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 Four --


Voices, footsteps and the humming of bees... she didn't like bees. 
She'd been toying with the idea of seeing whether or not her eyelids
worked, but if there were bees she would rather not know.  Why didn't
she like bees?  In her subconscious she shrugged; but in her sleep
her lids twitched a fraction and a barely-audible sigh escaped her
lips.  Sleep... maybe not; maybe she struggled to open an eye,
weighted down with pennies; wasn't that a line from a Beatles' song? 
She seemed to remember it: 

"...And my advice for those who die -
Declare the pennies on your eyes..." 

Not dead!  Not her; not now - not yet.  One eye, the penniless one -
it opened just enough to see her mother, bathed in sunlight.  Her
mother, jerking awake with that mother-radar that all mothers have
concerning their kids; radar that tells them to jump up and grasp at
your hands and bend over your face and murmur, 'Honey, everything's
okay, you're going to be okay, my baby is going to be okay...'  It
was too much and she wisely decided to re-enter dreamland.  As she
succumbed to the velvet waves she felt her mother's lips touch her
cheek, and if she had been more awake she would have smiled.

Seconds later, minutes and hours later - swimming up through the
same waves - she thought she heard her stomach growl.  Hungry?  How
could she be hungry?  No, wait a minute; that wasn't her stomach. 
That was her boss, growling.  She almost smiled at the familiar, dear
sound.  Skinner made the most odd under-his-breath sounds, she
remembered.  Come on, Dana - pick an eye, any eye and open it; look
at him, sitting there next to the bed, snoring.  Snoring?  Oh, that
made sense; not a growl but a snore.  Sleeping at her bedside,
watching over her.  She would have shed tears over that, but she was
so dry.  Dry throat, as if she'd been eating sand.  Mulder's words,
once... she remembered.  They'd been flipping through channels on her
TV, snuggled on the sofa together; Mulder had been on a quest to find
a decent movie.  He'd paused on a sports channel, making ridiculous
fun of the beefy referee bouncing around the WWF Wrestling ring; said
the ref was so mean-looking, he probably ate sand for breakfast and
then farted diamonds during the digestive process.  She'd laughed
then... and as she lay there remembering this and other odd Mulder-
things, the need to laugh overrode her worry concerning the fact that
it was Skinner and not Mulder, keeping vigil over her bedside.  Not
that she didn't appreciate the guardian she had, but she needed
Mulder.  Seeing him snoring at her side would be enough to make her
bone-dry throat bubble up into some sort of audible chuckle...

She would have given anything to open that eye, and see Mulder
sitting there, unshaven; tie loose around his neck and a day's growth
of stubble.  Skinner, not Mulder; well, it was all right, she
supposed.  Open the eye, Dana - and she did.  Look at him in that
chair; he's got to be uncomfortable sitting like that in such a dinky
chair, and he's snoring; so tired... she was tired, too.  The effort
it took her to keep her eye open long enough to see Skinner sleeping
next to her bed was strong enough to form a smile on her cracked
lips.  Long enough to force a raspy sigh from her mouth, and wake him
up.  Long enough to see the hopeful panic in his bespectacled eyes,
as he jumped out of his chair and stammered (Skinner stammered!),
"Scully... you're awake, you're...um, I'll get a nurse...!"  

She couldn't really stick around long enough to talk to one of the
medical profession... so she closed her one eye and let herself sink
back down into it.



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



Another day slipped by, and then two, as Mulder focused his efforts
on investigating Elise Heartman.  At least now he knew the secret she
was trying to hide, why she was so anxious the day he'd interviewed
her.  He'd staked out her condo but she hadn't returned - probably
hiding out or on the run, he decided.  Pulling up her phone records
he'd hit the jackpot; it would take some time since he was working
alone, but Mulder had a fairly good idea that one of the names on
that list would lead him to the person that was trying to kill
Scully.  

Scully...

He refused to check his answering machine anymore, knowing the
steady blinking was the result of Maggie's repeated calls.  She
wanted him there at the hospital; holding her daughter's hand and
encouraging her healing with his presence - but Mulder just couldn't.
Not when he was the reason she'd tried to check out in the first
place.  

She was still in a coma.  With each hour that passed the likelihood
that Scully would enjoy a full recovery became less certain.  It had
been far too long already - more than a week since she'd drugged
herself into unconsciousness.  The nurse said Scully was breathing on
her own now - but that didn't mean she'd ever wake up again... or if
she did, that she would not suffer any long-term effects of
hypoxemia; there was no telling how long she'd been oxygen deprived
before Mulder had found her at death's door and began to resuscitate
her.

He'd rather hide from it all.  Bury himself in his work and not
think about the possibility that Scully might live out the rest of
her life in a vegetative state in a bed in some God-forsaken long-
term care facility somewhere.  He couldn't bear to think about it. 
Not Scully, so beautiful and smart - her whole life ahead of her - he
couldn't conceive of such a horrible fate for her.  She HAD to get
better.  How else could he tell her how sorry he was?



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



Her head felt very itchy, and her back ached, so badly... throat dry
and painful, glands felt swollen.  Damn... tonsillitis, again!  She'd
miss too much school, and finals were coming up; she couldn't afford
to lose valuable prepping time!  Restless in the bed; probably
running a fever; she always did when her useless tonsils acted up. 
Backache worsening, ugh... she had to get Mom up here; Mom gave the
best backrubs - knew just how to ease away bed-back.  She cleared her
painful throat and opened her eyes further; there Mom sat, at the
side of her bed; so sweet of her to stay so close.  She didn't even
have to yell... just whisper, in a raspy, low voice.

"Mom?  My back aches..."  The rest of her words were swallowed up in
the cry of joy her mother gave as she reacted to seeing her daughter
awake; she launched herself out of the chair and bent over her,
pressing trembling kisses all over her cheek, murmuring thankfully to
her.  Scully was confused; just how bad could one bout of tonsillitis
be, for heaven's sake?  She must have spoken the words aloud, for
Maggie Scully paused in her barrage of kisses and gazed into her
daughter's pale face with an expression of amused tenderness.

"Tonsillitis?  Sweetheart... you've been in a coma!  Don't you
remember what happened?"  Upon hearing the word 'coma,' Scully
snapped out of whatever leftover vestiges of dream she'd retained,
and as her eyes opened wide so did her memory.  Coma... shit.  She
was in the hospital; she'd taken all those pills... oh, hell. 
Mulder!  She reached out a thin hand, and grasped her mother's arm.

"Mom, where's Mulder?  I need to see him; where is he?  Has he been
here at all?  I remember... God.  I have to talk to him."  Scully
twined her fingers through her mother's, taking comfort in the soft
warmth of her skin.  As a child she'd loved it when her mother held
her hand; some things never changed.  And then others... well, that
which had seemed so right, so necessary, had just faded away - and if
she lived to be a very old woman, she would never understand how she
had managed to lose a partner, friend and lover in one fell swoop;
never knowing why, just knowing the finality of it.  Maggie squeezed
her hand, and Scully squeezed back; bringing her mother's hand to her
face she rubbed her cheek against it.  She had so many questions. 
"How long have I been out, Mom?"  

Maggie sighed, and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, cradling
both of Scully's hands in hers now.  She looked into her daughter's
worried eyes with as much reassurance as she could muster.  "You've
been in a coma for nine days, honey... and I haven't seen Fox since
he visited last week.  I've phoned him several times over the past
few days and left messages, but he hasn't been returning my calls." 
There was a brief pause while Maggie collected her thoughts, then she
squeezed her daughters hands gently and continued.  "Fox is very
upset, Dana.  He believes he's to blame for what you did - taking
those pills and alcohol - trying to end your life."  Scully's pale
cheeks got even whiter, at the idea of Mulder taking the blame.

"No."  Oh, God, what a mess this was.  Everything was such a mess. 
And she was still so damn tired - groggy really; and terribly weak.

"Now I know just how impossible that is - that you would never do
such a thing!  You're stronger than that, Dana.  I know this in my
heart.  You're your father's daughter, with his strength and courage.
I tried to tell that to Fox but he wouldn't listen to me.  He
believes he drove you to attempt suicide because of the way he'd been
treating you."

"Oh, God, Mom..."  Poor Mulder.  He must be just about out of his
mind with guilt.  

"He was the one who found you; who kept you breathing until the EMTs
got there.  He saved your life, honey.  We came so close to losing
you."  Maggie brushed at the tears forming at the corners of her
eyes, then repeated the gesture on Scully's face; for those same
tears were mirrored in her daughter's eyes.  Maggie kept a gentle
hand against Scully's cheek, and added, "Even though he saved you,
Fox is absolutely guilt-ridden over everything that happened.  I'm
sure that's why he's been staying away.  Dana, honey, please... tell
me what this is all about.  Tell me what really happened with the
pills and the alcohol.  Can you remember, sweetheart?"  Scully
nodded, slowly; the events coming to her clearer as she lay back in
the tousled bed with her hands held in her mother's gentle grip...


She'd had a really miserable rest of the day, after Mulder had
walked out on her.  She'd applied ointment to her torn knees and
after fuming, sobbing and generally feeling sorry for herself, she'd
managed to cry herself into a fitful sleep.  No idea how long she had
slept, but a knock at the door had awoken her restless dreaming, and
she'd gotten to her feet, legs very stiff and sore.  She'd glanced
back at the small handful of pills scattered on her bed, knowing she
was sore and in pain because she'd fallen asleep before she could get
any of them inside her.  Another knock, more insistent; Scully sighed
and moved slowly to the door, figuring she could take the pills
later.  She eyed the peephole; there was a man standing there with a
large bouquet of white lilies and what appeared to be dark red roses.
The sight of the lovely flowers brought tears to her eyes, and she
smiled as she unlocked and unbolted the door.  Mulder... sending over
flowers for her, to apologize... 

She opened the door and turned her growing smile at the delivery
man, who smiled sweetly back at her, right before he reached into the
mass of fragrant blooms... oh, a card as well!  Mulder tucked a card
into the flowers... no, that wasn't it, was it?  For the object which
emerged from the massive bouquet wasn't a card, but a gun... which he
pointed straight at her head.  And with that horribly sweet smile
still on his face, he jerked his chin toward the open door, and
ordered, "Inside, bitch - now."  And even though Scully knew she had
no choice; even though she realized too late the utter stupidity of
opening her door to a stranger without immediate access to her gun -
still she automatically slipped a hand down the side of her body,
searching for that which she knew in her heart was sitting useless on
her bedroom dresser.  Luckily for her the move she made was so subtle
her assailant never noticed it - for if he'd seen that move he would
have shot her where she stood.  She backed into the apartment and he
followed; plopping the unwieldy flowers on the nearest table, the gun
aimed steady and sure at her head.  Not breaking eye contact with
him, Scully used her most calm, reasonable voice and attempted to
find out what he wanted.

