From: eponine119 Date: Sat, 03 Jan 1998 00:34:29 -0800 Subject: NEW: Identical Interloper 1/7 Disclaimer: The X Files, its characters, and episodic situations belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox. Spoilers: Small Potatoes Identical Interlopers by eponine119 & Jessica Zyvarek Taylor eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu The knock at the door startled her. It was 7:30 on Friday night and she'd settled in on the couch to get some reading done. She was writing up a paper for publication - or trying to. She really, really didn't feel like working on it. She even wanted to watch TV more than she wanted to work on it - and everything on was kids' shows. What she saw through the peephole shocked her. Mulder was standing there, looking mild, waiting for her to let him in. If she hadn't been so freaked out, she might have noticed how nice those blue jeans looked on him. She might have even wondered why on earth Mulder even owned a peach T-shirt, let alone wore it out of the house. All she could think was: It's him! It filled her with dread and excitement, both. Her palms were sweating. Maybe she should just pretend she wasn't home. He knocked again and when he shifted, she saw he had a bottle in his hand. He was mocking her. No, he couldn't be. He didn't know how they'd gotten to the point where he found them. She left the chain on and pulled the door open cautiously. "Is that you?" she asked, her eyes searching for some flaw, some wrongness that would tell her it wasn't him. She couldn't tell. He laughed, nervously. "Yeah, Scully, it's me." She didn't open the door. Not just yet. She tried to think of something only Mulder would know. Something no shapeshifting personality assuming scumbag could find out or guess. "What's Napier's Constant?" she demanded suspiciously. "27828. Scully -" He put a hand against the wall and leaned in with a sigh. It was him. she opened the door and let him inside. Now she felt stupid. Stupid and vulnerable. Mulder knew she was scared of Eddie. Scared he would come back and fool her again. She didn't want Mulder to know that. He didn't ask her why she'd asked him. He just stood inside her door and looked at her. After a moment he seemed to remember the bottle in his hand. He held it out to her. "I brought this." She didn't take it. "Why are you here, Mulder?" He looked startled blank. "I - well - why shouldn't I be here?" "This isn't the kind of thing you do." The bottle was still stuck out between them like something obscene. "Why not?" "You tell me, Mulder." She took the damn bottle and turned away from him, taking it into the kitchen. She set it on the counter and made a real attempt to breathe. This was freaking her out and she was letting it show. She became aware that he was standing behind her. His approach had been silent. Maybe she wasn't supposed to notice him, She didn't even know how she knew he was there except that she could just feel his presence. Maybe he'd go away. He didn't and she wasn't sure how much longer she could stare at the bottle in front of her. So she turned around. Her eyes went up to his and her only thought was: he's standing much too close. Her lips twisted into an unhappy smile. "You decided to take his advice? Treat yourself? Live a little?" "No." He was clearly choked and she wished she could shut her mouth but the words just kept coming. "Well, I don't care." What she did then surprised them both. She hefted the bottle and gulped down as much wine as she could before she choked. She put the bottle back on the counter and looked at Mulder triumphantly. She had to blink to get him focus. He looked horrified. Mouth open, staring, horrified. It made her smile. She took a step forward, towards him, and her head spun. She had to close her eyes to make the floor stop moving. "Dizzy," she murmured. "I'm not surprised." His hands closed over her shoulders to steady her. She looked up at him. He was cute. No, not cute was for bunnies and cheerleaders. He was handsome. She loved his eyes. "Didn't think I'd do that, did you?" she asked. Now that the initial wave had poured over her head and she'd remained standing, she had more control. Maybe it'd hit her again later. For now, the soft edges were nice. "No," he admitted. he still looked like he thought this was the biggest mistake of his life. "Surprise me, Mulder," she requested. "Let's - uh - go sit down in the living room," Mulder suggested. "Following Eddie's lead to the letter," she said. She hadn't meant to say it, but there it was. "Okay." She went with him into the living room and took her spot on the couch. he sat down at the other end. He looked at her. Mulder came over to talk and then he didn't say a word. Typical. "I know why you're here," she said. "Why am I here?" he asked. he was playing with her. Gently. She liked that. And she knew why he'd just been looking at her and not talking. Sitting this close, looking at him...the words ran away. They flew. "Cause you - uh - you saw him about to kiss me and you wanted to try." "Maybe I just wanted to talk to you," Mulder tried. "So talk." "Why would I want to kiss you?" he asked. In a minute, she thought, t his look between is going to set the couch on fire. he did glance away, for a second, but it offered her no relief. His gaze had drifted down to her lips. she could feel it. Trying to answer his question, she shrugged. Mulder shifted a little closer. She didn't move back. She thought maybe she should. "Why would you think I wanted to kiss you?" "You don't?" she asked and then really wished she hadn't. Vain, Dana? she asked herself. "I think you're projecting." "Pro - uh- projecting?" He wasn't finding it nearly as hard to concentrate as she was. That ticked her off. "Because you wanted to kiss me." At that moment she thought, kiss was the most erotic word she'd ever heard in her life. "I do?" "Don't you?" Well, yeah, but... "I -" He waited. She watched him. "You said you came here to talk, Mulder?" "Yes," he said. The tension in the room deflated like a defective balloon. He shifted and suddenly the other end of the couch seemed yards away. "So talk." He didn't know what to talk about. He wanted her to ask him questions. She could read it in his face. tough, because she wasn't going to. "We never just...talk...do we, Scully?" he asked finally. "Some people don't need to talk," she stated. "They don't?" "Some people have mastered the art of nonverbal communication." "Really?" Mulder asked. "Have we?" "I don't think so." "No?" "No." "How do you know?" he asked. He was moving closer again. She looked at him seductively. As seductively as she could. Nothing happened. That was how she knew. "Tell me about being a nerd." She asked him, changing the subject. "What?" he couldn't have jumped higher if she'd bitten him. Well, she wasn't certain about that, actually, but it might be worth a try later. "You think you're a loser, tell me why." "Who said I think I'm a loser?" "You don't think you're a loser?" Maybe they should have stuck to kissing. Or, talking about kissing. Same conversation, more fun though. He didn't say anything for a long time. She didn't blame him. If he'd acted like she was acting, she'd have left. "You think I'm a loser," he said finally, miserably. "No." "This was a bad idea," he said, getting up to leave. "Mulder, wait!" She sat up straight and called after him. He stopped, but didn't come back. "Sit down. Have some wine. I'll behave. I promise." After another moment's thought, he relented. He sat down carefully on the couch. like he expected to be bolting again soon. He glanced sideways at her. "You think I'm a loser." "No." "Why not?" The pain in his eyes was breathtaking. He picked up the wine bottle and drank directly from it, as she had. She watched his lips against the hard glass she'd so recently had her own lips pressed against. "I like you, Mulder." "But do you like-like me?" "Well, I don't think you have cooties." They both chucked at that. "Seriously. You're smart, and handsome, and funny. You're successful. You're passionate about what you do. You never give up. And - and -" "And people make fun of me and call me names," he stated morosely. "It only matters if you care." "What if I do care?" "You shouldn't." "Let's not talk about this." "Mulder, I just listed ten things I like about you and you didn't even notice." "That wasn't ten. It wasn't even close to ten." "It was so." She was acutely aware that they sounded like children. She looked at Mulder and he had a funny intense look on his face. She was sure he was going to start tickling her. "Mulder, no," she said, but he didn't stop. He didn't tickle her, either. He leaned over her. His hands slipped down to her waist. His body pressed against hers, pushing her down against the couch. She closed her eyes just before his lips met hers. She was kissing Mulder. Well, technically, he was kissing her but that didn't matter. It was really nice. That was when the phone rang. end of part one. Comments? Send em! eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu Identical Interlopers part two by Jessica Zyvarek Taylor & eponine119 jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net The phone had rung three times by the time she realized she was supposed to answer it. Mulder was still leaning over her, begging her silently to ignore the phone. All of a sudden the embarrassment of the situation caught up to her and she sat up, roughly pushing Mulder off her while she was trying to disentangle their limbs. She didn't pay attention to him as he collected himself. Her answering machine had already picked up the call, but she grabbed the receiver turned off the machine. It took her a moment before she remembered to say 'hello.' She had thought it was impossible for her to get any more flustered than she already was, but she was wrong. Very wrong. "Scully?" She knew that voice. Her blood ran cold. "Um?" It couldn't be Mulder. Mulder was sitting on her couch in front of her. "Scully, is everything all right? You sound upset." The Mulder on the couch turned to look at her, trying to discern who it was. One of them wasn't Mulder, but she didn't know which. She bit her lip for a minute, trying to decide what the best course of action would be in this situation. "Could you, uh, hold on for a minute?" Not waiting for an answer, she pressed the palm of her hand against the mouthpiece and looked at the man in front of her. This had to be the real one. No one else could mimic that specific perplexed look. No one other than Eddie. Mulder, maybe, stood up, giving her his best concerned look, and stepped toward her. Unconsciously, she stepped back. She hadn't even noticed. Apparently, he had. "Scully?" She couldn't look him in the eye because if this was really Mulder, she was embarrassed for the way she'd acted and for letting him kiss her. And if it wasn't really Mulder, then