From: JGreco217@aol.com
Date: Thu, 21 Oct 1999 11:44:04 EDT
Subject: xfc: Re-Post: From the Ashes (Part 6 of ?) by Jamie Greco 
Source: xfc

From the Ashes (Part 6 0f ?)

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com

Fox,
I don't know why you treat me like this.  I don't want to hurt you.  Please, 
don't make me.

Amber


 Scully felt as if there was a ticking time bomb just under the floor of her 
car that only she knew about.  Her mind felt numb; and her stomach rolled 
around itself, tumbling and occasionally leaping. 

The words she thought she might speak tormented her consciousness: "Mulder, I 
think you should know that there is a chance...Mulder, while you were 
unconscious, I spoke to the prison psychiatrist..."  Scully felt the 
psychiatrist might have been right: to simply blurt it out couldn't be the 
best possible course of action.  But how could she, in all good conscience, 
keep the possibility from Mulder that he might have been raped in prison?  On 
the other hand, she thought the possibility to be remote, at best.  She 
glanced at him: he hadn't complained of any discomfort, let alone pain, which 
she felt had to be an issue, to some degree. 

They came upon a red light; and she stopped, looking over at him.  He held 
himself tightly with his arms crossed firmly over his chest.  His head was 
rolled away from her, but she could see his eyes moving.  "You're very quiet, 
Mulder," she observed softly.

"You told me to shut up," he answered in a harsh whisper, rolling his head 
back to look at her from the corner of his eye.

"I told you that you have a tracheal injury and should refrain from talking 
as much as possible."

"Shut up in doctor talk," he countered with a small grin.

"And besides, when have you ever shut up because I told you to?"

"It's the only reason..." He paused and touched his throat, wincing slightly. 
 "It's the only reason I ever shut up."

"I'm honored, I guess."  A car honked behind her, and she turned back to the 
road.  "So...where would you rather stay--my place or yours?"

Mulder looked at her, taken by surprise.  "Are you coming on to me again, 
Scully?"

"Mulder..."

"Because if this behavior continues, I'm just going to have to take you up on 
it."

"Mulder, you've had a serious head injury.  You have to be awakened every few 
hours."

"Scully, come on, you know--"

Her phone rang, and she picked it up.  "Scully."

"Hi, this is Robertson at the lab.  We have the results you asked for, Dr. 
Scully."

"Go ahead."

"Well, we're a little confused by what we found."

"Confused?" she replied, looking pointedly at Mulder.

"Because we did find a foreign substance in the patient's blood, but we have 
been unable to identify it."

"Does it resemble anything?"

"Well, it has some of the properties of a hallucinogenic, similar to, say, 
LSD.  But it's...it's just a strange concoction.  I'll send you the report."

"Okay, thanks," Scully replied, hanging up.  "Well, Mulder, the plot 
thickens."

"What do you mean?"

"Seems like you were injected with something in prison.  Something the lab 
guys couldn't identify."

He cocked his head and waited.  

"There are some things I haven't had the chance to tell you yet.  Like the 
warden who processed you?"  She looked over at him, and he nodded.  "He 
doesn't work there.  Nobody ever heard of him."

"What?" he choked out.

"Also, the Gunmen found some sort of device that diverts all your e-mail to 
an unknown party."

He mimed the smoking of a cigarette.

"That was my thought too.  Also they found three bugs in your apartment."

He shrugged.

"What?" She laughed a little at his reaction.

"I let them at my apartment every so often.  They always find something."

"Mulder, that's terrible!  You just live with the fact that somebody keeps 
invading your privacy."

"What am I going to do about it?" he countered, his voice becoming thinner 
and dryer sounding.  "Live with it or kill myself over it.  Anyway, I'm 
pretty boring, at least until last night."

"Mulder--" She hesitated, passing the words explaining what she had been told 
through her brain again, holding her breath while she considered.

"So...so, it looks like..." He began to cough harshly, bent over from the 
waist.

"Mulder?  Do you think a drink might help?"

He nodded, and she pulled into a fast-food restaurant drive thru.  "Iced 
tea?" she asked; and he nodded again, one hand over his throat.

"And a double cheeseburger and fries," he coughed out.

"Mulder, you need to something that will build your strength."

He shook his head, his face fixed with a disgusted expression.  "Are you 
trying to finish the job?  I need fast food...fast!"

She sighed and spoke into the nose of a large clown.  "I'll have a large iced 
tea, a large diet coke, a double cheeseburger," she looked over at him. He 
nodded, a happy grin on his face.  "A large fry and a single hamburger."

"Is that all?"

"An apple pie," Mulder added.  "For the fruit."

"An apple pie," Scully repeated dryly.  "For the fruit."

"Happy?" Mulder asked.

"Delirious," Scully replied flatly.  "So, your house or mine?"

"Are you sure?  This means one of us has to sleep on the couch."

"Let's go to your apartment.  I have an overnight back in the trunk, so we 
wouldn't have to stop at my place."

"Why do you keep a bag..." His voice gave out again.

"Because I have this crazy partner who calls me at all hours and says things 
like 'Scully, I have a ticket for you to Timbuktu.  Can you be at the airport 
in ten minutes?'"

"Nut," he spat out derisively.  

"You don't know the half of it," she returned as she looked for her wallet.

"I'd pay, but I left my apartment in such a hurry that I forgot my wallet."

"Isn't that convenient?" she teased.

"Not the first word that comes to my mind."  

She handed him the packages and slipped the drinks into the holders.

"Scully?"

"Mulder, I thought you were going to rest your voice."

"I-I--" He cleared his throat hard.

"Mulder, shut up," she said affectionately.

"I--just one more thing..."

"What?"

"I know you've done a lot for me today.  I want to thank you. I can't...I 
don't know how--" His voice broke and he shook his head, signaling that he 
couldn't continue.

Scully placed her hand on his shoulder and grinned and then wordlessly drove 
toward Mulder's apartment.  



Fox,
I could see you thought your partner looked very nice today.  I saw you 
watching her through the window when she left your apartment.  I hope she was 
OK on the way home.

Amber  



"I don't have my keys," Mulder murmured, almost silently.

"Oh," Scully answered, digging her key ring out of her purse.  "I got it."  
She turned the lock and pushed open the door, walking inside.  "Wow," she 
said quietly as she noticed the debris that had once been Mulder's coffee 
table.

"Lucky I'm not sentimental," he whispered as he kicked at the wood, although 
the tone in his voice hinted that the opposite was true.  "Toothpicks and 
splinters," he murmured and sighed, rubbing his face.  "I'm exhausted."

"Me too," Scully agreed.  Yet they stood still, each with their own thoughts. 
 "You have messages," Scully pointed out.

Mulder glanced at his answering machine and sighed again.  "I'm too tired," 
he responded.

"What if there's something to do with the case?"

He took a few steps and pushed the message button.

"Fox, it's George.  Are you all right?  I talked to your lawyer. She said 
you'd be out tonight.  Can you call?  I'm worried, Bud."

"Mulder, Scully?  It's Skinner.  I'd like an update when you can."

"Fox, it's your mother.  Do you think we could have dinner soon?  Call me."

"Fox, it's me, Amber--"

Mulder looked at Scully, his expression registering his disbelief.

"--I hope you're not mad.  I might think about dropping the charges if you'll 
call me."

Mulder closed his eyes, his face going slack.  "Fucking amazing," he mumbled. 
 "I'm going to take a shower."

"That's all you've got to say?" Scully demanded, following him toward the 
bathroom as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

"I'd ask you to join me, but, I'm just not-" He began coughing again.

"Mulder, that tape...it could clear you."

He changed direction, heading toward the kitchen and opening his 
refrigerator. He pulled out a sport drink and swallowed it carefully.  
"Scully, I don't think it's about her anymore.  I think there's something 
else.  Something beyond Amber.  I just don't know what it is yet."

"Doesn't that scare you?"

He nodded, his face incredulous.  "I'm scared to death.  But I don't know 
what do about it yet; and I-I think if I sleep, I'll be able to...I can't 
even form words, Scully, let alone figure this shit out."

Scully nodded.

Mulder nodded back and patted her on the shoulder as he passed her by.  "I'm 
going to shower," he repeated and headed back toward the bathroom.

Scully walked slowly into the living room and gazed at the ruins of Mulder's 
coffee table.  She pushed at the bigger chunks with her foot, trying to make 
a smaller pile of wood.

"Scully," Mulder said as he reappeared, unzipping his pants.  "Do you think 
you should call Skinner?"  He stepped out of his pants.

Scully sighed and lowered her eyes.  "Mulder, why do you do that?"

"What?" he asked, holding his pants in one hand.

"Undress in front of me.  It makes me..."

He glanced down at himself.  "I'm sorry, Scully.  I guess I didn't think 
you'd notice."

"Well, how would you like it if I undressed in front of you?"

"Like it?  I'd love it!  Scully, I'd be delirious!"

"Okay, bad example.  Just...just, stop it, okay?"

"Check," Mulder said as he went into his bedroom.  "Never strip in front of 
Scully."

"Never is a very long time," Scully said under her breath.

"I heard that," Mulder replied.  "And I'm very intrigued."

Scully smiled to herself and picked up Mulder's phone to call Skinner.



Mulder made the shower as hot as he could stand it and stood under the 
driving water, silent and brooding.  He tried to shy his mind away from what 
had happened to him and why and who was responsible, but it was almost 
impossible.  His mind felt numb with exhaustion, and now he only wanted to be 
able to tolerate the smell of himself before he fell into bed.  

The thought of Scully made him smile.  She didn't want him to strip in front 
of her.  That was what he wanted to hear.  He hoped she was uncomfortable 
because she felt even the smallest measure of what he felt for her.  He felt 
himself grow hard, and he sighed.  Frustration was not what he wanted to 
feel.  He began to soap himself with the thought of finishing the shower and 
ignoring his desire.  But as he washed his hips and thighs and came around to 
soap his genitalia, a horrifying vision flashed in the back of his mind.  It 
was as if just a few frames of film flickered across his consciousness.  
Someone--a man's--hands on his hips, pulling him backward; that's all it was. 
 But his reaction was as vivid and startling as if he were being violated at 
that very moment.  He threw himself back against the shower wall, the soap 
falling to the floor and spinning in a tight circle at his feet.  

