From: drewjen@v-wave.com Date: Sun, 09 Aug 1998 21:46:29 -0600 Subject: New Story: The Final Straw (Part 1/2) Title: Final Straw, The (1/2) Author: Margreta E-mail address: drewjen@v-wave.com Rating: PG Category: T, S, A Spoilers: None Keywords: None Summary: An explosion at her apartment and the appearance of a woman from Mulder's past that she didn't know existed force Scully to make some tough decisions. Disclaimer: I love these characters, I'm addicted to these characters, but I do not own these characters (except Agent Carstairs and Barbara). They belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Only borrowing them, intending to return them (relatively) unharmed. No financial gains are being made from this little venture. Dana Scully swore as one of her precariously balanced bags of groceries slipped out of her arms and crashed to the floor outside her apartment. "Dammit", she muttered, fishing out her keys and unlocking the door. She headed for the kitchen table and set the rest of the bags down, then went back to get the first one, pausing to play back the messages on her answering machine as she went by. "You have zero messages", the automated voice said, and Scully glared at the machine. "Of course I have no messages. I have no life," she said. She grabbed the kettle off the counter, filled it with water, and plugged it in to begin making tea. Heading for her bedroom, she kicked off her shoes and began unbuttoning her suit jacket and blouse. She grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of jeans from her closet, tossed her work clothes into the hamper, and got dressed, then went back out to put the groceries away. Just as Scully finished putting the last item into the cupboard, the kettle began to whistle, and she unplugged it quickly. She filled the tea pot with water, added a tea bag, and set it on the stove to steep. She got out a cup, plate, and spoon and set them on the table, then pondered what she would have to eat for supper. Opening the fridge, she glanced about dejectedly. Nothing appealed to her. She shoved a few things aside, and then realized what she had forgotten to buy. Milk. Sighing, she stared hard at the tea pot for a minute, pondering whether or not to go back down to the 7-11 and grab a carton of milk. She was really craving that cup of tea. It had been a long week at the office - nothing but boring expense accounts to fill out and reports to write. Finally, it was Friday, and she was ready for some down time. Deciding that she had to have milk for her tea, Scully went to her purse, took out a couple of dollars, and headed back down the stairs to the convenience store. As she was waiting to cross the street, there was suddenly a huge explosion, and the last thing Scully remembered was the feeling of intense heat on her back as she was thrown to the concrete. Fox Mulder glanced quickly out the window of his car as he steered it up as close as he could get to the fire engines parked on the street. He leaped out of the car and stared at the charred remains of what had once been a six story walk-up. Smoke was still billowing from the holes that had been ripped open by the force of the explosion, and he could hear the creaking and groaning of the walls and floors within as they struggled under their reduced support. Debris were scattered all over the lawn and street. Mulder gulped as he slowly absorbed the destruction, and then he began running up to the building, brushing roughly past firemen, paramedics, and the bystanders who had began to gather as soon as they had heard the explosion. "Whoa, where do you think you're going in such a hurry?" a tall, burly fireman said, catching Mulder by the arm and jerking him to a halt. "Agent Mulder. FBI," said Mulder, shoving his badge in the man's face. "My partner lives in this building." "Oh, sorry, Agent Mulder. I'm Chief Parker. I think we pulled everybody out of the building, and some of them have already been taken to the hospital. Can you describe your partner?" "She's about five feet two inches, kind of short red hair, thin, lives in 4C" - Mulder was cut off by a loud voice. "Agent Mulder, she's over here." Glancing beyond the fire chief, Mulder saw the familiar face of Assistant Director Walter Skinner, and he rushed over to where he stood. "Sir, is she" - but Skinner raised his hand and pointed. "Over there, the paramedics are tending to her." Mulder hurried over to an ambulance, craning his neck to see if he could spot his partner. Finally, he saw her small outline against the background of the spotlights that had been set up to help in the search for victims, sitting on a gurney while someone was wiping her forehead with a gauze. He ran over to her. "Jesus, Scully," he breathed, and she glanced up at hearing her name. Looking into his eyes, she smiled slightly. "It's OK, Mulder," she reassured him. "I'm not hurt too badly." "Ma'am, you need to turn towards me so I can put a bandage on this," the paramedic said, and she turned back to face him. "I was outside the building when it happened. I have a few lacerations on my head, hands, and knees, and I'll probably have to have a CAT scan since I was knocked unconscious by the blast, but there's no permanent damage. I'm fine." Mulder stared hard at her as the paramedic applied the bandage. She had a few scrapes and bruises on her face, and the nasty gash to her forehead that was being covered, but other than that she did