she was embarrassed for falling for the same thing twice. She signaled to the phone she was holding. "Could you excuse me for a moment?" She'd never walked away from Mulder to take a phone call in her life. If it was really him, he'd know that. Once she'd pulled the phone into the kitchen, she swallowed hard and tried to convince herself that she could tell the difference. She knew Mulder better than she knew anyone else. "Hello? Still there?" Her voice sounded almost normal. "Scully, what's going on? Am I interrupting something?" If the Mulder in the living room was convincing, the Mulder on the phone was more so. She recognized the glimmer of worry behind the teasing lilt to his voice. Glancing back at the other room to make sure he wasn't listening, she shook her head, momentarily forgetting that she was on the phone. "No, no, everything's fine. What's up?" She heard a sigh, followed by a moment of silence. "Scully, there's no easy way to say this. You need to be careful tonight, especially of me." "Huh?" One of the Mulders knew about the other. The only question was how. "He got out, Scully." She'd never heard him sound so dejected. She had to bite down the urge to ask him to come over. "Van Blundht. When he didn't show up for lunch, the guards searched his cell and found a stockpile of his muscle relaxants, but no Eddie. He stopped taking the pills and he walked out." Her worst nightmare. It was actually happening. She clamped one hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed. "Do they have any idea where he is?" With her eyes closed, she didn't see Mulder, one of them, approach her. "They called me to see if I had any idea and the only thing I could think of was you. I thought he might try to, well, like before, I thought he might contact you." The apprehension in his voice convinced her. Mulder was on the phone. Eddie was in her living room. She immediately felt sick to her stomach. She had kissed Eddie. She should have known it wasn't Mulder. Surely Mulder had better things to do than come on to her on a Friday night. "Yeah, that makes sense." She opened her eyes and saw Eddie standing there in Mulder's body. He didn't know she knew. The concerned look was still there. He mouthed the question 'who is it' to her, doing one hell of a Mulder impression. She just shook her head and turned away, pretending that it was no one he knew. "Scully, until we find him, I don't want you to let me anywhere near you. I don't trust him." She felt stupid for not knowing. She glanced back at Eddie and remembered her first impression: Mulder didn't own a peach t-shirt and he certainly never would let anyone see it if he did. She shifted uncomfortably, wondering how she could get a message to the real Mulder without making the fake one aware of it. "For good reason, I'm sure. If you don't mind, I've got company, so I'm going to let you go." She said a silent prayer that he'd know better. "Scully, is he there?" The panic was no longer concealing itself behind humor. He was scared. "Yes. I'll talk to you later. Good night." She hoped her voice wasn't shaking as nearly as much as it sounded like it was to her. "I'm on my way." The line went dead. She turned back to Mulder/Eddie and tried to hide her disgust, even managing not to wipe her hand across her lips. Her lips curved up into what she hoped was a slightly convincing smile. He took the phone from her hand and sat it on the counter. Then he stepped forward and ran his hand along her cheek. "Who was that, Scully? What's wrong?" She took a step back and jumped when her back touched the counter. She was trapped. Shrugging and shaking her head, she tried to assure him. "No one, it's nothing." She could see that he wasn't convinced. "Really, Mulder." She dared to reach out and place a reassuring hand on his arm. "I'm fine." He smirked at her, obviously not believing her. "How many times have I heard that when it wasn't exactly true?" One of his arms stretched out and rested against the counter next to her. How could Eddie know that? But if this was Eddie, then how did the other one say the same things Mulder would have said? How could Eddie know either of them so well? She shrugged again, feeling her heart start beating faster. Her head didn't know if this was Mulder or not, but her body was reacting to his proximity just the same. She closed her eyes, thinking that maybe blocking him from her sight would help. But in so doing she missed it when he brought his other arm up and effectively caged her against the counter. Her eyes sprung back open. This had to be Eddie. Eddie had seen her inability to think straight when Mulder was so close to her, and he'd seen her when she'd had a little too much to drink too. Unfortunately, there was nowhere for her to go other than into his arms. She pushed herself as far away from him as she could, bending backwards slightly over the counter. Her disinterest in being so close to him was obvious. So was his reaction to recognizing her disinterest. His face fell. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. She looked away from him, guilt replacing the excited butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She desperately hoped this was Eddie. She never wanted to hurt Mulder like that. He withdrew his hands and stuffed them into his pockets. She glanced at him, noticing that he was trying his best to avoid looking at her as well. He moved a few steps back, giving her space to move, and she realized the moment she had it, how very much she didn't want it. "Scully, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume..." His voice was too choked up for him to continue. He was crying. He was hiding it, but he was definitely crying. What if she'd made a mistake? She knew he wasn't going to stick around after she'd shot him down like that. And if he left and then the other guy showed up, she'd never be able to tell the difference. "Mulder, I," I what? I don't think you're really you but I feel bad for hurting you anyway? What exactly was she trying to say? He held up his hand to stop her. "It's OK, Scully. Don't worry about it. I'm sorry." Then he turned and walked to the door. She had to keep him there. She didn't have a choice. "Mulder, I don't want you to go." He turned around and fixed her with the most hopeful and intense look she'd ever witnessed. She told her heart to slow down, but it ignored her and continued pounding away. "No?" The last thing she needed right then was to hear his voice drop and become rough because it was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard and it was distracting, to say the least. She walked closer to him, not stopping until she had him pressed against the door. He held her gaze the entire time, almost daring her to continue. Sadly, what she was doing and what he thought she was doing were two very different things. She reached out to the table beside the door without letting Mulder's eyes drift from hers. If this was really him, he was going to kill her. She moved quickly, grabbing her handcuffs, linking one around his wrist and the other around her own wrist. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave until I get a little matter straightened out here. In a few minutes, I'm sure you'll understand." She tried to ignore the devilish gleam in his eye as he reached around her with his handcuffed wrist and pulled her against him. "Gee, Scully, I didn't know you had it in you." Her cheeks started to burn. Even Eddie couldn't reproduce the hungry look on his face. "Not that I'm going to argue or anything." Ignoring his hand running up and down her back, she pushed herself away. She closed her eyes and told herself that it might not be Mulder, that it might be that greasy, freak Eddie coming on to her, and forced herself to dislike his touch. "Get your hands off me." He smiled, obviously thinking she was playing a game with him. Then he lifted their linked wrists up between them, which was no small feat in itself, and winked. "Sorry, I can't do that." And when he leaned forward and kissed her again, she couldn't remember why she'd cuffed them together in the first place. end of part two. comments? send em! jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net Identical Interlopers part three by eponine119 & Jessica Zvyarek Taylor eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu Eddie couldn't possibly kiss like that, Scully thought when finally he released her. It had been too good, too sweet, and too hot and too... Too perfect? Eddie was the perfect romantic man, after all. Mulder was not. She looked at him and found him watching her expectantly. She just looked back. If this really was Mulder, he would never forgive her. And if it was Eddie, she would never forgive herself. He was still waiting for her to do something. "Let's sit back down, Mulder," she said. He seemed willing to follow her anywhere. [It's not him.] They sat down and he grinned at her. [Definitely not him.] "So. What's with these?" He made a gesture with his cuffed wrist. "I - ah - well -" "You're not into this kind of thing, are you, Scully?" Completely straightfaced. [Maybe it is him.] She shook her head quickly and she could feel her face flushing. Alcohol did that to her - made her quick to turn red. Because she was so pale. "And you don't think...I'm into this kind of thing, do you Scully?" he asked, and as he did so, his fingers began to creep along her thigh. His eyes were so...damn...sexy. Eyes. Window to the soul. She'd never found any evidence Eddie could change his eye color the way he could his hair. But...she looked at him, uncertain. If this _was_ Eddie Van Blundht, if he dared to come here again, like this, she was going to dissect him. She was. Not the police, congress, Janet Reno, or the society for the prevention of cruelty to mutants could stop her. He was still looking at her. She smiled. He smiled back. She thought she was so smart and so darn clever. Asking him Napier's Constant to try to prove it was him before she let him in. Eddie was a nerd, for god's sake! He'd seen Star Wars a couple hundred too many times. It was conceivable he knew the base of all natural logarithms. "Mulder, what do you think of Eddie Van Blundht?" He looked completely, totally shocked. [Not him!] It took him a moment to recover. "I try not to." Shock was erased by pain. [Maybe it is him?] She remembered Eddie's impersonation of his father, the cruel and horrible things he'd said about himself. Remembering made her feel sorry for him. Eddie, that is. "But you have thought of him," she said. Mulder's silence was her answer. [Wait, when did he get to be Mulder again?] "What did you think of him?" He turned it around and asked her. [It's Eddie.] "No, Mulder, honestly. You say we never talk and I would like to know what you thought of him. This man slipped into your life and your shoes. What he said to you in