From: SVBL12A@prodigy.com (Paula Graves)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: NEW:  "Don't Make a Scene" (1/2)  rated R
Date: 19 Jan 1996 04:33:34 GMT


****This is NOT my story! ***

I think it's hysterically funny, but I can't claim it, darn it.  I'm just 
posting it for my friend Linda, who can't find her way to the newsgroups 
because of her blasted computer.
Please don't send comments to me...send them to Linda at: 
LQVR10A@Prodigy.com.

*  *  *  *  *

Disclaimer:  Most everybody in here belongs to Chris Carter,
Ten-Thirteen Productions, Fox Network, etc. and are used without
permission.  No infringement intended.
Rated R for some strong adult language and mildly adult
situations.  

DON'T MAKE A SCENE
by Linda Boivie
LQVR10A@Prodigy.com

Mulder sighed heavily as he stared at himself in the bathroom
mirror. It was STILL crooked. "Dammit!" He tugged fiercely at his
bowtie, trying to straighten it for the umpteenth time but was
only successful in making it worse. Seething in frustration,
Mulder tore the blasted thing from his neck in a rage, stomping
and swearing at it until it no longer resembled anything like a
bowtie. 

*Oh great, I'm telling off a piece of clothing!* 

Mulder didn't know why he was so nervous.  After all it, it was
just a small little get together at the Senator's--just a few
agents were going to be there. 

*Yeah right!! Half the fucking bureau's gonna be there, and
there's no doubt that I'm gonna screw up somehow....*
     
It had started earlier in the day.  Skinner had briefed both him
and Scully on the 'party'. And the glance Skinner had given
Mulder had said it all....Don't Make A Scene. He wanted to heed
that advice.  People were probably expecting Spooky to do
something weird, eccentric, something "Spooky Like".  But for
once, Mulder wanted to be the Normal, Sane, In-Control Man. 

Yes, tonight was the night--he was going to show it off to all
the agents, Skinner, the Senator, and Scully.
     
As he had walked with Scully back down their office, he could
feel the tension...the tension that you could almost hear asking
aloud, "Who's gonna do it first? Who's gonna ask?"  He knew it
was up to him to break the hard as a rock silence. "So Scully,
who's the lucky man you're dragging along with you to this
'schnazzay partay'?" He emphasized the last words with his best
British Snot voice. 

"I don't know.." she sighed, looking down to the floor. "I think
I'll go alone, I don't think there's any openings at the moment."


"Oh-ho, as if that isn't the classic hinting line," Mulder
teased. 

Scully smiled back. 

"Pick you up at 7?" he asked. 

"No, I'll pick you up, it's on the way." 

It was a mutual agreement, no one had even asked the other. They
just knew. Who else were they supposed to go with anyway? They
were loners in a big, complicated world....
     
Now, standing in front of his bathroom mirror, Mulder could feel
the butterflies roil in his stomach, making him want to gut
himself and yank them out. 

Why? What the hell's wrong with you? 

"Get a grip, Mulder," he hissed at himself, lightly banging his
head against the sink. "Get...con...trol....you....stu...." 

His doorbell rang. Mulder's eyes turned into saucers. 

*SHE'S HERE!* 

He sprang from the bathroom and swung open his front door,
greeting Scully with a grin. She took him by surprise by looking
good. Not that she didn't normally look good; Mulder had always
thought Scully was a good looking woman, but it was always hard
to judge because he knew her too well. Scully was just Scully,
and there was nothing to compare her to. It was like trying to
judge if your mother or sister was pretty. 

But this was different. She wore a dark green sleek dress, which
hugged her figure and brushed the ground. Her flaming red hair
was pulled back, allowing a few curls of hair to frame her face.
Some things hadn't changed though--she still wore her small cross
around her neck.  It lay lightly upon her chest. Mulder didn't
think she ever took it off. 
     
Mulder shook himself of his reverie, not wanting to stare. "Hey
Scully!! Here so soon?"

"Mulder, it's quarter past 7."  She looked at him with an eyebrow
arched.  "Are you actually going like that?" 

Mulder looked down at himself. His shirt was hanging out over his
dress pants, not to mention a few buttons weren't done up. Mulder
placed a hand on top of his hair, feeling the spikes of a
porcupine instead of the nicely styled, mannered man's hair. The
result of his little talk with his sink. 
     