The vision went as fast as it came, but his adrenaline coursed through his 
body as if he were surrounded by impending danger.  He squatted slightly, his 
hands pressed backward against the tile. He began to take short quick 
breaths, his mouth formed a tense "oh."   

"Mulder, are you all right?" Scully called from outside the door, but he 
couldn't make himself respond.  Bile rose in his throat and choked off the 
limited airway he still had.  Pressing his hands against his knees, he told 
himself it was residual from the drug he had been injected with; but his 
inner feelings told him differently.  He told himself to breathe deeply, 
assured himself that he was not in imminent danger; but he felt as if he were 
hopelessly doomed. 

"Mulder?" she called more anxiously.

"I-I'm okay, Scully," he managed to get out.  He snapped off the shower and 
stepped, trembling, from the tub.  "I'm okay," he told himself shakily.       
      

"Should I come in?" she asked, obviously unconvinced of his well being.

"No!" he cried out, suddenly shaken by the idea of his vulnerability.

"Okay," she answered.  "I'm right out here though."

"Okay," he replied.  "Okay."





Scully lay in Mulder's bed after winning or losing (depending on one's frame 
of reference) a short disagreement on who should sleep on the couch.  Mulder 
had been tense, anxious and insistent that he would be more comfortable on 
the couch.  His manner made Scully feel as if the walls were crumbling around 
her.  She found herself tiptoeing around him, careful of what she said and 
did. Turning over in bed and looking out at the moonlight, she could smell 
him.  She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling the overwhelming 
arousal she usually, effectively tamped down.  The thought of him brought her 
no pleasure though.  His face...When he had come out of the bathroom, it was 
as if he had aged ten years.  His eyes had darted from place to place, and he 
had watched her as if he were suspicious of her.  When she went into his 
bedroom and closed the door, she had almost felt relief to be away from him.

She turned over again and looked at the clock.  It had been almost two hours; 
she should check him.  She hoped to God he had been able to fall asleep.


Fox,
Why do you sleep on your couch?  Your bed looks so much more comfortable.

Amber


Scully opened the bedroom door as silently as possible.  The sudden pinging 
of rain against the window startled her slightly, and she struggled to see 
through the thick darkness of Mulder's living room.  Tugging Mulder's shirt 
down around her knees, she assured herself she was adequately covered.  She 
groped her way toward the couch. "Mulder?" she whispered so as to not startle 
him. She reached down and felt the soft blanket she had covered him with 
before she went to bed.  Lightning suddenly lit up the room, and she could 
see the couch was empty. She gasped.  "Mulder," she called out as she ran to 
the kitchen, not expecting to find him.  "Mulder!" she called out again as 
she headed toward the bathroom, completely hopeless.  "Oh my god," she 
whispered as if she might wake him.  "Where would he go?" 

Opening his front door, she looked up and down the empty hallway.  Closing 
the door, she tried to make her exhausted brain engage.  Where would he go?  
She asked herself again and again. 

When the phone rang, she flinched hard, as if it had blown up.  It rang 
again, and she snatched it from the receiver.  "Scully."

"Scully?"

"Mulder, what the hell?  Where are you?"

'This is going to sound...stupid."

"I don't care how it sounds, Mulder.  Just tell me where you are."

"I-I don't know." She could hear his voice trembling, even at the very low 
volume he could manage.

"What do you mean you don't know?" she said more gently.

"Scully...I remembered something..."

Her stomach lurched and tightened.  

"Something that happened...I-I ran.  I couldn't...I didn't know what to do..."

"Where did you run to?" she replied, consciously trying to sound calm.

"I don't know where I am, Scully.  It's so stupid.  I...I'm confused."

"Okay, Mulder.  Hold on, will you?  I'm going to have the call traced, and 
I'll be there."

"Scully?"

"Don't hang up."

"Scully?"

"Yeah..."

"It's bad."

"I'll be there, Mulder" was all she could think to say before having the call 
traced, dressing and running out the door.


Fox,
You are beautiful naked.

Amber


Scully screeched to a halt in front of the public phone from which Mulder had 
called.  He was not immediately visible as she scanned the area for him 
through the windshield wipers.  Soon she caught sight of him, standing in a 
doorway, head down, arms crossed, his breath visible in the cold.  Quickly 
she ran from the car.  "Mulder?" she called out over the roar of the rain.

His head snapped up, and he looked at her not only as if he had never seen 
before but as if he was sure she had been sent to kill him.  Then his face 
softened slightly.  "I'm sorry, Scully.  I should have just started walking.  
Look, you're getting soaked."

"It's all right, Mulder.  Let's go home."

He nodded, but he didn't move toward the car.  So she moved closer to him in 
order to benefit from the relative dryness of the doorway.  Thunder pounded 
so loudly she could feel it as well as see it, and she pulled in a little 
closer to him.  He pulled abruptly away, and she took a step back.

"Come back to the apartment, Mulder.  We'll talk about whatever is bothering 
you."

His eyes darted past her and over her, never once landing on her face.  He 
took a few steps back, until his back was against the brick wall.  "Something 
happened," he said, his eyes setting on her face once and skittering away.  
He seemed completely unaware that they were talking in the middle of what 
seemed like a hurricane to Scully.

"What happened, Mulder?" she asked, holding her hand out to him.

"No!" he said adamantly.  "No, don't touch me...just don't--"

"Okay, Mulder, okay.  Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"I didn't remember before, but now..." He looked quickly at her, his face 
full of confusion and horror.  "But something happened...in jail."

"Mulder--"

"I remember,' he said again.  "I was--" His knees seem to go out from under 
him all at once, and he sank to the rain-drenched sidewalk.

"Mulder," Scully said gently, lowering herself beside him, her only thought 
to stem the flow of his horror and despair.  "It may not be what it seems."

"What?" he said and began coughing roughly.

"What you think happened, it's possible, given what we know, that it didn't 
happen."

"Scully, you don't understand.  They hit me in the throat, and I went 
down..." His jaw trembled with the cold, and he wiped at his eyes. "Scully, I 
couldn't breathe...I couldn't...I tried..."

"Mulder, please listen to me--"

"But I couldn't get away.  They...god, oh god...They raped me, Scully."  He 
threw his head back against the brick wall, his eyes pinned upward.  "They 
raped me..." he repeated, his voice cracking.

"Mulder, I'm going to suggest that we go to the hospital from here and have 
you examined."

He looked into her face, confused.  "Why?"

"Mulder, please...I know this is going to be hard to...accept.  It's quite 
possible, I believe...Mulder, listen.  I think these memories might have been 
implanted.  I've been thinking about it and--"  

He looked at her as if it were the first time he was aware she had arrived.  
"What did you say?"

"I said, I've been thinking about it and with all I know now--"

"How could you have been thinking about it, Scully?  I just told you--"

"Mulder, the warden and the psychiatrist at the prison talked to me about it, 
and...I don't know.  I think they might have had a separate agenda.  
But...they said they thought your throat injury might have indicated a rape, 
but--"

"You knew there was a possibility that I've been raped and you didn't tell 
me?"  His words were spat out like bullets, his face twisted in rage.

"I didn't know for sure and the more I thought about it, the more I knew--"

He began to crawl to his feet, his eyes fixed on hers, his spite unspoken but 
clearly felt deeply.  He held out his arm stiffly as if he would need to fend 
her off, as if she would be the next to attack him.

"Mulder," she pleaded.  "Please, let me explain."

Slowly, he shook his head.  "You knew..." he repeated, his eyes pinned on 
hers before he turned quickly and ran off into the night, looking over his 
shoulder once as if he feared she might try to capture him.

Scully could only watch him dwindle, knowing she could never overtake him.  
Still she called out his name into the darkness.   But the darkness was all 
that was left.

 
From the Ashes (7 of?)

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com

Fox,
I think it's her.  She's breaking us up.  Can't you see she doesn't love you 
like me?

Amber



Scully stood watching the corner around which Mulder disappeared for long 
time after he'd turned it.  She was unaware of time or logic, which would 
have told her enough is enough.  Go inside.  He's not coming back.  But some 
part of her still needed to stand watch.  An especially loud clap of thunder 
finally brought her around and she headed downheartedly to her car.

She sat there for an even longer time, unsure of where to go, wondering if it 
would be best to go to Mulder's in the hope that he would eventually head 
there.  But finally she headed toward home.

As she drove, she mulled over what Mulder had said to her, huddled in a 
doorway, despondent and afraid.  She thought about her decision not to tell 
Mulder what she suspected.  Despite his anger and sense of betrayal, she felt 
she had made the best decision under the circumstances.  She had to wonder 
though, if she had told him, would he still be at home, coping in some way 
with the information, rather than running from whatever it was he thought he 
might escape on a rainy, frigid night

She glanced at her car clock: 1:40 a.m.  This would be the second night that 
neither one of them had had any sleep.  It certainly couldn't be helping the 
situation.  Then again, Mulder believed he had been brutally raped.  She 
couldn't imagine anything would make that seem easier to accept.

Once she had arrived at her apartment, she simply sat for a number of 
minutes, her head against the steering wheel, trying to know where to go, 
what to do, how to go on.  Finally, she threw the door open and headed toward 
her home, her bed.



She heard her phone ringing as she approached the door.  Fumbling with her 
keys, her hands wet with rain, her dripping hair obscuring her vision, she 
entered as the machine began to click in.

"Scully!" she called over the message.  "I'm here."

"Agent Scully?" someone whispered.

"Yes?"

"This is George Harris.  At the bar?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Listen." He began to speak even more quietly, so that she could barely hear 
him.  "Fox is here.  He came in a few minutes ago."

"How does he seem?"

"He looks like shit and he seems...Actually, Agent Scully, I've never seen 
him like this.  I gotta say, he's scaring me."

"How?"

"He's bouncing all over the place, angry, depressed.  I asked him if he 
wanted me to call you---I'll be right there---He said...I don't really want 
to repeat what he said."

"It's all right, George," Scully told him.  "He's angry with me, I know that."

"He's beyond angry, Agent Scully.  He's in a whole other place."

"Just...make sure he gets home.  Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I can do that.  Are you sure you don't want to come down here?"

"No. No, I'm sure he doesn't want to see me at this point."