"If it's money you're after, I'll give you all that I have..." His
sharp bark of laughter cut her short.  He moved closer and let the
mouth of the gun rest against her forehead, still smiling as he
leaned in and replied directly into her ear.

"Do I LOOK as if I want or need your money, doll? Wrong guess. 
Wanna try again?"  His tongue snaked out and wormed its way along her
outer lobe; Scully shuddered, revolted and feeling the first
stirrings of fear.  With the gun at her temple she had no way to get
any sort of upper hand.  She eased her head away from his disgusting
caress and fought to remain calm.

"I seriously doubt you're here to assault me sexually... and since
you don't want my money, then I can only assume somebody wants me
dead."  It was hard to keep the tremble out of her voice, but she
managed to do just that.  The man gave her one last lick, then his
free hand gripped her around the throat and he twisted her face
toward him, eager to see the fear she was attempting to hide.  It
took all her concentration to keep her face expressionless and calm. 
Her assailant just laughed out loud.

"You think correctly, bitch.  Somebody wants you dead.  Pity -
you're a very pretty lady."  He leered at her and slid his free hand
down her neck to one of her breasts, squeezing it mercilessly. 
Scully bit her lip hard and fought to stay sane; stay perfectly
still.  The man sighed dramatically and released her breast, holding
the gun right on her forehead as he looked around the room, scoping
it out.  Then his eyes flicked back to hers and glanced briefly over
her face, noting the pale, soft skin and lovely bone structure. 
"Gorgeous, actually - it'd be a real shame to fuck that up, but a
job's a job.  You know, I never much cared for the mess that bullets
make; I'd have to shoot you in the head, doll.  So sloppy, don't you
think?  And I'm not in the mood for cleaning up blood, so..."  He
glanced again around the room, and his eyes fell upon the full
bottles of pills on the glass coffee table; he gestured toward them. 

"What kind of pills are those, bitch?"

Five minutes later, at gunpoint... Scully was dumping the fine
granules from her Vicodin and Soma capsules into a large tumbler full
of Jack Daniels.  She'd forgotten all about the bottle of whiskey;
how she'd teasingly joked to Mulder about throwing it out after he'd
brought it over one night and challenged her to a "Whiskey Truth or
Dare" session.  One drink each, and they'd quickly lost the taste for
it, giving up on the game, and pursuing a more pleasant activity -
necking with wild abandon on her sofa.  At the time she'd forgotten
to pour it in the sink.  Now she wished with all her heart that she'd
done just that... for the cocktail that her 'houseguest' was forcing
her to mix had deadly consequences.  

He kept the gun rock-steady, aimed right between her eyes.  He'd
told her to call him 'Grim Reaper,' after she'd asked him his name. 
"Grim for short, doll... just call me Grim.  I'm the last name you're
gonna let roll off those cute little lips of yours."  He'd slid hot
eyes all over her as she'd dumped the contents of each capsule into
the tumbler, and stirred the concoction with a spoon.  Standing
between her and freedom; he blocked the door and kept her a prisoner
on her own sofa.  At first she tried reasoning with him, maintaining
a calm, steady voice; refusing to show fear.  She sensed that he
would have loved to see her display fear, and so she was determined
to deny him.  He'd smiled knowingly at her attempts to lull him, and
had trailed the tip of his gun over her lips, making her shiver with
trepidation as he'd replied.

"Doll-face, I don't give a flying shit about anything you've said so
far.  I got hired to do a job, which I'm damn good at, by the way. 
Like I said, somebody wants you dead in a really bad way."  His eyes
roved over the soft breasts he'd mauled just a scant twenty minutes
ago, and Scully shuddered anew at the heat she saw banked in them. 
Grim licked his lips and pushed his face into hers, as she fumbled
with the pills in her hands, trying to get them open - but in no
hurry to do so.  "You are one sweet piece, I'll say that.  You've got
a bodacious set of ta-tas as well.  Too bad the boss made me promise
to keep my hands off."  She could feel his hot breath on her cheek,
oh God...  Scully was fighting a losing battle to remain outwardly
calm, though she managed to drain yet another capsule without
spilling any on the glass surface of her table, despite the fact her
hands were shaking.  Somehow she imagined he'd be less than pleased
if she spilled it, and the last thing she needed was his fury on top
of his deadly intent.  She dropped the empty shell onto the floor and
took a deep breath, vowing to discover the reason she had to die - if
she got nothing more from this animal, she at least deserved to know
that much.

"Look, Grim - I think I'm owed a reason, don't you?  A reason that
someone wants me dead.  Can you just give me that much?  Please... I
deserve to know."  God, she was pleading, a sure sign of weakness -
and it sickened her that she was pleading with this monster.  She
forced herself to meet his eyes without flinching.  He gave her a
huge grin and shook an index finger at her playfully.  He was
obviously in a good mood, the bastard.  How she wished she could get
to her gun!  His voice was jovial when he replied.

"Nah-uh, sorry, bitch - ask me no secrets and all that shit.  Can't
tell you a thing.  Just accept that your time is up - that's all you
need to know.  Hey, you missed a few pills."  He poked at them with
his finger; five of them had rolled under a magazine laying on the
surface of the table.  "Can't overlook anything; suicide victims
always use it all up, y'know?  They can be so neat and tidy, just
before they croak.  Pick those up; all of them.  Hurry up."  Scully
released a trembling sigh and picked them up; pried the gel open.  

The drink was now thick with medicine and she had a hard time
getting it to dissolve.  As she stirred it, she stirred her hopes
down into the nasty brown liquid, knowing with a doctor's
intelligence that if she drank down even half of it she would not be
alive for long.  She had always prided herself on her realistic
outlook; so she supposed it was time to be realistic.  She would not
be magically saved at the last moment, by Mulder or anyone else. 
Skinner expected her to be gone, at home recuperating after the hit-
and-run attempt; Mulder had bolted from her in a furious rush, and
would not be coming back anytime soon - not soon enough anyway.  Grim
had a very steady gun hand and her own gun was in the bedroom, only a
few yards away but it may as well have been Siberia, for all the luck
she would have in getting her hands on it.  She was, to put it
politely... up shit creek.  She knew it, and her grinning hyena of an
executioner knew it too.  She dropped the spoon on the floor and
squared her shoulders, facing her eminent demise with quiet courage. 
He pointed to the lethal tumbler with a sweep of his hand, and she
picked it up.  Put it to her lips.  Drank.  Tried not to gag, for she
knew if she spit out any measure of it he would shoot her - the gun
had not wavered from her forehead one iota.  So Scully drank it,
mouthful by rotten, foul mouthful, while Grim the goddamn Reaper
watched her like the putrid bird of prey that he was.   

It took her over five minutes to drink it all; several ounces of
prime whiskey, and well over a hundred dollars' worth of pills. 
Quite a costly after-dinner drink... except she was drinking on an
empty stomach; no food at all inside her to soak up any of the
alcohol.  She finished it, swallowed with difficulty the last dregs
of it, knowing she would not be allowed to leave even a small
mouthful.  She dropped the glass, and the potent liquid began to work
in her immediately; she was at once dizzy and nauseous and fought
down the urge to vomit, willingly reclining on the sofa when Grim put
a hand against her shoulder and pushed her down.  He stared at her,
gauging the reaction her body couldn't help but reveal, as the poison
infiltrated her system.

"You'd better not puke, doll."  


Tired... so tired.  She should have gone to bed a lot earlier... 
Her stomach hurt and she was sick and feverish and miserable and she
needed  - Jesus, not that!  She didn't need to feel his hand on her
leg, creeping up and up while she lay on her sofa and felt her life
slipping away, second by second.  She'd started to doze off.  She
couldn't do that again; had to be on her guard... had to stay awake
on the dim and fading hope that she could still find some way out of
this.  From a roaring distance she heard his voice; felt the crawling
hand upon her leg, over the Township of Knee and heading for the Land
of Thigh... she wanted to vomit but she was too tired... so tired. 
His voice -

"You are one stubborn broad, you know?  Just give into it, already! 
Jesus, you've lost!  Be a graceful loser, Bitch - close those baby
blues and let Uncle Grimmy send you to La-La Land.  I'll even tell
you a bedtime story - see how nice I am?  Usually the folks I waste
just get a bullet between the eyes.  But just 'cause I think you're a
decent piece of ass, I'll deliver you to the Pearly Gates with a
fairy tale."  His voice was short-circuiting on her, in and out;
Scully was also short-circuiting, melting down into a puddle of limp
skin and bone.  Battling a war to stay awake, and losing skirmish
after skirmish... She forced her sticky lashes to open, and watch as
Death rocked her back to sleep...

"...Once upon a time there was a greedy bitch who wanted not only
her money but everyone else's as well..."  Scully frowned a little at
the way the story began; she couldn't remember any fairy tales
opening in that manner.  The hand was drawing lazy patterns up and
down her inner thigh; she decided to concentrate on that instead. 
Easier than death; the memory of the last time a gentle hand coaxed
her skin to shiver under talented fingertips.  And although the
current hand didn't even come close to that shivery goodness, it
still helped her to remember... 

...On the floor in front of a roaring fire, just a very short time
ago - Mulder.  She could see him behind her closed lids; the heated
gaze he turned on her, as his fingers climbed up her bare leg. 
Tracing a pattern of random urgency over her smooth skin, as she
watched him through half-closed eyes; watched as his lips danced
ahead of his caress, when he'd teased her with a whispered, "Lips
before hands, Scully..."  And she had snickered, and retorted that it
was 'Hips before Hands, Mulder...' and he'd told her it was impolite
to interrupt a lover while he was loving her...