"Mulder, we're going to be late, let's go. I've got a brush in my
purse." 

He nodded in consent and slammed his door shut. On his finger.
"Aaaghh!! Ssssshit!" Mulder screeched, frantically opening his
door to release his poor, red finger. 

"Mulder, are you okay?!" Scully asked, trying to sound concerned.
But Mulder could hear the edge of laughter in her voice, and when
he looked up at her she was holding a hand over her mouth, trying
to stifle the giggles. 

"Oh, so it's funny, now is it?!" 

"No....no...it isn't.."she couldn't hold it in anymore and she
burst out laughing. 

Mulder sighed. "Let's go." he said in a huff. 
     
The car ride to the Senator's mansion was uneventful, except for
Mulder's lamenting about his "poor finger". After a snappy "Shut
up!" from Scully, he grew silent. They pulled up in front of
Senator Matheson's house which looked more to Mulder like a Grand
Temple of the Gods. 

"Whew!" Mulder breathed. 

"Think you can pull this 'dangerous mission' off without killing
yourself, oh Great Warrior?" Scully asked with amusement. 

"What are you talking about? I'm fine!" he retorted a bit too
quickly. 

"Hmph. If your butt was screwed on any tighter right now, it
would squeak when you walk. C'mon Sherlock." 
     
Mulder stepped out of the car and slammed the door. This time on
the hem of his  overcoat. He didn't notice until he heard a
thorough "Rrriiiiippppppp!" Mulder closed his eyes and sighed.
"Fuck." Red faced in anger and embarrassment (other arriving
guests were watching the spectacle with amusement.), he threw the
jacket off, leaving it hanging from the car door. 

Scully turned away from the stares, not wanting to look like she
ever knew this lunatic of a man who now had left his jacket half
in his car. But Mulder ignored the looks and purposefully strode
up to Scully, who eyed him with daggers (ooh, if looks could
kill). He took her arm, leading her to the front doors. He hoped
that he wasn't going to have much more contact with doors later
on.
     
Walking through the grand doors, Mulder and Scully entered the
party hall, a magnificently large room--hell, to Mulder it looked
ten times the size of his dinky apartment--which was divided into
two sections. There was the far side which was the eating area,
and seemed to hold a sea of tables covered in white table clothes
and fancy silverware. The other side, which swam before them, was
the "Sociable Area" where hundreds of guests roamed about,
talking, hanging around the bar along the wall, holding their
glasses of expensive white wine held in two hundred dollar wine
glasses. To their left a mini orchestra played soft, melodic
music. And to top it all off, a grand, ghastly chandelier hung
from the three story high ceiling, which looked as if it could
dwarf any of the UFO's he had ever seen. 

Yes, Mulder felt VERY out of place here. But this wasn't going to
stop him....he could be just as sophisticated as these
people....just as pompous....heh heh....
     
"Well Scully, lets jump in and show em what we got!" Mulder tried
to sound confident, but he heard his voice crack on the last
word. 

Scully gave him an accusing glare. "Mulder--never mind." 

The crowd parted and the revered Senator Matheson appeared before
them with his wife, walking slowly towards them. 

"Try not to screw this up," Scully warned him through her
artificial smile as the Senator greeted both of them. 

"Ahh, Fox Mulder, I was hoping you were going to show up."  The
Senator smiled and held out a hand to him and Scully.  They both
politely shook his hand. "And this is my wife, Caroline," he
introduced his rather plump, gray rooted wife.  

Deciding to go a little more 'out', Mulder took Caroline's
red-nailed hand and raised it to his lips, giving her a small
wink. "Please tell me that you'll give me the honour of dancing
with you later. Can't leave here without dancing with the most
beautiful woman in the room." 

"Ohh, Mr Mulder," she cooed. 

Feeling Scully's and the Senator's bewildered stares upon him,
Mulder quickly swiped his hand away. Caroline gasped and Mulder
felt something in his hand. Opening his palm he found three fake,
inch long, red nails that he had accidentally grabbed off the
Senator's wife's fingers. 

"Oops."  Mulder blushed sheepishly and handed the nails back to
the gaping Caroline. "Heh heh, here." He laughed a little too
loudly, and everyone laughed nervously with him. "All right
Scully, let's go find our seat." Mulder grabbed her wrist and
pulled her away, FAAARRRR away from the lovely couple.  He
plopped himself down into his seat.
     