the prison obviously affected you." He nodded. "So what do you think of him?" Mulder shook his head, gathering his thoughts. "I hadn't thought about the way others see me in a very long time. They could think whatever they wanted to and I didn't care. I didn't have time to care. I had better things to do. And in the period of just a few hours, Eddie shattered that. He made me consider how I must appear not only to a stranger - to him - but he made me stop to consider what you must think of me." He stopped, but he wasn't finished, so she didn't interrupt him. She didn't know what to say anyway. Deciding what to say, he backtracked. "When I walked into my apartment, after it, it wasn't my apartment anymore. I was seeing it for the first time. Dingy and functional, but not completely without style." [Only Mulder would defend his apartment like that.] "Just what kind of life was I leading? I couldn't stay there, so I went to the office. And it looked different. It looked weird. Stuff on the walls - stuff everywhere? what had it looked like to you the first time you walked in? Had you instantly seen what he saw? Was it that obvious?" "What?" The word was soft. He went on like he hadn't heard her. Maybe he hadn't. Mulder in the depths of his thoughts was mesmerizing to watch. "I didn't want to think about you." She was beginning to feel nervous. He was going to talk about what he felt for her - uncharted territory. His eyes met hers, but slid away again. "You didn't know it wasn't me. You're the person who knows me best - who has, I think, spent more time with me than any other being on this earth - and you didn't know it wasn't me. Eddie might have been a good psychologist - anyone with his...gift...would undoubtedly find incredibly opportunities to study human nature - bit wasn't just that. he overwhelmingly told people what they wanted to hear. And from the look of things, you wanted to hear..." He stopped and sighed. This was curdling her stomach. It was hard to listen to someone talk like this about her. Maybe that was similar to a tiny part of Mulder's Eddie-experience. "You wanted to hear things I wasn't saying. And if I had been saying them, maybe...you would also want me to kiss you. Like he was trying to do. It was startling." This wasn't telling her anything. This was making her feel bad for doubting his him-ness. The moment had grown too intense for both of them. They needed to back off a little. Or a lot. Mulder cracked a smile and said, "So what is it with these?" Gesturing to the cuffs. She couldn't say, "They're for when you show up, I can tell which you is you." So she smiled at him again. But he had that Mulder-in-a-puzzlement look on his face. The one that was closely related to the look of a dog with a chewbone. He wasn't going to let go till it disintegrated. There was no way she could get out of answering and she couldn't think of a plausible reason. She couldn't think of any reason. She was a scientist. She was not a creative person. There was a knock at the door. Finally! she thought, it's Mulder. But the thought unnerved her because what he had said made her think this was Mulder. Or was that another instance of being told what she wanted to hear and wanting to believe it? "Don't answer that," he said, toying with a lock of her hair. Damn it. Hot tears of disappointment sprang to her eyes. I'm handcuffed to Eddie, she thought. "I have to," she said sadly, and got up. He followed her to the door. She didn't look through the peephole because she knew it was Mulder. She dreaded the confrontation to come - and shapeshifters just complicated matters - but at least she knew who she was handcuffed to. She wished she'd somehow discovered a way to make him revert back to his natural form on command. If he refused to revert, they could be sitting around for some time waiting for muscle relaxants to work and reveal the truth. She also wished she'd solved the problem of his seeming ability to gain and lose mass in the transitions, she thought. A touch on her arm startled her. "Scully?" "Yes." She looked at him. "Were you going to open he door?" "Yes." She pulled it open and was instantly frozen in horror. They always say - those who are always saying - that if you were ever to see a doppelganger of yourself, a perfect twin, that you wouldn't know what you were seeing. Scully suddenly had absolutely no doubt of who she was handcuffed to. She watched, shocked, as she saw herself - but obviously not herself - burst through the door and fling herself at Mulder, whose jaw was hanging somewhere around his knees. She - it - the NOT-her - was bleeding from her temple and spoke in a rush. "Eddie's escaped - stopped taking his medication - knocked me out and locked me up and..." It - he? - Eddie - stopped and looked at her in horror, probably the same look of horror she had on her own face. Mulder was looking at her with disgust, like he was waiting for her to shift back. She looked back, with no idea what to do next. End of part three. Comments? Please? eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu Identical Interlopers by Jessica Zyvarek Taylor & eponine119 part four jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net Damn it, she should have listened to him and not opened the door. But it wasn't like she could do anything about it now. Scully watched as her other self's jaw started to tremble. And she listened to her own voice quiver with words that weren't true. "Mulder, it's me. You have to believe me." The real Scully looked at the blood trickling down her own face and realized what a nice touch it was. Nothing like invoking Mulder's overprotective tendencies. She watched Mulder's gaze shift between the two, his face crumbling when the cut on Eddie's temple caught his eye. "Scully?" Both pairs of clear blue eyes turned to look at him with a bewildered expression. He looked at each of them in turn, then turned to the not Scully and looked at the cut. Had it been under any other circumstance, she would have been moved by the concern on his face. He wasn't convinced, all three were well aware of it, but the thought that his Scully might have been injured while he was chatting with Eddie won out. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms, both of them, around the injured version of herself, forgetting about the whole handcuff thing. Repulsed by the idea of touching Eddie, Scully pulled her arm back, pulling Mulder's back with it. The tug of war that ensued would have been comical had it not been in the midst of a tragedy. Mulder was hell-bent on hugging Eddie, the poor misguided over-protective soul that he was, and he wasn't about to let the person he believed to be Eddie stop him. He wrenched his arm back, causing Scully to trip forward. Of course, when she tripped and slammed her shoulder into the wall, Mulder looked up, obviously concerned with the thought that he might be wrong and have hurt Scully himself. But Scully missed his glance. Her eyes were locked with her own. The fake Scully, disgustingly happily nestled in Mulder's arms, glared back at her with a frightening ferocity. When she realized that it was most likely the same face she herself was in the process of making, she started to shake. As irrational as it was, she was bothered by how scary she could look. Scully turned her eyes away, looking for the keys so she could at least be spared the misery of watching Mulder comfort the not herself. She'd just gotten the cuff off Mulder's wrist when she saw what must have convinced Mulder. The fake Scully was wearing the suit she herself had been wearing earlier at work that day. Eddie had been in her house, taken the suit, and then must have watched and waited for the perfect opportunity. Once his wrist was freed, he let go of the Scully he was holding, in favor of watching the other one. Scully never let him hold her. But if the Scully he'd kissed earlier was the real one, then the theory that she wouldn't let him hold her meant very little. He'd kissed one and hugged the other, thinking that he'd done either to Eddie sickened him, knowing that both of them were acting very much not like Scully. One had known to ask him Napier's constant. The other was wearing the same clothes she'd been wearing at work. Both of them looked like the real one. And one was bleeding. His uncertainty and fear were thinly veiled behind his humor. "Which ever one of you is really Scully, you don't happen to have any muscle relaxant on you, do you?" Both Scullys looked at him pleadingly. When he thought about it, he couldn't figure out why Eddie would have faked being her at all, not when he could have gotten to Scully himself. He didn't think that Eddie would have kissed him like Scully, at least who he thought was Scully at the time, had. But she hadn't been acting like herself all night. In five years, he'd never once brought he a bottle of wine or tried to kiss her and all she had wanted was to talk about Eddie. That was suspicious. She had walked out of the room with the phone, something he'd never seen Scully do, she'd take a swing from the wine bottle that probably would have flattened him, and then she'd handcuffed herself to him. Not characteristic of Scully. But then, if the newly arrived one was the real Scully, why would she have knocked on her own door, and how would she have known to go there in the first place? And the new Scully was in tears, sniffling, pressing her face into his shirt. So which was more likely: that Scully would kiss him or that she would let him see her vulnerable. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night. End of part four. Comments? Send them! jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net Identical Interloper Part five by eponine119 & Jessica Zyvarek Taylor eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu "Okay, you two," he said with cheerfulness he really didn't feel when faced with identical partners. Maybe the alien bounty hunter would show up, too, and they could have four for Monopoly. With one hand on each of their shoulders, Mulder shoved them towards the couch. The Scullys gave him identical alarmed, annoyed looks. Mulder hadn't thought anyone knew Scully as well as he did. With a bitter twinge, he realized he was wrong. One evening with Scully was all Eddie had needed. But which one was Eddie? And why the hell was he doing this? Does he have the hots for me now, Mulder thought, frowning. But he knew. In his heart, he knew. He was taking revenge on them both. He'd been more unhappy in that prison than he had been out in life. Which was the point of prison, when you thought about it, but... "On the couch," Mulder ordered. If he didn't know which one was Eddie, he'd treat them both like Eddie. Scully - the real one - would forgive him later. She would understand. She'd been on this side of it before. The women sat down at opposite ends of the couch. He watched the Scully who was wearing the skirt carefully. Mulder was fairly certain if he himself put on a skirt, he wouldn't pull it off very well. But she was ladylike. Maybe he should start keeping score. Point for suit-Scully. He crouched down on the floor in front of them, looking from blue eyes to blue eyes. He put one hand on each of their arms, secretly testing. Silky softness, both. Scully had such beautiful pale skin, he thought, getting a little caught up in looking at the two identical arms before him. How did Eddie change his skin tone? Mulder wondered. Then he closed the open handcuff still dangling from ScullyA's wrist around ScullyB's and looked at them triumphantly. Casual Scully, the one he'd kissed, was staring at him, and then turned and looked at her other self as though she was completely disgusted. Suit Scully just looked surprised. She was the one who spoke first. "I'm not sure why you did that, Mulder," she said in Scully's perfectly modulated tones. She hit the S just like Scully. She said his name right. "I know," said Casual Scully in wry tones he didn't often hear from Scully. Would she have used them with Eddie? Maybe it was a point in her favor? God, this was so confusing he was going to bloody kill himself. "One of us is not who we say we are. Eventually, handcuffed together, something's going to happen," Casual Scully went on to explain. "And what would that be?" Mulder challenged, almost teasingly. If he could just hang on to the last vestige of his sense of humor, he might be all right. Maybe. Casual Scully looked at him calmly. "Probably that I'll kill him for doing this to us," she said. "Except I'm really me," said Suit Scully. Mulder had never actually seen two women catfight before. And while he could probably count this as an educational experience if he let this continue, he thought it would be a good idea to pass. He looked at the two of them, sitting there so miserably, but pouting as though they were next in line for the principal's office, and walked out of the room. "Mulder, where are you going?" Scully asked. He couldn't tell from her voice which one it was. "I would never whine like that," Scully snapped at her. "I'll keep it in mind," Scully hissed back. Mulder strode back into the room from the bathroom. "Look what I found in Scully's medicine cabinet," he said, holding up a bottle. "There were a lot of interesting things in there," he added. One Scully's face turned red. The other turned away and wouldn't meet his eyes. Guess they'd both looked in there at one time or another, he thought, bouncing the pill bottle in his hand. "Either of you want to guess what these are?" They both glared at him. Casual Scully's glare was a little more intense and angry, but he wasn't sure if that meant she was humiliated Real Scully, or worried Eddie. What a mess, he thought. "You found my muscle relaxants," Suit Scully said with a bit of a sour look. Was it because she was Eddie and was about to be found out, or because she was Scully and was upset because ... oh hell, Mulder stopped himself, I can probably motivate any action of either of them from both points of view. It's not going to tell me which one is her. "Good thinking, Mulder," Casual Scully said with a look that reminded him of Scully so sharply he actually missed her. How he could miss Scully with two of them sitting in the room in front of him, he did not want to even attempt to think about. "Now," said Mulder, standing a little ways away from them and still holding up the bottle as though he was part of a show, "What I want to know is, why Scully has these in her medicine cabinet. They're prescription. They are, actually, the only prescription drugs in there. So...Bachlorette Number One?" He looked at Suit Scully. She glared at him, expressing her distaste at what he'd called her and his petty attempt to be funny in trying to turn this into a game show. She did not answer and it was clear she did not intend to. Seemed like something Scully would do, he thought. He looked at Casual Scully, who seemed upset by this entire thing. She blinked and met his eyes. "They're for menstrual cramps, Mulder," she told him honestly. She held his eyes for a moment, as though imploring him that she was actually herself, which actually didn't come off as a false move. Mulder stood there for a second, uncertain. He didn't know Scully nearly as well as he'd thought he did. That was becoming painfully apparent. He couldn't tell which reaction to any given question was the one she would actually give. He couldn't tell which matching mannerisms were hers. He hadn't even known she ever had cramps, for god's sake, but since these had come out of the real Scully's cabinet, whoever she was....He'd never thought he and Scully would be sore losers if ever they tried the Newlywed Game. He thought they knew each other. But they didn't know each other at all, and this proved it, and it hurt. It also had higher stakes than the Newlywed Game. He walked out of the room again and returned with two glasses of water. "Now," he said, kneeling in front of the couch again, "How long do these take to work?" "About 45 minutes," said Casual Scully. "Never more than an hour," Suit Scully said only a second later, so their words were over each other. Damn it, thought Mulder. A whole hour. He looked at his watch, knowing it was going to be a very, very long hour. "Okay," he said. "It says take two." He shook two of the pills out into his hand and turned to Casual Scully first. Was he allowed to root for one Scully over the other to turn out to be the true one? he wondered. Because he really wanted the Scully he'd kissed, the one who'd kissed him so enthusiastically in return, to be the right one. He reached out to pop the pills into her mouth and was suddenly confronted with a hand in front of his eyes. "I only have one hand cuffed, Mulder," she informed him. "I can do it myself." "Right," he said softly, leaning back and putting the pills into her hand. Apparently whoever she was, she didn't want him touching her again. He didn't know if that was good or not. She swallowed them with a sip of the water for each pill and looked back, one eyebrow raised. He wondered if Eddie would be so inclined to take the pills. But if he refused, it would be giving up his cover. He turned to Suit Scully, who was waiting for him. She took the pills from him with a gracious smile and swallowed them dry. Did that seem like something Scully would do? he asked himself. He was beginning to look from one to the other so quickly and frequently that he was making himself dizzy. Mulder forced himself to sit down in the chair and wait. "Want to watch TV?" he asked them. Neither responded. Their bodies were turned as far away from each other as possible. Suit Scully was sitting with her legs crossed. Casual Scully had one leg tucked up under her and was looking off in the opposite direction. They looked like twins who hated each other. Twin Scullys. That would be the day. Aware that he was carrying on a conversation by himself, he picked up the TV listings off the coffee table. "Do you have cable, Scully?" Casual Scully said, "No." Suit Scully said nothing. She didn't look like she'd heard him. Which meant she was ignoring him. It was an interesting turn of events, Mulder thought. He had one Scully who seemed eager to please him and one who didn't want to have anything to do with him. And they both seemed like the real one. I have got to sell this to the Playboy channel, he thought, and wished it was that simple. "Okay," he said, to distract himself from that thought more than anything, "That limits our options. We can watch Step by Step." He waited. No answer. Not even a groan. Maybe neither of them was Scully. "Good choice. Dateline NBC? Oh, a special edition of Funniest Home Videos." Nothing. Great. "We could see what our buddy Frank Black is up to on Millennium." Obviously not Scully's favorite show. Fine. He thought it was boring too. Actually, he was surprised she hadn't jumped at Dateline. But maybe she didn't like the too-easy magazine style journalism. What the hell did Scully watch on TV, anyway? "Hey, JFK: His Words is on PBS." No response. Fine, he'd watch what he wanted. Tempted as he was to make them watch Step by Step until one of them began screaming, he knew it wouldn't work because he would crack first. He put the TV on PBS. Maybe I should channel flip. Women hate that, don't they? Mulder thought. This was inspiring him to attempt to become devious - he was just sad to discover he wasn't very devious. Eddie would be the one who wouldn't complain...? He snuck a glance at them. Suit Scully was still looking ticked off, with her nose in the air. She was a pristine example of snotty Scully, a Scully he'd thought he was rid of. If he were Eddie, playing it that way would be a bad choice, Mulder thought. He still had her pegged as Most Likely To Be Scully. Too bad he didn't want snotty Scully back, though. Casual Scully was looking at the TV. Her eyes looked a little unfocused. She wasn't watching, she was staring mindlessly. He wanted her to be Scully. He wanted the Scully he'd seen earlier that night to be real. Her hand that wasn't handcuffed flopped onto the couch and she sagged against the cushions. "Scully, are you all right?" he asked, a little alarmed. Suit Scully didn't look at him. That was a bad sign. Or maybe they were both completely zoned, but they couldn't *both* be because one of them was Eddie, and would start to look like Eddie as the pills took effect. "I don't think these go with alcohol," Scully said limply. Oh shit. Now he'd probably fucking killed her, and how would he explain that to the police? Or himself? "Do I need to take you to the hospital?" he asked, completely terrified. She shook her head and looked at him. "I'll be fine, Mulder," she said. His heart soared in his chest because it was just what Scully would say. Except if it was Scully, that meant he couldn't believe her when she said it. "It's just...downers and downers are kind of...a downer, you know?" she laughed softly at herself. "He's faking," Suit Scully said, sounding hard and angry. He looked at her, not sure who to believe. "What were you doing drinking with him anyway?" she demanded, trying to sound like she didn't care. She wouldn't look at him. For the sake of argument, he wished they could refer to all persons currently inhabiting female bodies as "she" but Mulder understood her need to call Eddie "he." It was almost as strong as his need to believe he hadn't gotten turned on by kissing *Eddie.