God, loving her... softly sweet and firm the kisses; taut and hot
the body pressed against her own; tight need and a hunger that
matched hers, touch for touch.  Tongue moving along all her nooks and
crannies, sending her spiraling out of her mind with the enormity of
what he was doing with just lips, and hands.  Scully made herself
open her eyes, just enough to see him, see his beautiful eyes; to
respond to him, to tell Mulder 'I love you so...' and the face of her
partner shimmered for one sweet moment in front of her hazy eyes,
before his beloved features disintegrated and then rearranged
themselves into the hateful grin of her killer, whose clammy fingers
were clutching at her thigh and whose oily voice was telling her how
the heroine in the story was a bitch who had to die in order to live
forever... Scully gulped in a huge mouthful of panic and fear,
gagging on it, choking through the need to drown in it, as Grim the
man of her endless nightmares twisted his callused hand on her
shrinking flesh and told her his own grisly interpretation of Grimm's
Fairy Tales... and she could feel the scream building inside, deep
inside where the poison cocktail she'd downed had caught hold of her.
Helpless... so helpless.  Fading in and out, fading into nothingness
with no time left to dream but plenty of time left in which to feel
the nightmares wrap her in their icy embrace.

"... Know I can't get my fingerprints on too much of you, Sweetie-
Pie, but man, I gotta tell you, I almost wish I could do the 'dirty'
just once with your pretty little pelt..."  The words bit into her
dwindling consciousness and she mustered every ounce of waning
strength she could gather, and got one of her eyes to flicker open. 
Didn't want to look but had to; had to torture herself, assure
herself - the identity of the man with the hand, oh she knew it
wasn't Mulder but hope springs so goddamned eternal when the
hourglass is bottom heavy and the Wicked Witch is just outside,
scratching her five-inch claws on the door and trying to kill your
little joys...  

In this case the face and form of Death was just another small man
with big-ass dreams who tweaked her numbed skin with hurtful hands
and leaned into her face, close enough for her to smell the
peppermint gum he was chewing...  She hated the fact that the last
smell of her world would be Wrigley's.  She wished it could be
Mulder's warm, smooth essence, instead - but at least THAT particular
smell was laced through her heart, and safe - and she would take it
with her when she finally vacated this life.  

Peppermint gum, in the meantime; leaning in - and out of that one
blurry eye - she could see him grinning at her; she could sense the
exact moment when he saw her demise reflected in that eye, and his
grin got even wider, as he bent over her and pressed an open-mouthed
kiss into her parted lips, stealing the last bit of her oxygen and
enjoying her final curtain call.  Burning one last image into her as
he licked at her front teeth and muttered, "Your skin's getting cold,
doll; won't be long now... I can still catch the second half of the
game if you just hurry it along and fucking die, already.  Not that I
haven't enjoyed molesting you..."  She barely registered his words,
because she was one breath away from the end of the pain.  One more
soft breath, and she closed the eye and felt herself floating;
floating and swimming in peaceful waters; no tummy-ache to speak of
and the endearing face of Mulder pressed into the darkness of her
closed eyelids.  Mulder...  "Mulder..."  She slipped under, and that
was it.  That was all...


"Oh, God, Dana -"  Maggie Scully's eyes were flooded with tears; she
could barely breathe.  She wrapped her arms around her precious child
and rocked her, as Scully sobbed and choked out breaking pieces of
anguish, releasing them from her soul and flinging them elsewhere,
away from her.  They held onto each other and cried it all out
together, each for different reasons, yet so similar.  Maggie shed
tears for all that her daughter had endured, not only at the hands of
a monster such as this latest, hideous enemy but the endurance of
years of it; everything bad, all things dark and ugly.  And Scully's
anguish stemmed from a fountain of pain which began with a life
without Mulder and ended in the same place... because for all she'd
had to face in her life, nothing could cause her more anguish than
the worry that Mulder could vanish from her existence as if he'd
never been.  And it really didn't matter if he went first, or she did
- for the result would be the same.  Separation - solitude.  Removal
from the warmth of him; she couldn't bear the thought.  She wiped her
wet cheeks and sat up a little straighter, leaning her tired head on
her mother's shoulder; Maggie also attempted to dry her eyes.  She
ran soothing fingers through the tangled red hair splayed out under
her cheek, and her voice was hoarse when she spoke.

"Fox found you like that, on the sofa, barely breathing and with
only a thread of a pulse.  I can't imagine what must have been going
through his head, honey.  But I know why he'd reacted the way he did,
around you... why he was out of his mind with jealousy in the first
place - why he treated you the way he did, and why his behavior was
so hurtful.  He thought you were someone else, Dana.  He saw someone
he believed was you, in and around your neighborhood; this woman
bears a marked resemblance to you - Fox said that from just a short
distance she had him completely fooled.  Same hair, same overall
physical appearance.  And she met all these men, honey - and he
couldn't believe his eyes, but there she was, publicly embracing, and
kissing, all these men..."  Scully was horrified beyond measure.  A
doppelganger... Jesus.   And as her mother related the events that
had led to the awful day in her apartment, Scully listened with
incredulous, morbid fascination.

In her wildest dreams she would never have imagined a double of her,
and in her neighborhood, no less!  No wonder Mulder had gone off the
deep end.  Scully's comprehension of the situation, and her
understanding, was immediate and complete.  She raised her head and
met her mother's brimming eyes, wiping at her damp cheeks.  "Mom,
God... he must have thought the worst of me!  And faced with that
kind of evidence, right before his eyes... how could he have thought
anything else!  It all makes sense now.  His accusations, his utter
disbelief when I discounted it all - he was beside himself with
anger, Mom; I'd never seen him like that before.  It was as if every
hope he'd ever had was slipping away.  And now I know why."  Maggie
nodded, and brushed the tangled hair off her daughter's brow, leaving
a hand there to curl around her cheek and soothe her.

"All the betrayals in Fox's life, Dana - and there have been quite a
few, based on what I know of him and what you have told me in the
past - all of this came to a head and overwhelmed him, when he
thought you had added the final betrayal to that massive pile.  He
reacted the way a man hopelessly in love would react.  And his guilt
and remorse was just as overwhelming, when he finally discovered how
wrong he'd been.  When I tried to make him see that he'd only reacted
as anyone would, he couldn't understand it, couldn't see beyond that
which he considered his worst sin - of doubting you, not believing in
you."  Maggie kissed her daughter's cheek and smiled into her teary
eyes.  "You are going to have your work cut out for you, honey -
making Fox understand that YOU understand, and forgive him - and
still love him, so very much.  You do still love him?"  At her
child's vigorous nod, Maggie smiled, and kissed her cheek again. 
Gave her a gentle hug, and snuggled her there in her arms.  Her baby -
her Dana.  Back from the war, yet again - and she was so thankful. 
So thankful...  She whispered a last reassurance into the silent
hospital room.

"You'll find a way to convince him, Dana."



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

Part Five --


"Mulder, it's me."  

His heart skipped a beat when he heard her voice over the answering
machine speaker.  Scully... God!  She was awake and alive and
talking!  Thank God!  Mulder was on his feet and half way to the
phone before she could get another word out.  

"If you're home please pick up..."  

He stood beside the answering machine, listening...  All he could do
was listen, for the sweet sound of her voice.  'Talk to me, Scully,'
he willed her silently, his hand caressing the speaker, needing to
hear more of the soft voice coming from her perfect rosebud lips -
lips he imagined now so vividly that he could almost taste their
sweetness.    

A little sigh of disappointment prefaced her next words.  "Okay, if
you're not there please come to the hospital and see me when you get
this message..."  

Mulder closed his eyes, focusing intently on the sound of her voice;
envisioning her beautiful face...her impatient frown... her blue eyes
open and full of life once again... Thank God!

"And if you're there listening... Mulder, I'm not mad at you.  We
need to talk -"   She sighed again.   "Face to face.  Please come and
see me as soon as you can.  I NEED to see you... Please?"  A soft
click, followed by the loud hum of the dial tone and then the machine
turned itself off.

Mulder's fingers continued to trace over the speaker box long after
Scully's voice was only a memory echoing inside his head.  His mind
swirling with emotions; relief, joy, guilt, sorrow, the aching need
to see her, touch her, smell her, taste her...  He wanted desperately
to go to her, but how could he possibly face Scully after what he had
done?  Of course she wasn't mad - she was a very forgiving person,
compassionate and kind.  But he couldn't take advantage of that; not
in a situation like this.  He would find a way to apologize, but he
would never accept a pardon for hurting her as he had.  

Never.



He must have played her message over a hundred times that afternoon
and would continue to play it late into the night; committing to
heart every word, every little sigh, every meaningful pause.  Each
time he listened he closed his eyes and imagined her; held her in his
thoughts because he couldn't cradle her in his arms as he wanted...
telling her how sorry he truly was.

He'd send her flowers, Mulder decided at one point as he stared out
his window at the cloudy sky, lit with the orange-red glow of the
setting sun as the last hours of daylight waned and night crept up on
him.  Scully liked lilies of the valley; they weren't easy to come by
but he would find a way to make sure she got some... lots of them. 
And he'd write her a letter, telling her how sorry he was, a long
letter... written in his own blood if that's what it took to show her
his remorse.

He couldn't face her ever again, but he WOULD send her flowers. 
Sweet delicate flowers to tell her how much she was loved.  And the
letter... he sat down to compose it on the fine stationary his mother
had given him a long time ago, that fancy box that he'd never
bothered to open.  Scully appreciated beautiful things like expensive
writing paper; the meaning would not be lost on her.  Hour after hour
passed and the only thing he'd managed to write was 'I'm so sorry,
Scully.'  There just weren't words to express the depth of his sorrow
and shame.

In the darkest part of the night, he got in his car and drove over
to the hospital to see her.  She'd be asleep; and he knew she would
have sent her mother home for some much needed rest as well.  He'd be
able to sneak in very quietly - come and go without anyone ever
knowing he'd been there.  He had to see her.  Maybe then the words he
needed to tell her would come, and he could compose the letter while
he watched her sleep.


Mulder crept past the nurses' station unnoticed and slipped silently
into Scully's darkened room.  The curve of a smile stole across his
lips the moment he laid eyes on her small form asleep in the bed. 
All the wires and tubes and noisy monitors were gone.  The last time
he'd seen her she was barely clinging to life, unable to even take a
breath on her own.  And now as she slept, Mulder watched with awe
each gentle puff of air she took - all by herself... 'Thank God,' he
thought, 'Thank God.'

A few steps closer, the most he dared.  He couldn't risk waking her,
but he felt drawn to her and found the compulsion almost too much to
resist.  It had been too long since he held her last.  Too many days
since he tasted her mouth, her skin, the quintessence of her
passion... God, he missed her!  And now she was right there in front
of him, perfect and whole - just an arm's length away - and yet by
his own decree he'd lost the privilege to touch her.  