seem to be alright. He allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He wanted to go and give her a hug, as much to comfort her as himself, but she was staring straight ahead, and he could tell by her posture that she didn't need (want?) to be fussed over anymore than was necessary. "She never did, it seemed," Mulder thought to himself. "OK, I've done all I can here," the paramedic said, stepping back. "Let's get you strapped into this thing for the ride to the hospital." He gently held out his arm to support her as she turned around to lie down on the bed. Mulder saw her grimace in pain as she slowly sank down onto the gurney, digging her fingers briefly into the paramedic's arm, then letting go and looking up at him, smiling a small "Thank-you" before closing her eyes. "Why didn't she ever accept my help as easily as she had this stranger's," Mulder thought before he could stop himself. Of course, she was probably stiffening up from the impact, he realized, and she was probably too tired not to accept anyone's help at this point, but it still bothered him. "I'll see you at the hospital, Mulder?" Scully asked, her eyes still closed as she was wheeled away. "Of course," said Mulder. "Don't worry." He watched as she was loaded into the ambulance and it pulled away, then turned and headed back towards Skinner. "Sir, I've got every available person combing this building looking for clues. We'll know soon enough what happened. So far, I can tell you this was no accident. No gas leak or faulty wiring could generate this kind of explosion and cause this much damage to a building that size." A man Mulder recognized as Agent Carstairs, one of the FBI's most highly ranked fire experts, was talking to Skinner. "Wait a minute. Are you suggesting that someone set off a bomb here?" Mulder interrupted. Skinner held up a hand. "Let's not jump to conclusions here, Agent Mulder. Let Agent Carstairs and his people finish their investigation. We don't want to set off a panic unless we're absolutely sure of what occurred here tonight. OK?" He glared at Mulder before asking, "How is Agent Scully?". "She's on her way to the hospital. I'm heading over to be with her." "Good. Tell her," the Assistant Director hesitated. "Tell her I'm glad she's alright. She can have as much time off as she needs." "Yes sir," Mulder said, then went to his car and drove to the hospital. Mulder had been waiting impatiently at the hospital for three hours without even seeing Scully, and he was getting more and more restless. His mind kept going over Agent Carstair's words. "No gas leak or faulty wiring could generate this kind of explosion..." What did that mean? Was someone out to hurt, or possibly even kill, Scully? His paranoid mind refused to let that thought go. Why not come after him then? Maybe they thought they'd get both of them in one shot. They who? Mulder's thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a young nurse standing in front of him. He stood up. "Sir, are you waiting for Dana Scully?" she asked. Mulder nodded. "She'll be out in a few minutes." "Thank-you," Mulder said, and sat back down. Five minutes later, another nurse brought Scully out in a wheel chair. Mulder stepped over to them. "Hi," he said. "How ya doin'?" "I've been better," Scully said. She turned to the nurse. "Do you think you could let me walk from here?" she asked. The nurse pursed her lips and shook her head. "Sorry, hospital policy. Gotta wheel you right to the door." Scully sighed, slightly irritated, but, Mulder noted, not as irritated as she could have been. He thought he detected a sense of relief that she didn't have to walk all the way out to the car, and he again realized that she was probably more hurt than she was letting on. They made their way to the front doors, and Mulder went to bring up the car while the nurse waited with Scully. As he pulled up, the nurse helped Scully out of the chair. "Thanks," Scully smiled at her, then turned to Mulder as he made his way over to her. She took a few steps forward, then stopped and frowned. "I also have a cracked rib and a very bruised shoulder, as well as being extremely stiff from hitting the cement so hard, so don't expect me to run any marathons with you in the next little while," she said. "That's OK, you couldn't keep up with me if I had one leg tied behind my back," he joked. Scully began to walk forward, and Mulder tentatively positioned his arm behind her, not quite touching her back, but close enough that she felt the brush of his sleeve against her shirt. They made their way to the car, and she slowly got in. When Mulder was sure she had her seatbelt secure, he shut the door, then went around to his side and got in. Scully leaned her head back and shut her eyes. They drove in silence. When Mulder finally pulled the car to a stop, Scully opened her eyes. She registered no surprise at being outside Mulder's apartment building. After all, where else would she go? Her mother was visiting her brother, Bill Jr. and Mulder had already called her to tell her what had happened and reassure her that her daughter was fine. Mulder helped her out of the car, and they slowly made their way into the building. "Good thing I've got an elevator, or I'd have to carry you up all those stairs," Mulder said. Scully smiled tightly. "Yeah, good thing," she replied. They made it into the apartment. Mulder shoved some papers off his couch to make room for them both