Scully sat down across from him, holding her head in hands,
giving him a sigh. "Mulder...can you please TRY to get a hold of
yourself! I don't want the topic of tomorrow's bureau gossip to
be the about the 'crazy antics of Fox Mulder and how he managed
to de-nail the hostess'!!" she hissed. 

Mulder smiled broadly and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you know
I'm the popular one!" 

Scully seethed. 

"Ah come on, Scully, I'm trying!  I don't know what the hell's
wrong with me. Listen, I'll be good from now on, Scout's Honour."
The whipped puppy look the he gave her one her over and she
couldn't help smiling. "I don't know why you care what they say
about me anyway." 

"Well, they're gonna be talking about how queer I am because I
joined you!" 

"Aww, you love me, that's why you did!" 

Scully giggled. 
     
Soon, the other guests began seating, and young waiters in red,
tailored suits began sweeping the room, reciting their dinner
dishes instead of giving out menus. A blonde haired waiter with
an upturned nose greeted Mulder and Scully and gave them his
speech of the meals. "I'll have the Poulet au Creme," Scully told
him. 

Mulder, having no clue what the waiter had said because he almost
failed French in high school, said, "Uh...the first one you
said." The waiter nodded and strode off. 

"Um...Mulder?" 

"Yes?" 

"Never mind."  
     
After about half an hour of an uncomfortable silence, the
mole-nosed waiter returned with their food and placed it in front
of them. "Enjjjjoy."  He gave Mulder a humorous glance. 

Mulder ignored him and started in on his food. "I'm famished!" 

"I hope so, Mulder." 

"Hmm?" 

"Nothing." 

Mulder dug into his meal, which was a pinkish, mushy material,
unidentifiable. He tasted it. Not bad. Mulder ate as fast as he
could, trying to satisfy his hungry stomach, but at the same time
trying to keep his table manners in check. Then Mulder felt it.
Deep down within the depths of his stomach at first--but then it
quickly began to rise, faster and faster, higher and higher. And
before he could cover his mouth, it came. "Buuuurrrrrppp!!" 

"Mulder!" Scully stared at him, wide-eyed. People sitting at the
tables beside him gave him a disgusted glance as one might give a
grody piece of roadkill sprawled in the middle of the highway. 

Mulder turned beet red...not believing what had just happened--he
bet everyone in far reaches of China could hear that one!
Definitely a five star! But here wasn't the place.. Sinking
slowly in his seat, he murmured a sheepish reply to Scully's
astonished glare, "Sorry." 
     
Eventually recovering from his 'outburst', Mulder popped the last
mouthful of his meal into his mouth, savoring the rich taste.
"Geez, this was good! I wonder what it was." 

"Do you really want to know Mulder?" Scully asked, her eyes
reflecting pity. 

"Why, did you actually understand what the hell that waiter
said?" 

"Never mind, maybe I shouldn't tell y-" 

"Scully, you've been saying that all night!! Tell me, can't be
THAT bad." 

She sighed. "Cow brains." 

Mulder shot out the contents of his mouth in horror, sending it
flying to a table in front of them and landing in a glass of red
wine. "Ugh! Yuueeecck!!" Mulder's face contorted in disgust, but
sobered when he realized where the piece of brain had landed. He
watched the woman raise the wine glass to her lips, unaware of
the terror that floated along the top. Taking a sip, the woman
saw it and screamed, sending her red wine flying in front on her
and splashing all over her table mates, who in turn panicked and
sent table and silverware crashing to the ground. 

"Oh....God..." Scully moaned. 

"Okay, maybe you should have left me in the dark about that,"
Mulder stated, not quite smiling. "I'm going to the washroom now. 
Maybe I'll stay there for the rest of the night before I cause
any other form of destruction." 

He stood and walked away, listening to the arguing table of
furious, wine stained people, ranting about who's fault the mess
was. Mulder was intent on them not finding out. Scully watched
him go with her head in her hands, not sure whether to laugh her
ass off or cry. 

But little did Mulder know that Scully wasn't the only one who
watched him travel to the men's room. 
     
Mulder stared at himself in the oval, Victorian bathroom mirror.
"Stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid-" Mulder chanted to himself, and
soon began to bump his head on the sink along to the beat of the
chant. A middle-man stepped out of a stall and eyed Mulder
suspiciously. 

