interview, Mulder was more sure than ever that Elise
Heartman was the key to this whole mystery.  Maybe the boyfriend
would give him something... 



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



On 6th Street in D.C. is a sports bar calling itself The Rock. 
Located just two blocks north and east of the Hoover Building, it's a
popular after-hours watering hole with many of the Bureau's agents. 
Of course at four thirty on a Monday afternoon Skinner had been
fairly certain he and Mulder would not run into too many familiar
faces.  Still, they took their conversation up to the rooftop bar,
selecting a table where they could talk without being easily
overheard; the city noise acted as an additional buffer, making it
difficult for others to listen in on their private discussion.  

Over a pitcher of Hefeweizen, Mulder did his best to explain to
Skinner the events of the past week and a half; filling his boss in
for the first time on the nature of his and Scully's personal
relationship as well.  It wasn't easy pouring his heart out to his
boss, but the beer helped somewhat; and Mulder found himself drinking
the lions' share of the pitcher as he told his story.  Skinner said
nothing, just listened and sipped at his beer while Mulder rambled on
and on, confessing all.  Finally Mulder couldn't stand it anymore. 
Signaling the waitress for another pitcher, he looked Skinner right
in the eyes and demanded, "Say something!  Anything!  Yell at me, for
Christsake!"

The older man sighed and studied what was left of his drink.  "I
don't know what to say, Mulder."  He threw back the last swallow of
warm beer, and seeing that Mulder wasn't going to let him off the
hook, Skinner tried to bridge the gap between boss and friend,
knowing that he was caught somewhere in the middle on this one. 
"Blaming yourself for what's happened isn't going to help Scully. 
The two of you have been through some tough times in the past..." 
Skinner shrugged uncomfortably.  "Jesus, Mulder, I'm the last one who
should be giving relationship advice.  My marriage to Sharon was an
unmitigated failure.  We never could work through the issues... I
guess it's always easier to retreat than to stand and fight.  One day
I realized I'd lost more than the will to do battle, I'd given up on
the cause."  The waitress brought the next round and Skinner waited
until she was out of earshot before he continued.  "I've often
admired and at times even envied the relationship you and Scully
have.  The bond you two share has been tested time and again, and
only seems to get stronger with each new challenge.  I see no reason
to think that this time will be any different... Unless you've given
up on the cause too, Mulder?"

"What cause?  Our partnership is over.  There's no way our
friendship can survive something like this."  Mulder pushed his half-
empty mug around the scarred table-top, morosely.  Skinner sighed in
exasperation and tried to hang on to his patience.

"I was talking about love.  Isn't that what's kept you and Scully
together all these years?"  His direct gaze was hard for Mulder to
hold; his eyes dropped and he rubbed at his face with one weary hand.

"How could she possibly love me after what I've done to her?  And
even if by some miracle she did, I couldn't risk hurting her again. 
Getting involved with Scully was a mistake."

"Then you've already made up your mind."

Mulder nodded solemnly.  And for a long time both men just sat and
drank their beer, looking around without much interest at the
smattering of other patrons that had made their way up to the rooftop
bar that afternoon; each reflecting inwardly.  

Mulder thought about his interview with Elise Heartman.  He was sure
she was hiding something.  She'd been defensive, evasive, and though
she tried not to let him see - nervous as hell.  She couldn't wait to
get away.  If, as she claimed, she had no enemies, what was she
afraid of?  And if there was someone out there whom she had reason to
fear, why was she hiding the truth from the FBI when they could help
her?  The interview with her companion had revealed little more.  His
name was Thomas Rubin, forty-nine years old, married, father of
three, held an upper-level job with a local investment firm.  He was
willing to tell all as long as his wife didn't find out about his
little trysts.  Unfortunately, he didn't have much to tell.  He'd
been seeing Elise Heartman off and on for the past month; they'd met
in a club one night after work.  Just another middle-aged businessman
looking for a way to get through his mid-life crisis with a
meaningless extra-marital affair.  Mulder had released the guy, who
he hoped had been scared into fidelity by the whole experience; the
asshole was certainly sweating bullets at being hauled down to FBI
headquarters for questioning.  Bastard got what he deserved, Mulder
thought to himself.  

"Have you been to the hospital yet today?"  Skinner's question,
coming out of the blue, shook Mulder from his thoughts.

"No.  I haven't been there in a few days.  I call the nurses'
station for updates.  Her bloodwork is showing a steady improvement. 
And her doctor is going to try taking her off the ventilator today...
but there's still a lot of concern; she should have regained
consciousness by now."  He tried not to think about what that might
mean as a long-term prognosis.