The quiet sob that escaped past the lump in his throat caught Mulder
by surprise.  He hadn't even realized that he was crying.  But
suddenly his eyes were flooded with tears of regret, and he longed to
go back and undo the terrible things he'd done; to have Scully back
as a partner and a friend - if not the lover he'd always wanted her
to be.

Scully - his lover.  How arrogant was he to think himself worthy to
possess a woman like her?  She was so unlike the others of his past;
and yet he'd treated her as if she were no better than they - because
he hadn't really understood what he'd had with her... That was where
it all went wrong; where he'd made his big mistake.  Scully wasn't
like Diana or Phoebe, putting self-interest ahead of all else. 
Neither of those women had hearts like hers; they couldn't love as
she loved... So devoted... As his partner he'd never doubted her
willingness to sacrifice her life for him; but he'd always thought
that such an act would come out of professional loyalty and her sense
of duty.  He never dreamed her selflessness was motivated by love. 
He didn't believe that anyone could care for him enough to forfeit
their life.  Until Scully came along, Mulder had never experienced
love of that magnitude, at least not directed at him.  He loved her
with all his heart and soul, would die for her without question - but
it was a stunning revelation to him that she would give him back that
same unconditional devotion.  

She'd tried to kill herself over HIM...     

Mulder shook his head sadly as he watched her hugging the starched
white hospital pillow to her cheek.  His sight had adjusted to the
darkness of the room and now as a bit of moonlight peeked through the
clouds it caught her face, and he could see the salty streaks of
tearstains highlighted in the pale beam.  She'd cried herself to
sleep - because of him.  Another wave of guilt washed over Mulder and
he dropped to his knees beside her bed, sobbing silently into his
hands.  How could he make her hurting stop?  How could he fix this? 
What a fool he was to think flowers and a few contrite words could
ease her pain.  But what could he do?  What else could he possibly
do?  He loved her so much.  It was killing him inside knowing that
her suffering was all because of him... and he could do nothing to
stop it.

And then suddenly he felt the tender touch of gentle fingers combing
through his hair.  And lifting his head, he looked right into
Scully's smiling face.  "Mulder, you came," she said to him, weakly,
fighting back tears of her own.

"Scully... I... God, I'm so sorry."  He put his head down on the bed
again and the sobs came from deep within this time; from the very
heart of his soul.  And he let it all pour out to her, unashamedly. 
Scully stroked his head in an attempt to comfort him; and when that
didn't calm him, she wrapped her arms around his shaking shoulders
and held him, speaking softly soothing words.  "Shh - Mulder, it's
okay.  Don't cry.  Please."

"I'm sorry," he murmured over and over, finding the worn phrase
sadly lacking but not knowing what else to say to her.

"I know.  I know.  It's okay.  Mom explained everything... about the
woman you thought was me -  Mulder, I understand.  It's okay."

"It's not okay!  You... you tried to kill yourself because of me! 
Because of how badly I hurt you."

She shook her head.  "No, Mulder.  No.  That's not what happened. 
Listen... listen to me."  She sat up and struggled to get him to lift
his head off the mattress and stop crying long enough to hear what
she needed to tell him.  "Would you look at me, Mulder, and just
listen!"  When he lifted damp eyes to meet hers, Scully placed her
palms against his cheeks and cradled his face lovingly as she spoke. 
"I didn't take those pills voluntarily.  I wouldn't do something like
that, Mulder.  I thought you knew me better... I wouldn't do that."

"But -"  

"A man came to my apartment - with flowers - I thought they were
from you.  I was stupid and opened the door..."

"Oh, God, Scully."  Up until this moment Mulder was convinced the
idea of her taking her own life was the worst thing he could imagine.
But now...

"It was him, Mulder.  The man who had been trying to kill me.  He
had a gun hidden in the flowers.  I couldn't get to mine."

"Oh, Jesus.  He forced you to overdose."  It made a hell of a lot
more sense and yet Mulder hadn't even considered it; the possibility
that her suicide had been staged.

She nodded, and then proceeded to tell him all the horrible details,
even more than she'd had the courage to share with her mother.  By
the time Scully was through, Mulder was seething; seeing the world in
angry crimson red.  He wanted - no, he NEEDED - to hunt this man down
and choke every last fucking bit of air from his worthless lungs, for
the hell he'd put Scully through.  He vowed he WOULD do it; find the
rock this slimy son of a bitch was hiding under and make him suffer. 
Hurt him.  If it took the rest of his days on earth to do it, Mulder
was determined to track down this bastard who'd had the gall to put
his filthy hands and mouth on Scully and see to it that he paid
dearly for his crime.  The goddamn floral delivery man!  He'd walked
right past the asshole in the hallway outside Scully's apartment! 
The prick had smiled at him so politely, nodded 'hello.'  

... OH, SHIT!!!  

And in the midst of his rage Mulder suddenly realized something that
had been nagging at him for days; and he jumped to his feet, filled
with the urgent need to somehow act on the revelation.  "That son of
a bitch!"  He knew now where he'd seen the intruder before: in Elise
Heartman's condo!  It was him!  The phony delivery man and that fake
private eye were one in the same!  All the pieces of the puzzle were
falling into place now.  The stupid-ass jerk had screwed up.  He was
hired to go after Heartman but trailed Scully by mistake.  Somehow
the moron must have figured out that he'd fucked up... but by the
time he'd found the right address, Elise was on the run, having been
tipped off by Mulder that she had been marked for death.  He'd HAD
the guy!  "GOD DAMN IT!"

"Mulder what's the matter?"  Scully was staring up at him with
concern; startled and confused by his abrupt display of temper.

"I know who it is.  I had him, Scully!  Damn it, I had him and I let
him get away!  I saw the delivery man as he was leaving your
building, and I saw the same man again a couple of days ago in the
home of Elise Heartman - your double.  He'd broken in, probably
waiting there to kill her.  Jesus, I had him and didn't even know it!"

Scully put a gentle hand on Mulder's arm.  "It's okay.  We'll find
him again, partner."

Partner.  Mulder almost laughed when he heard her say it.  She still
wanted to be his partner, after everything he'd put her through... 
No.  She might not have the good sense to get the hell away from him,
but he loved her too much not to put an end to all of this right here
and now.  As long as they were together he would continue to find
ways to hurt her.  It had to stop!  HE had to stop it!  It was the
one thing he could do that would even come close to making up for all
the pain he'd caused her.  "Scully, I know you're going to argue with
me, but you're not going to win this time.  Everything that's
happened recently has opened my eyes.  I've taken a good look around,
Scully.  And I realized that one way or another I always find some
way to hurt you.  I don't mean to; but it's inevitable - it just
happens.  You can't blame it all on the nature of our work either. 
So much of it is personal - a direct result of my selfish disregard
for your feelings, your needs... I put you in harm's way, ask you to
trust me - which you always do - even though you surely know you will
suffer for your faith.  I ask this of you, that which I have no right
to ask, and you've always been there for me.  And despite that,
though you've never given me any reason to mistrust, I cannot give
you my full confidence - not when it matters the most.  You deserve
better.  You're an incredible woman, Scully.  You have so much to
offer the right man.  You don't belong with me.  You deserve to have
a happy life.  You'll never have that as long as you're with me. 
I'll just continue to find ways to hurt you.  It's time to end this -
to go our separate ways."

"No!"  She gripped his arm tighter, as if she could physically stop
him from walking out on her.  She was so goddamn stubborn!  Why
couldn't she see that he was right?  Why did she have to make this
harder than it already was?

Mulder did his best to keep his voice firm; though his insides were
rapidly weakening at the thought of leaving Scully forever.  He knew
if she saw even the tiniest sign of indecision on his part, she
wouldn't accept his edict.  "It's not negotiable!  Either you leave
the X-Files or I will!  We can't work together anymore, Scully!  We
can't be together at all!  It has to be a clean break."  God, this
was killing him.  The look on her face...  Mulder fought with every
last drop of inner strength he had to stand his ground.

He watched her wipe the tears from her eyes with a trembling hand,
as she tried to overcome her emotion and offer a line of counterpoint
to his case.  "Mulder, this was just a big misunderstanding -"

"A misunderstanding that nearly cost you your life, Scully!" he
interrupted her angrily.  How could she dismiss something like this
so lightly?  Had she become that used to his mistreatment of her? 
Was she that fucking devoted to him?  "If I hadn't been such a
jealous ass none of this would have ever happened!  When I saw Elise
Heartman with those men I should have known she couldn't be you! 
That you would NEVER have betrayed me like that!  If I wasn't hell
bent on proving my suspicions and justifying my mistrust, I would
have been with you when you needed me, Scully, protecting you - not
running around looking for evidence to condemn you with!"

Her watery blue eyes held nothing but forgiveness and compassion as
she looked at him and tried again.  "Mulder -"

No!  He wouldn't listen to her!  Couldn't risk letting her find that
growing spot of vulnerability.  Stay tough, Mulder.  "Goddamn it! 
Give it up, Scully!  I've made my decision!  Nothing you say or do is
going to change my mind!"

Scully shouted back at him in frustration.  "That's not fair!  Don't
I get a say in this?"

"No!  Because you'd stay by my side until the day they put you in
the ground, Scully!  Which, in all likelihood, wouldn't be far off! 
And I don't want to spend the rest of my life putting flowers on your
grave and wishing I'd had the courage to push you away!"  Her tears
fell unchecked and Mulder despised himself for having to hurt her
again, but this time he knew he was doing the right thing.  In the
long run, Scully would be better off.  "I'm doing this for you," he
told her, emotion stealing the last vestiges of his anger; his voice
cracking and faltering to almost a whisper.  'Because I love you...'
He kept that last part to himself, not daring to speak those words to
her now - or ever more.  And then he pulled out of her grip, forcing
himself to turn his back to her tears and walk away.  

************************************************** 
 
If he had walked to the door with his usual amble instead of the
quick hard stride which carried him out of her hospital room...
Scully might have been able to think of something to say which would
stop Mulder from leaving; to make him feel some measure of remorse
for refusing to hear her out; for deciding their future for the both
of them.  She could have found a way to stop him with nothing more
than words.  After all, she'd been with him long enough to know which
words to use.  But the final emotion in his voice rendered her
temporarily frozen, as did the barrage of reasoning he'd used as
loving ammunition against her... and then he'd almost run from her. 
The tears hovering under her lashes finally overran and slipped down
her cheeks, as she replayed that reasoning of his... which Scully
decided had been the most unreasonable monologue he'd invented, to
date.  