* "I wasn't drinking with him, I thought I was drinking with you." She raised an eyebrow. That was all. Scully could be hard sometimes. "Because of him," Mulder added. "Oh, fuck it." He couldn't believe he'd said that aloud, to her. He didn't talk like that to her. Scully was a lady. Even though she carried a gun and kicked ass better than he could, and cut up dead bodies, showing she had a stronger stomach than his, she was a lady. And his parents had both brought him up to respect both women and women who were ladies. He had grown up on Martha's Vineyard, after all. Not the most liberal of places even if it had been the 60s and 70s. Casual Scully was giggling. Softly, at first, so he wasn't sure what she was doing. He looked at her to make sure the drug interaction hadn't sent her into seizures and she was choking on her own tongue. But no. She was giggling. At him. For swearing. Scully didn't giggle very often. Okay, make that never. He liked the sound. But was that the sound Scully would make if she giggled, or was that the sound Eddie would make because he thought it was the sound Scully would make if... If they all lived in the house that Jack built, Mulder stopped himself. This was getting confusing. Let one Scully laugh and the other Scully freeze. He was going to find out who JFK said killed him. He went back to his chair and sat down, crossing his arms. After a moment, listening to the laughs coming from Casual Scully grow richer, he crossed his legs as well. He couldn't concentrate. "What is so funny?" he asked her. "This." She had tears streaming from her eyes. His heart jumped until he realized they were tears from laughing. No one could fake that, no one could force themself to laugh like that, not even Eddie. "You thought...because of him...because...and brought wine...and I didn't know how to take it...but I wanted to take it nice...I wanted you to like me, Mulder. I bet you never knew that. All I ever really wanted was for you to like me." He wanted to believe her. "I never knew that, Scully," he told her. "I wanted to do a good job. And I tried. You made it really hard for me," she admitted. "Somewhere...along the way, things got really fucked up." A smile broke across her face as she realized what she'd said and she started to giggle again. "Did you hear me? I said fuck! Oops, I said it again!" "Yeah, we all heard you," said Suit Scully, who was now intensely focused on the television, trying to ignore them. Mulder supposed that if she was really Scully, listening to herself be imitated so stupidly and badly would be incredibly annoying. How many times had he wondered what Eddie had said when Eddie was being him, and the only person he could ask was Scully. And he couldn't ask her. "When I was...seven. We weren't aloud to swear, you know," Scully continued to confide in him. His eyes moved back to her face from the other Scully's. "And I was so mad at something Charlie had done. He was...four? Yeah, four. So anyway, I was watching him and I hauled off and said every word I'd ever heard my father use. You know he was a sailor, right, Mulder? My father was a sailor. And I didn't know he was standing behind me. Mom too. Was standing behind me." She smiled, a toothy drunken grin. "Do you know how bad soap tastes, Mulder?" "Yeah," he admitted, "I remember." "It happened to you, too?" she asked. "It didn't happen to you," Suit Scully said sharply to her alter ego. Tearing Mulder's attention away again and reminding him of the situation. It might not be Scully confiding in him. "How long has it been?" Casual Scully asked. She tried to look at her watch, but it was on the arm that was cuffed to Suit Scully, and she wouldn't let her move it up to where she could see it. A strange struggle ensued. Mulder finally put an end to it, a little frightened by the intensity of their antagonism. "About half an hour." "God." Casual Scully let her head drop between her shoulders. "I feel totally, and completely thrashed. Usually I take these and get into bed. They make my head buzz." She looked at him and started rubbing at her forehead with her free hand. "And the buzzing's so bad it makes me forget to notice the pain and finally I go to sleep. Sometimes they make me have dreams." She looked at him from underneath her hand. "Don't you want to know what kind of dreams?" "Please, Mulder, don't make me listen to this. He's trying to seduce you because he thinks then you'll take off the cuffs. And then he'll hurt you," Suit Scully said. The voice of reason. Just like Scully. He forced himself to step back. He couldn't believe they were both Scully. And until he knew for certain which was which, it was unwise to begin to feel sorry for, or like, one of them more than the other. Although he was wondering how Eddie would know what cramps felt like. Because as a man, Mulder had no idea. But Eddie was more sensitive and better at faking things. Obviously. Eddie had him believing he was Scully. That they were both Scully. Probably even had him rooting for his version of Scully. This was making Mulder's head buzz. "Do you have any aspirin, Scully? I didn't see any in the cabinet." "Headache?" Casual Scully asked sympathetically. "If it's not in the cabinet, I'm all out," Suit Scully responded practically. Great, thought Mulder. This entire thing was giving him a headache. And it was getting worse. He shut off the TV and looked at the two women. "How are you doing?" he asked Suit Scully. She just nodded. "Are you having any interactions I should know about?" he asked Casual Scully. After all, even Eddie was a human being and Mulder couldn't let him die of a drug overdose. Especially on the off chance it was actually Scully. "I just feel really high right now," she answered. "And really relaxed." She lifted her free hand and let it plop back onto the couch as though to prove her point. "And when have you ever been high before, Scully?" he asked her, touching her forehead to see if she was hot. He didn't know what it would tell him, but it made him feel better. "Uh," she responded. He didn't know if the little moan was because she was trying to think, because he was touching her, or because she was Eddie trying to think of a convincing story. "I don't think I've ever been high, Mulder. Not this high." Her voice began to shrink in on itself and it cracked. There were tears in her eyes. She looked frustrated and she looked like she was going to cry. "I don't think I like it," she admitted with a very odd look on her face. He expected her to transform back into Eddie. She didn't. He felt sorry for her. Scully liked to be in control. She wasn't one to let go of that easily. He knew that. It would be hard for her, knowing she wasn't able to keep herself from acting the way she was acting, and knowing that he was watching her. Mulder himself liked control enough to understand that. But he also knew how to let go - in fact, there had been times he'd desperately sought that release of control because it was the only time he could really let it all go. Suit Scully looked annoyed. "I don't feel very good," the other Scully said in a small voice, and he saw her try to curl up. "Don't fall for it," said Suit Scully. "He wants you to unlock him and he'll hit you just like he hit me." He turned to her and looked at the abrasion on her forehead. It was beginning to bruise rather convincingly. His fingers skimmed over it and she flinched. "Sorry," he breathed. "Does it hurt?" "Let's just say, if you find some aspirin, I'll take two," she said with that wry half-smile that indicated Scully being lighthearted. Casual Scully moaned. Her eyes were closed. "Sounds like he'll need some in the morning." Casual Scully moaned again. He started to look at her, but the other Scully touched his arm. "Whatever you do, don't fall for it." The other Scully sat up and looked at him. Her skin was looking decidedly pale and ill. "How long has it been, Mulder?" she asked. "They should have worked by now. Look at her, she's not even relaxed." She poked her twin. She sounded like Scully. But so did the other Scully. Now that they were both using reason, they sounded like each other. "She's Eddie and she palmed the pills." "I'm not relaxed and she's too relaxed," Suit Scully said. "Which one do you believe?" "I'm tired of this," Mulder said, and moved away. She felt bad. Her head was hurt. The relaxants were bad enough, but mixed with her head...all she wanted to do was throw up. And he wouldn't listen to her. He wouldn't believe she was her. He would believe stupid lying not even imitating her properly Eddie before he would believe her, who was really her. She was so confused. And she didn't want to throw up in her living room, but she didn't want to tell Mulder she was going to throw up, and even if she did, that bitch Eddie would just tell him she was lying and he wouldn't uncuff her. So she was trying to keep it hidden. And if Eddie hadn't taken the pills, if he'd palmed them the way he had to escape from prison, there were going to be two Scullys sitting here for as long as Eddie was willing to play the game. She suspected that length of time was equal to as long as Mulder was willing to sit here and play it with them. The entire thing stunk like a bad psychological experiment. Mulder ought to be able to see that. She closed her eyes to try to stop the floor from rolling. There was a soft breeze and she could smell Mulder. It seemed like he was looking close at her to try to see if she was all right. She didn't care. If she opened her eyes, she wouldn't be all right. She listened to the door slam, but couldn't tell which door it was. The front door? Mulder wouldn't just leave, would he? And she was still cuffed to Eddie. When she felt a gentle touch on her wrist and sudden freedom from the handcuffs, she tried to open her eyes, but she couldn't. They were too heavy. They were too relaxed. When she did open her eyes, she knew she'd been asleep but she didn't know for how long. The living room was empty. The handcuffs were lying between the couch cushions. The key was on the table. Her mind worked backwards to try to reconstruct what had happened when she'd been so spaced out. She felt better now. Even a short sleep - if it had been a short sleep and she couldn't tell - relieved the effects of the pills. Mulder had left the key within grabbing range. And left. Figuring Eddie would morph again if he left? Or maybe he'd waited outside, knowing Eddie would leave once freed from the cuffs. There he'd nabbed Eddie and taken him to the jail, which explained to her why she was alone. Being alone was kind of refreshing after spending an evening with herself. Did she really come off that nasty? She wondered. Mulder had paid more attention to her than mean and nasty Eddie-her, but did that mean he'd known she was her? If Eddie ran out of here, would he do it disguised as her? Maybe Mulder and not-her-Eddie had gone off to summon the police for her. Dear God, what if they came and arrested her for being Eddie and actually sent her to prison? To men's prison, figuring she'd turn back into Eddie. What would the other inmates do, thinking Eddie was pretending to be a woman...? She was