From: Ophinea Date: Tue, 9 Dec 1997 03:30:29 EST Subject: Luckenbooth [1/5] Title: Luckenbooth Authors: L.A. & Ophinea E-mail: ophinea@aol.com and/or LAinNJ@aol.com Rating: R (some violence and adult language) Category: SRA (more angst than you can shake a stick at) Spoilers: Some fourth and fifth season spoilers Summary: Mulder and Scully receive orders to assist Scully's old roommate and friend from college on her investigation, but a disastrous event occurs causing Scully's world to spin out of control. Can Mulder help Scully mend the pieces of her shattered soul? Feedback: Well of course we want feedback! Disclaimer: These characters aren't ours, weren't ours, and alas, shall never be ours. They are the sole property of that god Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, we bow at their greatness. They also belong to Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny, without whom they wouldn't have the heart and soul that they possess. No copyright infringement intended. We promise to return them in one piece, right after we've run them through the angst mill ;-) We do however, take sole responsibility for the character of Chris Taylor, who seems to be a blend of us both. If you ever want to use her just ask nicely and please keep our names attached. Distribution: Feel free to archive this wherever you wish, just keep our names and e-mails attached. Dedication: This story is dedicated to anyone who has ever had someone that they could call a true friend. The term "friend" should never be used lightly, so we pass it on with love. Also: from L.A.this is to C, my partner in crime. Here's to being able to use the term "friend" in regards to you :-) And from Oph.this is to Yogi. Don't ever forget to believe in your abilities, and even when you don't, I will always believe in you! __________________________________________ Office of Employee Assistance Thursday, February 5th 2:15 p.m. The corridor was empty, a fortuitous sign for Dana Scully. It meant she didn't have to look over her shoulder like a spy in a bad B movie, constantly checking to make sure that she wasn't being watched. Lord knows that people had had ample time to do that in the past week, ever since that night. She heard the voices, raining down on her like a spring shower. They were in full mumble mode today at Arlington. 'Doesn't she ever cry? Can she really be this cold-hearted? Her partner and best friend is gunned down, and this is her reaction?' Sticks and stones, Scully thought as she stared straight ahead. If she didn't respond, didn't show any emotion, then it wouldn't be true. She wouldn't have been standing at Arlington watching a funeral with full honors. She wouldn't be seeing the bronze casket draped with the American Flag or thinking about the fact that one of her dearest friends was in it. She would be sitting in the basement office going over case files with Mulder. Tossing back rational explanations for every offbeat question he threw her way. She would be doing anything but. "Dana. It's good to see you. Come in, please." Karen Kosseff stood back and swung the door to her office wide, snapping Scully from her reverie. She didn't even realize that she had knocked on the door. "Uh, thanks," Scully said, making her way into the homey office that she had been in on various occasions in her career with the Bureau. "I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice. I hope it's not inconvenient." Karen smiled. "Not at all, Dana. I'm glad you called." She settled herself behind her desk. "How have you been?" Scully pondered the question briefly before answering. "I guess if I say 'I'm fine', you probably won't believe it. Mulder never does. Then again when he doesn't, he's usually right on target." "I just want you to be truthful with how you feel. If you aren't fine, tell me." Karen opened a case folder and picked up a pen. "The funeral was today, wasn't it?" "Yeah. I just got back from Arlington a few minutes before I came here. Full honors. Chris would have gotten a kick out of that." She smiled a bittersweet smile. "I think she probably would have been sick about some of the things that were said, though." "Such as?" Karen asked. Scully tried to remember the words, what people said about her friend, but found that the only thing that stuck in her head was the last thing that Chris had said to her, right before she died in Scully's arms. 'Promise me you'll take that chance.' Then as her eyes began to close for the last time, words that Scully would forever keep: 'Time to go sailing on the Chesapeake again...' "Dana? Dana?" Karen gently called out to her. "Oh, sorry. Just thinking." Scully stuttered quietly. "Not like I've had time to do anything but, this last week." Karen leaned back in her chair. "Are you ready to begin?" Scully sighed. "Yes, although I suppose the end is where we really need to begin." FBI Headquarters One Month Earlier Monday, January 5th 9:25 a.m. Special Agent Fox Mulder was never one to be late. Not very late, anyway. A single clock rested next to his never used bed. It was his internal clock, which would relentlessly inform him that after 2 hours, his sleep was over for the night. The watch he wore was a gift from Scully. Teasingly she had commented that an ordinary Timex wouldn't be able to keep up with his antics. So, she had given him a Swiss Army watch that she'd found in an I. Goldberg Army Navy store, one that was shockproof, waterproof, and just about any proof you could ever want. Mulder appreciated the gift and secretly planned on one- upping her this year when her birthday came around again. No more key chains this year, he swore to himself. Looking down at his prized gift, he mumbled to himself that he was late for a meeting with Skinner. The AD would of course, look down on his agent with disdain. So what