Oh, it wasn't as if she'd never heard it before, from Mulder, or her
family, especially Bill.  Mulder was exceptionally good at pointing
out all of what he considered to be his many selfish failings.  What
Scully never seemed to make him understand was that none of this had
ever been his choice - not really.  Once her feelings and emotions
had been engaged, it was all over, for both of them.  Dana Scully had
made her decision to include Mulder in her future - and there wasn't
a thing he could do about it.  She wiped the tears from her cheeks,
which were starting to become chapped from all the excessive crying -
and her throbbing head yearned to just lay back on her lumpy pillow
and let it all wash over her; all the anger and all the frustration
of trying to stop Fox Mulder from being his own worst enemy.  Tonight
his denouncement had hit her especially hard; she was still so weak
from her ordeal; her insides were very tender and she was so very
tired.  His treatment of himself had been difficult to hear - he'd
committed mental suicide, right in front of her.  And Scully wished
he could know just how much he hurt her, when he persisted in hurting
himself.  Nobody was allowed to speak that way about the man she
loved...

Not even the man she loved.

Skinner would never let Mulder quit; she was sure of that.  Skinner
knew Mulder; knew he could be brutally hard on himself.  Skinner
would also never let her quit, either.  How many times had he ripped
up their resignations?  Scully smiled grimly; the last time Mulder
had tried to resign Skinner had wiped the floor with him... then had
shook his hand hard, clapped him on the shoulder and ordered him to
"Get the hell out of my office and stop wasting my time..."  Mulder
had plodded back to the basement, Scully right behind him... and as
soon as the door had closed and been locked, Scully had wrapped her
arms around him and hugged him tightly.  They had stood there in each
other's arms for the longest time; no words necessary.  Finally
Scully had raised her head and stared hard into her partner's red-
rimmed eyes, and had spoken three soft words.

"Don't leave me."  And Mulder had promised, right there and then -
not to leave her.  Just a month or so after that they'd kissed;
really kissed - for the very first time.  Their first true smooch,
since neither of them had ever counted their New Year's Eve kiss as
anything worth counting... Scully wiped at her wet cheeks again, and
lay back on the rumpled bed, remembering...  

The kiss itself would have been spectacular regardless of what
circumstances lay behind it - but the reaffirmation it afforded them
both was the real reason she would never forget it, would find
herself thinking about it weeks later.  Soft... candy-sweet... deep
and wet and intensely romantic... hard and gentle and trembling and
worshipping - and that was just within the first three seconds of the
kiss.  His arms had been too-tightly surrounding her; she could not
breathe, but that was all right.  She bit his bottom lip in
accidental passion... again, acceptable - even welcome.  His hands
had wandered over every inch of whatever part of her he could reach,
and her fingers had been busy probing, caressing and stroking him in
response.  Moaning, both of them - gasping into throats made raw from
the holding back of tears.  Enough tears - this kiss had been meant
as a celebration.  Lips pressed and clung; tongues danced and played
tag inside mouths made brave by the utterances of broken phrases,
which started with words like, "God, Mulder..." and "Need you want
you so much, Scully..."  Oh yeah - she would remember that kiss.  If
Mulder got his way, and they never saw each other again... Scully
would remember that kiss.  To never see each other again, however...
the pain of that image was too much for her ravaged heart to handle,
and she bowed her head and sobbed.
  


Sometime later - Scully was never sure how long - she raised her
head and managed to get out of bed; to walk with the baby-steps of
the recently mostly-dead... across the room and into the small
bathroom.  She splashed water on her face and fretted about the dark
circles ringing each eye.  She looked awful, she decided - and she
felt worse.  She also felt cleansed, by the crying session; ready to
think clearly for a change, and prepared to do anything to override
Mulder and his absurd decrees.  Not be with him anymore?  Not be his
partner, his friend... his forever lover?  Not any of that, ever
again?

She didn't think so.  Moving a bit easier, Scully walked to the
small closet in the corner of the private room; finding some of her
clothes hanging there.  The same clothes she'd been wearing when
they'd brought her here, she'd bet... Scully refused to dwell on it. 
She needed to get out of here; needed to see Mulder.  Needed to try
out all the persuasion he'd denied her just a short hour or so ago,
when he ran out the door and refused to look back.  To do that she
needed to be dressed; and in some sort of control.  She slipped into
the skirt and sweater, combed through her hair with her fingers and
found some dollar bills in one of the sweater pockets; enough to get
a taxi.  Now to get out of the hospital without bringing the entire
nurses' station down on her head...  

Luck was with her - the station was deserted when she crept by.  A
lone student nurse had her back to the corridor, flipping through
somebody's chart.  Holding her shoes in her hands, Scully tiptoed
soundlessly by her, holding her breath.  The girl never turned
around.  She made it to the elevators without incident; slipped her
shoes on as it hurtled down three floors, and walked out of the
emergency room exit, hailing the first taxi she saw.  As she settled
into the seat and the taxi moved away from the curb, Scully released
the breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding...  The cabby
looked into the rearview mirror and made bored eye contact; asked her
where she wanted to go.  Scully smiled, for the first time that long,
weary night, and answered.

"Alexandria."



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



Mason Connors had been rousted from a sound sleep, up out of his bed
at 4:30 in the morning to have the screws put to him by a very
annoyed G-Man charged with a personal vendetta.  Mulder hadn't
concerned himself with protocol or proper FBI procedure; that would
have taken too goddamn long.  His need for retaliation was immediate
and acute.  Connors had quickly and wisely spilled his confession
with a minimal amount of blood loss; conceding, what Mulder already
knew, that he'd hired not a private investigator but an assassin to
go after his former girlfriend Elise Heartman.  And shortly there
after Mulder had the real name of Scully's self-proclaimed 'Grim
Reaper.'

Stan Mariano.

And a phone call later Mulder had the address of an old apartment
house just off New York Avenue.  And twenty minutes after that he
kicked in the door of 7B, tearing through the rooms like a madman
until he spotted a lone figure trying to climb out the bedroom
window, hoping to make a fast getaway via the fire escape. 
Holstering his weapon, Mulder charged at the man, grabbed him and
yanked him back inside, tackling him to the floor.  Still half groggy
with sleep, it took Mariano a few seconds to recognize the angry face
of the man looming over him, but when he finally did, his eyes went
wide.  "Hey, man, look, I didn't touch your girlfriend, okay?  I
don't know where she is!"

Mulder served up a right cross that caused Mariano's head to smack
back against the floor with a loud 'THUD!'  Adrenaline pumping
viciously through his veins, Mulder had to struggle to regain enough
control of his temper so that he could exact his revenge and not
simply give this cretin a quick death.  "Wrong girl, Stanley!"  He
emphasized the man's name, purposely making fun.  Mulder knew a guy
named Stan in college - the best and fastest way to get his goat was
to call him 'Stanley.'  He was fairly sure he'd get a similar
reaction from this jerk too.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the other man stammered,
trying to recover from Mulder's fist to the jaw.

"Elise Heartman is NOT my girlfriend.  I'm an FBI agent.  And the
woman you fucked up and tried to kill by mistake is my partner!" 
Mariano's eyes opened wide in realization of what his error would
cost him.  He groaned under his breath.

"Oh shit."  Mulder nodded grimly and drew back one hard, clenched
fist.

"Oh yeah - Oh shit!"  This time it was a left that Mulder used to
rattle the teeth of Scully's would-be assassin.  Mariano coughed and
spat up blood, showering both himself and Mulder.  "I know what you
did to her, you son of a bitch!"  Mariano's injured jaw worked with
ineffectual jerkiness, before he managed to get his next words out.

"It was an honest mistake!  Jesus - the two of them broads could be
fucking twins or something!"

"You do very sloppy work, Stanley.  I can see mistaking them in
public, but you went to the wrong goddamn apartment, you asshole!" 
Mariano shrugged, made a face, and rolled his eyes; and Mulder just
had to slug him again - this time in the nose, breaking it in several
places and spattering more blood.

"OUCH!!!  GODDAMN!!! FUCK!!!"  Mariano struggled to get out from
under his crazed attacker, but Mulder's full weight seated on the
smaller man's chest, holding him pinned securely to the floor.

"Did you get off on it, you prick?  Drugging my partner into a
helpless state and assaulting her while she couldn't fight back?" 
There was nothing but contempt locked in the darkness of Mulder's
focused stare.  Mariano spluttered in self-righteous protest at the
verbal attack.

"Hey, man, the bitch is lying!  I never -"  Mulder didn't let him
finish the hateful words; he exploded all over the sick bastard.

"WHAT?!!" Mulder roared!  WHAT DID YOU CALL HER?!!"  He grabbed
Mariano by the hair and tugged hard, taking great pleasure in the
feel of roots giving way under his tight-fisted grip.  "You lousy
piece of shit!  My partner would NEVER lie to me!  GOT THAT?!!  HUH? 
YOU GOT IT?!!"

"Yeah, yeah... I got it - I got it."  Mariano hissed, eyes watering
as he tried in vain to pry loose the grip Mulder had on him.  "And
you've got me.  I'm busted.  So arrest me already."

A wicked grin crept over Mulder's hardened face.  "Eager to have the
cuffs on, Stanley?"  There was a definite look of panic from Mariano
as Mulder muscled him onto his stomach and retrieved a shiny pair of
Smith and Wesson handcuffs from his own back pocket; sadistically
tightening them to the point of pain around the other man's wrists.

"Hey!" the prisoner objected, wincing at his mistreatment.  "There's
no need for the police brutality routine!  I'm not resisting!"

"There was no need for you to put your filthy hands all over my
partner either!  I don't believe she was putting up much resistance
at the time, was she?"  He jerked Mariano to his feet and spun him
around so they faced each other.  "Because of you, fuckhead, I almost
lost someone very dear to me.  She spent more than a week in a coma,
fighting for her life, while those drugs you forced down her throat
worked their way out of her system.  And when she finally came to, I
heard all about the nightmare YOU put her through!"  Mulder's anger
flared again as he revisited Scully's story in his imagination; and
Mariano found himself doubled over, the wind knocked out of him,
choking and gasping to refill his lungs after a hard punch to the
gut.  