"What?!" Mulder snapped. 

The man's eyes grew wide and he made hurried steps out of the
bathroom. Certain that he was alone, Mulder continued with his
self punishment.
      
Maybe it was an instinct, maybe he had heard something, but all
of a sudden Mulder knew that he was not alone. But before he
could turn around he felt a hand caress his shoulder. 

"Hm-hmmm...Mr Mulder..or may I call you *Fox*?" a voice whispered
seductively. 



End of part 1....heh heh heh...

Linda Boivie
LQVR10A@Prodigy.com


===========================================================================

From: SVBL12A@prodigy.com (Paula Graves)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: NEW:  "Don't Make a Scene" (2/2) rated R
Date: 19 Jan 1996 04:36:25 GMT


***This is NOT my story!***

I think it's hysterically funny, but I can't claim it, darn it.  I'm 
just posting it for my friend Linda, who can't find her way to 
the newsgroups because of her blasted computer.
Please don't send comments to me...send them to Linda at: 
LQVR10A@Prodigy.com.

*  *  *  *  *

Disclaimer in part 1.  
Rated R for some strong adult language and mildly adult
situations.  



DON'T MAKE A SCENE
by Linda Boivie
LQVR10A@Prodigy.com

Part 2....


Mulder's eyes turned to saucers as he felt the other hand roam to
further places, particularly his butt. But his eyes turned to
dinner plates when he realized who the owner of the hands was.
"C-C-Caroline?" Mulder squeaked as he whipped around to face her
leering, mischievous, plump face. 

"Don't be coy, Fox, don't worry. I've locked the door, no one
will catch us," Caroline Matheson said in a husky voice,
unbuttoning his shirt.

"But--Mrs Matheson!" 

She chuckled. "I saw that look in your eye earlier...and trust
me, I know from experience. I know EXACTLY what you want...what
you NEED." 

"But..but....your husband!!" Mulder yelped, backing away from her
and her roaming, red clawed hands. 

"Oh he doesn't mind! He's used to it!" Frustrated with the
buttons, she tore open his shirt, staring with obvious pleasure
at his chest. "Ooooh, fiiiine!" 

Ack! 

"Um..but..aren't you a bit...old... for me?" 

She ran her hands through his shirt to his back, bringing her
face close to his. "Age doesn't matter, Fox, it's the experience
that counts. Don't make me hunt you down, Fox." Caroline yanked
at his belt.  

Mulder gave a yell and ran away from her grasp to the other side
of the bathroom. "I'm...sorry..but I can't do this, you see-" 

"It's that red head bitch of a partner of yours, isn't it?!" She
hissed with disgust. "That homely little slut!!" Mulder backed
away, inching to the door. "Mark my words, Fox Mulder-" 

Mulder ran for the door and unlocked it, hearing her shouting
from behind him.

"You'll get what's coming to you, Fox!! She'll get it!!!!" 
     
Mulder rushed back into the grand hall, sighing in relief and
taking in big gulps of air. He noticed that everyone had left
their seats and were dancing to the mellow music from the band.
He searched the crowd for Scully, and recognized her copper hair
at the other side of the room. She was dancing with SKINNER. God.
Oh well, considering the way he had been acting, he wasn't
surprised. 

He made his way to the bar, unconscious of the looks given to him
as a result of his appearance--shirt ripped open and his belt
undone, not to mention that his porcupine hair had sprung back to
make an appearance. 

"Hey Mulder, this isn't a Hallowe'en party!" an agent Mulder
recognized joked as he took a stool. The other people around the
bar laughed. 

"Up yours." Mulder stated. He no longer cared what he said or
did; this night was pretty much shot to hell as far as he was
concerned. 

Mulder heard the agent whisper "Asshole" but he ignored it.
"Scotch, please." Mulder called to the bartender. The bartender
dropped a bottle of scotch and a shot  glass in front of Mulder. 

If this night's gonna be screwed, may as well make the best of
it....
     
So Mulder drank--and watched.  He watched Scully dance with
Walter Skinner--and drank--and kept watching her graceful
movement as she and the Assistant Director swept the floor.  The
alcohol began to absorb throughout Mulder, and he could feel his
mind and nerves turn slightly fuzzy. At that moment, Mulder
desperately wished it was he out there with Dana, arms linked
with hers, moving to the flow of the rhythmic music. 

