From: Dragan Antulov Date: Sat, 27 Mar 1999 14:15:39 +0100 Subject: NEW: F.M. (1/2) by Dragan Antulov (NC-17) TITLE: F.M. AUTHOR: Dragan Antulov E-MAIL: dragan.antulov@st.tel.hr CATEGORY: SRA KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance ARCHIVE: Ephemeral yes; others previous request only RATING: NC-17 (violence, sex, language, adult themes and situations) SPOILERS: Redux II SUMMARY: Good and bad things in life come together. So do business and pleasure, at least sometimes... CONTENT WARNING: This story contains graphic depictions of barely consensual sex. It also touches some complicated, adult and in some way controversial issues. If you aren't mature to handle it, or you are prone to strong opinions, I would suggest not to read any further. SPECIAL CONTENT WARNING: This story falls within Mulder/Scully romance category. However, if you are shipper, I sincerely doubt that you would appreciate this story. Unless your mind is open to really extreme possibilities, I would suggest to do yourself a favour and skip this one. DISCLAIMER: The following story is based on characters created by Chris Carter, Fox Network and Ten Thirteen Productions. The characters named are the property of those entities and are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: Special thanks to Haphazard Method for the beta-editing and many useful suggestions. INTRODUCTION: When I began writing this story, my intention was simply to see whether I'm able to venture into NC-17 territory. Than, when I decided to finally write NC-17 story, I decided to add another category to my list, in order to enhance versatility of my work. It was, of course, those three dreaded letters - MSR. Now, NC-17 MSRs are, of course, most popular kind of XF fanfic stories, and the sheer quantity of them guarantees that, no matter how hard I work, someone has probably wrote something better. So, in order to provide some originality to my story, I was forced to travel to some rather unexplored territory. Perhaps I really went too far, and, if you are average MSR fan, this is your last chance to back off. Those readers who, despite all my warnings, read this story in its entirety, may find some explanations in Author's Notes at the end. ********************** F.M. X-Files Fan Fiction Story by Dragan Antulov ********************** I still don't know whether I had a bad feeling before it happened or not. Perhaps it was because I had them before, but usually nothing drastic ever happened. I was careful as usual, though. Checked my stuff, checked equipment, checked the surroundings and everything. "Why are you so nervous, man? It's not like we haven't done this before." Todd, my partner, was taking the role of my counselor, as usual. "It's good to be nervous," I answered, while locking my pick-up. Todd just grinned. He always did that when he hadn't got anything good to say. The grin remained on his face even when we knocked on the door of the motel room. "Open up, Raymond. It's us." The was opened by a tall guy I have never met before. He almost immediately noticed surprise on our faces and smiled in order to reassure us. "Raymond's in. He's waiting for you." Todd and I went in. There was Raymond, sitting in a sofa. At the small table was his usual equipment. Some gangsta rap video was playing at TV. "Hey guys. So nice to see you. I've been waiting for the whole afternoon." "Sorry. We were busy. Let's get this over with, so you can watch TV." "Relax, baby. While we are doing business, why don't enjoy some of my hospitality? Would you like a beer..." "No." I didn't like this. Raymond had offered us drinks before, but I never liked people who mix business with pleasure. "Or, perhaps, you would like something else?" Raymond snapped his fingers. Out of the blue, two girls entered from another room. One dark-haired, tall, Eurasian, nice face, big tits, long legs, short skirt. Another one somewhat shorter, red hair, big eyes that could be blue, gray or green. Anyway, in that moment I was rather too busy to be distracted by those details. "What the fuck those two bitches are doing here, Raymond?" "Hey, hey, where are your manners?" Todd picked the worst possible moment to play gentleman. "I apologize for my friends' rudeness. We had a rough day. I hope you ladies understand..." Eurasian just giggled and didn't mind when Todd grabbed her ass. Redhead just backed away, lucky that I didn't show particular interest. "Todd, knock it off. You'll get your dick amused after we finish this business." "You finish it, man. I have my hands full at the moment." "Suit, yourself, man," Raymond conceded with resignation almost as big as mine and turned attention to me. "You've got the