The rage within Mulder threatened to take control.   In his mind's
eye he could see so clearly - Scully's anguished expression as she'd
relayed the whole story to him, reliving every horrible detail over
while she struggled to convey the events with her usual clinical,
matter-of-factness... Visions of Scully drugged and powerless, having
no choice but to endure this greaseball's lecherous advances as she
fought a losing battle to stay awake; to keep breathing; to live...
Scully, sick and helpless and frightened, her life draining from her;
victimized by this animal who had the vile audacity to put his mouth
to hers and partake the sweetness of her lips!  This worthless piece
of shit touched her breasts!  Slid his grimy hand under her skirt
and -

"... beggin' ya... no more... no more..."  Mariano's breathless
pleas somehow made it past the roaring in Mulder's ears; snapping him
out of his frenzied state, and waking him to the fact that while he'd
been thinking about Scully he'd been beating the other man to within
an inch of his life.  Mariano was once again on the floor with Mulder
hunched over him - a bloody fist poised for what would likely have
been a deadly blow to the head.  Mulder straightened, forced himself
to back away, waited until his breathing evened out, and then willed
his fingers to unclench so he could reach into his pocket and
retrieve his cell phone.


DCPD arrived within five minutes.  And Mulder was pleased and
relieved when he saw a familiar face amongst the uniformed officers
responding to his call.  Mike Guthrie had been on the Force for
almost thirty years, knew Mulder since his days with the VCU; the big
bear of a man thought the world of Scully.  Mulder couldn't have
hoped for a more sympathetic ear.  

"Mulder!" Mike's voice boomed loud and reverberated off the walls of
the tiny bedroom as he pushed his way past the others and headed for
his friend.  "I heard your name on the dispatch and had to come see
what trouble you and that little firecracker of a partner have gotten
yourselves into this time!"  Mulder forced a weary smile at the
remembered nickname that Guthrie had always used for Scully.  

"Hey, Mike.  How long's it been?"

"Over a year... I think."  He glanced down at Mariano, frowned and
turned a questioning look back to Mulder.  "What's the story with
this guy?"

"Four counts of attempted murder of a federal agent, sexual assault
on a federal agent, breaking and entering... that should do for
starters, huh?"  The older cop's comprehension of the situation was
swift and astute; shock evident on his craggy face.

"Christ Almighty!"  Guthrie's eyes surveyed the room again and then
he took in Mariano's condition and Mulder's bloody fists.  "Oh... No.
Tell me this punk didn't go after Scully."

"She's okay, Mike."  Mulder put his hand on the other man's shoulder
and led him off to the side of the room where he preceded to fill him
in on the details of the case.  By the time they were finished
talking amongst themselves, Mariano had recovered enough that he had
begun whining and complaining about his mistreatment.

A young cop, who Mulder decided probably hadn't yet worn out his
first pair of Department issue shoes, approached both Mulder and
Guthrie, pen and pad in hand.  He cleared his throat twice before
nervously addressing Mulder.  "Sir - um... Agent Mulder?  Mr. Mariano
claims you assaulted him while he was in restraint.  Could you please
tell me what happened here, Sir?"

Mulder nodded and was about to speak, but Guthrie stepped in and
answered for him.  "Son, I just took Agent Mulder's statement.  That
little punk over there is lying through his teeth."  The big man
leaned over and whispered aside to Mulder with a smirk, "What's left
of them, that is."  Mulder bit back a chuckle as Guthrie returned his
attention to the rookie and continued in his usual boisterous tone. 
"Attempting to escape apprehension, the suspect ran into a stairwell
where he tripped over his own two feet and took a header down three
flights of stairs!  Anything else he tells you, son, is a crock of
bullshit!"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy.  Now make sure someone has read Mr. Mariano his rights
and let's get him down to the station."

The young cop looked like he almost hated to say the next words to
his senior.  "Um... he's requesting medical attention."

"Oh hell, all right.  I'll take him by Howard ER first."

"Jonesie and I can do it, Sir," the rookie eagerly volunteered.

"No - no.  That's okay, kid.  I'll take care of Mr. Mariano."  The
gleem in Guthrie's eyes almost made Mulder feel sorry for poor
Stanley... almost.  When the younger cop was out of earshot Guthrie
spoke freely again.  "You know, Mulder, I've been on the Force a long
time.  Long enough to know that the best of us put our hearts into
the job.  And when one of our own goes down or is the victim of a
crime, it's hard not to react emotionally.  Don't sweat this one, my
friend.  I've got your back.  Go home and get cleaned up and put it
behind you.  And don't give another thought to that worthless punk
over there.  He won't be a problem."  The older man winked and
slapped Mulder on the back reassuringly.  "Do me a favor, say hello
to Scully for me.  Tell her I hope she's out there chasing down the
bad guys in those high heels of hers real soon."  He smiled at the
mental image.  Guthrie had always given Scully crap about her shoes.

"Thanks, Mike.  I owe you."  The big man dismissed the debt with one
wave of a massive paw as he lumbered off to take Mariano into
custody. 


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

Part Six --

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



She'd made it to his apartment in record time; the cabby must have
thought she was sick, or drunk - as she'd had a hard time remaining
upright in her seat, there in the back of his cab.  He never said a
word, though - just got her to Mulder's building in record time,
screeched up to the curb and didn't even squawk indignantly when she
gave him all the money in her pocket, which was enough to pay for the
ride and tip him maybe fifty cents.  After knocking hard on Mulder's
door and realizing he wasn't home, Scully had to rouse the poor super
out of bed and sweet-talk him into letting her into the apartment;
luckily for her the man knew and liked them both and also knew they
were FBI.  He never questioned her, just let her in without a word
and stumbled back to bed. 

Inside the cool, albeit stuffy apartment (Mulder never opened his
windows), Scully moved silently, almost afraid to think of his
possible whereabouts.  Also hoping he wasn't doing what she feared
he'd do - such as roaming the streets of DC looking for a delivery
man with flowers in his arms and an annoying tendency to call women
'Doll'...  She walked slowly into the bathroom and caught a look at
herself in the mirror, then sank down on the toilet seat and laughed
weakly.  No wonder the cabby hadn't said a word; she looked like a
wildwoman.  He probably thought he had some kind of killer in his
taxi... which, in effect, he did - for Scully was surely going to
kill Mulder when he returned; for not only attempting to find her
would-be murderer and in the process ditching her yet AGAIN... but
for also thinking that by the usage of a few guilt-ridden phrases and
impassioned nonsense he could ever shake her, as a partner or a
lover.  The poor guy had an awful lot to learn...  

She went into the living room and pulled his wool Navajo blanket
from the back of his sofa and dragged it into the bedroom, coccooning
herself into its comforting warmth and breathing in the Mulderscent
clinging to his pillow.  She'd wait right here - maybe doze a little.
She left the bedroom door open, knowing when he came home she'd hear
him unlocking the door -

And then she'd let him have it... and after that, she'd let him have
HER.



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



He was wiped out; dead-dog tired.  He had no memory of the drive
home; his brain had been on auto-pilot from the city's Eastside to
his own lonely apartment in Alexandria.

As he dragged himself through the front door, the last of Mulder's
reserves drained away, leaving him feeling more empty inside than he
could ever recall having felt in his life.  He was finally paying the
toll for weeks of emotional turmoil; his body physically exhausted
and spiritually numb.  Even the measure of vengeance he'd exacted
from Mariano seemed pointless now; a hollow victory in the face of
everything he'd lost.

Everything he'd lost.

He'd lost it all.

He'd lost Scully.

Blindly dropping his keys from deadened fingers, he failed to notice
as they missed the intended side table and landed on the floor at his
feet.  He continued mechanically forward, oblivious to everything
else around him, focused with the singular intent of cleaning himself
up; and driven by the instinct to collapse into unconsciousness
shortly thereafter.  

In the harsh light of the bathroom, Mulder stared at the gruesome
evidence of his latest sin; another man's blood, dried to a dark
stain upon his bruised and swollen knuckles.  He plunged his hands
beneath a stream of painfully hot water, watching with morbid
fascination the incriminating proof run bright red against the stark
white porcelain sink, before disappearing down the drain.  If only he
could that easily wash the guilt from his soul; the remorse from his
heart.  He hated himself for hurting Scully; deeply regretted that
he'd finally given into his overwhelming desire for her... for that,
as he'd always feared, had been the beginning of their end.



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



It was the soft !snick! of the front door latch that awakened her;
Scully stretched, and groaned under her breath at the stiffness of
her body.  She must have fallen asleep in a tight fetal position; she
always woke up stiff when she did that to herself.  She glanced out
the window; pre-dawn light was just beginning to filter through the
mini-blinds.  Mulder's window... Mulder's key in the lock.  'About
damn time, Mulder,' she thought to herself.

He walked right by her, never saw her wrapped in his blanket there
on the bed.  Enough early-morning light filled the quiet room; she
watched him, her eyes half-closed, body held still under the wool
throw.  He moved slowly, shoulders hunched a little.  His clothes
were badly wrinkled; even as shadowed as it was in the room she could
see that.  He walked into the bathroom and snapped on the light; she
heard water running in the sink.  She peeked over the frayed edge of
the blanket and saw his hands, about five seconds before he plunged
them under the faucet.  Scully bit back a gasp; his hands were
stained with dried blood, knuckles bruised.  He'd been fighting, and
she had a feeling she knew with whom... somehow Mulder must have
found her assailant.  She really wasn't surprised, for Mulder in
quest-mode was relentless and single-minded to a fault.  She fought
back even one smidgen of sympathy for the bastard who almost killed
her... he deserved everything he probably suffered at her partner's
hand.  

When Mulder turned from the sink and walked out of the bathroom,
wiping his hands on a towel, Scully was able to get a good look at
the desolation on his face... and it broke her heart to think he'd
had to make himself suffer this much pain.  Such a stubborn man...
she spoke the words aloud, in a soft voice; Mulder dropped the towel
in shock and stared at the wool-covered lump on his bed, disbelief in
his voice, as he stammered, "Scully... what are you doing here?  How
did you get released so fast?"  Scully sat up in the bed, pushing the
blanket from her shoulders; shaking the hair out of her eyes as she
debated just how she was going to bring about the downfall of her
guilt-ridden partner.  She regarded him with a serious face.