else was new, Mulder thought, as he ducked through the maze of agents crowding for coffee and early morning chats before he finally reached Skinner's door. He peered inside and caught sight of Scully flipping through a case file on her lap. She looked up as he opened the door. "Not a word, Scully," he said, flopping down beside her on the sofa as he ran a hand through his disheveled chestnut hair, pushing back a stubborn lock that refused to stay in place. With mock indignation she retorted, "I wasn't going to say anything." He couldn't help but chuckle at her jest as he said, "Surrrrre, and I don't believe in little gray men. Seriously though, why aren't you already in there with the AD?" "Well, lucky for us, Skinner got held up in a departmental meeting. He'll let us know when we can go in. So, relax, and take a deep breath or two. Besides, I covered your ass as usual. I figured you had a good reason." "Scully, I happen to have a very good excuse for my late arrival," he said casting her a sideward glance. Smiling, he thanked fate or whatever higher power it was that existed, for blessing him with someone like her for a partner. Scully arched an eyebrow. "And that would be?" Mulder's grin turned devilish. "I think I was abducted." He watched as his partner laughed. He corrected himself, in all fairness it was most accurately a guffaw that had just escaped the elegantly, defined Enigmatic Dr. Scully. Kimberly, Skinner's secretary, who had been ever so politely eves dropping up to this point, couldn't help but giggle as well. Scully, caught in the moment, nudged him playfully. "I should've known." The small group was enjoying this light moment when Skinner suddenly poked his head out the inner office door. "Something amusing you three?" he asked, his tone all 'business as usual'. Scully quickly composed herself, gathered her briefcase and walked into Skinner's office. Mulder quickly followed, a smile still playing on his lips. Skinner tossed a last look at Kimberly, who herself was still smiling, and shut the door. "Glad to see that the Hoover building gives you two a laugh," he said, as he gestured towards the two chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat, both of you." Mulder glanced at Scully who had already taken her seat. "What's this about, sir?" Skinner shuffled some papers in front of him. "A rather interesting case has come up, one which the two of you have been specifically requested to assist on." He held out a case folder, which Scully took. "A major drug trafficker, based in L.A. has decided to open up shop in DC and Maryland. Among his favorite pastimes are importing and exporting, money laundering and murder." Mulder shifted uneasily in his chair. "That sounds like a case for the DEA, or at least the VCS sir. Who requested assistance from the X-Files division?" "Wait a moment Agent Mulder, and I'll get to that," he said passing the impatient agent a warning glance. "The CEO, if you will, Ian McMillan, has no morals or scruples. He's a ruthless businessman. Two weeks ago, three of his couriers 'disappeared' without a trace while on a routine run for him. There's speculation that the three fled the country and are living large elsewhere. They disappeared with just under $200 million in laundered cash and drugs." "Sir, I still don't see how our involvement is necessary," Mulder interrupted. Skinner removed his wire frames, and continued, completely ignoring the interruption. "This case originated in LA, with the agent on record being S/A Taylor, who just happens to be the ASAC for the downtown LA field office. Agent Taylor will be flying in to head this investigation and to bring you up to speed on what has happened. The briefings will take place tomorrow morning." "Sir--" "Agent Mulder, you have both been requested to assist on it and offer your insight. Remember that. You are expected to provide back-up support." Skinner drilled Mulder with a look strongly suggesting the younger agent keep his mouth shut. Mulder, not one to be bullied, blithely disregarded the A.D.'s unspoken advice. "This is unacceptable," Mulder stated, ready to launch head on into his protest, but stopped when he felt Scully's hand on his arm. "When can we expect Agent Taylor, sir?" she asked, glancing at Mulder who by now had stood and was heading out the door. "Sometime this morning or early afternoon." Scully nodded at him and stood as well. "Keep him in check, Scully. I won't tolerate this attitude." "Yes sir." Scully replied and walked to the door. Scully walked down to the basement, holding the folder in front of her and silently cursing Mulder for being such a baby sometimes. She opened the door and found him ranting and raving. He jerked around when he heard her come in. "Goddamn it, Scully," he yelled. "Another way for them to keep us in line!" "Mulder, you don't know that. What is the big deal with having to assist on this?" "Scully, we run our own department. Think about it, why would they ask us to assist on a case that has absolutely nothing to do with the X-Files? Suddenly we're stuck with someone who has probably been pushing papers for years and just needs a big case to get them back in the mainstream. A goddamn ASAC, for chrissakes!" "Actually, I always found the term 'scum-sucking ASAC' to be more to my liking,"" came a throaty voice from the doorway. Scully and Mulder spun towards the unfamiliar sound. A woman stood in the doorway, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "Of course, if 'goddamn ASAC' is the best you can come up with, I'll have to find other agents to help me out." She shifted her overcoat to her other arm. "And paper-pushing is for agents with twenty plus years. I'm not that old, as Scully here can attest." She smiled. Scully did a double take. "Oh, it can't be you," she said as she walked