"Agent Scully--"

"Look, George, I think you can call me Dana."

"I'm honored.  Dana, are you sure you don't want to come down here?"

'No, but I'm here at home, George. If he needs me."


Fox,
I waited on your couch. I fed your fish.  You never came home.

Amber


Scully changed out of her clothes, which still dripped freely as she stepped 
out of them and rung them out over the tub.  She shivered as she stepped into 
the shower and turned up the hot water.  She tried to imagine the "other 
place" George had said Mulder was in.  To be raped, violated to the core of 
your being, to have the last, final aspect of dignity, that should never 
belong to anyone else stripped from you, leaving so little...She felt herself 
begin to cry and made herself stop.  There wasn't the time or energy to 
indulge her despair.  She needed to, had to rest, and most certainly couldn't 
sort anything out in the mental shape she was in.  As she dried off, she told 
herself, somewhat like Scarlett O'Hara, that she'd think about it tomorrow.

She turned her head toward her living room as she heard a single chime of her 
doorbell.  "Thank God," she whispered as she pulled on her robe and shook the 
towel from her hair.  "I'm coming," she called out, her anxiety over another 
confrontation with Mulder taking second place to her joy that he had cared 
enough to return.  Out of habit, she looked through the peephole, although 
her hand was already twisting the doorknob.  What she saw made her release 
the door immediately. With no further thought, she walked to where she knew 
her gun had been left and pulled it out, removing the safety.  Then, quickly, 
with no preamble, she flung open the door and pointed her gun into the face 
of the man who pulled the Morley casually from his lips.  "Agent Scully," he 
admonished.  "Is this how you greet all your guests?"

"You're not a guest, you son-of-a-bitch. Now turn around and get the hell out 
of here before I do what I should have done the first time you sullied my 
oxygen supply."

"Really, Agent Scully, you're becoming as tedious as your partner."

She took a quick threatening step forward and was a little gratified that he 
took a step back.  "It would be in your best interest you not to even breathe 
the name of my partner.  Not now.  Especially not tonight."

"Yes," he went on, seemingly oblivious to her ominous state of mind.  "I hear 
Mulder had a difficult time in prison."

"I told you to get out of my building," she demanded.

"But I'm here to help Mulder.  I have evidence which will guarantee that he 
will not have to go back to that hell hole where they treated him so very 
unkindly."

She wavered slightly.  She knew she had enough evidence on her own to sway 
the DA; but if he could guarantee it, if he could take that dark threat...

"You see, you're intrigued."  He pointed at this breast pocket and asked 
permission to go there with a raise of his eyebrows.  Scully nodded, secure 
in the fact that she would be more than happy to shoot him if he attempted to 
attack her.  "This came into my possession earlier this evening.  On it, 
you'll find a record of what went on between Mulder and that young hussy.  I 
must say, Agent Scully, she doesn't hold a candle to you.  And she was 
entirely more trouble than she was worth."

"So you did pay her off."

He laughed.  "I didn't need to dabble in this one, Agent Scully.  Mulder set 
himself up.  Entirely too easily manipulated, that's his downfall."  He 
handed her the tape.

"You're just going to give this to me?" she asked skeptically.

"You certainly live up to your reputation.  It's there in your hand? Are you 
going to try and explain it away?"  He smiled an oily smile and dragged on 
his cigarette.

"What's the catch?"

"Catch?  There's no catch."

"Good, then you can leave," she intoned, lowering her gun and going inside 
her apartment.

He placed his hand on the door.  "I hear your partner had a particularly hard 
time in prison."

Scully turned and looked at him, contempt flowing from every pour but she 
said nothing, hoping he would let more slip than he intended.

"It's terrible.  Really.  I'm sure the memories will be with him the rest of 
his life.  It's a shame.  Something like that could completely destroy a man."

With rage and strength she didn't realize she had, she raised the barrel of 
her gun and shoved the much bigger man against the opposite wall.  "God damn 
you for what you did!  You are completely vacant of any sense of humanity.  I 
hope you die slowly and painfully.  I hope you never know a moment's peace in 
this life or the next."

"No doubt all of your wishes will come true.  But until that time...I know of 
a very gifted professional whose skill includes the ability to completely 
obliterate any given memory.  I think your Agent Mulder might sincerely 
appreciate his prowess.  All I ask is that he takes the time off from his job 
to fully recuperate-say, a couple of years?"

"Are you offering to have the memories you put in place removed for a price?"

"Agent Scully, you are very perceptive, even more so than your partner. But I 
think you'll have a hell of a time convincing your partner that the memories 
he can almost put a hand out to touch are not, in fact, his.  I would tread 
very lightly.  I hope you'll relay my offer to him."

"And I hope you're dead the next time I lay eyes on you."

"I'm very sorry you feel that way.  I have always been very fond of you...and 
Agent Mulder."  He turned to leave.

"You know, it's kind of a shame," Scully called after him.

He turned and looked at her questioningly.

"The whole building was just fumigated.  Now my landlord will just have to do 
it again."  And she slammed the door with all of the pent-up fury she could 
release.    


Fox,
I cried all night, knowing what I have to do.  It's for the best.

Amber



Scully stood with her back to the door for a long while, breathing deeply and 
giving herself the time to acclimate to her relative safety.   Finally, she 
slid down the door, landing splayed like an exhausted rag doll...with a gun.  
She felt like she could sleep in this position and actually closed her eyes, 
but her phone rang and she had to raise up to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Dana?  Are you asleep?  I'm sorry, it's George."

"George?  What is it?"

"Fox wanted me to call you.  His voice is almost gone, and he wants me to 
tell you...he needs to know what you know."

"George, did he tell you what happened?"

"Just...just that something happened to him in prison.  He wants me to give 
him the phone so that you can tell him."

Scully frowned as the phone was transferred. She could hear the music, which 
bounded joyfully and extraordinarily loudly.  It seemed to be in complete 
contrast to Mulder at this point in time.

"Mulder?" she said after a minute.

"Just tell me, Scully."

She thought for a moment.  "No, Mulder."

"No?" he whispered harshly.

"No.  I think if you want to talk to me, you at least owe me the courtesy of 
talking to me to my face."

"Courtesy?" he rasped back between his teeth.  "You expect courtesy from me?"

"I think I deserve at least that."

"All right.  All right.  Excuse me, Scully, but may I ask you why you didn't 
seem to deem it necessary to tell me I was fucked up the ass?"

She didn't answer.  Although she knew logically that his anger was to be 
expected, she couldn't help but wince at his words.  She could hear his 
breath coming in hard, quick gasps against her ear and reminded herself of 
the pain he felt, the betrayal he felt she had heaped on top of the horror.

"Scully?" he whispered.

"What?"

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Yes, I'll tell you everything I know.  But we have to talk face to face."

The dial tone hummed in her ear, and she hung up the phone.



Scully crawled into her bed and lay her head down gently.  She couldn't 
imagine that she could ever have been this tired.  Still, her mind wouldn't 
shy away from the thought of Mulder.  She felt certain that she could make 
him understand why she felt his memories were implanted, certain that he'd 
eventually believe her.  But would he be able to leave his sense of betrayal 
behind? Could he ever look at her without diverting his eyes?  And, if not, 
would it be the effective method to tear them apart when all else failed?   
Was that the plan, after all?  She began to drift off, remembering the time 
Mulder had come to her in her dreams, telling her that he would return to 
her, to continue with her, when she had thought him dead.  Was he more dead 
to her now?  She willed him to return to her in her dreams, but more 
importantly, in her life.

Fox,
I hope you can forgive me when you see I was right.

Amber

  

"Scully?"

She smiled in her sleep, happy to hear him, although his voice was still 
raspy, even in her subconscious.

"Scully?"

"Wh-what?"

"Scully, wake up."

She tried to bring herself back to the surface, but she couldn't open her 
eyes.

"I'm sorry, Scully.  I know you're tired," he added more gently.

She squinted at the figure in her room that she couldn't completely focus on. 
 "What the hell?  Mulder?"

"You mean there's other guys sneaking into your room at night?  I think I'm 
jealous."

"Mulder, what are you doing here?"

"I knocked, Scully.  You didn't come.  I have to know, Scully.  I have to 
know before I can rest."

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, her brain beginning to chug forward, however 
sluggishly.  "I'm sorry, Mulder.  I want to say I'm sorry before I say 
anything else."  He turned his back, and she pushed herself upright against 
the headboard.  "I should have told you what was suspected, despite my 
feelings."

He glanced back at her.  "Scully, someday...I'll probably be able to 
understand...I-I just can't...now."

She lowered her head.  She gathered her sheets around her neck, feeling 
suddenly exposed.  "Mulder, I want to tell you why I didn't--"

"It doesn't matter, Scully," he said harshly.

"It does to me."

He walked away from her and she feared he would simply leave, but he paused, 
waiting.

"I-I thought about telling you, over and over.  But, the prison psychiatrist 
said it would be better to tell you with a another psychiatrist 
present...that it might be too much for you to manage."

"I guess I proved her right," he murmured.

"It was wrong.  I should have just told you, I wish I could go back in 
time...And I'm sorry."

He nodded.  "I know you are."

"I hope you can forgive me."

"I hope so too, Scully.  I really do."  He walked back toward her, his anger 
seemingly dissipated.  "I have to forgive you, because, tonight as I was 
walking I realized something...I know one thing above...I know one thing."

"What's that?"

"I can trust you.  Even if I don't understand you, I can trust you."

"And when did you come to that conclusion?" she asked, teasing a little, 
hoping.

He shrugged.  "I don't know, really.  It's just what I know to be true."

They were quiet for a few moments.  Then Scully began.  "First, there's the 
fact that...well, what you know: that it would seem that the Consortium has 
become involved.  From the e-mail thing to the bugs, to the warden to the 
drug that nobody from the lab is familiar with and the fact that it was a 
hallucinogenic." She paused, watching him from behind.  He nodded but 
remained silent.  "The fact that nobody was missing in order to rape you--"

"Scully, I remember them.  I could go into that prison and point them out," 
he replied adamantly.

"I know that you have that memory in your mind..."

"But you believe it was implanted."

"Yes."

"But...I can still see it.  I can feel the pain."  He turned farther from 
her.  "I can hear what they said; and it rings in my head, over and over.  It 
sickens me.  I can feel the agony and the terror as they held me down and--" 
His voice cracked and faded away.