goods?" "In the bag. You've got the money?" "Right here in the briefcase." That was enough. I emptied the bag. Eight little white plastic packages landed on the table. Raymond took one of them, made a little cut with his knife and emptied some of the white powder on the table. Than he made a small line and snorted. "Wow! Man, this is good! Tell King Ahmed that he always delivers good stuff!" Raymond's reaction was understandably enthusiastic. "Save the compliments for later! Now put all those bags on scales and give me the money!" "Okay, okay." Raymond quickly began to measure the weight of packages on the scales. The scales were electronic and the whole business was done quickly. "You are done, okay? Now give me the money!" Raymond opened the briefcase. It was the same as always, except... Something was wrong. Maybe the briefcase looked a little bit lighter than usual. In a split second I decided not to take any chances. I threw myself on the ground... "Todd! We have been set up..." The next thing I know, I am in this fucking room with four dead people and one crying whore. What the fuck is going on? This was supposed to be a simple drug deal. Todd and I hand over the goddamn smack and Raymond hands over the fucking money. What the fuck is so difficult about that? Stupid motherfucker, Raymond. Stupid. Why the hell did you pull out a gun instead of the money? Son of a bitch. Now look. I've blown your fucking face off, killed that pathetic sack of shit who slit Todd's throat, and I don't know whose stray bullet killed one of those two goddamn whores who didn't belong here in the first place. Goddamn you, you stupid motherfucker. I stood up and filled another clip. Silence, except for the sobs coming from the corner. Fuck. She was pretty, I'd give her that much, even crying. The redhead. She didn't look hurt, at least from the outside. "Hey, you... Are you okay?" No answer. I don't have time for this shit. I pulled her from the ground and slapped her. "Are you with me now?" "Y... y... yessss..." She stuttered. Good. "Listen to me. I didn't want this shit to happen. I'm sorry about your friend, but the cops will be here in a couple of minutes. I can't let you stay. Now, either you help me collect my shit and come with me, or I fucking kill you. Nod if you understand." She nodded. Smart girl. I helped her find her purse, and she helped me find all the dope packages. I shoved them back in my bag. Goddamn this fucking day. I looked in Raymond's briefcase. The money was there but only a fraction of what was supposed to be there. I took it anyway. It would be more enough to cover some of the unexpected expenses. Raymond was lying on the floor, dead as a goddamn doornail. I kicked the bastard. He couldn't feel it, but it made me feel better. Fucker. "O.K. Now come with me." We left the room. So far, there was no sign of cops or an ambulance. But I knew I would have to deal with them if I didn't leave this fucking place at once. We got in the pick-up, with her behind the wheel. That way I could keep pointing the gun at her. I didn't think that she would jump, but it's better to be safe than sorry. While we drove, she didn't say a word. I was silent too. We both needed some time to digest all the shit in that room few minutes before. And we both had to decide what to do. I still had the gun in my right hand, casually but unmistakably pointed towards her. "Where are we going?" She finally broke her silence. That was the question. I didn't want to kill her - I was already feeling bad, and this would just complicate the situation. At the very least, I needed some answers from her. I had to make some sense of what had happened, and she could easily help me. "I know a place. Motel." "You and your partner were supposed to spend night there, right?" She surprised me. This chick could read minds, despite the carnage she had witnessed. Real pro, able to get her shit together in no time. Too bad she couldn't read Raymond's mind when it mattered. "Yes. We booked two rooms. I booked two rooms in my name. You'll be in another one, being something like my alibi." She just smiled. "Alibi? What's in it for me?" I smiled back. "Life. The SWAT team headed for that apartment would shoot first, and ask questions later. If you lived, they'd pump you for information and when they figured out you didn't have any, they'd trump up some fucking charge and offer you a deal - either you do time or become their sexy little rat... At some point, you'd end up dead and they wouldn't give a shit. Comprende? Shit happens, especially to you, and of all your bad alternatives, sticking with me is best." She laughed. Quite an accomplishment after a massacre she had witnessed. "I