"Why aren't you visiting her?"

Mulder avoided the other man's probing stare.  "I can't."

"It might help - both of you."

He ignored Skinner's comment and diverted the subject.  "How long
can you keep Scully's suicide attempt quiet at the Bureau?"

"At least until she recovers and wants to return to work.  For the
time being though I'll put her on a vacation leave of absence. 
Scully's overdue for a little R and R time; no one should question
it.  Why don't you take some time off yourself, Mulder?  In fact, I'm
going to make that an order, not a suggestion.  I don't want to see
your face for at least the next week.  Get some rest and go see
Scully.  I'll make that an order too if necessary."  Mulder grunted
his understanding reluctantly, and Skinner finished off the last of
his drink; half a pitcher still resting on the table between them. 
"I've gotta get going.  Give me a call if you need anything. 
Otherwise I'll see you in a week or so."  Before he walked away,
Skinner tossed a few bills onto the table, his contribution to the
drink fund.  Mulder would stay to finish off the rest of the beer,
hoping somewhere around the bottom of the pitcher he'd find the
courage to pay that visit to Scully.

  

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



She could smell lilies of the valley, their aroma heady and sweet,
as Mulder slowly stripped the clothes from her body... she took a
deep breath and hummed in sensuous pleasure.  He brought her lilies
of the valley; her favorite of all.  They sat in a fragrant jumble on
her night-stand and she inhaled again, smiling up in a haze of
delight at her partner, who was busy trying to remove her bra with
his teeth.  So cute; Mulder was so cute... no, handsome.  Gorgeous,
actually.  Face it, he was downright beautiful.  Men could be
beautiful; the proof of that was bending over her right this minute,
delicately licking at her collarbone and stroking those lush lips of
his over her skin.  Mulderkisses, everywhere, too many to count. 
Here a kiss, there a kiss... it was torture to lay still like this
but he'd ordered her not to move.  'I want to do everything for you
tonight, Baby -' that's what he'd said.  And he called her Baby...
God she loved to hear the small hitch in his voice when he called her
'Baby'...

Still as can be, not moving a muscle - she would be a good girl for
him.  He'd said it so sweetly; how could she resist?  She wound her
hands around the spooled posts on her bed frame, and let him have
whatever part of her caught his fancy.  Down a shoulder, under an
arm; kisses, kisses.  Lick and another kiss, oh, God... he was
killing her.  She hummed and sighed and sobbed and then bit back a
scream when his wandering mouth found the downy-soft skin of her
abdomen, and blew another kiss into her navel, before he ventured
lower, and took her tender heat between those full lips; the first
time, the very first time.  She had to watch; she couldn't watch -
she could only feel.  His dark head against her pale thighs; a thing
of wonder and magic, truly it was - and her fevered brain snapped an
everlasting portrait of it, developed the negative and mounted it
against the gallery she kept in her memory, to take out and admire
for later.  She closed her eyes and swam in the darkness, letting her
other senses take over as his tongue made agonizingly slow love to
her, there against white cotton sheets and the smell of muget de
bois...  

In her hospital bed, Dana Scully took a breath, and then another;
all on her own... 



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



Mulder stood at the entrance to Scully's hospital room, forehead
resting against the polished wood of the heavy door.  It was still
early in the evening and he knew Maggie would be inside keeping a
worried vigil over her daughter... Of course she'd welcome him with
open arms; that wasn't what was holding him back.  He just couldn't
bring himself to cross that threshold - to step beyond and face again
the devastation he'd wrought on the woman he loved.  

He'd been so horribly cruel to her.  It made him sick now to think
of it.  The things he'd said... turning his back on her that night in
his bedroom when she was frightened and needed him so badly... the
wretched way he'd treated her at work after he'd broken off their
personal relationship... accusing her of infidelity and refusing to
hear her pleas of innocence... walking out on her when she'd all but
begged him to stay...  He'd pushed her too far; broken her heart;
driven her to depths of despair she felt she couldn't escape from
except in the taking of her own life.

What had it taken to push a woman as strong as Dana Scully to the
brink and beyond?  He could only imagine her pain.  His mind flashed
on an image of Scully lying pale and lifeless on her living room
floor as he frantically worked to keep her alive... All those goddamn
pills... he envisioned her forcing them down; drinking the bitter
cocktail of death she'd mixed for herself and then lying back and
waiting to breathe her last breath... waiting for the hurting he'd
caused her to come to a final and permanent end.