over to where the woman was standing. "That's all you've got to say to your pal that you haven't seen since Quantico graduation? I'm hurt, Dana." She laughed easily as she and Scully engulfed each other in a big hug. "How the hell are you?" Scully found herself laughing too. "Chris...I can't believe this is your case. Why didn't you call me?" She took the overcoat from her friend and ushered her to a chair. Mulder stood speechless behind his desk. Scully looked at him and wanted to make sure that he knew he hadn't been forgotten. "Mulder, this is Chris Taylor. She and I go way back. We went to Berkley and UM together, then met up again at Quantico. Chris Taylor, Agent Fox Mulder." Chris held out her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Agent Mulder. I have heard some great things about you." Mulder shook her hand with all the enthusiasm reserved for greeting a cold fish. "I'm quite sure you have, Agent Taylor. I certainly didn't mean to say anything out of line." "Right. You mean you didn't mean to say anything within ear-shot." Chris laughed again. "Relax, Agent Mulder. I don't bite," she said, winking at Scully. "At least not until I get to know you." Scully's Apartment, Annapolis Thursday, January 22nd 9:16 p.m. Scully lay back on the couch, hoping that if she was lucky, it might just swallow her whole. As was becoming the usual during the last couple weeks, she was exhausted. Each day the battle of wills became a bit harder, but today was downright draining. Being with Chris again was wonderful. It had been years since they'd seen each other and several months since they'd spoken last. Mulder's reaction to the new situation, on the other hand, was not. She had tried to explain that there was no need for concern. Chris and she had been roommates for nearly four years in college, and it was during that time that Scully came to think of her of her as another sister. Their bond had only grown stronger after pairing up later at the Quantico Academy. Even from her earliest childhood she couldn't remember staying in one place for more than a year or two. Born into a military family, she was a navy brat. She'd never resented it; it was a simple fact of life for her, one she'd learned to deal with early on. Their time at the University of Maryland had been her longest stay in the same city. The camaraderie that had developed between Chris and her had a good deal to do with that, she figured. Chris and she had shared a lot of firsts together in that city and it was together that the two had made the transition from girls to women. She had known even back then that she'd made a friend for life. "If only I could get Mulder to understand that," she muttered under her breath. With a deep sigh she pushed off of the couch and headed for her bedroom. Sleep, she thought to herself, sleep, is what I need. Maybe with a little luck this will look better in the morning. She doubted it, but one could only hope. After much tossing and turning, her lids finally slid shut and dreams overtook reality. What seemed like only moments later, she awoke screaming her partner's name in a cold sweat. Sitting bolt upright she took in her surroundings, reassuring herself that she was truly at home in her own bed and not bending over the dying bodies of both of her partners. Glancing over at the clock she noticed that it was nearly 1 a.m. She had been sleeping for almost four hours, time that felt like it had passed in an instant. She tried to replay the dream in her mind, but it was already becoming lost in the last vestiges of sleep. What she did remember sent an icy chill down her spine. Her hands and clothes were covered with blood as she knelt between Mulder and Chris' bodies, screaming in unadulterated agony. J. Edgar Hoover Building Friday, January 23rd 7:49 a.m. Scully unlocked the door to their basement office early this morning. After last nights dream she had slept little. She settled down to work quickly, figuring she should put the extra time to good use, not to mention she wanted nothing more than to shake the disturbing feeling the dream had left her with last night. When Mulder arrived he found his partner already buried under a mountain of paperwork. "Morning Scully." No response. "Good morning," this time he spoke a bit louder, and watched in shock as his partner nearly fell out of her chair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, taking the space between them in two long strides. "Are you alright Scully?" She stared mutely at him for a moment more, looking like a deer trapped in his headlights. "I'm.I'm sorry. Yeah, I'm fine." For all the "I'm fine's," she'd uttered over the last five years, many of which he knew to be a polite lie on her part, he knew for sure that this had to be the mother of them all. He took in the dark circles under her eyes, and the stunned look on her face and decided that for once he wasn't going to take that for an answer. "That's a lie and we both know it," he stated bluntly. He regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth. Mentally he kicked himself, leave it to "spooky" Mulder, to say exactly the wrong thing at the right time. "What the hell is that supposed to mean," she asked incensed. By now she had gathered her wits, and was furious at his accusation. "Look, if this is about Chris, don't even start. We went over that last night and I am not in the mood for it again this morning. I told you, she is a trustworthy agent, and she is not here to shut us down, regardless of what you think. You, who refuses to trust anyone, will run off at the drop of a hat on a lead by one of your mysterious informants, and yet you refuse to give her a chance, regardless of what I say." "No, it's not about Agent Taylor, it's about." he trailed off midstream, afraid to continue down that path. "I do trust