gotta give you credit. You certainly know how to bullshit a girl. For a second, I forgot that you threatened to kill me." "Yeah, sorry about that. I was desperate to get your ass in gear. And given a choice between your ass and mine... yours may be pretty but mine is sweeter." We reached the motel and checked in. The receptionist didn't notice anything unusual. Or noticed but didn't care. Or pretended that he didn't notice traces of blood on my clothes. Whatever. I didn't care, as long as he kept his damn mouth shut. When we reached my room, I shoved her in. "Hey, you said two rooms?" She stumbled through the door. "Sorry, baby, change of plan. I need you in my sight, at least for a while." She didn't object. Instead she sat on the chair, looking tired. I checked out the bathroom. No windows. Fine, she couldn't escape from there. One less thing to worry about. "You can use the bathroom if you want. Don't worry, I won't peek." "Fine. A shower would do me good." She walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I took her place on the chair and listened to the sound of running water, thinking about her naked body in the shower. Okay, she wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but not too ugly either. All the right parts in the right places... You might say that she was beautiful in some way. I would bet some of her johns were regular. You know, in love or something. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when she burst out of the bathroom, wearing underwear and a worried look on her face. "Could you check my back? I think I'm hurt." I approached her and looked at her back. I noticed a small scratch. She was probably grazed by a bullet. "Nothing. Just a scratch. It'll heal in no time. I could get you some disinfectant or a band-aid if you insist." "Yeah?" And then it hit me. I think it was smelling her, seeing her bare skin so close... Seeing the letters tattooed at the base of her spine, just over her ass. Two letters: F.M. Not hard to miss that message, and my cock figured it out the same time my brain did. "Yeah." I grabbed her and stripped her of her panties in one move. My dick almost hurt from the blood throbbing in it. She wasn't as surprised as I thought she would be, almost like she was waiting for it. "On the bed... Now." She didn't resist. Nor would I care if she did. I grabbed her by her breast and pushed her towards bed. She fell on her belly. "Spread them. Wide." She obeyed, and even shoved a pillow underneath her, raising her ass high in the air. Her pussy was clean shaven, and wet, I could see. Though I've known a few hookers and seen their tricks. It could as easily be lube as desire. I didn't care. Shit, I could hardly think, never mind give a flying fuck about why she was wet. I unzipped my pants, freeing my aching cock. I was on all fours and slid into her. It was unbelievable. Her pussy so tight, hot, wet. "You like it, bitch, don't you?" "Yeah... Give it... Fuck me hard... Fuck me... Fuck me..." "I'll fuck you... I'll fuck you hard... I'll pound you until you drop..." To be honest, I don't know how it lasted. All I that know is she screamed and screamed, begged me not to stop, and bit the pillows... It could have been seconds, minutes, centuries... I don't know... All I know that after a while entire load of my balls suddenly found the way to her pussy... And I felt the weight of the entire world fall off my shoulders. I slid next to her. Maybe I passed out. I don't know. Next I remember I grabbed a cigarette from my jacket and lit it. She lay beside me. Cheek to cheek. Looking at me, with a look that may have meant a thousand things. Whoever said that women are an eternal mystery was right on target. "Baby... That was... Incredible... You fuck like a pro..." Those were the first words I could muster. She helped herself to a cigarette from my jacket. I lit it for her. "You aren't bad yourself..." "Yeah, right, like you don't say that to all the guys." She smacked me on the head, smiling. "No, I'm not kidding you. You were good. Yeah, sure, I admit I've had better. But not lately..." "I guess I should be proud... Such stiff competition..." She smacked me again. "You don't understand. I'm working part time these days. My real job is stripping." That explained the tattoo and the shaved pussy. "Okay. Whatever. But how the fuck did you end up with Raymond and his boy toy? I know the creep. He's not all that refined in his choice of entertainment. Preferred street material, if you know what I mean." "I guess Lou Anne..." Her voice faded and she frowned. "Lou Anne and me were approached by that tall guy. I think his name was Tony or something. He offered fifteen hundred bucks for