panicking. Officially. She was panicking. Then the bathroom door opened and she realized she wasn't alone after all. Mulder had gone and Eddie left the door unlocked when he left - wasn't his apartment after all, so what did he care? - and now someone else had broken in. This was not her night. She looked at the intruder, feeling afraid. Because it was.... End of part five. Comments? Send them! Please. eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu Identical Interloper part 6 by Jessica Zyvarek Taylor & eponine119 jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net [This was not her night. She looked at the intruder, feeling afraid.] Because it was Mulder. Maybe. She couldn't tell if it was Mulder or Eddie, considering the fact that the real Mulder had freed her from the torment of being handcuffed to her evil twin and then left. So Eddie had either left and Mulder came back, or Mulder had left and Eddie had stayed. And it seemed to her that the latter was the most likely since this Mulder was wearing different clothes. She eyed him warily, wanting to trust him so she could go back to sleep, knowing her life wouldn't be that easy. The pill-induced sleep had cleared her head a little, but she was still feeling the physical effects. She slumped against the wall, too tired to remain standing any longer. The man who looked like Mulder crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at her, either trying to convey how non-threatening he was, or pretending that he was trying to convey how non-threatening he was. Her eyes drooped closed for a minute, the voluntary control of her muscles still appearing to be out of her control. He stepped forward, taking firm hold of her arm and steering her toward her bedroom. She started to protest, wondering why Eddie would be bother pretending to be Mulder if he was going to be so bold anyway. He spoke up, though, quieting the voice that was telling her the man could be Eddie. "I think you need to lay down, before you fall down." She relaxed even more, allowing him to prod her until she was sitting on her bed. Thinking that it might actually be Mulder, she felt compelled to say something. But talking about what had happened would be bad enough, let alone if she tried to have the conversation with Eddie. He must have seen her hesitation, and knowing what had happened earlier, knew why she was uncertain. He pulled the covers up around her, leaning slightly on her shoulders to force her to lay down. "Get some sleep. We'll talk about this later." He smiled at her, with a smile she could only describe as more intimate than she'd ever seen on his face before. A smile that looked an awful lot like the one Eddie had given her. She couldn't hide the grimace that formed when she realized it. Maybe Eddie was going to wait until she went back to sleep and then he could... No. She wasn't going to think about that. Eddie wasn't *technically* a rapist. All of the women had consented; they'd just believed they were consenting to someone else. The thought made her extremely uncomfortable. She squirmed involuntarily when he put his hand on her cheek. "You don't believe it's me, do you?" He sounded so sad that she wanted to hug him. Scully shrugged, not wanting to explain why she was so confused. She had seen this side of Mulder, the concern, caring, gentle side that would tuck her in and then watch her sleep before he brought up anything that might be uncomfortable. But then, she'd seen Eddie do one hell of a Mulder impression. And since she couldn't tell how long she'd been asleep, she knew the pills could still be clouding her judgement. But that was a lot to say and she was just too tired. "You're not wearing the same clothes." He looked down, something resembling surprise crossing his face. "Yeah, well, I didn't have anything better to do. You were asleep." It wasn't him. She refused to believe Mulder would have left her alone with Eddie. But then, she'd been half awake when the real Mulder, and she had known it was the real Mulder because she'd been handcuffed to her twin, had left. Wonderful, she was poking holes in her own theories. "What happened?" She stifled a yawn and tried to sit up. The fake Mulder's hand moved from her cheek back to her shoulder and held her down. She didn't give him another second, pushing him away with all the strength she could muster and crawling across the bed. "Scully!" He'd been caught completely off-guard by her attack, but he managed to recover before she could move very far. He walked around to the other side of the bed, which was as far as she'd be able to get. Sitting down beside her, with their shoulders just barely touching, he didn't make an attempt to touch her in any other way. She'd pulled her knees in to her chest and curled her arms around them. She felt helpless. She didn't like feeling helpless. Her tears reflected that. He waited for her to calm down for several minutes, making her almost positive that he was Eddie. She couldn't imagine Mulder just sitting there while she cried. But then, she'd demonstrated how much she didn't want to be touched right then. Finally, he shifted around, resting his arm on the bed behind her and gently playing with her hair. She wasn't sure what to do, so she glanced at him for a split second and then looked back down. "It's me, Scully. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I mean, I didn't mean to-" He sighed, obviously exasperated with his own inability to speak. "I didn't mean to scare you. Please, Scully, I hate thinking you don't trust me." It had to be Mulder. No one else knew what trust meant to them. To him. His fingers moved from playing with her hair to lightly brushing her neck and shoulder. "Dana." No one knew what trust meant to them except for everyone they'd ever met. Mulder made no attempt to hide his distrust of other people. Eddie could have figured that out. Maybe. She ignored the shiver that ran through her at his touch and hoped he couldn't tell. It was one thing if Mulder was ever to find out that his touch rendered her senseless. It was an entirely different issue if Eddie found out. "What happened after I fell asleep?" He looked rather dejected at her question, convincing her of his identity once again. It had to be Eddie. Mulder would have understood her distrust, her need to be sure that he was Mulder. Eddie had one goal in mind, and it didn't involve a little chat. His hand moved once again, this time sliding down and rubbing her back. She closed her eyes and hoped he, whoever he was, had no idea how good it felt. No one had the right to have so much power over her. "After you passed out, Eddie tried to stare me down for twenty minutes. Then I put the key on the table and left. I thought the thrill would be over once he didn't have an audience. I was right- he left." Definitely not Mulder. But the feeling of his hand on her back continued to feel good. His voice sounded like Mulder's, his face looked like Mulder's. Her body was reacting to Mulder's, not Eddie's. As long as she remembered that, her body didn't feel like so much of a traitor. "You just went home and let me alone, asleep with that psycho?" Such an accusative phrase seemed odd coming out in the extremely tired tone she was speaking in. His hand froze on her back. Of course, she thought, I called him a psycho to his face. There's way he could *not* respond to that. She recognized the controlled anger in his voice and knew she was treading on thin ice. She was in no position to defend herself, perhaps she should consider her words more carefully. "I knew he wasn't going to hurt you. For him, the thrill was knowing that if he looked different, then he'd be a success with women. He wasn't after having power over them, it wasn't about rape. It was about them enjoying having sex with him, a person they'd never consent to having sex with if they knew who he really was." His hand remained where it was on her back, not moving, just resting there. Just driving her out of her mind. She had to grant that he had a point. A point Mulder would have made. A point that seemed too insightful for Eddie to have made about himself. Of course Mulder wouldn't have left if he thought she was in danger. He'd die first. Eddie didn't know how protective Mulder was of her. She looked up at him, daring to meet his eyes. It was Mulder. There was no one else it could be. She smiled, giving him the reassurance he needed. His arms wrapped around her, crushing against his chest. "You believe me, don't you, sweetheart? You believe it's me?" She was about to nod when it hit her. It wasn't Mulder. Eddie had probably gone and hurt Mulder and then come back for her. She pushed away from him again, this time fury provided her with the strength to stand up and pose a threat to him. She could hurt Eddie, even if he looked like Mulder. She could hurt him because of what he was doing to her, to them. He stood up, looking more confused than she'd ever seen another human being look. "Scully?" He was good. But he'd still messed up and she wasn't going to fall for it again. "What did you do to him?" When Eddie didn't answer instantaneously, she continued. "Where is he? Did you hurt him?" She was well aware of how hysterical she sounded. But it didn't matter. With the amount of adrenaline surging through her veins at that moment, she could have flattened half the Marine Corps and still have energy left over. "Scully, it's me. Why can't you believe me?" She averted her eyes, knowing his pseudoinnocent expression would be her undoing. "Because Mulder would never have let Eddie walk out of here. Mulder would have arrested you, you son of a bitch." She hated that she'd fallen for his act. She hated how easily she'd been fooled. She hated knowing that she'd believe Mulder had any interest in her whatsoever. He didn't. It hurt. She felt the fury start to wear off, replaced with a terrible feeling of hurt. "Scully, I know. But he must have used the back door or something. I did wait for a while. He didn't leave through the front door and I didn't think to check the back. We'll find him. He's not going to hurt you again." He started to approach her, and she stared to back away. She couldn't believe him. This was Eddie and he was a very convincing liar. She made the mistake of looking him in the eye for a moment. He was a very very convincing liar. "NO! You're lying." He continued to step toward her and she continued backing up. She knew she'd hit the wall in a moment and then she'd be in trouble. "Just leave me alone." The tears were back and the pain she was in was clear in her voice. "Why won't you just leave me alone? Why do you have to torture me?" Seeing her terror, he stopped approaching her and held his hands up in a gesture of defeat. He failed to keep the whiny tone out of his voice. "Dana, I don't understand why you won't believe me. What did I do?" As terrified