your judgement. It's hers I don't trust," he said flatly, wishing mightily that he hadn't pushed the issue. The waters here were murky and he was afraid of just what he might find in them. "Look, just forget I said anything." "Uh, I'm not interrupting anything here, am I," Chris asked, standing somewhat uncomfortably in the doorway. Mulder and Scully's heads turned in unison as they took in the newcomer that stood before them. Both wondered how much she had overheard and complete silence hung over the room. Scully was the first to speak. "No, not at all," she lied, "we just finished debating what seems to be a moot issue," she shot darts from her eyes to Mulder's as she spoke the words. Chris, hoping she misread the tension that seemed thicker than the smog in LA, asked, "Oh, what's the topic of discussion? I'm always up for a good debate." As if puppeteers worked the two agents' mouths as one, they both said, "Nothing." Raising her right eyebrow, a look that rivaled one of Scully's own Mulder noted, Chris turned and hung her dampened coat on the rack. Feeling it was best to change the subject, Chris picked the first neutral topic that came to mind. However, tonight, she was definitely going to pin Dana down on this one. "First time I've seen rain in a while, the LA area has been really dry this season. Mulder turned from where he'd been standing in the now crowded office, and took a seat at his desk. Mumbling something incoherent, he picked up the first file that he laid his hand on and set to work at ignoring the intruder in his domain. FBI Parking Garage A 5:47 p.m. Scully switched her briefcase from her left hand to her right and dug in her right coat pocket for her keys. Frustrated, she switched back when she realized that the keys were hiding deep down in her left pocket. Grabbing them, she wished she had Mulder in front of her so she could key him like an expensive car. As it was, she had to settle for jamming the key into the trunk lock and dumping her bag inside. He made her so furious. I could kill him, she thought. Shoot him again. It would be justified. No court in the land would convict me. Shoot that goofy grin right off his mug and then-- "Dana! Hey D! Wait up!" A voice broke through her reverie and she turned in time to see Chris running to catch up to her. She was juggling a bulging briefcase and two boxes of files in her arms. Scully grinned at the sight, her ire at Mulder evaporating quickly. "You look a bit bogged down," she said, taking one of the overloaded boxes from Chris' straining arms. "What's up?" "Thanks," Chris said, setting her box and briefcase down on Scully's trunk lid. "Man! Will you look at what the powers that be heaped on me to look over! I doubt that there is this much paper in all of LA!" She ran a hand through her short brown hair. "What you got planned for tonight?" Scully thought a moment. "Not much. I was thinking about heading down to Quantico to get in a little target practice." Chris grinned. "Oh, like you're not perfect enough already." "Always room for improvement," Scully replied, returning the smile. "Well, can the shooting. I have a case of Sam Adams screaming our names from my fridge, and I THINK Vinnie Van Gogo's still delivers some awesome pizza. What do you say to eating unhealthy and turning our brains to mush while catching up on old times?" Scully didn't need to think twice about it. "Sounds like a great idea to me. You want to come over to my place or should I head to the townhouse?" "I'll come over. My place is still 'in transient'. Let me get changed and grab the beer. Remember, no onions or olives." Chris retrieved the boxes and stooped down so Scully could set her briefcase on top of her burden. "How could I forget?" Scully asked. "7:30 okay?" Chris was already walking to her car. "7:30 it is. See ya then." Smiling to herself, Scully got into her car and watched as Chris' gunmetal gray Honda Accord screeched from the parking lot. Some things never change, she laughed to herself. Chris had always had a lead foot. Taylor's Townhouse 6:35 p.m. Chris pulled into her narrow driveway in the front of her townhouse and killed the engine. She gathered her briefcase off the front seat and got out, popping the trunk release as she did. She reached in and grabbed the cartons of files and proceeded up the brick stairs to the red door, stopping at the mailbox to attempt to get her mail. Then, struggling with her burdens, she managed to unlock the front door and promptly tripped over a medium sized ivory box that was in the middle of the doorway, almost falling flat on her face as she did. It didn't even dawn on her that the box was INSIDE her townhouse. She nudged it out of the way with her foot and dropped her carton unceremoniously by the living room sofa. She picked up the box and was about to open it when the phone rang. She grabbed the cordless from its base. "Hello?...oh hi, mom...I'm fine - how are you doing?...how's dad?...oh really?...heard from Colin lately?...no...everything is fine...would I lie to you?...I swear...no...work is going well...yeah, ASAC to Legal...yes, I'm sure I still want to be an Agent...no, I don't want to work for dad...because he's pushy, THAT'S why...do we have to go through this again?" Chris rubbed her hand across her eyes in frustration. "I just got in the door...no, I'm meeting Dana Scully for dinner...she's doing well...okay, I'll tell her...yes, mom, it IS a small world...listen, I have to get going or I'm gonna be late...of course I won't drive fast...I promise...I SAID I promise...okay...uh-huh...give Casey a big hug for me...yeah, I miss you too...I'll be in Seattle at the end of next month...okay, we'll do it then...okay...I'll call you later this week...I love you too...and dad...okay, bye." Chris set the phone back down, covered her eyes and