"I broke out of the 'Big House,' Partner; had to wound a lot of
nurses to blow that joint..."  She batted her eyelashes at him, then
before he could react to her silliness she put out one firm hand and
pushed him onto the bed, keeping her hand against his shoulder when
he tried to sit up.  "Stay down, Mulder, or else I'll handcuff you to
your own bed.  Don't think I won't do it.  You and I have issues to
settle; you would have heard them a lot sooner than this if you
hadn't gone ripping out of my hospital room without letting me get a
word in.  And you've got a hell of a lot of nerve, ditching me yet
again, and going off by yourself to look up the man who tried to kill
me...  Don't bother to deny it; I saw the blood on your hands, and
the bruises.  I know what you've been up to."  Mulder's mouth dropped
open in shock, and he sputtered at her.
  
"Scully, Jesus!  Ditch you?  You were in the hospital - just out of
a coma, for godsake!  Besides, I had to do this - I had to!  I was
feeling worthless.  It was the only way I could find to redeem
myself.  And you weren't supposed to know - because you shouldn't
have left the hospital, and come over here... I told you, Scully,
it's over for us.  Didn't you listen to a word I said?"  He glared at
her in anger.  Scully glared right back.  Her next words were spoken
through clenched teeth; she'd never been this angry at him.

"Do you honestly think I'm going to accept that guilty tirade of
yours, Mulder?  Give me a break!  You should know me well enough by
now to know that I won't tolerate anyone trashing my partner - that
includes you!  I won't stand for you beating yourself up over this!" 
She refused to allow her attitude to soften toward him; Mulder needed
this sort of reality check from her.  It was way overdue.  She'd make
it up to him later...

Meanwhile, Mulder sighed heavily and tried to move again, but Scully
was right there pushing at him, and unless he wanted to physically
hurt her, there wasn't a way to get around her determination.  He
threw up his hands in frustration and his eyes smoldered at her. 
"All right, Scully - go ahead and have your say, if you must - but it
changes nothing.  I've made up my mind..."  That was as far as he got
before he was rudely and furiously interrupted by his diminutive and
fiery partner.  She shoved her face into his and her words tumbled
out in a heated flurry.

"I don't know what makes you think you have the right to make
decisions for me!  I'm perfectly capable of making my own choices -
where my career is concerned, and especially in regard to my personal
life!"  He broke in hotly, clenching his fists as if he'd like
nothing better than to gag her with them.

"Dammit, Scully, I'm only trying to protect you!" Once again she
jumped in his face, effectively shutting him up.

"I didn't ASK you to protect me - beyond the natural proclivity of
the job itself, and of our partnership... that's as far as it goes! 
Your professional responsibilities to me include watching my back and
saving my bacon, same as I do for you!  You owe me your loyalty, your
on-the-job concern and your trust - which you have ultimately always
delivered.  No, don't speak!"  She glared at him when he opened his
mouth in protest, and Mulder found himself shutting it again,
muttering to himself as she continued.

"You HAVE given me your trust, Mulder.  Every day that we're out
there putting it on the line, you prove your faith in me, in my
ability to back you up and support you in our work.  Seven years,
Partner - we've watched each other's backs for seven years... if
that's not trust -"  She shook her head, exasperated that the look on
his face told her he still couldn't see it.  Scully reached out a
hand and wound her fingers through his, tugging on them a little for
emphasis.  "I've let you down so many times, refusing to believe even
when the proof was right in front of me.  And yet you continued to
let me share your work; respected my opinions - trusted that I was on
your side even when I argued so stubbornly against your theories.  I
SHOT you once, and even then you didn't lose your trust in me." 
Mulder stared at her; she could tell he was trying hard to maintain
the Great Brick Wall between them, but she was on a roll... she could
knock down anything he tried to stack against their relationship. 
She folded her arms across her chest and waited for his rebuttal; she
didn't have to wait long.

"Scully, Jesus!  You're my partner and my best friend; I trust you
with my life, you know I do!  But that's not the issue here.  The
issue is that I can't seem to trust in you now that our relationship
has become intimate; I act like a jealous asshole the first time
something happens to threaten it in the least little way.  I lost all
my faith in you - based on a case of mistaken identity; believing the
worst, when you've never given me reason to -" She interrupted him
again, this time yanking on his hand so hard she almost toppled him
over.

"We haven't BEEN intimate long enough for either of us to have any
sort of confidence or real sense of security in our relationship,
Mulder!  Think about it!  We're talking about two different forms of
trust here!  As my lover you have yet to know everything in my heart,
just as I'm learning yours.  We're both insecure and vulnerable at
this point.  And we've both been so long without any intimacy in our
lives - we're sadly out of practice at placing our hearts in another
person's hands.  It's frightening; at times overwhelmingly so.  Put
that up against the events of the past few weeks, and I don't blame
you at all for your reaction when you saw someone who looked so much
like me, kissing another man.  If our positions had been reversed,
and I saw a man who I thought was you, kissing on some woman... I'd
probably shoot first and ask questions later."

She slid closer to Mulder on the bed, and wound an arm around his
shoulders, pulling him in for a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.
His eyes raised to hers, and the look in them revealed his inner
conflict.  She smiled into their cloudy hazel depths, and murmured,
"Mulder, when I gave you myself that first night I opened more than
my heart to you.  I provided you with a way to hurt me, based on
nothing more than an initial knowledge of what made me vulnerable. 
It was a show of faith, as much as any I've ever given you.  And you
gave me the same.  Placing yourself at risk by allowing me access to
your weak spots; granting me the power to hurt you so easily if that
is what I chose to do.  It was a big step for both of us; but it was
only the first step, on what I hope will be a long journey together -
a lifetime if we're lucky.  Along the way we're bound to hurt each
other every now and then; but you know, Mulder -" she toyed coyly
with the collar of his shirt and with a mischievous grin she
delivered her next words. "Make up sex can be pretty damn good."

His shaky chuckle vibrated against her cheek, as he hugged her
tightly; Scully slipped her other arm around him and they held each
other closely - silently.  Mulder rubbed his bristly jaw against her
much-softer one, making her squirm in his arms.  He whispered low in
her ear.  "Wanna practice, Partner?"  She laughed out loud in sheer
relief; she'd won.  Thankfully, she'd made him see clearly, and she
was going to do everything to assure his eyes remained clear and
unfettered by any more guilt.  Scully slipped her hands underneath
his shirt and whipped it over his head, tossing it in the corner;
pressed soft kisses to his warm skin; answering him in deed rather
than in words...
   

Another lesson in trust, but this one was so much easier than the
last one, Scully decided; as she lay back on pillows that still
smelled faintly of their combined MulderScullyscents... which meant
he'd forgotten to change his sheets lately, but that was all right. 
She didn't mind at all.  She only minded that he'd managed to get all
her clothes off, and he still wore his boxers - but not for long. 
Even as her head hit the pillow, her fingers were busy tugging and
peeling; she got them off the rest of the way and they landed on top
of his shirt.  She twined her legs through his and wrestled him down
on top of her; Mulder landed with an audible, "Oomph!" - his face a
scant inch from hers.  As he gazed down into her eyes, Scully stuck
out her tongue at him impishly, then used it to trace the outline of
his mouth; tickling each side, teasing him - until Mulder opened his
lips and sent his own tongue out to retaliate.  Their mouths clung as
their mingled breaths and seeking hands welcomed each other home -
soothing away residual heartache and worry, mending old wounds and
new alike.  He raked his fingers though her hair as he kissed her,
the fine strands of it cool and silky on his overheated skin.  So
tender the kisses he placed in precise, loving fashion - on all of
the places she knew to be his favorites.  He named and described them
as he kissed, as if she could ever forget the feeling that each spot
endured...

"Left shoulder, right below the collarbone; 'bombs away'..."  Kiss. 
"Upper arm, along the inside track; mmm, Scully..."  Kiss kiss. 
"Fourth rib, front and left, my favorite rib, but in case the others
get
jealous, I think I'll stay here and visit, maybe set up the Parcheesi
game..."  Kiss.  Lick.  Her laughter shook those ribs and he fought
to hang onto rib number four, as he kissed and nibbled and licked
from one sensitive side of her to the other - only to repeat it over
again when he'd completed the trek.  Scully shivered and whispered a
moan; barely able to keep still; determined to let him have anything
he wanted - for she knew as soon as he'd had enough, it would be her
turn... and before she was through with him, her big strong partner
would one large basket case of an erogenous zone.  Her breath hitched
in her throat as his fingers brushed over her soft skin, rubbing
gently, then more firmly, on each pink nipple; as they stood up and
smiled at him he returned their welcoming response with a big grin of
his own, delighted they'd remembered him - and he pressed his cheeks
there between them and spoke softly.  "You have absolutely the most
beautiful breasts I have ever seen, Scully - how many times have you
been told just that?"  Scully blushed and giggled and sighed when his
lips stroked over her; trying to remember the damned question so she
could answer, before her senses overloaded on Mulder-lust and
performed automatic brain-drain.  She pondered for a moment, then
answered teasingly.

"Thirteen million, Mulder.  But it never meant a thing until you
told me..."  He huffed against her, holding one soft handful and
nuzzling the other.

"That's 'cause I got the 'Magic Touch,' Baby..."  And her eyes
teared at the sweet endearment; one she hadn't heard in so long. 
Baby...  Her hands held him firmly against her as she retorted in his
ear.

"You definitely have something 'magic,'  Mulder...  and everyone
knows you're 'touched.'  So... can it do tricks? - the Touch, that
is..."  Mulder smiled down into her half-closed eyes as he slid down
her slim body, anchoring his mouth to her navel and beginning the
final journey home.

"Oh, yeah... wanna see?"  he didn't wait for an answer - and she
didn't waste her breath saying 'yes,' when they both knew what magic
was about to happen...



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



"I love you, Mulder." Her words echoed in his head and he could hear
Scully's sultry voice, even as she slept beside him so contentedly in
his arms.  She'd finally made her declaration and he'd joyfully
proclaimed his own heart to her as they held each other in the wake
of their sweet reunion.  How on earth - no, that wasn't quite it -
WHY on earth had he ever entertained the thought that either of them
would be better off alone?  To not have this feeling; not know Dana
Scully ever again, after having loved her - even if the words HAD
come almost too late.

He didn't think he would have been able to face a future that cold -
and now, he didn't have to.  She was here in his arms - and she was
determined to stay with him despite his best efforts to protect her
from himself.  Call it defeat, but that wasn't it - not at all.  In
losing the battle, he'd actually won the war.