a one night deal. He promised more if we were good." "You would get shit. Probably get wasted, like he planned for Todd and me. Raymond didn't have that grand and a half. That's why all that motherfucking shit happened in the first place. And even if he had all the money, he would have killed you anyway. I know the motherfucker. Or, to be precise, I knew him. I'm sorry that your friend didn't make it, but that's life. If you weren't so lucky, you'd be a toast too." She was about to cry, I could tell. "I'm sorry... I... I guess two of you were..." "It's not what you think..." Her sadness suddenly turned to anger. "We were just good friends. Yes, we did couple of lesbian shows, but that was strictly business. You know why we were together, why we agreed to go to that shitty motel? She knew some guy in Los Angeles, a porn producer. He was supposed to get us into movies, but only if we had boob jobs first. And it costs money." I changed the subject. "No shit. Let me see them." She removed her bra. I saw them bare, up close and personal, for the first time. They weren't big, but it didn't matter to me. They were as pretty as anyone else's. I'm not a tit man anyway. "That porn producer of yours is an asshole. They are fine as they are. You would ruin your body... For what? You would never make the same money Demi Moore does." Continued in Part 2 -- "Actually... You don't make that much money on the porn itself, but it helps you when you are on the dance circuit... But, you are right... Something inside told me that getting into porn wasn't such a good idea... I only don't know what..." "Yeah." I watched her eyes. Man, she looked beautiful at that moment. "So what about you? Where'd you get so comfortable with guns? Military?" "No. My old man. Boy scout of the old guard. `Be prepared' and all that shit. Russian invasion, burglars, nuclear holocaust, whatever..." "Old guard? I guess he got disappointed when you ran into trouble. How much time did you do?" "How did you know that I..." I was going to ask her, but I knew her devilish smile was the only answer I would get. "Four years." "I guess that's why you like doing it doggy style. Brings back sweet memories, does it?" If anybody else had said those words, he would be forced to swallow his teeth in a second. But this time, I just grinned. "No. It's not like that. I just like it that way. Anyway, that's how nature wants us to have babies. I guess you like taking it from behind, too." "Actually, sometimes it helps when you don't need to watch their ugly faces." "Hell, I know I'm no Brad Pitt, but ugly?" "No. You look O.K." She put fingers through my beard. I liked that. "But, you probably wouldn't trust me when I tell you. You would think that this whole thing was strictly business. You would think that I just want to save my own ass by bullshiting you, right? You must have done some bad thing to someone to get four years." "Ten. I did four. And, you know what? I did it because I did the right thing in the first place... Or, at least, something that looked like the right thing at the time... You really want to hear the sad story of my life?" She just nodded. "Believe it or not, I had a life and future before all this drug dealing shit. I was the good papa's boy. Going to college, trying not to let my father down, just like everyone else. Most of us, anyway... I was a freshman, and things just happened. I met a girl and... Next thing I know she's pregnant. She wanted money for an abortion... But I, good Catholic boy that I was, wanted to do the right thing. Take responsibility. I'm not sorry about the kid, but..." "You married her, right?" "Yeah. I wanted it to work, I really did. But, she was... You know that saying about kids having kids? We weren't ready to cope with life. At least she wasn't, at the time. Let's say that she liked to party, baby or no baby, husband or no husband... One day we go to the campus bar, and her latest fuckboy, drunk out of his mind, starts talking shit... I tried to be calm, but, fuck it, everyone has his limits... I guess it was my Irish temper... Next thing I know, half the people in the bar are all over me... Somehow, in the brawl, I managed to crash someone's skull.. And it turned out that the guy was nephew of some local bigwig. The investigation and trial were a raw deal from the start. The cops planted amphetamines in my room, and the D.A. was an ass-kissing politico pushing some 'equal treatment for everyone' bullshit to his constituency by hammering down on spoiled college kids. And my defense counsel was some young green public defender who couldn't spring his own mother from jail for jaywalking. You can guess the rest..." "I can guess. Jail. Bye