Scully began to climb out of her bed, but he held out a palm.  "Mulder, I 
don't doubt that these memories are horrific and real to you.  But tell me 
this...When you woke up, did you feel any pain whatever?  Any?  Mulder, you 
remember being violently raped; violently...there would be bleeding, Mulder, 
and pain. Not to mention bruises from being held down.  Did you feel anything 
like that?  Do you have any bruises?"

He turned and looked at her, his eyes wide and uncertain.  "No," he whispered.

She nodded, and he looked away.

"There's one more thing, Mulder.  One more very important thing.  The Smoking 
Man was here tonight."

He snapped around, facing her.  "Here?"

"Yes."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, Mulder.  But he mentioned that he knew you were in prison.  In fact, he 
gave me the audiotape from your apartment the night Amber attacked you.  It 
will clear you, Mulder."

He shook his head slightly.  "Am I just exhausted beyond thinking?  I'm just 
not getting this."

"I didn't either, not at first.  Then he mentioned the horrible memories you 
must have taken with you and offered the services of someone who could remove 
those memories, if you would just agree to take a  very long sabbatical."

He turned away again and walked over to her window, pulling the blinds apart 
with his fingers and looking out at the night, which now appeared peaceful 
and calm.  "So he put these memories in my mind...to ruin me."

"Yes," she whispered, grateful that he would need no further convincing.

"Why?  Why would he go this far?  Why doesn't he just kill me?"

"Would that be better for you?" she challenged.

"You don't know, Scully.  You don't know.  If it didn't happen, it might as 
well have.  I was violated, just as if I was held down and screwed, with the 
same consequences.  I don't know how I will ever be able to live with the 
sickening horror of what happened...or didn't happen.  Maybe I'm not in 
physical pain; but I was raped, Scully."

She nodded, realizing, perhaps for the first time since she became suspicious 
of his memories, that it was true.  

"Maybe I should go to him," he said despondently.

"Mulder, no."

"Because I don't know how to live with this.  I don't know how to move on."

"We can go to your hypno-therapist, to your psychiatrist."

"And say what?  That I can't recover from not being raped?"

"Mulder, if you go to him, he owns you."

"If I don't, my nightmares do."

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.  "I'm so tired, Scully."

"I know."

He began to walk to her door, but turned again, hesitantly, glancing at her.  
"You know when you asked me before, when I knew I trusted you?"

She nodded.   

"I lied.  I knew tonight, beyond a doubt. I don't know, maybe it was the 
hundredth time I knew.  But I was walking after I went to the bar, and I felt 
like...there was nowhere to go.  Nowhere I could be safe...where I could be 
certain.  And...my mind kept coming back to you.  I knew, no matter what I 
felt you had done, you had done it for me, not to me.  And I knew if I didn't 
come back here tonight, I'd never feel that...security again.  So I came 
here, and I was afraid you might not let me in...after what I said.  So I 
came in...without knocking,"  He looked into her eyes and away again.  "I 
never knocked, Scully.  I used my key, hoping you wouldn't throw me out..." 
He waved his arm at the window.  "...out there again."

Scully smiled at him, and he suddenly felt shy.  He looked at his feet and 
realized he had tracked mud throughout her apartment.  "Oh god, Scully.  
I-I'm sorry." 

She followed his chagrined gaze to his feet.  "Just take them off, Mulder."

"No, I should go..."

"Where?"

"Home, I guess."

"You said you didn't feel safe anywhere but here with me."

He shrugged.  "I didn't mean..."

She pulled back her covers, and he took in the most tempting sight he had 
ever seen.  Her bed, warm from her body, her pillows, her sheets, all no 
doubt smelling just like her.  And Scully; above all, Scully.  He shook his 
head as if he had had a vision that he thought would dissipate.  

"Come on, Mulder.  Take off your shoes, take off your sopping clothes and put 
them in the bathroom."

"You said no more stripping, Scully."

"I made the rule, I can make the exception."

"You don't have to do this."

"Come on, Mulder.  Let me watch over you just this once and make sure you can 
sleep.  I promise I'll keep you safe, at least until morning."

Tears filled his eyes, and he knew he'd never be more grateful for anything 
in his life.  He did as she requested, removing his shoes, his clothes, all 
except his underwear and then slowly, tentatively, he crawled in beside her 
but lay quietly, inches from her.  Somehow--he'd never be able to say just 
exactly how, although he would return to it in his mind, over and over--she 
pulled him in and draped him over her, gently placing his head on her breast 
and covering it with her hand.

He couldn't keep the long, contented moan from escaping his lips; and as he 
closed his eyes, he thought he might be able to trust tomorrow.  He might 
even be able to trust his dreams.  He pulled in a little tighter and drifted 
away. 
 
From the Ashes (8 0f ?)

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com


Scully lay awake for the longest time; longer than she would ever have 
thought possible.  She waited for Mulder's breathing to become deep and 
steady, the trail of his breath, easily marked on her skin.  When she was 
certain he was asleep, she passed her lips over the top of his head, 
once...twice.  The rain had done an efficient job of removing whatever 
styling product he used. His hair was soft; it laid forward on his forehead 
like a young boy's, and it smelled a little like outside and a lot like him.  
She couldn't see his face--his head was tucked deeply against her breast--but 
she could see the very tip of his nose, past the fringe of his hair.  It made 
her smile for some reason; she didn't analyze why.

When she dared, she moved her leg slightly along his; she could feel the 
crisp, coarse hair of his leg as it tickled the inside of her knee.  When 
that didn't wake him, she drew the instep of her foot along the muscle of his 
calf, reveling in the curve of it as it drew up to his knee. When she 
couldn't reach anymore without waking him, she nestled her leg between his, 
nudging slightly with her knee until she could rest between their weight.

He held her tightly around her waist and back, as if he thought she might try 
to escape him.  Sometimes he would push his head deeper against her, nudging 
her with his nose and chin before he would settle again.  And he'd whisper 
from time to time, though it seemed to be a quiet pronouncement rather than a 
frightened exclamation, so she assumed his dreams hadn't returned to the 
darkest of places, at least not yet.


She wiggled an arm loose and smoothed the hair at his temple, following 
around and running her finger around the top of his ear.  His shoulder rose 
in protection, and he mumbled thickly, "Tickles..."  

Scully stopped all exploration.  Was he awake, aware of her small exploits? 
She was deeply suspicious for a while.  "Mulder?" she whispered, to no 
response.  She blew in his ear slightly, and he never moved.  "Mulder, you 
better be asleep."  Pulling her head to an awkward position, she studied his 
face.  It was completely peaceful; no record was written on his features of 
what he had endured over the course of the last few days.

Finally, she laid back and was still for a long while.  He shifted against 
her, rearranging his long legs, but not withdrawing himself at all.  Scully 
moved in concert, until a new position had been silently agreed to.

She moved her hand to rest on his bicep, remaining there until she felt 
secure in his slumber.  At that point, she began to trace the muscle there 
and trailed her fingers lower on his arm.  She at times became completely 
obsessive about certain parts of his anatomy.  As of late, the part of his 
arm revealed when he rolled up his sleeves was the all-out winner.  She had a 
more than passing on-going observation of the muscles and bone and the fact 
that his hair was golden there and not as dark as the hair on his head.  She 
encircled his wrist lightly, just because she could, and then uncurled his 
fingers, placing her hand inside.

He sighed and tensed against her, moving only slightly; but she could feel 
his muscles form harder and knew his dreams had taken him back to where he 
had never been.  Although she had to admit, she could be wrong.  So much had 
happened to him in his life that might instigate nightmares.  She thought 
about his neighbor's complaints that she could hear him scream in the night, 
and it saddened her anew.  She wrapped herself more tightly around him, 
intertwining with him, like flowers planted too closely in the garden.  
Gradually, he relaxed against her, whispering something again that sounded 
like her name.  She ventured the smallest of kisses on his forehead and drew 
herself in, more tightly still, and finally fell asleep.     



It was hours later that Scully awoke to find her arms and bed disturbingly 
empty.  She looked toward the bathroom; it was dark, the door open.  Slowly 
she scrambled from her bed. She was nowhere near completely rested, and she 
felt certain the same could be said about Mulder.

As she walked into her living room, she saw him, sitting on her couch, 
wrapped in an afghan, staring out into the brittle morning sunlight.  
"Mulder?" she queried.

He looked up at her and smiled apologetically.  "Did I wake you?" he asked.

"No," she replied, pushing her hair out of her eyes with one hand.  "Why are 
you up?"

"I guess you probably won't believe that I wanted to get an early start on 
the day."

"Nope," she agreed, plopping down next to him on the couch.

He unwound the cover from his shoulders and wrapped and end around her, 
drawing her against him in the process.  She nestled there for a moment.  
"Why did you get up, Mulder?"

He lowered his head.  "It came back to me in my dreams...I was sick, and then 
I couldn't get the images out of my mind."  His breath smelled of mouthwash, 
and she could still smell the rain on his skin.

"You know, Mulder, I know this isn't the same thing; but when I was young and 
I had a nightmare, my mother would come and talk to me until I fell asleep 
again."

He looked down at her, slightly surprised.  "Really?"

"Mm-hm," she replied sleepily.  "Didn't your mom do that?"

He laughed a little.  "I don't remember if she did before Sam...was gone.  
But, after, she always took sleeping pills.  She wouldn't have heard me if my 
screams were accompanied by a full orchestra."

"What about your dad?"

He didn't answer.

"Bad question?" Scully guessed.

"No, it's all right.  My dad had a very unusual way to deal with my 
nightmares."

"Really?" she asked, still half asleep.

"When I would scream in my sleep...he'd pull me out of bed and knock me 
around."

"Mulder!  My god, that's terrible."

"I guess I would scream her...Samantha's name.  It was too much for him."

"That's no excuse, Mulder."

"Doesn't matter anymore."

"How long did this go on?" 

He shrugged.  "I started sleeping on the couch; it was farther away from his 
room and I didn't sleep as soundly, so I didn't dream as vividly.  Then he 
left.  It's funny; I almost missed him knocking me around.  At least he knew 
I was there."

"Mulder, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I was trying to help take your mind off things.  I didn't mean to bring up 
bad memories."