Now as he lay awake and wondered at the miracle that this incredible
woman could be in love with him, Mulder tried to be good; to merely
watch her sleep and worship without disturbing her rest, but he found
it impossible to restrain himself when Scully lay naked and so near. 
She was a drink of water to his parched soul; and he needed to love
her, not only with his heart and mind, but with his whole body.  So
small and delicate; yet larger-than-life, as well - tough and
brilliant and brazen; feminine to her pink-tipped little toes. 
Adoration, for her - he ached with it; so much he dared wake her,
just to tell her one more time - or better yet, show her.  Actions, 
after all, spoke louder than words.  Right?

Well, he was ready to scream.  With a megaphone, if necessary.

Mulder ran his fingers through her hair, marveling at the softness
of the red silk; brought his hand to her lovely face and cupped one
rose dusted cheek, still heated from their last encounter - holding
her - as he drew nearer... A breath away from her lips and her lashes
fluttered open; she smiled and welcomed his kiss.  And then, with a
sparkle of mischief dancing in her eyes, she took the lead and pushed
at him, until she had him flat on his back; she curved her small self
over him, settling upon him with a sweet little wriggle, and a
deliberately slow slide.

Scully just... Scully.  "So perfect... so perfect," he sighed the
words into her breasts as she took him deep within her...


Afterwards their tired and sore bodies cooled, weak from the loving
but not wanting to give in to the need for sleep.  They had so much
time to make up... wasted days and weeks apart; time which could have
been spent in much more worthwhile pursuits - and of course he'd
cornered the blame for all of it.  Scully had refused to let Mulder
pound at himself any longer; had ordered him to banish the guilt. 
Had loved away the guilt, very effectively, in fact.  Pressed close
to his side, fingers twining through his... frowning at the bruises
she saw there, and bestowing gentle kisses upon each of Mulder's
battered knuckles.  Examining them with a concerned doctor's eye and
lover's heart; an empathetic tear slipping down her cheek as she
soothed his painful bruises with the softness of her lips.  "Your
hands..." she spoke sadly, her own pain revealed. "Look what you've
done to them."

"It's nothing, Scully."  He pretended to be the tough guy for her
benefit, even though he was reveling in the way she babied him. 
Scully frowned, shaking her head in exasperation.

"It's not nothing... I love your hands.  I never told you this
before but I've always had a thing about them."  Scully placed one of
her small palms against his larger one.  Her hand looked child-sized
in proportion, the skin fair and fragile against his tanned fingers. 
"They're beautiful, Mulder, big and strong, and yet - elegant too. 
You would have made a fine surgeon... or maybe a pianist."   He
chuckled as she continued to admire his long fingers; weaving them
through hers to lovingly surround them.

"Come to think of it, my piano teacher did say I was good with my
hands," he wisecracked, wanting to take the melancholy edge out of
her voice.  She gasped and swatted him.

"You're terrible!"  His teasing was successful, prompting a giggle;
and he couldn't resist trying for more.  He loved the sound of her
laughter.  

"I think Miss Duncan would take exception to that remark, Scully."

That comment won him a sizable amount of mirth, and she playfully
nudged him under the covers with her foot as well.  "Stop it!"  He
was enjoying the happy noise filling his bedroom and regretted it
when he squeezed her closer and her mood swiftly changed to
seriousness again.  She leaned close and whispered in confidence, "I
probably shouldn't admit to this, but I was actually very touched by
the fact that you went after that man who tried to kill me; that you
would fight for me the way you did... It's very... I don't know...
sexy, I guess."  Mulder waggled his eyebrows at her and nuzzled her
bare shoulder.

"Mental note: Scully is turned on by brutish displays of machismo." 
This attempt to recapture the lightheartedness of a moment ago fell
short of its goal; her face lost its open smile, and she dropped her
eyes, finding and then picking at a stray thread coming loose on the
corner of his bedspread.  She muttered to herself.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything."  Eyes not quite meeting
his, Scully sighed and then abruptly voiced her concern.  "Mulder,
you didn't go too far, did you?  I mean, there is something left of
the man, right?"  She looked into his eyes, searching for the real
skinny on what had happened.  Mulder returned the intense stare, his
own struggling to convey actual regret, and failing miserably.

"It's okay, Scully.  I stopped just short of murdering the little
dirtbag.  I promise you he was alive and putting up a fuss when Mike
Guthrie took him into custody."  Mulder could feel the relieved
reaction of Scully's body at the mention of the tough old teddy bear
of a cop; and he knew he'd reassured her by simply dropping the name
of their mutual friend into the conversation.  Her mouth turned up at
the corners, and she shot him a sideways glance from under her lashes.

"Good, because we're not married, you know - So I wouldn't be
eligible for conjugal visits while you're doing hard time in 'The
Pen'."

Mulder's body shook with silent laughter.  He was trying to decide
on the best comeback when the phone rang and they both bemoaned the
interruption.  He reluctantly forced one hand to let go of her and
reached for the offending device on the third ring. "Mulder."

"Hey, Mulder - it's Mike Guthrie."  Speak of the devil.  God, he
hoped there wasn't going to be trouble over the thing with Mariano
after all.  Mulder sighed and spoke into the mouthpiece with as much
friendliness as he could muster.

"What's up?"  Scully was staring up at him, her faced pinched with
worry the moment she felt his body go tense.  She laid a hand on his
bare back and traced comforting circles with gentle fingers.  She
could hear Mike's booming voice from where she lay.

"Well, I think we may have found Scully's missing twin that you were
telling me about.  A couple of fishermen discovered a body in
Washington Channel this afternoon.  The Jane Doe looks a helluva lot
like your partner.  They look so damn close the coroner was afraid it
was Scully at first; I guess he's made her acquaintance a time or
two... I was wondering if you could come down and have a look; maybe
give us a positive ID so we can notify next of kin."  Another almost
inaudible sigh; Mulder nodded, as if the burly cop could see him do
it through the mouthpiece.

"Sure thing.  I'm on my way."  He put the phone back on its cradle
and pressed a swift kiss on the top of Scully's head, then quickly
got out of bed, trying not to think about what might be waiting for
him downtown.

Scully sat up, frowning as she watched him begin to dress.  "Where
are you going?"  Mulder rooted around in a dresser drawer for a clean
shirt, finally locating an old Knicks sweatshirt and yanking it over
his head.

"That was Guthrie," Mulder explained to her as he pulled on his
pants.  "DCPD has a body they need me to come down and identify."  He
unearthed a pair of sneakers from underneath his bed and shoved his
feet into them without bothering to untie them.  Scully's eyes got
wide and she sat up straighter in the bed, staring at him in concern.

"Who?"  Mulder stood and moved to the night stand, retrieving his
gun.  He glanced at her and tried to sound as non-committal as
possible.

"It could be Elise Heartman."  As soon as Scully heard that she
climbed out of bed and was right behind him, grabbing up her clothes
from the floor until Mulder took hold of her arm to stop her.  "What
do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going with you," she told him, matter-of-factly; pure
determination in her eyes.  She stared him down, obviously expecting
him to protest.  And although it was pointless of him to even try,
Dana Scully didn't have the market cornered on stubbornness; Fox
Mulder held a good share of stock as well.  He stood his ground and
protested.

"Scully, you're still recuperating.  Get back in bed.  I won't be
gone long."  He tried to gently steer her away from her clothes, but
Scully dug in her heels and refused to budge.  Her eyes beseeched him
to let her help. 

"No, Mulder. I don't want you to have to face this alone."

He could resist anything, it would seem... except Dana Scully;
especially when she looked at him with those pleading eyes.  And
though he should have argued - she needed the rest - he gratefully
accepted her offer to go with him, telling himself that it would be
easier on her just to let her come along, rather than fight with her
about it.  In all honesty, he didn't relish the idea of seeing a
carbon copy of Scully laid out on slab in the morgue.  Having the
'real deal,' alive and well and standing beside him, would be a great
comfort.



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


Of all the times Scully had 'Snapped on the Latex,' as Mulder so
loved to bait her... this was one time she heartily wished she could
have stayed home with the bedcovers over her head.  This was a body
she was going to find impossible to remain objective over; not
because the dead woman meant anything to her but because as she
looked into the pasty face of Elise Heartman, it was as if she looked
upon her own demise.  At first she found the resemblance exceedingly
creepy; and that feeling assailed her from across the room, before
she even got very close.  But she had promised herself that she
wouldn't let Mulder go alone to the identification... and a promise
was a promise.

The phone call had come for them in the late afternoon, rousing them
from the first real quality time they'd had together in days...
they'd slept the sleep of the dead, in between episodes of extreme
waking pleasure.  Scully had lost count of how many times Mulder had
brought her to the very edge of her world, and held her there,
causing her to slowly lose her mind - before he provided the last,
small pulse which pitched her head-first into oblivion.  When the
phone call came - well, the last thing either of them would have
wanted to think about was the possibility of performing
identification and an autopsy on Scully's doppelganger.  Yet, here
they were... and looking this woman in the face had been especially
hard on Mulder.

Now Scully smoothed the protective sterile gloves over hands
fighting to remain steady, and she took a deep, fortifying breath,
before approaching the body.  The head was turned just the slightest
bit away from her, affording her a clear visual of the dead woman's
red hair.  Almost the same exact color... uncanny. And as she'd
imagined, creepy.  Scully made herself move a little closer, slightly
around to the other side, enough to finally get a good look at Elise
Heartman's face... and she found herself gasping in unprofessional
reaction to the overall resemblance which could not be denied.  Her
eyes darted over the small face, noting how the bone structure was
the same, as was the general shape of the eyes, and nose.  Elise's
mouth wasn't quite as full in the lower lip... but still it was an
amazing likeness.  Small wonder that Mulder mistook Elise for her...
probably her own mother would have done so as well!  And Scully
decided the only thing more unsettling than coming face to face with
your double, would be if that double was dead instead of alive... She
murmured to her partner, one latexed hand reaching for, and clasping,
his.

"My God, Mulder... this could have been me, so easily - it could
have been my body lying here, a victim of mistaken identity..."  She
shuddered, unable to control her response to the gruesome feel of it;
she choked back tears - and felt him slip his arms around her from
behind, the fingers holding hers winding both their hands around her
middle, and pressing himself warmly and comfortingly against her. 
Celebrating life, even as they gazed down at death - and Mulder
whispered in her ear, just before he kissed it; just before he turned
her in the circle of his arms and pressed her damp eyes to his
shoulder.

"But it wasn't you, Scully - it wasn't you.  I'll thank God every
day for the rest of my life, that it wasn't you..."


~THE END~