bye college and career. So long, future. Hasta la vista, pussy for the next four years." "Got it in one. And you know what happens to college boys like me in slammer... I had three options. Either be someone's bitch, or someone's muscle, or someone's mule. I didn't want to be a bitch, I already fucked up as muscle, so... I was a mule, and I'm still doing that shit. I'm out but I owed King Ahmed and his crew some money, so... I work till I pay my debts." "Must be hard..." She was making impromptu ashtray out of cigarette box. I liked that. She might have been a whore, but she had manners. "You know what was the hardest? My family. My fucking folks gave up on me. I simply didn't exist. I turned into the `uncle nobody talks about'. My father didn't even want to pay for my defense. He said `You were big enough to make that girl pregnant. You were big enough to marry her. You were big enough to kill another man. I guess you are big enough to get out of this mess by yourself' and that was the last I heard from him. They didn't even let me attend his funeral... And my wife, of course, she left me, remarried. I haven't seen my son in years." "That makes two of us..." Her voice was suddenly melancholic. "You've got kids too?" "Twin daughters. I gave them up for adoption years ago. I still hate myself for it, but it was a good decision at the time... Most of the money I earned then went to drugs, and the rest to a detox." "Oh, shit, don't tell me..." I never did it with a fucking druggie. And to make it even worse, stupid horny asshole I was, I forgot to wear a rubber. I knew that it didn't mean that I would get it, but a woman in her line of work... "Don't worry. It was only coke and I've been clean ever since. If I weren't, you would know sooner and later." I stroke her hair. My god, she was beautiful. I simply couldn't imagine her as a cokehead. "Those letters on your back... Are there...?" "You think they are named after my daughters? Maybe. I don't remember. I was so fucking drugged out of my mind when I had them. Most of the time I just think that there are two cool initials. For some stupid reasons I simply couldn't get them out of my head. Most of people think that they mean `Fuck Me' but I don't think so. Those initials must mean something... Something or someone important in my life... Maybe the prince charming who will get me out of this shit..." "I'm not prince charming, you know..." "Speaking of you, what are you going to do with me, or with the cash?" "I don't know. The drugs go back to King Ahmed. He won't be happy, and I'll probably have to watch my ass... I did everything right, but so much blood brings too much attention. As for the cash, I'll keep it... You can have some, if you want. It's not your fault you got caught up in all this." She smiled again. "You mean, I was that good?" I nodded and smiled. She didn't seem too impressed. "Well, you can keep it all. This one was on the house. Besides, you say that you saved my ass. I guess you deserve a piece of it." I didn't smile this time. "No. You take it. Perhaps you don't need it now, but, maybe, in a couple of days, or, or whenever, you'll need it. Every penny. It's too late for me to ever see my son again. By the time I get my shit together enough, he'll be a grown man. He would hate me, for everything. People forgive their mothers. They don't forgive their fathers. You still have a chance... I'll simply feel better if you take it... At least, think of your folks..." "My folks are dead." Silence. I could feel the anger pouring off her. "They died a long time ago. At least you have some family. I have nothing. My folks were poor farmers in Nebraska. When I was eight, a tornado struck our house. They all got killed. All my family. I barely lived and I still can't remember my life before it. After that it was one orphanage, foster home, reform school after another and, finally, one street corner after another. And I've been on the streets ever since." "Oh, shit, I didn't mean..." What the hell has come over me? A few hours ago I called her a bitch, and now I'm apologizing for hurting her feelings. I'd heard a whole lot of sad stories during past few years, but I never cared much. Why am I suddenly getting so soft? It's a strange world indeed. "Forget it, no harm done. It was just an ugly time. I'm still a little touchy about it. Sorry, it's been a long day." "Yeah. I noticed. You look so cool that I keep forgetting you were put through some serious shit few hours ago..." "You know what? It's not the scariest thing that has happened to me." Her lips twisted in a weird half-smile and she glanced at me quickly, as if to see if I were really listening. I was. "You know what