"You didn't bring them up, Scully.  They're always there.  You know the night 
all of this started?"

"Yeah."

"I was at George's bar because it was the anniversary of my dad's death.  I 
wanted to get wasted.  Ironic.  I don't usually get drunk because I remind 
myself of my dad when I'm drunk.  But on the anniversary of his death, I 
celebrate by attempting to get shit-faced. Maybe if I hadn't had as much to 
drink as I did that night...maybe all of this wouldn't have been set in 
motion."

"So, now you've figured out a way for this to be your fault?" Scully 
responded, sitting up slightly.

"No," he answered unconvincingly.  

"Mulder, if the shoe were on the other foot, if I had one too many that night 
and had gone home to find a stalker in my apartment, would you be sitting 
here trying to give me the blame?"

"No," he admitted.

"Then I don't want to hear any more about how you're responsible," she told 
him as she drew in her knees.  "It pisses me off."

Mulder laughed slightly.  "Nobody wants that."

"Damn straight," she responded, nodding her head sturdily.

"Did you like George?" Mulder asked, after a while. 

"Yeah, I liked him a lot.  He seems to care a great deal for you."

"Yeah, I love him like a brother."

Scully paused for a moment.  "Is that because he was your brother?"

Mulder didn't answer at once.  He shifted his attention back out to the 
morning.  "I'm sorry I never told you I was married."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know.  I almost did a few times.  It's just...painful still, and 
it's hard for me to talk about."

"Then don't," Scully replied.   "We can talk about it another time."

"How about the bare bones?"

"Mulder, I mean it.  You don't have to talk about it."

"I know I don't, Scully.  Now that it's out, I just want to get it over with, 
okay?"

"Okay."  

He shifted the cover up higher on his shoulder.  "She was a pre-school 
teacher.  How's that for paranormal--me with a pre-school teacher?  I met her 
in the park where I used to eat lunch from time to time; she was with her 
kids every day.  She gave me holy hell one day because one of her girls 
talked to me and I talked back.  She thought I was some sort of predator.  I 
showed her my badge, and she said, 'Oh yeah.  Like there's no perverts 
working for the government.'" He laughed a little at the memory and then 
raised the heel of his hand to his forehead.

"Did you ask her out?"

"No, she spent an entire afternoon trying to track me down at the FBI.  All 
she could remember was that my name was that of a wild animal."

"And she found you that way?" she asked incredulously.

"Here's something you may not know, Scully.  There are very few FBI agents 
whose given name is the same as a wild animal."

"Hmmm," she murmured, thinking.

"There are a few with nicknames..."

"Okay," she agreed. "I can see how that could be true."

"I hear Agents Kelly and Cooper call each other Kitten and Tiger--"

"Mulder--"

"But I'm sure you can see how that wouldn't show up at the switchboard."

"Obviously."

"Hey, Scully, maybe we should have nicknames for each other."

"How about I call you Spooky?"

"How about I call you Sugar-lips?"

"How about I call you dead meat?"

"Point taken. Where was I?"

"She called you at the Bureau."

"Oh yeah. She asked me out, and it just flowed, you know?  Ever have that 
happen?  Like you knew the person, like meeting was just a technicality?  It 
went fast.  We got married after three months."

"What happened?"

He shook his head, any previous buoyancy suddenly and completely deflating.  
"She'd come home at night and tell me Jimmy bit someone or Mary lost a tooth. 
 I'd tell her where Moe hid all the body parts.  I didn't realize it was 
eating her alive.  She got sadder and sadder.  One day, I came home and I 
went to get some pain medicine, and the medicine cabinet was cleared out.  I 
looked in her make-up drawer, and it was empty.  Just like that.  My stomach 
fell; I just froze."

"She was gone?" 

"No, she was out on the back porch, crying, saying she loved me, but she 
couldn't live my life with me."

"I'm sorry, Mulder."

"I offered to quit, to do whatever she wanted me to do.  I just couldn't face 
the fact that I would have to be alone again, without her.  But she said no, 
that she couldn't be with me.  She got the apartment, the friends, the dog 
and everything in the apartment. I got George."

"She took everything?"

"I gave her everything.  I looked at it as lovely parting gifts.  It was the 
least I could do."  He turned his head as far away from her as possible. "I 
had pictured how our children would look, how she'd look on our fiftieth 
anniversary." His voice cracked and became thick with sorrow.  He looked 
sideways at her and rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers.  "See, 
Scully?  This is why I never told you.  I have never been able to tell 
anyone.  I knew after she left that I couldn't have love in my life.  I had 
to choose to let that go or be destroyed."

"I don't know what to say," she answered, picking at a spot on their cover.

"Ahh, there's nothing to say.  Ancient history.  I'm glad I finally told you, 
Scully.  Now there's nothing you don't know about me." He nudged her smiling 
a little, despite his still lingering sadness.

She laughed a little.  "Every time I think I've read the whole book, you 
write another epilogue."

"DO you want to hear about the time I threw up in the back seat of Carl 
Mulgrew's father's sedan?"

"Nah, let's save a little mystery."

They lapsed into companionable silence, Scully quietly ruminating about what 
he had said.  So many questions that had dogged her about Mulder over the 
years completely cleared away and yet there always seemed to be more.  She 
also realized after a while that her purpose had been completely thwarted.  
She had meant to divert Mulder, occupy his mind with mundane thoughts so that 
he could sleep again.  She had failed miserably.  She let the cover fall from 
her shoulder and got up, faced Mulder and offered her hand.  He looked up at 
her as if he couldn't comprehend the gesture.  "Come on, Mulder.  Do you want 
to try again?"

He looked up at her, his exhaustion playing across his features.  
"Yeah...yeah, let's go back to sleep." He took her hand and let her foist him 
to his feet.  Quietly, compliantly, he trailed behind her.

"Did I tell you your neighbor called me your wench?" Scully told him as she 
walked ahead of him toward the bedroom, keeping his hand in hers. 

"My what?" he choked out.  "How are you going to explain her disappearance?"

"I can't remember.  I think she also called me your floozy. Or your tootsie. 
Something like that," she continued as she tugged him down the hall.

"Don't I wish," Mulder replied, smiling slightly.

"She doesn't seem very fond of you, Mulder."

"I have this theory.  I think she's just trying to deny her deep attraction 
to me."

"She's doing a very fine job of it."

"Most everybody does."

"You think so?" she asked rather flirtatiously.

"As far as I can tell," he returned, oblivious. He yawned loudly as he 
watched her pull the covers back.

"You know what?"  Scully said with a thoughtful gaze.

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you lay down?  I'm going to put your clothes in the wash."

"What?" he cried incredulously.

"Because...well, it's not like I have anything you can borrow.  When you wake 
up, all you have is slightly damp...everything."

"Scully...don't leave me."

"I have a washer-dryer in my hall closet."

"Get out," he breathed, impressed.

"Mulder, you are so bizarre.  After everything you've seen in your life, 
you're impressed by a miniature washer-dryer?"

He shrugged.  "I'm a guy," he explained.

"Well, guy, lay down. I'll be there in a minute."

He dove into the bed, doing a half twist on the way down, burying his face in 
the pillows.

"Mulder, if you break my bed..." she warned as she walked down the hall.

He giggled a little, feeling strangely exhilarated.  Gathering the pillows in 
both arms, he buried his head.  "Scully?" he called out.

"Go to sleep," she replied.

"These are the softest sheets.  They smell like you."  He flipped onto his 
back and gazed at the ceiling.

"I hope that's a good thing," she replied.  

"It's a good thing," he murmured, holding the pillow to his face.  He thought 
about his surprising feeling of well being.  He felt as if she had provided a 
short respite from a long journey he knew he would still have to undertake.  
But he was grateful for the oasis in time, for her understanding, and most of 
all for her steadfastness and loyalty.  He knew there was no room within him 
for accusation and recriminations; and for this brief time, he felt happy.

She padded back into the bedroom and stood over the bed with her hands on her 
hips.  "Make room," she demanded, and he scooted over.  Soon she was beside 
him again; and he squirmed until he was next to her, pushed deeply against 
her.  "Thank you, Scully," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Mulder."

"Night."

Laying beside Scully, listening to her breathing, Mulder realized something 
that he knew he must never forget.  If he could feel this way in the 
aftermath of what had happened to him, if he could feel hopeful and alive 
and...The word slipped into his brain for a moment, but he latched onto it 
with a vengeance: loved, he felt loved.  If he could feel this way, now, at 
this point in his life, he could never let Scully out of his life.  He closed 
his eyes with a sigh, feeling that something had been resolved inside of him, 
something he hadn't realized was in conflict.



Scully raised her head and listened, hearing nothing at all.  Not knowing if 
the noise had been a part of her dream or if the washing machine had shut off 
loudly or perhaps a neighbor had been more disruptive.  In any case, the 
sound was gone.

She propped her head up on her hand and looked down at Mulder, on whose 
shoulder she had somehow found herself.  He was on his back, his left arm 
wrapped under her neck and his right flung far away as if he was prepared for 
his imminent sacrifice.  His head was thrown back, and his Adam's Apple stuck 
out sharply.  Scully settled back again, placing her hand on his concave 
stomach and closing her eyes.

Once again, she heard it.  Raising her head again, she prepared to climb over 
Mulder.  She threw the covers back slightly and made her way past Mulder, 
looking back to see if he had been disturbed; but he simply turned over with 
a sigh, wrapping his arm around himself.

She grabbed her robe and walked quietly into her living room.  She came to an 
abrupt halt as she entered.  "What in the hell are you doing in my apartment?"

"What in the hell are you doing here?" Amber responded arrogantly.       

From the Ashes (9 of ?) 

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com



"I'm going to ask you again--What are you doing in my apartment?" Scully said 
menacingly.

Amber stood up from the bent position in which Scully had encountered her, 
tucking her hands in her pockets while she watched Scully from across the 
room.  "Shouldn't you be at work?" Amber replied.

"You need to leave now," Scully said flatly, walking toward the door.