to sit down. "So, does anybody know what happened yet?" Scully asked. "Was it a gas leak? I didn't smell anything when I got home, but I was only in the apartment for a minute before I left again." "They're not sure. They're still investigating." Mulder didn't tell her what Agent Carstairs had said. No point in getting her upset for no reason. "Was anyone killed?" Scully asked softly. "Nine people, at last count. They were still searching the building when I left." Scully closed her eyes. "I've lived there for seven years, you know. I know most of the people on my floor." "I know," Mulder nodded. "Why did you go out?" "I was making tea, and I didn't have any milk, so I was just running across the street to buy some, when I heard this huge bang, and then I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the cement, with the building on fire behind me. I tried to get up and go back, but I must have passed out again, because the next thing I knew there was a fireman carrying me over to an ambulance." She was silent for a few minutes. Mulder watched her closely. She had been given some painkillers for her sore ribs, but he could see it hurt to breathe too deeply. She looked exhausted, and he was about to suggest that she go lay down in his bedroom, when she turned to him and asked, "Do you think I could take a shower? I think it might loosen up some of the stiffness." "Sure, no problem", Mulder said, getting up off the couch. "I'll go get you a clean towel." Scully got up more slowly and followed him down the hallway. "Mulder?" she asked quietly. "Do you have some clothes I could borrow to sleep in? I think these are ready for the garbage." She gestured at her clothing, which was rumpled and had several tears from the rough concrete. Mulder turned to her in surprise. "Yeah, sure." He walked to his bedroom and began rummaging around. "Umm, let's see." He picked a T-shirt up off the floor, held it to his nose, then quickly dropped it. "Nope, not this one." He moved around the room, picking up various items of clothing, then discarding them over his shoulder. Scully watched from the doorway, an amused look on her face. "Have you ever heard of a laundry hamper, Mulder?" she asked. He looked at her, confused, then shrugged, holding up a pair of grey sweat pants and a New York Knicks T-shirt. "OK, these are my last offer. There are no offensive odors that I can detect, so they must be fairly clean." He brought them over to her. She gingerly took the clothes and walked back to the bathroom. "Don't lock the door," he warned her, and she turned to glare at him. "What if you fall down or need help and I can't get in?" he asked innocently. She sighed audibly. "Just don't try to sneak in here to "check up on me", or you'll get a bar of soap in the face." "Aw Scully, you're no fun," he whined as she shut the door behind her. Scully carefully began taking off her clothes, wincing as the fabric rubbed against her raw skin. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning to the side so she could get a good look at the bruise on her shoulder. It went half way down her left arm, and was already a sickly greenish-yellow color. She tried to rotate her arm, but it hurt too much. "Well, this is going to be a challenge," she muttered to herself as she turned on the hot water, testing it to get the right temperature before stepping in. The feel of the water running down her back relaxed her somewhat, and she leaned her forehead against the shower wall, letting the water ease the tightness in her sore muscles. She stayed that way, with her eyes closed, for a long time, until she realized she was about to fall asleep standing up in the shower. "Then Mulder would be in his glory, rescuing me from the floor of his shower," she thought ruefully. Without lifting her head, she turned off the water, then reached around the corner of the shower to grab the towel she had hung within easy reach. She carefully dried herself off, then stepped out into the bathroom to put on Mulder's clothes. The cold air made her shiver, and she quickly grabbed the T-shirt, pulling it over her head. For some reason, she looked up at the mirror, studying her reflection=2E The T-shirt was way too big for her, it hung halfway down to her knees, but she liked the way it looked on her. She took a handful of the material and brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply. She could faintly smell Mulder's after shave, and it made her smile. She noticed that her bare legs looked pretty good below the T-shirt, but she couldn't walk out of the bathroom like this. Mulder would probably make a smart comment and stare at her all night, and she was too modest to allow herself to do it, so she pulled on the sweatpants. They were also way too big for her, and she had to roll up the legs and fold over the waist a couple of times so she wouldn't trip on them when she walked. Glancing around the bathroom, she looked for a comb or brush for her hair, but found nothing. She opened the door and walked out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. "Wow, good look for you, Scully", Mulder whistled, as she walked towards the living room, absentmindedly raking her fingers through her hair to get out the tangles. "Yeah, thanks a lot", Scully said, carefully settling down onto the couch beside Mulder. "Feel better?" he asked. She nodded her head, still finger brushing her hair. Her head was turned to the side, so