He couldn't - just couldn't go inside.

Even half inebriated his conscience refused to let him go to Scully.
He closed his eyes briefly, the effects of the alcohol he'd consumed
causing him to feel a sudden need to grip the door frame for support.
When Mulder reopened his eyes and he realized how hard he had to
concentrate to focus them again, he decided, quite easily and without
deliberation, that it would be best to head home.  After all, showing
up at the hospital drunk would make a hell of an impression on
Scully's mother.  Yes, it was nothing but a weak excuse to justify
leaving - he knew that even as he let himself believe it was the real
reason for his hasty retreat.  But as he headed for the bank of
elevators at the end of the long corridor, Mulder told himself he was
doing the right thing just the same.     



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



After repeated attempts to reach Elise Heartman by phone, Mulder
decided to drive by her condo and confront her again directly.  He
was taking a big risk; she could easily charge him with harassment if
he pushed too hard, but he HAD to find out what she was trying to
hide.

He pulled in front of the address she'd given him yesterday at the
Bureau; it was just up the street from Scully's apartment - a row of
townhouses, very nice - pricey.  Hers was dark inside; no car in the
driveway.  You didn't have to be a trained FBI agent to put two and
two together and come up with 'gone' - she wasn't home.  Mulder
checked his watch, debated for a moment, then decided to let himself
in for a little 'unofficial' look around.

Getting in was no problem at all, but once he was inside Mulder very
quickly found trouble.  Apparently someone else had the same criminal
trespassing tendencies as he did, and as Mulder rounded the corner
into the study, he came face to face with the other intruder.  Both
men jumped in surprise.  

"Who the hell are you?" Mulder demanded, gun already drawn.  The
other man stared nervously down the barrel of Mulder's SIG,
volunteering his hands in the air.

"Hey, man, don't get crazy with that."

Mulder kept the threatening edge to his voice.  "What are you doing
here?"

The man faltered just slightly, but recovered quickly enough to
avoid suspicion.  "I'm a private detective.  I was hired to
investigate Elise Heartman."

"By whom?"

"Ever heard of client confidentiality?"  Mulder cocked his gun in
reply.  "Mason Connors - a former acquaintance of Ms. Heartman's...
Look, if you're one of her boyfriends too, I think you should know,
Elise Heartman is a scam artist.  My client found out she'd used him
to gain access to his corporate accounts and embezzled a great deal
of money, setting everything up to make it look like HE had stolen
the funds.  From what I can tell so far, this is a full-time
occupation with her.  She seems to prefer the dating pool near the
top of the corporate ladder - I'm sure with good reason.  So if
you're seeing her, pal, I suggest you watch your back."

Better to play along, Mulder decided; that way he didn't have to
explain what HE was doing in Elise Heartman's condo uninvited.  "How
do I know you're not full of bullshit?  Look at this place, you've
been rifling through all of my girlfriend's things...  How do I know
you're not some thief?  What are you after?"

"Evidence.  A way to prove my client innocent.  And he'd like to see
that little doll get what she's got coming to her, if you know what I
mean."  The other man smiled slightly and for a split second Mulder
could have sworn he'd met him somewhere before.

"You're trying to beat her at her own game?  Set her up somehow? 
What?"

"My client would just like her exposed for what she is."

Mulder pretended to take a moment to process everything, then he did
his best to play the role of one who'd been duped.  "I can't believe
this... God damn it!  Now that I think of it, she's been alone in my
office several times!  If she's screwing me over I swear I'm going to
wring that pretty neck of hers.  You say she's dating other men?"

"Lots of them."

"That fucking bitch."

"You know, you're really making me nervous with that gun in my face."

"Oh... sorry."  Mulder lowered the weapon but didn't holster it,
just in case.  "So, did you find your evidence?"

"What?  Ah, no.  No, there's nothing here.  I was just leaving in
fact."

"All right.  I suppose you can go.  If what you've said about Elise
is true, I owe you one anyway for tipping me off."  With only a nod
of thanks, the other man made for the back door in a hurry.  As
Mulder watched him go, he got that feeling again, that he'd met this
man somewhere before.  He never forgot a face, once his mind had
snapped that photo, but the older he got the harder it was for Mulder
to associate those mental images with their appropriate references. 
This one was lost somewhere inside his head; for the life of him he
couldn't figure out where he'd seen this man.