"I just came..." Amber's eyes swept the room, and she seemed to falter.  
"Okay, I waited for him all night.  I sat on his couch and waited.  I wanted 
to say I'm sorry for what happened, okay?"  She scratched at her nose with 
her sleeve.  "But he never came back.  I fell asleep there; I borrowed his 
shirt to sleep in.  He said I could!" she exclaimed with no prompting save a 
small lift of Scully's eyebrow.  "I fed his fish, and I--I answered his 
phone, okay.  I left messages," she sniffed again.  "His mother called 
and...and...some guy.  I wrote his name down."

"Amber, why would you go into Agent Mulder's apartment without his 
permission?"

"I told you he said I could!  When he gave me his keys to make copies, he 
said I could go in and wait there for him whenever I wanted."  She began to 
wander throughout her apartment, lifting things, fingering them as if she 
would have to recreate the scene at a later date.

"Is that how you got in here, Amber?  Did you make a copy of my keys when you 
copied Agent Mulder's?"         

She shrugged lightly.  "He said I could," she mumbled as she lifted a framed 
picture of Melissa from its place on her desk.

"Amber, are you sure you didn't take Agent Mulder's keys when he parked his 
car at your lot?"

"What do you mean?" she answered, her eyes suddenly fixed on Scully's face.

"I think that you took Agent Mulder's keys--"

"Agent Mulder.  Agent Mulder," she mimicked in a high-pitched voice, her 
mouth turned down sharply like a bratty child.  "You're so prissy.  He thinks 
you're prissy too.  You think you're the only one who can come into his 
apartment with a key?   Yeah, I've seen you, you prissy bitch."  She picked 
up a small figurine Scully's mother had given to her for Christmas and let it 
tumble to the floor.  "Oops," she mocked.

"All right, that's it," Scully announced, walking quickly toward her, fully 
expecting to take her by an arm and throw her out.  But Amber smiled bitterly 
and pulled a gun from her pocket.  Scully stopped, her brain set to full 
alert as she began to wonder where her own gun was.

"Fox said I could use this if I needed protection when he wasn't around," 
Amber drawled slowly, watching Scully closely for her reaction.  "See?  
You're not the only one who knows how to use these.  I can do anything you 
can do."  She began to scan Scully's apartment again.  Her eyes fell on some 
earrings, and she looked at Scully haughtily before she slipped them into her 
pocket.

"You know, Amber, you're making things worse for yourself by doing this.  Up 
until now, you only had a count of filing a false report--"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," she demanded, approaching Scully with the gun 
pointed at her.  "Are you calling me a liar?"

Scully swallowed.  "Are you calling Agent Mulder a rapist?" she countered.

"No!" she cried out indignantly.  "Fox is kind and gentle and smart 
and...and...Why would you ask me a question like that?"

Scully glanced around as Amber rambled, her eyes falling on her gun next to 
the phone where she had left it in her exhaustion the night before.  It was 
about ten paces away from her on the other side of her couch.  Amber shoved 
her shoulder, having made her way across the floor to where Scully stood.   
"I asked you why you would ask me a question like that?"

"Amber," Scully said evenly, moving slightly in the direction of her gun.  It 
would have to be a slow process; but Amber was so agitated, Scully felt 
certain she could eventually make it to her gun, distract her and overcome 
her if she could keep Amber from shooting her in the process.  "When you 
called the police and asked them to arrest Agent Mulder for sexual assault--"

"I didn't say that!  Okay, I just said he tried to have sex with me and 
that...that I didn't want him to and that he hurt me.  I just thought if he 
went to jail, you know, just for a while, then maybe he'd think about us and 
realize he was treating me bad, okay?  I thought maybe you'd see that he's--" 
She clapped her mouth shut.  "But you didn't see," she began in a hostile 
tone.  "You just started nosing around, sticking your little nose places it 
should never have been.  Just so he'd think you care about him when you know 
you don't.  You just can't stand him being happy, that's all.  You have to 
have him hanging on you, wanting only you." Her voice was rising in pitch, 
and Scully was beginning to have grave concerns about whether this could turn 
out well.  Still her mind remained focused on her gun, now only three or four 
paces away.  Slowly she backed away, turning toward her weapon with Amber 
following closely after her, waving the gun and taunting her.

"I just want you to tell me where he is, that's all!"  she demanded, flipping 
a crystal vase full of flowers as she advanced, sending it careening to an 
ear- shattering, scattered end.  "Where are you hiding him?  Why won't you 
just let me go to him so I can apologize and we can go back to being in love?"

"Amber," Scully began as she stretched her hand behind her to grasp the gun.  
But as she could feel the barrel against her fingers, Amber shoved her hard 
against the nearest wall, taking a handful of Scully's nightshirt and pulling 
it toward her.  "Where the hell is he?" she screeched.

"Amber!" Mulder's voice seemed to echo through the apartment, and they both 
turned to look at him.  He stood in his underwear on the threshold of the 
living room, his hair tousled, his face still rumpled with sleep.  "Put the 
gun down, Amber," he demanded.

"Oh my god," she cried out, releasing Scully but resting the barrel of the 
gun  on her chest. "You slept here last night?  With her?"

"Amber," Mulder replied, keeping his voice level and calm although his heart 
pounded against his rib cage.  "Can we talk?"

"Now you want to talk to me, Fox?  How could you do this?  How could you 
sleep with this whore?"  She began to cry openly.  "I was worried about you, 
okay?  I thought something might have happened to you!  I fed your fish!"

Mulder's eyes slipped to Scully's and then back to Amber's.  "I'm sorry you 
were worried," he said gently, attempting to placate her.  "I didn't know you 
were worried."

She began to back away from Scully, the gun always pointed toward Scully's 
face.  Wiping her running nose on her sleeve, Amber continued to weep.  "I 
told you she didn't love you!"  She picked up a large framed picture with her 
free hand and threw it hard against the bookcase on the opposite wall, 
causing a domino effect with the fragile items that rested there.  "I told 
you I loved you, but you came here any way and you fucked her!  I can't 
believe you fucked her," she cried out and, whipping the door open, 
disappeared down the hall.

Scully looked at Mulder for a moment, shocked that she would simply run from 
the room; but after a moment, she grasped her gun and ran out after her.  
Mulder sprinted to the door and looked both ways in the corridor.  "Scully!" 
he called. When there was no answer, he ran in the direction he thought she 
had taken.  Before he could get too far, Scully came back around the corner, 
breathing heavily.  "Mulder," she said.  "You're in your underwear."

He looked down at himself and back up, incredulously.  "You're in your 
nightgown," he pointed out.

She glanced at him as she walked by and into her apartment, "You're prettier 
than I am."

"Well, that's open for debate," Mulder countered, following her.  "What 
happened?"

"I don't know; I lost her.  Maybe someone picked her up."

"Scully," Mulder intoned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she retorted.

He glanced at the door as if he expected Amber to burst through once and then 
back at Scully, who had collapsed into a chair.  Following after, he squatted 
at her knees and looked into her face, more shaken than he normally would 
have been.  "Are you sure?" he whispered.

She looked into his eyes and smiled a little, touching his hair in a way she 
wouldn't have considered a mere twenty-four hours before.  "I'm all right, 
Mulder, really."

He took in a deep breath and let it out, getting to his feet again and 
surveying the wreckage Amber had caused.  "What happened here?"

"I got up and she was here, going through my things.  She said she needed to 
find you...pretty much what she said to you, only with more, 'okays?'  
Mulder, she is completely delusional." Scully let her eyes travel up and down 
his body as he stood, turned and walked away from her.  The shape of his 
shoulders and the muscles in his back that traveled to his slim hips didn't 
escape her notice.  She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on what 
needed to be done and then, with a quick movement, she got to her feet and 
headed toward the hall.

"Where are you going?" Mulder asked after her.

"I'm going to put your clothes in the dryer."

"Sick of the sight of me already, huh?" 

"I'll let you know if that happens," she returned.  "But for now, I think you 
should have some clothes on when the police get here."

"You called the police?" Mulder asked urgently.

"No, but I'm sure one of my neighbors did. Why?"

Mulder grinned lightly.  "That's the difference between us, Scully.  When 
your neighbors hear odd noises, they call the police.  When my neighbors hear 
odd noises, they mutter, 'There's that fruitcake and his wench going at it 
again.'"

Scully laughed a little.  "Yeah, that's the only difference between us, 
Mulder," she teased.  He didn't reply as she watched him shake off his good 
humor and return to an agitated state, chewing his thumbnail and obviously 
turning something over in his mind.    

"What is it, Mulder?"

"Scully," he began tentatively.  "I know you're not going to like this."

"Oh god," she said.  "Every time you say I'm not going to like something, I 
loathe it."

"Just..." He held his hand out to her.  "Keep an open mind."

She placed her fingertips over her eyes.  "It's getting worse," she observed. 

"I just...I'd like to see if I can find her first."

"Mulder, have you gone completely around the bend?" she asked incredulously. 

"Scully, she has my gun.  If we call the police and they know she is armed, 
the odds go shooting through the roof that she'll be killed."

"Mulder, if the police don't find her, odds are that it'll be you or me who 
will be killed."

"I don't think she'd kill anyone."

"Mulder, for god's sake!  She tried to rape you; she started this whole 
hellish chapter in your life."

"She didn't realize what she was doing."

Scully let out a growl of frustration.  "There are times I understand the 
overwhelming desire people seem to have to beat you up."

His face twisted into a chagrined expression, and he shrugged.  "Sometimes I 
understand it too.  But, Scully, I'm just asking for a day." He could see by 
her expression that she wasn't buying.  "A half a day...a few hours!  I'll go 
to her house, see if I can find her.  Just let me try, Scully, before you 
call the police."

She looked at him skeptically.  "Mulder, you do realize you're projecting 
here."

"I can understand why you'd think that."

"The Cigarette Smoking Man was right about something he said about you."

Mulder looked at her. His feelings were hurt simply by the thought that she 
could agree with anything that man would say about him.  

"He said he didn't have to pay Amber off--that you are far too easily 
manipulated.  And he was right, Mulder, all anyone has to do is throw a young 
girl in your path and you perceive her as helpless, vulnerable.  And you 
can't seem to see that."

"This has nothing to do with my sister, Scully."

"Mulder, please.  This has everything to do with your sister.  Let's say a 
young man came to my apartment, roughed me up and tried to rape me.  You 
wouldn't be sitting here in my living room, pleading for leniency; you'd be 
enraged.  But your culprit is a young woman, so naturally she is in need of 
your help and you are partly to blame.  Can't you see the pattern?"