she couldn't see his face, and Mulder could watch the hypnotic motion of her small fingers as they slowly went up and down, working out the tangles. His eyes followed their motion, and he had to fight the impulse to reach out and run his own fingers through her soft hair. "Oh, that water felt so good," Scully sighed, suddenly turning towards him. She paused when she saw the look in his eyes, and he quickly tore his gaze away from her, jumping up off the couch. "I - I made you some tea," he said quickly, going into the kitchen. He returned with the tea pot and a mug and set them down on the coffee table in front of her. "I even have milk." Scully smiled gratefully at him. "I didn't even know you owned a tea pot, Mulder," she said, pouring the tea into the mug and adding the milk. She took a sip and closed her eyes, sighing. "Mmmm, that tastes so good. If you had a comb, and maybe something to munch on...." she hinted. Mulder smiled and went into the bedroom to grab his comb. He almost asked her if he could be the one to comb her hair, but thought better of it at the last second. He turned and went into the kitchen. "I have Ritz crackers," he said, coming back out. "And that's it". "They'll do fine," Scully said, taking the box from him and popping one in her mouth. She settled back into the couch, sipping her tea and eating the crackers, her hair abandoned in a damp, half-combed, half-tousled look. "Want some?" she asked, holding the box out to Mulder. He shook his head. Scully finished off the first cup of tea and poured another one. They sat silently beside each other for a while, Scully munching on crackers and drinking tea, Mulder frantically running through the names of every enemy they'd ever made in their six years of working together on the X-files, trying to weed out as many suspects as possible. He'd made it as far as the P's (Donnie Pfaster, who could forget him?) when he happened to glance up and notice that Scully had fallen asleep, the now-empty box of crackers discarded at her side. Her face was turned towards him, her mouth slightly open, and he watched her tenderly as she breathed in and out. Slipping into protector mode, Mulder realized how close he'd come to losing her that night, and he felt anger begin to boil in the pit of his stomach at whoever was responsible for nearly destroying their lives. He reached over to take the mug from the loose grasp of her hands in her lap when the phone suddenly rang, startling Scully awake. Her eyes opened wide to meet Mulder's gaze, his hand hovering in mid-air somewhere in the vicinity of her chest. He quickly shifted positions, turning his body to the opposite side of the couch, where the phone sat. "Mulder," he answered, settling back. "Yes, sir, she's here now." His head turned toward Scully and his eyes held hers as he listened to the voice on the other end. He nodded a few times but said nothing more. Scully watched him watching her, her heart beginning to pound at the intense look in Mulder's eyes. He continued to say nothing, but she could read his eyes, and she knew what he was hearing was not good news. "Yes, I understand. Thank-you, sir." Mulder broke their gaze to put the phone back down, and he refused to look back up at her. "Mulder, was that Skinner?" Scully asked quietly. He said nothing. "What did he tell you?" Silence. "Mulder," she said sharply, and he looked up. "What did Skinner say?" Mulder took a deep breath. "The explosion tonight wasn't a gas leak. They found some remnants of an incendiary device at the scene." He paused at her gasp. "A bomb? Where?" Mulder looked down at his hands. "Mulder, where was the bomb?" she demanded. He raised his gaze once more to meet hers, and said, "In your apartment." He reached over to take her hands in his, but she wrenched them away from him. "In my apartment," she repeated in a hushed voice. "Oh, my God." Mulder sensed the panic in her voice, and leaned towards her, but she moved away from him, sliding to the opposite end of the couch. "Oh, my God, those people are dead because of me. Nine people are dead tonight because of me." "No, Scully, not because of you, because of someone else trying to kill you." Mulder tried to calm her, but she had gotten up off the couch and was standing awkwardly at its end, a look of horror on her face. "But if I had lived in a house, nobody would have gotten hurt except me. Those people would be alive if I hadn't lived in that apartment building. It's my fault." Her hands flew to her face, and she had to desperately fight back the tears that threatened to leak out. She looked at Mulder over the tips of her fingers. He was shaking his head. "Scully, listen to me. How can it be your fault? You're as much a victim as anyone else in that building. You don't control other people's actions. You can't predict what someone else is going to do. Somebody tried to kill you tonight, and we have to figure out who that person is, so they can be punished for those people's deaths. You are not to blame for this, do you hear me?" Mulder's voice was rough. He got up off the couch and stepped towards her. "Look at me, Scully," he demanded. She blinked her eyes rapidly, her hands still covering her mouth. Mulder gently put his hands on the sides of her arms. "It is not your fault," he repeated softly. Her eyes didn't leave his face. "OK?" Scully nodded slowly. "I think I need to go lie down," she whispered. Mulder dropped his hands