Well, that was out of the question now that he was semi-drunk,
not to mention cursed. All he wanted was to be normal....
     
"Hey Mulder, think you better cool it with the Scotch, you might
start to see little green men dancing in front of you! Oops, I
forgot, you already see them anyway!!" the asshole of an agent
called from his stool. 

Mulder turned his head towards him, and the words, "Fuck you,"
came out of his mouth before he even realized it. 

The also mildly drunk agent stepped up to Mulder. "What did you
say?" 

"I said....your mother's so stupid she got hit by a parked car!" 

*Oh God. Where in hell did I get THAT from???!!*

"OH, THAT'S IT!!" The agent raised his fists. "C'mon, you cheeky
little punk-ass!!!" 

A crowd started to gather around the two, and Mulder backed away,
sober enough to know when to back down. It didn't help; the agent
threw a fist towards Mulder's head, who ducked in the nick of
time. The flying fist struck a man behind Mulder square in the
nose, sending blood spraying from it like Niagara Falls. 

"AAGGHH!!! MY NOSE!!!" the man screamed, staggering backwards,
sending blood droplets on the people beside him, who in turn
screamed and scattered clear away from the injured man. He fell
to the floor clutching his shattered nose, a circle of people
surrounding him but didn't dare touch him in fear of getting
stained by the airborne blood. 

It was Scully who broke the through the clearing and aided the
poor man, holding a napkin to his tap of a nose, which stained
red in a matter of seconds. "This man needs to go to a hospital!"
Scully called out. 

"I'll take him," a woman offered, who helped him up and took him
out, leaving a trail of red dots along the floor. 
     
The circus over, people resumed their dancing, though sure to
stay away from the stained sections of the ground. Scully sat
beside Mulder at the bar, giving him a look which he couldn't
identify, even though the bloody quarrel had sobered him
completely. "Where'd your friend go?" Scully asked, and Mulder
could've sworn he heard amusement in her voice.  *Nah...the
second we're outta here your ass is hers. You'll never hear the
end of it....* 

"I think he ran off....hopefully. Yeah, he skidaddled."  Mulder
grimaced.  "Good idea, I should've thought of it."

 "Aren't having a good night, are you?" 

"Oh no, everything's peachy! I ground my bowtie into my floor, my
jacket's hanging out of your car door, the Senator's wife pulled
my shirt open, and now I'm the reason some guy's nose is never
going to look the same. No, nothing major. I'll get over it." 

"I'm not even going to ask about the shirt part." Scully said
quietly. 

Mulder smiled and looked up at her. "And don't even ask me to
dance either. God knows what will happen then." 

"Well, it looks like everyone's sitting down for dessert and
coffee anyway. C'mon, lets go." 
     
Mulder considered leaving--many times in fact. But he couldn't do
that, not when he'd come this far. He was shocked that Scully
hadn't dragged him out by the ear yet, so fed up and embarrassed
with him that she'd vow never to speak with him again. But she
was acting uncharacteristically serene, just treating Mulder like
a small child who had made a mistake. Yes, he had already crashed
this party, so he may as well stay for dessert! If only he had
gotten that dance with Scully....

Coffee and dessert wasn't served, which relieved Mulder
immensely, but was instead a huge buffet, with cakes, pies,
fruit, ice cream, any childs dream. Quite childish himself,
Mulder crammed his plate with great gusto, piling on a little bit
of everything, and topping it off with a mound of whipped cream
(which was his favorite). 

"God Mulder, your dessert looks like Mount Fuji." 

After seeing Scully's measly serving of fruit, Mulder grabbed the
plate from her and piled on basically everything that he had on
his. "Live a little! This is our last chance to enjoy this
nightmare!" 
     
They took their desserts to a nearby table.  "Ah, something to
rid the foul, lingering taste of brains from my mouth," Mulder
sighed as he chewed a mouth full of whipped cream covered
goodies. 

"Hey, you weren't the one who had to sit there, watching you eat
it!" Scully countered, also taking a mouthful of her dessert,
though not quite as big a bite as her partner had taken. 

"Yeah, well you weren't the one who was eating it!!" Mulder
waggled his whipped cream covered fork at her. Which was a
mistake. A big white glob flew from the fork and hit Scully
square on the nose, and dribbled down along her face, and dripped
from her chin. 