"Maybe you're right," he agreed, nodding agitatedly.  "But that doesn't mean 
I'm wrong.  I think she could benefit more from psychiatric care than time in 
prison, if she even got time.  She could be out on the street with no help at 
all.  If I find her and convince her to allow herself to be committed, it 
could save her."

"Mulder, saving her won't make things right.  Not now."

"Then nothing will have changed, but I'll know I tried."

"Mulder, you can't reason with her; she is completely insane."

"More insane than me, Scully?" he whispered.

Scully paused, unnerved by the tone in his voice.  "You're not insane, 
Mulder."

"Maybe you should do more research."

"I don't have to."

He nodded dismissively.  "Anyone with any background in psychology wouldn't 
agree with you.  I am profoundly delusional, according to any textbook you'd 
open.  I can't tell reality from fabrication, what is true from complete 
fiction.  Point to any aspect of my life that I held true two days ago, and 
I'd have to tell you now that I'm not sure if it belongs to me or if it was 
placed there to manipulate me.  Did my father knock me around when I woke up 
screaming, or did they want me to think of him as a heartless bastard?  Was I 
married?  The whole relationship could have been implanted with the hope that 
it's destruction would obliterate me.    
You agree with Cancer Man that I am too easily manipulated; you're probably 
right.  But maybe I am easily manipulated because it's all I've known.   
Although..." He smiled sadly, ironically.  "Even that perception may not be 
my own.  The ultimate privacy of one's own thoughts--they took that away when 
they raped me, literally raped me, by taking away from me what I never wanted 
to give."

Scully lowered her head and shook it from side to side, speechless against 
his agony.

"They raped you too, Scully.  When they took you away, when they put that 
thing in your neck.  Goddamn them, Scully.  They raped us both."

Scully felt profoundly sorrowful as she watched him, taking in his underlying 
terror, his uncertainty.  In a single graceful move, he sank to the floor and 
sat cross-legged near her feet, amid the rubble that Amber had left behind.  
She winced, fearful that he would be cut, damaged more than he already had 
been.

"Mulder," she said gently.

He didn't respond.  His head was dipped low, and his hands dangled loosely 
from his wrists as they rested on his knees.

"Mulder," she said again. He looked up into her face, his own face full of 
pain and longing, sorrow and despair.  "When you said you trusted me 
yesterday, did you mean that?"

He looked wounded.  "Of course, I meant that.  You know that, don't you?"

She nodded.   "Yes, I think I do.  I just wanted to remind you of that fact 
before I say what I'm going to say."

He nodded, his eyes still locked on her face.  She looked so strong to him, 
her legs a sturdy distance apart, her hands on her knees.  

"I can see why you wouldn't trust yourself, what you know, who you are.  But 
where you are uncertain, I am not.  I know who you are.  I've known for a 
long time.  Before I knew that you were married, that you give your old 
clothes to the homeless, that you threw up in the car of some friend of 
yours." She paused and smiled a little.  "I knew who and what you are."

"Scully, I--"

"No, Mulder, let me finish.  When I say I know who you are, I mean what 
you're made of--your core, your soul.  You are Fox Mulder, and you are decent 
and truthful; you have more integrity and dignity than any other man I've 
ever known.  And although I know it hurts to not be sure of your life 
experience, your life experience contributes to who you are, it doesn't 
define who you are.  I know who you are.  You're Fox Mulder." She glanced 
away from him but quickly met his gaze again.  "I know you more thoroughly 
than I have ever known or wanted to know any other man.  I know you, Mulder, 
because you're the man I love."

His mouth dropped slightly, and he blinked.  Scully had never seen him so 
astonished, and it hurt her somewhere deep inside that this news would shock 
him to the marrow.  Slowly he got to his knees and moved himself between her 
legs, laying his head on her shoulder and slipping his hands under her arms 
and around her back.  She could hear the clock in the kitchen as it ticked 
off the minutes of silence as she held him, stroking the back of his head and 
holding him closely against her.

"Thank god," he finally whispered against her neck.  "Oh, thank god." 
      
  
From the Ashes (10 of ?)

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com


Time was surely passing, but Mulder and Scully were completely unaware of it 
for the few minutes after Scully told Mulder that she loved him.  Mulder's 
mind was racing but spinning its wheels, trying to conceive of such a 
miracle, especially directly on the heels of the disastrous days he had 
endured.  He could only wrap her tighter to be sure she didn't realize her 
mistake and run from him.  There was also the overwhelming fear in the back 
of his mind that he had misunderstood somehow, that she loved him like she 
loved chocolate and sad music or perhaps as she might love her brother or her 
friends.  To have misinterpreted her would have been a tragedy of epic 
proportions for Mulder; he knew he couldn't bear to discover it.  For Scully 
to even qualify her love for him at this point would be tantamount to firing 
a deadly shot.  So he held her quietly, waiting, as he remained still, 
delighted but tentative.

Scully also was considering her words.  Not because they weren't true or 
because she hadn't wanted him to know.  No, she had practiced the words over 
and over again--in the shower, in the car, before she fell asleep at night.  
There was no doubt that she loved him.  But, as she had told Mulder, she knew 
him through and through.  Therefore, she feared the timing of her words would 
come back to haunt her; it was her only regret.  She knew he was likely to 
mull over the timing, consider the context and eventually conclude that she 
had pitied him or simply wanted to bolster him, and he would find doubt.  So 
she held him closer, tighter, and rocked him just a little, hoping to banish 
the future a while longer.



Skinner stood watching for what seemed like an eternity.  He wasn't shocked 
by what he saw; it was something he mistakenly assumed had been going on, in 
some form, for a long time. Scully was sitting in an armchair, apparently 
never having dressed since waking; Mulder was on his knees, held deeply in 
her arms.  But something about the scene disturbed him so that he was unable 
to quietly turn and leave, which he knew was the decent thing to do.  Maybe 
it was their absolute stillness. They didn't murmur or even kiss; only the 
smallest of rocking movement existed in their world.  Add to that the debris 
that littered the floor around them, and it became an unsettling scene for 
Skinner.  It seemed like a bomb had exploded, and Mulder and Scully simply 
held each other as a means of protection against the next one.

He had to make a decision before fate made it for him, so he cleared his 
throat.  They fell apart and turned toward him with an almost violent action; 
Scully seemingly shy but without shame, and Mulder...  Skinner watched him 
warily, sensing his extreme defensiveness: his facial expression, his stance 
after he got to his feet, his posture all spoke to a silent warning of 
aggression not far below the surface.  Skinner was familiar with Mulder in 
this mode; he wondered if it was simply finding him with Scully that provoked 
it.  After a moment, Mulder softened slightly, but there were unmistakable 
remnants of his overblown tension.

"I'm sorry, Agent Scully," Skinner began, choosing to focus on the more 
docile of the two.  "Your door was open."

She glanced behind him as if to confirm and looked back into his eyes.  
"That's all right, sir," she answered as Mulder turned abruptly and left the 
room, returning almost immediately with a white, terrycloth robe, which he 
handed to her.  Mulder stood closely, almost hovering, as she wrapped herself 
in it.  Once she was covered, Mulder seemed to relax a little more.  "May I 
ask why you're here?" Scully asked politely. Skinner barely perceived a small 
nod, either in thanks or as some unspoken message to Mulder. In any case, he 
took a step back and waited.  Skinner noted that Mulder made no attempt to do 
the same for himself as he had for Scully; he stood, hands on hips, wearing 
only black stretch boxers.  Scully obviously intercepted Skinner's 
observation and turned to Mulder.  "I think your clothes are probably ready," 
she noted casually.

Mulder looked down into her face, seeking something. Skinner couldn't tell 
what, but he had observed this behavior before as well: a silent 
communication which obviously spoke volumes between the two of them but never 
hinted at its meaning to any bystander.  Whatever question Mulder had asked 
had been swiftly answered. Scully nodded briefly and looked back expectantly 
to Skinner while Mulder, rather reluctantly, Skinner thought, left the room.

"I tried to call Agent Mulder last night," Skinner began.  "A woman answered. 
 I became concerned by her tone.  She seemed...agitated.  She said she'd take 
a message for 'Fox' and then she asked me how to spell Skinner."

Scully nodded, obviously nonplused.  "It was Amber Whitley."

Mulder reappeared, pulling a loose black t-shirt over slim fitting black 
jeans.  "Looks like I'm going to have to hire a new phone service.  I never 
got your message."

Skinner felt a little more comfortable as Mulder's attitude seemed to have 
diluted quite a bit.  "What was she doing at your apartment?"

"Feeding my fish," Mulder answered flatly as he returned to his position 
directly behind Scully's shoulder.

Skinner raised an eyebrow and looked to Scully for interpretation. "She 
apparently broke into Agent Mulder's apartment. She waited there for him, but 
he didn't return," Scully answered in a professional tone. 

"I called here and left messages. When you didn't return my call, I became 
concerned."

"Thank you, sir," Scully replied, offering no other explanation.

Skinner turned his attention to Mulder.  "The reason I was trying to reach 
you was that a friend of mine who works with the D.A. contacted me last night 
to let me know that the charges against you would be dropped at the beginning 
of business hours this morning."  He looked pointedly at the partners, 
ducking his head slightly.   "Although it seems you two have missed business 
hours completely."  He drew his hand over his mouth to hide the smallest 
smile that almost didn't escape him.  

"Thank you, sir," Scully responded again, glancing back at Mulder, who nodded 
grimly.

"Do we know why this decision was made?" Mulder asked, no sign of relief 
invading his solemn countenance.

"Amber Whitley recanted sometime last night.  Plus they received some kind of 
audio tape which they feel clears you."

Scully nodded.  "I received the same tape."

"Why didn't you turn it over?" Skinner asked.

"I became...distracted.  I was planning to go there this afternoon with the 
evidence and with what I had learned through my investigation."

"Well, I'm not sure it's necessary any more.  But I would check with the 
D.A.," Skinner advised and then turned to Mulder.  "I'm pleased this ordeal 
has ended favorably," he offered, extending his hand.

Mulder stepped forward to accept it, remaining completely subdued.  "Thank 
you, sir."