from her arms. "Sure, you can take my bed. It's not like I ever use it." Without another word, Scully turned from him and walked into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She dropped down onto the bed, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. Grasping the covers, she lay back, curling onto her side and pulling the covers up around her. Her mind was whirling. Explosion. Fire. Death. Bomb. Her fault. The last one she couldn't get rid of. Despite what Mulder had said, she knew in her heart that it was at least partially her fault. She should have lived in a house, or out on an acreage somewhere, away from people that could get hurt. People were always getting hurt because of her. Her sister. Melissa had been shot to death in a mistaken attempt on her life. Her mom. How many times had she been called out to the hospital because of her? Mulder. How many sleepless nights had he spent looking for her when she had gone missing? How many times had he been by her side at the hospital? Her eyes welled up with tears once more, and this time she let them fall. She buried her face in the pillow to muffle her sobs, and again inhaled the comforting scent of Mulder, but it only served to make her cry even harder. The television was on, but Mulder wasn't paying much attention to it. He was thinking about Scully, and the look on her face before she had turned away from him and gone into the bedroom. He knew she hadn't taken what he'd said seriously. She was beating herself up for something that she had no control over, because that's the way she was. Shouldering the weight of the world, refusing to budge or let someone else carry the burden for a while. She always felt she had to be the responsible one. Of course, from the way he acted, Mulder couldn't really blame her for feeling that way. Responsibility, Fox Mulder? Not on your life. Not unless it served his purpose. How many times had he ditched her, left her to clean up his messes? Too many to even mention. No wonder she blamed herself for this. She was so used to taking the blame for his actions, she had started to accept blame for everything that went wrong, whether she even had anything to do with it or not. God, he was an asshole. How could he let her get like this? Well, he vowed, this time I'm going to take on the responsibility of catching whoever was behind this attempt on Scully's life and make them pay for those nine deaths. Then she would have somewhere legitimate to lay the blame, and maybe be able to let herself off the hook. Mulder took a deep breath and stood up. It had been a couple of hours since Scully had gone to bed. He walked over to the door of his room and listened. No sounds. Quietly, he eased open the door and looked in. He could see the outline of her body below the covers, only the top of her head was visible, her red hair a sharp contrast to the white pillow. Mulder tiptoed closer. She was sleeping, her breathing calm and even, but he could see track marks down her cheeks from the tears. "Oh, Scully," he breathed, wanting to reach out and touch her cheek, but he stopped himself. "Stop beating yourself up over things you have no control over. Put the blame where it belongs. I'll catch this guy, and then you can lay it all out on him." Mulder watched her sleep for another minute, then turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. He settled back down on the couch and flicked to the sports channel, but his thoughts, and eventually his dreams, were all focused on catching the person who made Scully suffer so much. End Part 1/2 From: drewjen@v-wave.com Date: Sun, 09 Aug 1998 21:47:46 -0600 Subject: New Story: The Final Straw (2/2) Title: Final Straw, The (2/2) Author: Margreta E-mail address: drewjen@v-wave.com Rating: PG Category: T, S, A Spoilers: None Keywords: None Summary: An explosion at her apartment and the appearance of a woman from Mulder's past that she didn't know existed force Scully to make some tough decisions. Disclaimer: I love these characters, I'm addicted to these characters, but I do not own these characters (except Agent Carstairs and Barbara). They belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Only borrowing them, intending to return them (relatively) unharmed. No financial gains are being made from this little venture. When Scully awoke the next morning, she couldn't figure out where she was, until she tried to roll over. The pain in her body quickly brought her memory back. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, allowing the comfort of the bed (Mulder's bed) to shield her from the pain of the outside world. She couldn't hear any noises in the apartment, so she decided Mulder was either still asleep, or he had already left for the office=2E Looking at the clock and seeing it was already ten a.m. she decided on the latter. Groaning, she forced herself to get out of bed. Her shoulder had stiffened up during the night, and her ribs were aching, but she decided she wasn't too badly off considering the loud grumbling noises coming from her stomach. "Fine, fine, I'm going," she muttered, stepping out of the bedroom. She shuffled her way to the kitchen, glancing in a mirror as she passed by. Her hair, having still been damp when she fell asleep the night before, was sticking straight out from her head in strange angles, and her eyes looked puffy and bloodshot. "Good God, what a sight," she said to her reflection. "Oh well, who