She stared at him, wide-eyed with anger and shock. 

"Oh my God! Scully, I'm SO sorry, I didn't mean-" 

This was it. This was the end. 

"Fox Mulder....you...are...DEAD."  Scully shoveled her fork into
her dessert, creating a forkful of cake, whipped cream, pie, etc.
which she flung at Mulder and splattered all over the front of
his shirt and exposed chest. 

He stared at her with his jaw resting on the floor, not expecting
that course of action from her. He recovered quickly though, and
flung another bomb of dessert back at her. Scully tried to duck,
but it caught her in her hair. She didn't hesitate, and she fired
back, catching him in one eye. 

"Agghhh!" He yelled. Again, he fired back at her, splattering her
in the face again. Then it turned into a FULL FLEDGED FOOD FIGHT
 They both dug down into their plate with their hands, chucking
and ducking, yelling and cursing, and pretty soon they had the
full attention of everyone in the room. 
     
"DIE ENEMY SCUM!!!" Scully roared, and a glob of pie struck
Mulder between the eyes. 

"YOU'LL NEVER HAVE OUR COUNTRY!! YOU COMMUNIST DIRTBAG!!!" Mulder
yelled in turn, shoveling both his hands into his food and
throwing it at her. By this time, they were both COVERED in
whipped cream, cake, pie, etc. and even cherries to top it off.
And as they continued to have their raging war, Senator Matheson
and his wife, along with five hundred other guests, watched in
gape-mouthed, dinner plate-eyed silence. Not to mention Assistant
Director Walter Skinner, who shook his head and lowered it into
his hands. But if anyone had watched him closely, they would have
seen a small smile that played on his lips. 

Which turned to a chuckle.
     
*   *   *   *   *

"I was wondering how long it would be before they threw me out.
It took longer than I thought." Mulder looked across to Scully
who was behind the wheel. She was covered from head to toe with
dessert, and Mulder stamped the image into his mind--he knew this
would be a classic, not something he'd want to forget! 

Scully giggled. "Gosh, it also took them a while to pick their
jaws up off the floor! You'd think they never saw a national
conflict before!" 

"My country won." 

"In your dreams." 

When they stopped at a red light, another car came up beside
them. The man in the car eyed Scully and Mulder queerly, and as
soon as the light turned green he screeched off as fast as he
could. 
     
"What a night," Mulder sighed. "What do you think Skinner will do
to us tomorrow? Burn us at the stake? Tie rocks to our feet and
throw us into the ocean?" 

"God only knows, Mulder. God only knows." 

Mulder wiped a blob of whipped cream from his cheek, sticking it
it his mouth. "What about our reputation? What are they gonna be
saying about us tomorrow? We're gonna be considered freaks!!" 

"God only knows. But who cares. Let them think what they think." 

They were both silent for a few minutes.  Then Mulder couldn't
stand it anymore. "Scully?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Why DID you start that food fight? Why didn't you kill me after
I made a fool out of myself and you? I thought you WERE worried
about our reputation!" 

She turned to him, a twinkle in her eye. "Because it was fun." 

"FUN? Do you KNOW how much trouble we're going to be in
tomorrow?!" 

"Mulder, sometimes you just have to let loose. I needed this
night, I really did. Thanks." 

Mulder grinned. This definitely didn't sound like Scully, and he
had a feeling he wouldn't hear this from her again.    
     
They were silent again.  Then Scully spoke.  "Mulder?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You DID realize that your fly was open ALL evening, didn't you?"


"It was?" 

"Mm-hm." 

"Oh, and of course you were looking down there, right?" Mulder
teased, leering at her. 

"No, of cour-" 

Mulder just nodded his head, a knowing grin on his face. "Oh
well, my shirt was open as well, so I matched altogether." 

They pulled up in front of Scully's apartment building. "Aren't
you going to drop me off?" Mulder asked her. 

She grinned playfully. "We never got that dance, Mulder. C'mon."
Stepping out of her car, Mulder and Scully linked their
cream-covered arms and walked up the steps to her apartment.  And
flapping in the night wind was Mulder's overcoat, still lodged in
the door of the car.  




THE END

Address any comments, moments of adoration, etc to Linda at
LQVR10A@Prodigy.com