Skinner released Mulder's hand and took a step back, surveying Scully's 
ruins.  "What happened here?" he asked.

"Oh, that happens every time Scully uses the phrase, 'Mulder, do you expect 
me to believe-' in a sentence," Mulder explained facetiously.

"Oookaaay," he drawled, preparing to withdraw.  "So I'll see you both in the 
morning?"

Mulder began to nod, but Scully seemed suddenly agitated.  "Sir, Agent Mulder 
may need a few more days," she began, but Mulder stopped her with a look.

"No, sir.  Agent Scully is...mistaken.  I'll...we'll be there."

Skinner looked from face to face, wondering again about their private lives, 
but he didn't reply.  He nodded and turned, closing Scully's door behind him, 
mistakenly assuming that Mulder was the luckiest man alive. 



Mulder stood silently, seemingly surveying the wreckage in Scully's living 
room, but the look on his face told Scully he was keeping anger just under 
the surface.  "Do you want to try and save any of this?" Mulder asked.

"Mulder, I'm sorry.  I shouldn't--"

"It looks beyond salvation to me, but you're the expert on the irreparably
 damaged."

"Mulder--"

"I'll get the garbage can," he offered tersely, heading into the kitchen and 
returning with the plastic container.

"I shouldn't have said that to Skinner," Scully admitted.  "It's just 
that...I'm worried about you.  I think it would be a good idea to take some 
time off and--"

"And what, Scully?  Relive the memory over and over again?"

"No."

"Because I gotta tell you, it's not my idea of how to spend my accrued 
vacation time."  He began tossing pieces of glass into the trash with little 
concern for his safety.

"Mulder, will you just let me finish one sentence before continue your 
tirade?"

"Fine," he answered, still tossing remnants into the trash.

"You're right.  I shouldn't have said that to Skinner, and I apologize."

Mulder sighed, dropping his head slightly, temporarily putting aside his 
anger.  "I know you're worried about me," he said.  "But I'm fine."

"I don't think 'fine' would describe anyone who has been traumatized as you 
have been."

"I'll learn to live with it."

"How?"

"What?"

"How do you intend to live with it?"

He stood slowly. Scully noticed blood dripping from his hand but made no 
mention of it.  "I'll just live with it, Scully," he said venomously, between 
clenched teeth.  "I have no other choice."

"You have the choice of reaching out for help."

"Maybe I could join a support group.  There's got to be a huge number of us 
who have had rape memories implanted as a means of eliminating the threat we 
pose to uncovering an alien world domination conspiracy," he retorted 
vindictively.

"Mulder, I know you're angry.  I'm sure it's normal to be angry--"

"Normal?  How is anything about this normal, Scully?"

"There are a lot of ways it's normal.  Your pain, your anger, your feelings 
of loss of control, these are normal reactions to a trauma."

"Thank you, Dr. Scully."

She didn't answer for a moment, not trusting her words.  Instead she turned 
and retrieved her first aid kit; but before she ministered to the cut on 
Mulder's hand, she stopped and ran a hand agitatedly through her hair.  "You 
know, Mulder, I'm willing to absorb your anger if that's what you need from 
me right now.  I'm willing to do that or anything else you think might help 
you put this into perspective, so that you can move forward eventually.  But 
I think you should talk to a professional."

"I would, Scully, but I don't know where in the yellow pages they would list 
pretend rape counseling."

Her lips formed a grim line as she held out her hand for Mulder to place his 
injury to her care.  He did, and he watched as she tenderly cleaned his 
wound, his regret creeping slowly over him.  "I'm sorry, Scully.  I don't 
know why...I'm not angry at you, you know that."

She looked into his eyes and nodded. "You said yourself that you have been 
raped, even if it didn't physically happen."

He nodded a little.  "I...I don't know, Scully."

"We could call a rape counselor."

"No.  That would take too much explanation."

"What about that psychiatrist you saw last year?  The one who declared you 
fit for duty?"

"She might changer her mind if I tell her this."

"Call her, Mulder."       

He took in a deep breath.  "Okay, I'll think about it.  But I want to go and 
find Amber now.  I need to try and find her before all of this comes crashing 
down on her head."

Scully shook her head.  "Fine.  We'll go to her house and--"

"Wait...wait, Scully.  You're going?"

"Do you think I'd let you go after an unstable girl who's shown a tendency 
toward violence and who has your gun, on your own?"

"Scully, I can take care of myself, despite my recent history."

"Sorry.  I'm going."

"Scully," Mulder took his hand from her and smiled at her a little.  "I'm a 
little afraid to be alone with you."

"Why?"

He bit his lip and looked just over her head as he considered his words.  
"I'm afraid I'll take one of the best moments of my life...what you said to 
me a few minutes ago...and let it be chewed up by the beast of some of the 
most horrible things that have ever happened to me.  I think I proved here 
that I can't be trusted to be civil, let alone behave in a way you deserve."  
  

"Mulder, it was a bad time to tell you that--"

"No!  God, no, don't apologize.  No. Scully, if I had anything in the world 
to give you, I'd lay it here at your feet.  But I am almost emotionally 
bankrupt right now.  But please... be patient.  I want more than anything to 
tell you everything I feel.  I just don't think I'm capable right now."

"Then I'll wait," Scully told him as she took his hand in hers.

"What...what if I drive you away before I can tell you?"

"Mulder, you know me better than that.  Have you ever met anyone more 
stubborn than me in your entire life?"

He laughed a little.  "No."

"I'm with you.  I want to be with you.  I'm strong, and I've lived through a 
lot worse than your anger."

"I wish I felt that certain."

"I'll be certain for both of us until you can be certain for yourself. I'll 
save that for you."  With that, she stood up on her toes and kissed his mouth 
softly, sweetly.  "Can you wait for me until I get dressed?" she asked as she 
withdrew, trotting off, assured of her answer.

Mulder watched after her.  "I can wait for you until the day I die," he 
murmured.



Scully pushed the off button to her cell phone and looked over at Mulder who 
drove, completely enveloped in his own thoughts.  "Okay, we can get a 
locksmith late this afternoon, so we'll have to call our landlords.  The 
people at the parking garage say they haven't seen her since last week, so 
that's a goose chase. What else?"  She bowed her head and rubbed the bridge 
of her nose.  "Oh, Frohike said he's got hard copies of all of Amber's 
e-mails in case we need them."

She looked harder at Mulder. "Are you with me?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Her house, it's right around the corner, right?"

Scully sighed.  "Yeah.  It's right...there." She pointed at the ramshackle 
building as Mulder parked in front of it.

"She lives here?" he responded incredulously.

"Yup," Scully confirmed as she swung out of the car.

"Scully, this is...it's like a tenement.  Does she live here alone?"

"As far as I know.  There's no mention of parents or guardians in her file.  
Mulder, I want to point out to you that she is not exactly helpless."

He pulled himself from the car, his eyes never leaving the tiny, broken down 
house.  He walked through the gate carefully, as if he feared he might 
further destroy her home.  "Scully, maybe you should wait in the car," he 
suggested just before he knocked.

"Why?"

"Because you...intimidate her.  If she sees you, she might bolt."

"No way, Mulder.  I think you are completely mistaken about this girl.  I'm 
not going to let you risk your life for her."

"Scully--"

"It's not up for discussion," she said as she reached around him and rapped 
sharply on the door.

There was no answer, and Mulder eventually tried the door through the 
tattered screen.  "It's open," he told Scully over his shoulder.

"So naturally we're going in," she replied dryly as he pushed his way through 
the door.

Scully followed closely behind him, her hand on her gun.  Mulder stopped 
abruptly, and Scully had to walk around him to see.  It was a single room, a 
stove, sink and small refrigerator at the back wall and a tiny bathroom 
behind a suspended tablecloth.  There was a lawn chair and a small, ancient 
TV, with a wire coat hanger attached to the top and in the corner, a bright, 
state-of-the- art computer.

"How in the hell did she get that?" Mulder asked.

"Probably held up Crazy Eddie's Electronic Emporium," Scully surmised.  "With 
your gun," she added.

The computer was running, so Mulder moved the mouse and was taken aback to 
see a large photo of his face used as wallpaper.

Scully looked over his shoulder.  "Nice picture.  When did you have it taken?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Mulder whispered under his breath.

Scully moved some papers at her desk and found a battered notebook.  Opening 
the cover, she found page after page of snapshots taken of Mulder as he lived 
his life--walking to cars, playing basketball, talking to people on the 
street.  "Seems Amber stole a camera too," Scully observed as she pushed the 
notebook around for Mulder to see.  "Are you creeped out yet?"  

Mulder nodded slightly, as he sat down at the computer.

Scully walked back toward the makeshift kitchen and looked into the sink.  
Hunks of hair filled the drain with a deep red liquid spotting the patchy 
stainless steel.  "Mulder, I think there might be blood here."

He jumped to his feet and joined her at the sink. "Are you sure it's blood?"

"Actually, no," Scully observed as she looked into the trash.  "It's Nice and 
Easy Deep Auburn.

He turned around, biting his lip.  "You said she took things from your 
apartment, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"She's focusing on you.  She's trying to assume your identity."

"Well, that's scary," Scully observed.

"Scully, I think you should go somewhere safe until we find her," Mulder 
asserted.

"You're not serious.  You're the one who said you didn't think she'd hurt 
anyone."     

"I'm beginning to doubt that."  His cell phone rang, and he reached in his 
pocket.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mulder," Scully told him as he pushed the on button.

"Mulder."

"Agent Mulder, this is District Attorney Norm Abrahmson. I've been trying to 
reach you."

"Yes?"

"I wonder if it's possible for you to come to my office any time in the near 
future?  I'd like to discuss the charges against you."

"Have they been dropped?"

"Yes, but there a few things I'd like to discuss with you in person if 
possible."

"Such as?"

"Well...I've been looking through your files.  I was told you were held 
overnight in prison and that you spent time in the infirmary?"

"Yes."

"Agent Mulder, there's absolutely no record of that happening.  It's as if it 
never happened."

Mulder swallowed and glanced at Scully.  "What is it?" she whispered.

His mouth went dry and crawling fear bunched up in his belly.

"Agent Mulder?"  The D.A. called.  "Agent Mulder?"

He was still calling as Mulder handed the phone to Scully and walked out of 
the house.
   


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