cares? Not like there's anyone here to see me." She made it to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, mentally preparing herself to be disappointed. But there on the top shelf, looking extremely lonely, sat a gigantic croissant, an orange, and a banana. She smiled to herself, silently blessed Mulder, and grabbed the items greedily, sitting down at the kitchen table to begin breakfast. She was halfway through the orange when the phone rang. "Hello," she said, a slice of fruit muffling her words. "Scully, is that you? I see you've found the food." "Mulder, you are an angel. Thanks for going out and buying me some real food. Much appreciated." "Well, I figured with your insatiable appetite you'd probably get on the phone and start calling every pizza place within a fifty mile radius and rack 'em all up on my bill if there wasn't something nutritious waiting for you when you woke up. I know you, Scully." Scully smiled. "Yes, yes you do, Mulder. So, come up with any leads yet?" "Well, the lab guys tell me the device is pretty sophisticated. Not just a couple of wires and some silly putty holding this baby together. Somebody spent a long time designing and building it. We still can't figure out how they got it inside your apartment, though. You left strict instructions with your landlady not to let anyone in while you weren't home, under any circumstances, right?" "Of course. Did you talk to her, ask her if anybody came by yesterday asking about the apartment?" Scully asked. "Actually, no, we can't." He paused, and Scully knew why. Her apartment had been right above Mrs. Simpson's. "Anything else?" "No, that's about it." "Well, if I can find some decent clothes to wear I'll probably come in later-" "Oh no you don't, Scully. You stay right there where I can get a hold of you if anything happens. You are in no shape to be coming into work. You stay. Stay," he commanded. "Fine, fine, I'll stay here. Good-bye." "Bye," he answered, and hung up the phone. She sounded a bit more cheerier than she had last night, he thought. Probably the food I bought, he mentally congratulated himself, before heading back down to the lab. Scully sighed as she stared around the kitchen. Going out into the living room, she spied Mulder's comb on the coffee table, and sat down to comb her hair into a slightly more presentable style, flicking on the TV as she did. "Oh, good," she said out loud. "Talk shows. My favorite. Let's see if anyone has bigger problems than me today." After four hours of straight trash TV, Scully decided that there were indeed quite a number of people who had worse lives than she did, but it didn't cheer her up any. Her mind kept repeating Mulder's words over and over. The bomb had been planted in her apartment. Somebody had tried to kill her. Nine people were dead because of her. "Damn," she muttered. "I have to think of something constructive to do before I go completely insane." She looked around Mulder's apartment. Mulder's messy apartment. Sighing, she got up off the couch and began rummaging through the newspapers and magazines that were scattered all over the floor. Since the dates on the papers were over a month old, she decided they weren't worth keeping, and threw them to one side, designating that pile the "discard pile". However, she couldn't do the same with his magazines, mostly because she knew that they were probably all relevant to or going to become relevant to some case they were working on at the office. So, she stacked them neatly in a corner of the room. Pretty soon, Scully had four "discard piles" going and was working on the fifth. She had turned the radio on to a classic rock station and was humming along to the songs. "Boy, I loved the 80's," she thought to herself. She stopped to stretch and take a look around. There was actually a carpet under all that junk=2E Scully was amazed. She started carrying filthy dishes into the kitchen, and had soon filled the sink. Sitting back down on the couch, she realized her muscles weren't as sore as they had been when she'd woken up. "Well, I've accomplished two positive things today. I re-discovered Mulder's floor, and I feel better that I did last night. What else can go right today?" She got up to pour herself a glass of water, since Mulder didn't have anything else to drink, when there was a knock at the apartment door. Scully quickly spun around to stare at the door. Her heart began to thump in her chest as she realized she didn't have her gun with her, but she knew where Mulder kept his second piece. Crossing to his computer desk, she lifted the gun from the bottom drawer, checked to make sure it was loaded, and then went to the door. "Who is it?" she asked. "My name is Barbara. Is this Fox Mulder's apartment?" Scully looked through the peephole. The woman was tall, blonde, and was wearing a skin-tight black dress and high heels. At two o'clock in the afternoon. Well, Mulder certainly knew how to pick them, she thought. She tucked the gun in the waistband of the sweats, and unlocked the door. "Hi, come on in. I'm Dana Scully. Mulder's not here right now." The woman walked briskly past Scully into the apartment, then turned around to look Scully up and down. Scully suddenly felt self-conscious as she realized how she must look, still wearing Mulder's clothes, which the woman obviously noticed as one eyebrow raised quizzically, then lowered without comment. "Oh, you're Scully", she