screamed, forgetting the box off to her side. Guilt from 3,000 miles away, she thought. Mom was so good at it. Just like college. She would call home to check on everyone and get lectures ranging from how much money she was spending to why she'd received an A- instead of an A. The money lectures were always the best, though. For all intents and purposes, Chris' family was loaded. Her father was an attorney who just happened to be the head legal counsel for Sun-Microdyne Software Systems, based in Seattle, and her mom was the head of the Seattle Regional Fine Arts Council. They had a home in Seattle, a ski cabin in Vancouver, British Columbia and a townhouse in Georgetown, which Chris now occupied. They had given Chris a generous college allowance, but she insisted on working to eat the cost of books, miscellaneous bills and whatever else she wanted. One thing her parents never had to worry about was her education. To put it bluntly, Chris was brilliant. She had received a full scholarship first to Berkley and then to the University of Maryland, when she transferred in her sophomore year, as well as a partial scholarship to Georgetown University Law School. She used her brains to her advantage, never intending to go into debt for her education. By the time she graduated second in her law class, she'd had half of the most prestigious law firms in the country clamoring for her attention. She bided her time and took the bar exam, passing it on the first try. Armed with her success, she established licenses in Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania. She had no intentions of working for her father, even though he was seriously wooing her with promises of big money. Nepotism was not high on her list of favorite things. Anything she did, she wanted to EARN by Herself. Eventually, she settled on an old Virginia law firm where they'd given her a lucrative salary and a corner office. Partner was just around the corner, but a chance meeting with an FBI Agent managed to shift her goals. On a whim, she applied to the Bureau. She waited and practiced estate planning and did some minor trial work, eventually getting the call to take the FBI Entrance Exam. She passed with flying colors and was immediately called for the interview. Within three months, she was packing up her office, arguing with her parents about her career choice, and heading for Quantico where she was amazed to find her old college chum, the newly graduated Dr. Dana Scully, in her new agents training class. They became roommates and graduated, number four (Scully) and number six (Taylor) respectively. Upon graduation, Chris was sent to the LA Field Office, while Scully was tapped for teaching duty at the Academy. Within two years of going to LA, Chris was made ASAC of the field office and had added California on her list of law licenses. Quite an accomplishment for a rookie agent. She served another three years until Ian McMillan reared his ugly head for the first time. She pursued him with a fervor reserved for intense training. When he packed up his west-coast shop and moved to DC, she figured that she'd never have the opportunity to catch him. A week later, the transfer request came through for her to be the ASAC of Headquarters Legal Department. She requested to chase McMillan down again and received the green light, and the keys to the townhouse from Dad. She was glad she had this place. She loved it. IKEA crossed with Pier One. Her parents had let her redecorate while she was at Georgetown Law and it screamed HER, homey, comfy and casual, a place where people could take off their shoes and relax. Chris saw enough pretentiousness at work. She demanded that her home be the opposite. Grabbing the solid oak banister, she walked up to the master bedroom, taking off her navy suit coat at the same time and tossing it carelessly across the bed, the skirt following behind it. Her low heels were flung left and right and settled in front of a never used TV. She stooped down, took her gun and holster and placed them on top of personal papers in a small safe in her closet. She unfolded her 5'9" frame and stood back up, kicking the steel door closed with her foot. The safe was a force of habit. Her brother, Colin, an attorney in England, had two small children who were extremely curious and loved to snoop when they got to "Aunt Chris'", hence, the safe. Better to be cautious, she told her mom and dad, who promptly launched into one of their "if you were a lawyer instead of an FBI Agent" lectures. She laughed to herself as she pulled on a well-worn pair of Levis and a white T-shirt. She dropped to her hands and knees and searched in vain for her Nikes, finally finding them pushed behind a stack of boxes and beside two still very full suitcases. Chris jogged lightly down to her kitchen, dumping her shoes on the counter and opening the refrigerator door to find the case of beer. She grabbed it, placed it on the counter, and snatched her sneakers up, shoving her feet into them. She picked up her car keys, put on her leather jacket and grabbed the beer. As she started for the door, she spied the ivory box resting next to the phone. She glanced at her watch, seeing that it was now twenty minutes after seven already. Juggling the case of beer, she pushed her pinky through one of the bow corners and picked up the box. She could always open it at Dana's apartment. End 1/5 Scully's Apartment, Annapolis, MD 7:52 p.m. Scully poured another glass of iced tea and flipped to a new CD on her changer. She checked her watch: 7:52. This wasn't like Chris at all. When she set a time, she was there, no matter what. She had just made up her mind to dig out Chris' cell number, when she heard a knock at her door. She checked through the peephole and spied one pissed off looking brunette. Scully unlocked