was the scariest thing?" I raised my eyebrows, curious. She looked okay now. "A year or year and a half ago, I don't quite remember, I went to Washington. Some of the girls told me that there was a good money to be made. On I-95, on the crossroads at night. You see, all the big bosses - senators, congressmen, lobbyists and other big shots - you know, they were suddenly spooked after that thing with Dick Morris and the call girl. But they all still needed some pussy, right? So what happened? They suddenly stopped going to their regular squeezes and hit the streets for tail. And the money was great. One of those rich and powerful big shot bastards was worth ten or a hundred regular johns." She was just getting warmed up with this story, I could tell. Her hands started out just twitching but soon enough she was waving them around to emphasize her words. "Yeah. One night I'm out there when some old dude drives up. Looked like one of these big shots, no way in hell he was a vice cop. I've been busted enough to see them coming a mile away. Anyway, he asked me if I would do something special, some role playing for his son. I was supposed to pretend to be his long lost sister. Fucking whacko." I winced. I've seen some shit and heard stories about some really bizarre shit, but that was gross even for me. She noticed, but that didn't stop her. "O.K. I know. But the money was good and it was all just fantasy. I did it all the time - you know, teachers, nurses, I even took some French courses on tape for a French chambermaid role, but... Anyway, that son was seriously fucked in the head." I was hooked and she certainly knew how to reel me in. She seemed so spooked, though. If it was all an act, she had a future in Hollywood, porn or no porn. "Anyway, he gave me some clothes to wear and instructions about what to say and what not to say," she continued. "And I had to meet that whacko son of his in some diner. Fox. Who the hell names their kid 'Fox'? Then I figured it out, it wasn't his son at all but his boyfriend. That's what the 'fox' was about. You know what I mean. Those two sick faggots wanted me in their pervert little games." "But, when I got to that diner and saw my supposed long-lost brother... Man, I have seen whackos and really sick people in my life, but that... I mean, on the outside, he looked okay. He was even handsome in a way... " "I launched into my spiel, like the old man told me to, doing my job. And then, this prick starts telling me his sob story but suddenly it isn't a game anymore. He really believes that I'm his sister. He wants to bring me to his mother, but the old dude had told me that his mom was dead... Then it dawns on me that I might be in over my head. I mean, who knows what the hell these two were up to? For all I know, this nutcase raped his sister and the other guy hired me to torment him. Or help him repeat the experience.... Whatever. It freaked me out, I just wanted to get the hell out of there. Then he grabs my hand, wants me to stay..." I saw her shivering and sat up to put my arms around her. She was shivering. I sat up too, and hugged her. "It's okay. You don't have to talk about it..." "No." She looked me in the eyes. "I'd rather finish. The whole thing just freaked me out. I started begging him to let me go. I think I even mentioned that I had kids I needed to get back to, anything to get out of there." "Listen, if you don't want... Do you want a drink?" "No." Her voice was confident again. "He let go of my arm. I thought about running, but the old geezer was waiting outside. I got in his car and we drove for a while. I thought the other one was creepy, but it turned out he had nothing on this one. He knew some shit about me he had no business knowing and I don't know how he knew. Then he dropped me off at my motel and told me to wait for him the next day. Yeah, right. No fucking way." "Wow! That's one helluva horror story." I tried to be cheerful. Not to degrade her, only to release her tension."I guess you don't like whackos. You probably wouldn't trade places with my sister." "Your sister? Is she a shrink?" "No. Something even wilder. Promise me that you won't laugh when I tell you." She smiled again. "I won't." "She's a fucking FBI agent." "No shit?" She giggled anyway, but I didn't blame her. "Why are you so surprised? My other brother is Navy officer. I was supposed to be something like that too. They simply made it. I didn't." "That explains why they are so embarrassed. And what does your sister think of your career? I mean, do you worry that the two of you would meet on a professional basis one day?" "I'm more concerned about King Ahmed and his boys finding out that their man has an FBI