said, tight-lipped. She turned on her heel and strode over to the couch, sitting down. "Got Fox trained to do the housework, or do you have to clean up all his messes?" Scully chose to ignore her comment, and instead repeated what she had said earlier. "Mulder's not here right now, but I can tell him you stopped by." She held the door open wider, hoping the woman would take the hint and leave. She didn't. "Well, as usual Fox has run off when he promised to meet me here to sign the papers. Just like that man," she muttered. "I have to get these papers signed today or I can't sell the house." Scully blinked. What house? Who was this woman? She began to get an uneasy feeling in her stomach. The woman glanced up at her, still holding the door open. She saw the blank look on Scully's face, and suddenly stood up, walking over to stand directly in front of her. "Oh, you don't know who I am, do you? Fox didn't tell you." She shook her head and pursed her lips, regarding Scully silently for a moment. She took in her slightly messed hair, the clothes (Fox's clothes) that had the wrinkles of being slept in recently, her pale skin and the way her hand shook ever so slightly on the doorknob. "Maybe this isn't such a good time. Is Fox at the office, or out on a case? No, wait," she said quickly. "He can't be out on a case or else you would be with him." She emphasized the you a little too harshly, and was about to walk out the door, but Scully quickly stepped in front of her and closed it. "I think you better tell me just who the hell you are," she said calmly, one hand at her side, ready to go for her gun if the woman made any sudden moves. She looked straight into the woman's eyes and thought she could detect a trace of pity in them before they turned hard and cold. The woman licked her lips and opened her mouth to speak. "My name is Barbara Mulder. I'm Fox's ex-wife." There was silence in the apartment for several minutes as the two women stared at each other. Scully didn't move. She barely blinked. But her hand began to shake quite noticeably on the doorknob. The woman had to admire her self-control. She had sized up Scully all wrong, she realized. She had been expecting tears, gasps of disbelief, accusations that the woman was lying, but there was nothing. Scully finally moved to close the door, breaking the eye contact, and slowly walked into the living room, sinking onto the couch, all the while not saying a word. The woman stood where she was, studying Scully's back. "We were married nine years ago. It only lasted two years. I couldn't take it anymore, you know? The aliens, the abductions, always searching for Samantha, always leaving in the middle of the night on another wild goose chase, gone for days, not telling me anything about where he was going or what he was doing. He just shut me out, and I tried, I really tried to understand, at first, but I just gave up. Nobody could get through to that man or understand what he was doing. Nobody." Scully hadn't moved through out her speech. Her hands were shaking, her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could hardly think straight. But she heard Barbara's last words, and she suddenly turned to face her, eyes flashing in anger. "Did you try," she whispered. "Did you really try to understand him?" "Yes," the woman said angrily, stepping over to Scully. "Yes I did try to understand. I loved him, but he never loved me. He's only got room in his heart for one woman, his sister, and there's no point in even trying to force your way in, because he doesn't want anybody else to get in there. Ever." She was now standing over Scully, staring down at the top of her head as Scully stared at her hands. "I think you better go now. I'll tell Mulder you stopped by." The woman didn't say anything more. She turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving Scully alone. He was married. Scully absorbed the facts slowly. He was married and he never mentioned her to me. Never. In six years or working together, he never mentioned her. Why not? Was the marriage that bad? Not once had she ever heard the words "My ex-wife". He had deliberately not told her. And yet, she knew about Scully. So that meant he had talked to her, told her about his partner of six years. So she knew about me, and I didn't know about her. Were there children? Scully's mind was reeling. She was tired, and her shoulder and ribs were beginning to ache from the exertion of her clean-up. One fact kept repeating itself over and over again in her head. Barbara knew about her, but she hadn't known about Barbara. Why? Mulder finally gave up waiting around in his office for the lab guys to finish their tests. He had tried to call Scully twice, but the machine kept picking up. He'd even dialed her cell number, before he realized she didn't have a cell anymore. Had she gone out, or was she just asleep? He didn't know, and it was beginning to worry him. He drove home and unlocked the apartment door. The first thing he noticed was his floor. "Wow," he said out loud. "I have green carpet?" The second thing he noticed was his partner, sitting on the couch, her back straight and her head up high. She didn't turn around to greet him, or even acknowledge his presence. He moved forward a step. "Scully?" he asked uncertainly. "Barbara came over", was all she said. Her tone was so soft he could barely hear her, but to his ears the words felt as if they had been screamed at the