the deadbolt and swung open the door, letting in the human tornado that was Chris. "Before you ask -- Mom called, I couldn't find my sneakers and I got stopped for speeding!" She put the case of beer and the ivory box down on the counter. "Just another typical day in the life." Scully laughed, even as Chris started to smile. "I don't even want to know what you said to the cop, do I?" Chris flashed a wicked grin. "He was very impressed with my badge, Agent Scully." She opened the beer case and popped out two bottles. "Where is the pizza? I'm starved!" "Right here." Scully handed her a plate. "So, did you end up with a ticket?" She took the bottle Chris offered, and settled on the couch. "Nope. He asked what the hurry was and I said that I wasn't in one. Told him that I didn't realize that I was going so fast, as I had just come from a crime scene and had to get to my partner's house to go over case files." "You didn't!" Scully exclaimed, her eyes wide. Chris backed up a step in mock indignation. "What? Me lie? I'm hurt, Dana." She took a bite of the pizza. "He gave me a warning. First offense, yadda, yadda..." Scully took another swallow of beer and laughed. "First offense my ass!" "Hey now -- I'm sure that record is GONE by now!" She wiped her mouth. "So...how the hell have you been, Dana Katherine Scully?" "I've been good. Things are going well lately, aside from one cantankerous Fox Mulder that is." "He's not too thrilled with my presence in the basement, is he," she asked as she took her seat at the other end of her couch, kicking her shoes off under the coffee table. Scully moved down as they both stretched out and got comfortable. "That's an understatement, but in his defense, he's been burned one too many times, and because of it, trust doesn't come easy with him." "Burned how?" "It's a long story, Chris, but suffice it to say that in his shoes I may not have become all that different from him." "So, are all those things I've heard about "spooky" Mulder true?" She'd asked the question jokingly, but the look on Dana's face was nothing short of severe, she was almost sorry she'd said anything. "Well that all depends, do you think that all the things you've heard about Agent Scully the Ice Queen are true?" Chris cringed at the nickname many in the bureau had placed upon her friend. "Point taken." Whether either of them liked it or not, the Bureau was still a 'boys club', Chris brooded, and to make it in their world you had to work twice as hard, which often left no time for a personal life. Sadly, this often led to comments much like 'Ice Queen', when a female agent repeatedly turned down offers for a date by the male agents. However, this didn't necessarily mean it was true, what it did mean was that when others didn't understand you they labeled you instead, much like they had done with both Dana and her partner. "Dana?" "Hmm?" "What WERE you two talking about when I came in this morning?" Scully sighed before taking another swig from her bottle of Sam Adams. She knew she could try and avoid the question, but with Chris it was usually impossible, she was nothing if not persistent. "Mulder and I had a bit of a, well, a confrontation, I guess you could say." "About what," Chris asked, intrigued. "That's the strange thing, I'm not really sure." "You mean you're not sure, or you don't want to talk about it?" "Honestly, I'm not sure. Mulder and I are like that sometimes. When we get into it, it's not always over the topic at hand, sometimes there are other feelings behind it that fuel the disagreement. He's just so.so stubborn sometimes, it drives me nuts." "You love him don't you?" "What?!" Scully asked the question in utter shock. "You heard me, you're in love with him aren't you?" "Well of course I care about him, he's my partner." "That's not what I meant Dana, and you know it." Scully sat stock still, her mind warring with her heart. Her mind told her she had a good relationship with an exceptional partner, while her heart reminded her that if she wasn't in love with him she would have been involved with someone else by now. "I.umm.it doesn't really matter, he's my partner and even if I did have those kinds of feelings towards him, and I'm not saying that I do, you and I both know that the Bureau frowns on that type of relationship." "Dana, quit beating around the bush, you still didn't answer the question." Chris caught the barely audible growl of frustration from her friend as she watched her choose her answer carefully before she finally spoke up. "Chris, it's too much of a risk. We already walk a thin line in the Bureau's eyes just because of the nature of our cases. Not to mention, taking a step like that could very well destroy what has become a special friendship with him. Besides which, who's to say if he even has those feelings towards me?" "Dana, listen to me. I see how you two are together, especially when you're working on a case. You work together seamlessly in tandem, where one leaves off the other picks up, and I've seen how he is around you, protective, sometimes even possessive." Scully groaned at that remark. "I don't need his protection you know, I'm fully capable of protecting both him and myself." "I never said you couldn't, and I don't think that he feels that he can't depend on you out in the field. What I do think, is that he's guarding something that's very special to him. In my opinion I'd say you both have the same feelings for each other and you've been sitting on them entirely too long. Take a chance Dana, I think the rewards may be well worth it." She sat quiet for a moment more then took a swig from her nearly empty bottle. "Sorry Chris, but the stakes are too high." She left it at that knowing that there was no use in arguing. Once Chris got an idea in her, whether she was right or wrong, it generally