and hurt and angry as she was, she actually felt bad. This was the only thing Eddie had. He was a loser. The only special thing that he could do was to be other people for a little while. And she'd been able to see through his careful plans. No wonder he wanted to know why. She knew she wasn't going to fall for it again, so she didn't really see the harm in telling him. So she did. "Mulder would never call me 'sweetheart.'" Saying the words caused more tears to spill down her cheeks. She hated the fact that it was true. He'd never do that, no matter how much she wanted him to. She watched him squeeze his eyes shut and try to maintain control. And when he looked back at her, his faced was filled with absolutely honest pain. But even so, she couldn't believe his words. "Dana, he just did." End of part six. Surely you have comments after that? jzyvarek@udel.edu, eponine119@att.net Identical Interloper part seven by eponine119 & Jessica Zyvarek Taylor eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu Scully looked down, feeling very confused. She'd been so certain this was Eddie until he'd said that. Until Someone said that. Only Mulder could say words that way, only Mulder could look and sound so hurt. Eddie hadn't seen Mulder's puppy face as many times as she had; there was no way he could recreate it, or even know the effect it had on her. It evoked intense feelings in her, and none of them were pity. How would their relationship ever change if she never allowed him to change it, she asked herself. So Mulder had never called her "sweetheart" before - did that mean he never would? Never could? It was a word in the English language, wasn't it? He'd undoubtedly heard it before, so it could conceivably pass between his lips. He was a kind and gentle man. Well, maybe not so kind, not all of the time, but...she couldn't forget the feel of his fingers against her back. That was gentleness as only a man like Mulder could... His hand didn't feel the same. Didn't feel right. She looked into his eyes and saw he was waiting for her to respond. What would Mulder want her to say after he'd called her "sweetheart?" She didn't know. His eyes brightened when she met them and he looked like a little boy who was about to get what he wanted. She felt terrible that he wasn't going to get it after all - not tonight, at least. "Mulder," she said quietly, and had to lick her lips. Her mouth was so dry. It was from the pills, she was certain. She paused, because the words were hard to say, but they were the only option at this point. "I'm very tired, and I'm very confused. Now, I don't want you to take this as a rejection or a refusal -" she placed her hand on his knee and held his gaze, trying to get across the sincerity of her words, "- because all it is, is a statement of fact. I'm exhausted. I can't deal with this right now. I don't want to say or do anything that I don't mean, and I'm sure you don't want that either." "So what are you saying, Scully?" he asked her. His voice sounded high and forced. Wouldn't Mulder say it lower, teasing her? Maybe not, she answered herself. Not if she'd seriously wounded him, as she was afraid she would do even though it wasn't her intent. It had taken them years to get to this point. Because they were both extremely sensitive about their feelings. "I think the kindest thing you could do right now is leave, Mulder," she said honestly. "For both of our sake. It's been a long, confusing evening. We can talk about things tomorrow." "No, Scully, I want to talk about them now," he said evenly. It was Mulder's tone and voice, but she knew it wasn't him. Mulder would leave when she asked him to. Mulder *would* understand, and he wouldn't pressure her. He would have asked her what she was saying teasingly. Only Eddie Van Blundht would refuse to leave. She was tired, and she was shaking, and her head throbbed terribly. She didn't know what to think or who to trust. At that moment, she didn't even care if she let Eddie walk out of there to prey on other women. She wanted to be alone. Because if she was alone, she knew she would be safe. "Mulder, please," she said, and something in her voice made him look at her. After a second, his eyes softened towards her and he nodded. "Tomorrow," he said, as though he was making a promise she wasn't going to be able to get out of keeping. They were going to discuss this. If not that moment, then later. She nodded back. "Tomorrow." He held her eyes for another moment, then headed for the door. He didn't say goodnight or goodbye. He just left. She'd hurt him, she realized, still seeing the image of his back long after he had gone. There was nothing she could do about that. He ought to understand, she thought, but knew that "ought to" didn't come into play when dealing with feelings and emotions. She ought to call him back and have this out with him before that hurt had time to fester. But she didn't have it in her. She sighed and headed for the bedroom, dropping into her bed and closing her eyes without changing her clothes or even turning on the light. Scully pushed her face into the pillow and willed it all to go away, at least for a little while. Except she couldn't sleep. She was exhausted, and she couldn't sleep. She lay there looking at the ceiling for a long time. xxxxxxx Mulder just looked at her when she walked into the office the next morning. She was aware of his eyes on her as she slipped out of her coat, and placed her briefcase on the floor by her desk, and turned on her computer. She picked up her coffee mug and headed out into the hallway to the coffee machine, but his voice stopped her. "We need to talk," he said. As though he needed to remind her. She was still tired, and worried he would be able to see her lack of sleep on her face. What would he think if he knew she'd been up all night worrying about this, about what had happened between them, wishing it would all just go away so she wouldn't have to deal with it? Obviously it wasn't going to go away because he didn't want it to. "In a minute, Mulder," she said, reaching to open the door. "How long are you going to put it off, Scully?" his voice was hard. He was angry with her. She didn't respond, just walked out to get her coffee. When she returned, he wouldn't look at her. It was almost as absurd as when he had been staring at her. She took a gulp of the coffee, burned herself, and sat there feeling like a fool as she tried not to concentrate on the pain in her mouth. "Okay," she said finally. "What are we talking about here, Mulder." "You thought it wasn't me," he said. "You left me there with him." "No," Mulder said sharply. "You were never in danger from him, Scully." She raised her eyebrows to let him know what she thought of that. "Eddie Van Blundht is in jail." She frowned. "How did he get to jail if you let him get away?" she asked. He raised his eyebrows at her. Impasse. He wasn't going to say anything. She was supposed to either know, or guess, or trust him. "You can call the prison if you don't believe me," he said. Mulder was never more irritating than when he was acting like he was trying to be helpful. She just looked back at him as he watched, waiting to see if she would pick up the phone. She knew she couldn't pick up the phone, because if she did, that would indicate that she didn't trust him. That would damage their relationship irreparably, and she wasn't ready to do that. There was no reason to do that. She desperately needed time to think, and he wasn't going to give it to her. If this was Eddie, he wouldn't be there. He wouldn't be sitting, sulking, across the room from her. That wouldn't interest Eddie. Eddie would have moved on, found some other women to fleece, or if he was smart, he would have settled down to build himself a new future with his unexpected freedom from jail. He wouldn't bother to sit here and argue with her. And they weren't even argueing. They were not speaking at all. "What is it we need so much to talk about here, Mulder?" she asked. He was the one who wanted to talk, not her. So she was pushing the ball back into his court. If he wanted to have a game, he was going to have to be the one to play. "Why did you think it wasn't me?" he asked, and there was the oddest note in his voice. She couldn't figure out what it was. It sounded almost like hope, but that didn't make any sense. Unless he was glad she had at least given it some thought, and he was operating under the notion that thinking it wasn't him was better than not noticing at all that he had been replaced. But if that was the case, why was he insisting they needed to talk? "Mulder, how did you feel when you were faced with two of me?" she asked. He looked blank. His eyes were wide as though something in her question frightened him. "No, honestly, I want to know how you felt, at that moment, when that other me came through the door and you saw two identical people standing in front of you." "I was confused." "And?" "And, what, Scully? I don't know what it is you're fishing for here." "I'm not fishing." "Aren't you?" He looked at her, and she didn't have an answer for a moment. What was she supposed to say to that? Her own silence made her angry because it was as though he had won his point. Instantly she chastised herself. No one was keeping score in this argument. They were friends, they loved and supported one another and would never do something so petty as... That was just the issue here, wasn't it, she thought. Whether they were friends or if they loved and supported each other a little too much. Regardless of whether it had been Eddie or Mulder who had called her "Dana" and "sweetheart" the night before, it had been unquestionably Mulder who had arrived at her apartment earlier that evening with a bottle of wine and a hope to alter their relationship. Maybe that was what they should be talking about, she thought. Except it made her feel just as scared as she had the night before when she'd chugged down the wine to be able to face him. "Did you know which one was me?" she asked. Mulder didn't answer. "If you didn't know, then how can you question me for not knowing?" she pointed out. "I wanted you to be you," he said finally, in a voice so low she would have missed it if she hadn't been staring at him intensely and seen his lips moving. "But you didn't know for certain that that whining shrew wasn't me, did you Mulder?" she asked, aware in the back of her mind that she was pushing this a little too hard, but she couldn't stop now. "You were never confronted with two of me in the same room and asked to make a decision, Scully," he defended himself. "That's right, I wasn't," she answered. "You think I should have been able to do something much harder - look at a man I see every day and decide he wasn't himself. Appearances *are* decieving, Mulder. If there's anything to be learned from Eddie, it's that. If it looked