top of her lungs. He stopped breathing. Oh God, he was supposed to wait for her to come over so he could sign the papers, but he'd forgotten, and she'd come by anyway, and Scully was here, and.... Scully turned to look up at him. Her face held no emotion, but he could see the pain and the questions in her eyes. She didn't say anything more. She waited for him to explain. She waited for him to say it was a joke, the woman was nuts, he'd never been married before. How could he have an ex-wife and not tell her, his partner, his best friend, his only friend? She wanted him to say it was all a big mistake. He could read it all in her eyes, but he couldn't say the words. They looked at each other for several minutes in silence, before Scully looked away. He saw the last desperate hope she still held in her eyes die, and he wanted to reach out to her, but he knew he couldn't. Not after his betrayal. All the trust, all the feelings she had held for him, they had been wiped away by one five-minute visit from a stranger she had every right to know about, she deserved to know existed, if only he hadn't been too selfish to tell her. "Scully, I'm so sorry," he began. He walked over to kneel before her, taking her hand in his, but she pulled it away. "Don't," she said softly. "Don't touch me." She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact. Mulder sighed and started to explain. "It's not her fault the marriage didn't work. She tried, for a little while. But I was obsessed. You know how I get. Barbara couldn't understand that I didn't want to work a nine-to-five job, that I didn't want to do the family visits on the weekend. How could I visit her family and pretend everything was alright when my sister was out there somewhere, suffering, looking for her family? I couldn't do it. We stopped talking, and I spent more and more time at the office, or out in the field on a case, just so I could avoid coming home to the silence. When the divorce papers were served, I didn't even read them. I just signed my name on the dotted line. It took me a week to come home and get my clothes. She wasn't there, so I just grabbed whatever I could carry and left. I called her about six months later. We talked about the X-Files, and my new partner - you - and that was about it. Every once in a while she calls me when she needs my signature on some paper so she can sell the car, or whatever, but that's it. She is yet one more part of my shameful past that I just didn't have the energy to bring up." "But I know everything else about your shameful past," Scully said, finally meeting his eyes. "I know about Samantha, and your parent's divorce, and your father's involvement with the alien cover-up, and your regression therapy sessions. What's so different about this?" Mulder shook his head. "I don't know why I didn't tell you. At first, it seemed too personal. You were just another temporary partner, and I thought you would be gone in six months. The divorce didn't have anything to do with an X-file, like Samantha's abduction did, so I didn't think it was appropriate to bring it up. Then, you got abducted, and everything changed. We changed, our relationship changed....You can't deny that," he said quickly, as Scully looked away from him. Tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. "Then it seemed too trivial to mention," he continued, grasping her hand and holding on tight. "I didn't want to think about her anymore. I had you, and you made so much of the pain go away, I could almost pretend that it had never happened. You brought joy and laughter back into my life, and I didn't want to ruin it. I didn't see any point in telling you. Then, after a while, I realized I should have told you, but it was too late, I didn't know how to bring it up, so I just ignored it. I'm so sorry, Scully. Please, forgive me?" She was crying now, and she shoved him in the chest, hard enough to upset his balance, so that he let go of her hand. She stood up and walked away, then turned to face him. "After all that we have been through together, Mulder, how could you keep this from me? I thought we trusted each other. I thought we had a relationship built on honesty. I confided in you about my dreams after being abducted. I went to you first with my cancer. I can't have children anymore. My sister was killed because of my work with you. You know everything about me. Everything. And you couldn't even tell me that you had been married before. What did you think I would do, leave you?" She was yelling at him now, tears coursing down her face. "Answer me Mulder." "Yes, I was afraid you would leave." He stood silently before her, staring into her eyes, pleading with her to understand. He saw the pain he had caused her. How could he have been such an idiot? He was busy trying to think up all the ways he could make it up to her, when he suddenly realized she had stopped crying, and was now staring at him with clear, blue eyes. "Well, you were right Mulder," she whispered. She walked past him, opened the door, and without a backward glance, went through, softly closing it behind her. Mulder couldn't move. His mind refused to comprehend what had just happened. She was leaving him? Forever? He turned quickly and reached for the door, yanking it nearly off its hinges in his haste to get it opened. The hallway was empty. "Scully," he whispered pleadingly. "Don't go." But there was no one there to answer him. The End