stayed put. Chris, noticing that Dana was out, stood and headed for the kitchen. "I'm almost out myself, be right back." Re entering the living room she held the bottle out to Scully. "I'll make you a bet." "What kind of bet?" "I bet you a case of Sammy that you two will end up together before the year is out." Scully laughed seeing that her friend couldn't resist getting the last word in. Knowing that there was no way she could loose, she clinked the neck of her new bottle of beer with Chris and said, "You're on." Reaching over to grab another slice of pizza from the open delivery box, she tossed it on her plate and closed the lid, revealing the ivory box that had been hiding underneath it. She set the plate down and retrieved the box. "What's this?" Chris, midway through devouring her own piece of pizza, mumbled, "Mph, I dunno." Laughingly she told her, "Don't you know it's not polite to talk with your mouth full?" Chris swallowed and chuckled. "Cute, Dana, but before you start passing out tips on etiquette do's and don'ts I'd suggest wiping the sauce off your chin." Both collapsed into a fit of girlish giggles before Scully noticed the I.M.M etched in gold on the inside of the card. Instantly, her demeanor sobered. "Seriously Chris, what IS this?" "You've got me, open it up and find out. It was sitting by my door when I got home, and I practically tripped right over the blasted thing." Being that her hands were full and she was distracted when she came in she still didn't remember that it had been sitting inside the house. Scully pulled the simple red ribbon off and opened it, choking when she saw what lay inside. Setting on top of an ivory silk pillow, was a single bullet with an elegantly written note reading, 'Welcome back to DC Agent Taylor'. "Jesus Christ Chris, this is from McMillan!" Chris took the box and studied it for a moment, almost disinterestedly. "Yeah, looks like it is." "You don't sound too worried about that fact." "I'm not, Ian McMillan is famous for his mind games. Besides, he tried this back in LA about six months ago when he sent me a blackened, dead rose. That time the note said 'Beautiful isn't it, too bad it's DEAD'. He's not going to get me to back off just because he decides to get creative." "I'm not saying you should back off, but I think you should take this a bit more seriously." "I'm taking it as seriously as it needs to be taken. I'm a big girl, who can take care of herself. Don't worry." "Yeah right, like that time in the academy when you took on two irate guys at once?" "Two of them one of me. An unfair advantage to them, I'd say." "An unfair advantage to them?! Chris, Tom Colton broke your nose!" Chris ducked her head, the tiniest blush of embarrassment creeping onto her cheeks, "Only cause I missed him with my left hook." Self righteously, Scully muttered, "Uh huh." Back in full stride she retorted, "Well, I got him back didn't I?" Scully propped her chin on her hand, raising a finely arched brow. "Reassigning him to backwoods Alabama four years later is NOT retribution." Playful indignation sparkling in her eye she replied, "Not true, better late than never. My damned nose hurts every time it rains." They debated a bit more about the action that should be taken on the McMillan case and then thoroughly enjoyed themselves for the rest of the evening as they caught up on the time they'd been apart. By 2 a.m. neither was in any shape to drive and Chris decided to camp out on the couch. Agent Taylor's Home, Georgetown Friday, January 30th 11:55 p.m. Chris took her glasses off and threw them on the coffee table in disgust. Dana and Mulder had left at 10:30 and Chris pored over the file once more. After almost two hours of reading and re-reading the case file, it didn't appear that the answer was going to jump out and bite her on the ass. Rather, it left an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was missing something, she had to be. She pondered over Dana's words. 'They're setting us up. McMillan is playing a game and he intends to win. Mark my words, he will try to use one of us as his pawns.' Chris had told her that all that time she'd been spending in the basement had made her paranoid. Mulder had taken the jest in stride she'd noted, which was a definite improvement from the previous few weeks. He did however assert that he highly doubted they were going to have to wait long for McMillan to make his next move. The more she thought about it, she had to agree that they were both right. She stood, stretching the tired muscles in her back and neck, and rubbed her eyes. These late nights were not going to do any good in the long run if they couldn't find the evidence they needed to throw McMillan in prison. Finally, she'd had enough. She picked up her wineglass and walked to the kitchen, reaching for the bottle of Berringer's, she poured another full glass and decided to call it a night. Flipping the light out, she walked back into the living room of her spacious townhouse. She picked up the latest copy of the Law Review and started up the stairs, breaking her stride when the phone rang. Sighing, she turned and picked the cordless up from its base. "Hello?" she said, stifling a yawn. "Is this Agent Chris Taylor?" questioned the ominous voice. It was a man's voice on the other end, a voice she didn't recognize. "That depends on who's asking," Chris replied, putting the Law Review down. "Who are you?" "Who I am is not important. It's what I can give you that makes it so." "Oh really? And just what makes you think that you have something of importance to me?" The voice laughed, a low guttural tone. "Oh, I know it is, Agent Taylor. You are working the McMillan case, are you not?" Chris turned cold at the mention of the case. Glancing over to the coffee table she spotted her micro-recorder. She picked