connection. While, on the other hand... My sister already knows about the kind of people I hang out with. She hates them. Some Hispanic burglar killed my older sister few years ago. But I don't think I'll have to worry about her. At least, not for now." She looked like she believed me. At least some of the stuff I was telling her. "What do you mean, `for now'?" "Technically I'm in her jurisdiction, but it's not her field of work. Bill, my brother who is Navy officer and the only family I speak to, told me that she's chasing serial killers, rapists, psychos and similar kooks from some basement office in Washington." "Must be hard." "Yeah. But the weirdest whacko of them all is her boss. Some motherfucking profiler that actually believes in UFOs, conspiracies and all that paranormal shit. The man is the laughing stock of the whole Bureau and anyone still working with him can kiss his or her career goodbye. At least that's what Bill tells me. But I don't believe him. He exaggerates things. Her boss is perhaps a little bit spooky, but anyone who does that shit for a living must be spooky too." "Same as us." I grinned a little. I never considered myself "spooky". This girl, on the other hand... "Us? Yeah. You know what the funny thing is about my sister? My brother calls her a loser. Her of all the people in the world. She was always a winner in everything. Top of her class in kindergarten, in high school, finished college and go her degree so young. A real child prodigy. If she had stuck with a career in medicine, she would be Surgeon General by now. And this thing with the FBI looked promising. But now she's stuck in that basement with the..." "Perhaps she's got some personal reasons to stay in that. Maybe she loves that boss of hers..." "Ah, love." I almost laughed. "Enough already about my family. I don't want to talk about them anymore. How about you and me?" "You mean like this?" She kissed me for the first time, and I liked it enough to kiss her back. Then I started to undress, tired after a long fucked-up day. "I don't know. I mean... Nothing steady. You are a good lay and good company. I like you very much. I thought... Why don't you stick around for a couple of days, hang out for a while, see what happens next. What do we have to lose?" She helped me undress. My gun, the only reason she was supposedly staying with me was lying on the floor, forgotten. "I don't know. But I guess... You'll have to take my work into account..." "I don't mind if you strip, or even if you get back in the game occasionally. I learned my lesson. How you make money is your business. I'm still dealing. At least for a while... Besides, we could watch each other's asses. We're good at that anyway. Who knows, maybe we'll both get our shit together, and we'll see our kids..." She looked at me, doubt and hope warring in her eyes. But she was definitely listening to me. She nodded slowly and I felt like the most important guy in the world. "We'll think about it in the morning." I lay down. I was tired, just falling asleep when it dawned on me. "It must be love, baby." "Yeah, right." But she smiled and kissed my throat, my collarbone, and worked her way down my body. I reconsidered going to sleep. What a day. Life is certainly full of surprises. Good and bad piled up on each other and you can never be sure what the next day, hour or even minute would be like. Yes, I'll think about it in the morning. THE END AUTHOR'S NOTES: I admit that the additional motivation for writing this story was labelling controversy, caused by the results of 1998 Spooky vote. Some readers might feel cheated, but, technically, this story is really Mulder/Scully romance... On the other hand, some purists might take comfort in the hints implied in the last paragraphs. But actual inspiration for this story was a British TV-movie "Brotherly Love" in the "Cracker" series. In one scene, one of the characters, Detective Inspector Penhaligon, is dressed like street hooker in order to catch serial killer. Geraldine Sommerville, actress playing the detective, has a lot of resemblance with Megan Leitch, actress playing Samantha, and the way she looked in that scene was almost the same the way Samantha looked in "Redux II". I was never too enthusiastic about "Gethsemane/Redux" trilogy, and even some of those who liked it, express disatisfaction with that infamous diner scene. So, this story was also a way to tie some of the loose ends. Comments are welcome at dragan.antulov@st.tel.hr You can also visit my XF fanfic at http://www.purger.com/drax/draxsfan.htm -- Dragan Antulov a.k.a. Drax Fido: 2:381/100 E-mail: dragan.antulov@st.tel.hr E-mail: dragan.antulov@altbbs.fido.hr E-mail: drax@purger.com