like you, then it had to be you, no matter what you turned up saying. Everyone has an off day, everyone says things they don't mean, or that they do mean, that don't sound like them. People who can change their appearance and go about doing so at will is not a normal thing, Mulder. It's not something you anticipate every day of your life. You can't go through life looking at every person you meet and judging them, deciding if it's really them or just someone who looks like them. You can't. It's too much to deal with. I can't live that way, Mulder." She stopped herself there, just short of adding, "So if you're really Eddie and you're still just playing with me, just tell me." She didn't know any more. She thought this was Mulder. But there was absolutely no way to tell. That was disconcerting. There was nothing she could do about it. "If that's true, Scully," he said carefully, as though he was steeling himself for something that was going to hurt and he knew it was going to hurt, but he had to continue anyway, "Then why did you look at me last night and consciously think it wasn't me?" "Because I had just been sitting on a couch next to myself." "When we were dealing with Eddie, you knew there was someone who was able to change his appearance. The circumstances were the same." She wanted to protest that the circumstances were not in any way the same. She had the feeling that he was trying to make her admit that she thought Eddie had been him because Eddie had tried to kiss her and deep down she harbored some secret desire for him to kiss her. Which she did, but which was also tied up in the fact that Eddie as Mulder had talked to her, and shown interest that Mulder didn't usually take, and that interest was somethin she expected from a man she wanted to kiss. But the same had happened the night before, Mulder had tried to make ameands, and tried to set things right, and tried to be that person that she would want to kiss. He had, in one brief moment, showed her that he could be that person. Why did Eddie have to come along and ruin it with doubts? "Why did you think it wasn't me, when it was." The smart remark would be, of course, that she still didn't know that it was. She wanted to begin to quiz him on things only Mulder would know, but that would only make him angrier, and she didn't want that to happen. She didn't want that to be her fault. She didn't want to answer his question, either, but as the silence stretched between them, she knew he wouldn't allow her not to. She also knew they would probably have to testify at some point in the future about Eddie's further adventures. "He called me sweetheart," she said at last. Mulder didn't react for a long time. Finally, walked over to her and put his arms around her. Leaning against her. No words. There were no words for something like that. It hurt them both. It would be healed, later, and his embrace indicated that it was able to be healed, but for now it hurt. She bore his weight and they sat like that until there were words to say again. xxxxxxxxxxxxx some time later He hadn't looked surprised to see her, but she could see that his eyes were bright. Eddie Van Blundht wasn't such an unattractive man, she thought, looking at him critically. If he had confidence in himself... It was an idle thought, considering the self-doubt that had driven her to this meeting. Seeing now that it was him, she found herself unable to turn coldly and leave. Eddie was, in fact, in jail. She felt incredibly guilty for having come all the way down to verify that fact personally. She felt as though she had betrayed Mulder's trust in doing so, and she knew as soon as she saw him, she was going to have to tell him where she had been and hope he understood. She was there also because she still had questions. She looked at him again and wet her lips, feeling nervous, and he smiled faintly in anticipation of what she was going to say. He actually looked happy to see her. Her words disappointed him. "Could you take that off? It's distracting." He rolled his eyes and a moment later the orange "Superstar" hat was gone from his head, tossed casually under the table. It had matched his orange jumpsuit perfectly. "Now they give me shots, once a week. Did you come up with those?" he asked her. She nodded. "You're really smart, you know?" he said, and she only smiled and shook her head. "No, really, I mean it, you're the first person who's ever figured out my act so completely. And then you figure out what's behind it...I think you're the only person who's really understood me. _Really_ understood me." It was something of a frightening thought, wasn't it, she thought, and couldn't say anything. "Why are you here?" Eddie asked her, the way he would ask an old friend he'd fallen out of favor with. "I had to know," she said measuredly. "Oh, right," he said. They faced each other a moment later. Her face ached with the urge to smile to encourage him, but she couldn't move a muscle. She hoped she didn't look too terrifying, although she knew looking scary was probably her best defense against him. "At first it was a revenge thing, you know? I didn't do anything wrong. 'N suddenly it's such a big deal. Rape. Assaulting an FBI agent. I wanted to get back at you." "How did you know...?" He shrugged in that way he had. "Luck." "And why -?" "I wanted to see what it was like to be someone like you. Mulder, those other guys, they were like me." He hesitated a moment before he actually said the word. "Losers." So dismissive. "But you...you're different." "Obviously." She choked on it, because she didn't want to laugh. "It wasn't just being a woman. I never, you know, had the urge to do that kinda thing. Being you, though, it was part of becoming you. The ritual. Fortifying myself against the world. The layers." "Is that how you see me?" she asked sharply. *Fortified?* "No," he replied just as sharply. They looked at each other. She didn't really understand. "I thought you were different. Like Amanda." His voice slid longingly over the name of the woman he obviously loved. Amanda Nelligan, who'd had his child. Who'd scorned him as a dork. Who'd been more willing to sleep with Luke Skywalker than a man she considered a dork, but who loved her. "You've got the power to crush guys like me. Pretty and open. You were so open that night. So real." Remembering her night with Eddie and knowing she'd impressed him made her feel strange. It wasn't something she really wanted to think about, and yet, here she was. "Why aren't you like that with him?" She looked at him, feeling her eyes go wide. "That was what I learned, being you. It's not all power. You're just as soft inside as he is. As I am. You're no different. More kindhearted, but just like him. You have so much and you don't use it. You hide it, you're embarrassed or scared or maybe just too damned cold, I don't know." "Cold?" she whispered, feeling quiet panic and rage. He shook his head. "Not cold. But you act that way to hide it." "Hide what?" "You understand us too well to not be like us. You're a loser at heart. You let him push you around." Scully stood up. She had to leave. Because she knew he was right. And because she would rather die than let him see her cry, which she was about to do. "Scully." His voice stopped her. She turned around, blinking back tears that were already, to her shame, falling. "Be careful." She looked at him, not understanding. "You're better than the person he makes you. You deserve better. Don't just be small potatoes." She felt sorry for him. Everything he said was a reflection of himself. He could be more if he didn't believe he was small potatoes himself. She turned and left, walking alone down the long hallway, out through the gate, across the grounds, and to her car. She tried to make the tears stop. Because she also knew that he was right. She didn't want him to be right. Mulder was standing next to her car when she reached it, and she sneaked her hand up to her eyes to try to wipe away the tears before he caught her crying. She wasn't fast enough. His hand stopped hers and he placed his thumbs under her eyes, caressing the tears away. She squeezed her eyes tight and made the rest of them stop. Then she looked at Mulder and felt the desire to cry welling up again strong inside of her. He didn't look angry. He didn't look betrayed. "I didn't come here because I didn't believe you, Mulder." Her voice came out in a desperate whisper. He continued to look at her with eyes that were clear and non-judgemental. "I came here because I needed answers from Eddie himself. And the fact that I thought I'd find Eddie himself here means..." "Stop trying to explain or I'll think you're lying," Mulder said, and his voice walked the fine line between coldness and sarcasm. Years of experience told her that his warning was friendly, that he did believe her. His hand settled on her arm. "What did he say to upset you?" Mulder the protector was back. Much as she thought she didn't need protecting, it was comforting to have them fall back into their familiar roles. She shook her head. She couldn't tell him. Because she believed that Eddie had been right, and she didn't want Mulder to see her that way. If he already did see her that way, she didn't want to know about it. "Nothing," she said. "It was nothing." Mulder nodded. He had also been faced with Eddie's cutting wisdoms, which were effective whether they were dubious or true. He would let her have her peace. "Best not to dwell on it," he counseled. She nodded. "Mulder, I'm sorry if I hurt you. If I made you feel like someone who should be doubted." He smiled halfway and she knew all had been forgiven, even if it wouldn't be forgotten in all likelihood for some time. "Maybe I should be doubted," he said in a soft voice and combined with that Mona Lisa smile, it made her gape at him. Obviously that was the response he had wanted, because he smiled geniunely at her and began to walk away. "Mulder, what did you mean by that?" she called after him. He merely turned to wave at her. She stood there, watching him go, thinking what an infuriating man he truly was. At the same time, she knew what he meant. It was the overanalysis of every word, every gesture, every look that caused things to become strained. It was good to be thrown off balance sometimes. No two people could know each other so completely. No two people should want to know each other that completely, she thought, getting into the car. How had Mulder known she would be at the prison seeing Eddie? The thought blossomed through her mind and for a moment she felt real alarm. Crazy thoughts went through her head, but she stopped them all. She had to trust him. More than that, she had to trust her own instincts. So he had just known. That happened. And she liked it. the end. Please send us comments!!!!! eponine119@att.net, jzyvarek@udel.edu Thanks for reading!