it up and pressed record, holding it to the receiver. "How do you know that?" "You are working with Agents Mulder and Scully. We are quite impressed with your investigative techniques. You really DID turn heads in LA, didn't you?" "That's why I'm back in D.C." She was becoming annoyed. "What exactly do you want?" "I have information about McMillan that will blow the lid off your investigation. Right now, you don't have anything to go on. I can give it to you." He paused. "You do want to catch him, don't you?" Chris chewed on her lip for a moment. "What do I have to do?" "Are you familiar with the Glazo Warehouse out by Route 50 on New York Avenue?" Her mind raced. "Yeah. What about it?" "Meet me there in one hour. Come alone. Once I see that you are indeed alone, I will present you with the evidence that you need to bring McMillan down." "Do you take me for a fool? You want me to meet you ALONE? What are my assurances that you won't try to pull some stunt?" Chris retorted. The voice laughed again. "I hardly take you for a fool, Agent Taylor. Quite the contrary, actually. You graduated second in your class at Georgetown Law, passed the bar exam on the first try and licensed to practice law in Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia and California. You made the top ten at Quantico, and were then promoted to ASAC in the LA field office within two years of being assigned there. And last but not least, you've been reassigned back here in DC to be the ASAC of the legal department, with a special assignment to the X-Files division where your good friend and former Quantico roommate, Dana Scully and her partner Fox Mulder are assisting you. Have I impressed you enough?" She felt her blood turn to ice as it ran through her veins. Swallowing, she spoke in a halting tone. "Fine. One hour. And don't even consider pulling anything stupid." "I wouldn't dream of it, Agent Taylor. One hour." The phone clicked in her ear, and the voice was replaced by the buzzing of the disconnection. She pushed stop on the recorder, and placed the phone back into it's base, all the while trying to make sense of what she had just heard. A chance to get McMillan finally. She turned and sprinted up the stairs to her bedroom. Her suit from earlier lay spread out on her bed, her shoes jumbled on the floor. She took off her bathrobe and grabbed her jeans and white oxford from the chair next to the bed. She found her Nikes over in the corner, next to her mountain bike. Pulling her light brown hair back from her face, she made a quick ponytail and slipped on her battered Steelers ball cap. Pausing a brief moment by the safe in her closet, she took out her Smith and Wesson .1076, checked to make sure the clip was full, secured the weapon in her shoulder holster, and grabbed an extra clip from the safe. Once back downstairs she grabbed her jacket and cell phone from the couch, picked her keys off the hall table and locked the door behind her. She missed the ringing of her phone as she proceeded to her car. Scully's Apartment, Annapolis 12:11 a.m. Scully replaced the phone on its base and shrugged, wondering where on earth Chris was at a little past midnight. They had parted at 10:30, when Scully announced that she was beat and was going home. Chris told her to take the Sam Adams with her, as well as the left over pizza, and Scully was glad she did as she popped the cap off of one and took a long swallow. Where the hell was Chris? Her phone ringing interrupted her thoughts. "Hello?" "Agent Scully, this is Detective Carter. We we're instructed to call you if there were any developments on the McMillan case." Her stomach sank. She wasn't sure why, but she had the nagging feeling that something was wrong, very wrong. "Yes." She drew the word out into a question. "We just got a call which lead us to the dead body of an associate of Ian McMillan. They found him in an alley downtown, and it looks like someone used the guy for target practice. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that they're still on the scene if you and your partner want to come out and take a look." "Detective Carter, was Agent Taylor informed of this?" "No ma'am, she wasn't, I attempted to call her but there was no answer at the number she had left. Your name was the next on the list." "Thank you Detective, we'll be right there." Her mind whirred into action. If Chris wasn't on the scene and she wasn't at home, then where the hell was she? Hastily, she called Mulder's number, as she headed to her room for a change of clothes. "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me. I think we've got a problem on our hands." The urgency in her voice immediately caught his attention. "What's wrong?" "I just got a call from the D.C.P.D. They found Ian's partner's body downtown, and they're waiting for us on the scene." His ire growing he asked, "Why didn't Taylor give you a call?" "That's just it Mulder. They called her first, and she wasn't home, so then they called me. I called her just before I received their call and there wasn't any answer then either." "God damn it, she swore she'd keep us informed," he hissed. "Believe me, she wouldn't break her word to us. If she said she'll keep us informed, that's exactly what she'll do." "I'm glad you're so certain of that, because I, on the other hand, am not." "Damn you Mulder! If you refuse to trust her, can't you at least trust me? Trust my judgement on this, trust my judgement on her!" Taken aback by her sudden outburst, he conceded, "I'll try." In an attempt to see things her way he suggested, "Well maybe she's already asleep." Scully laughed, but the sound bore no humor. "Chris is a very light sleeper. A ringing phone would likely knock her right out of bed. It's like she's not there." Mulder thought a minute. "We'll stop at her place on the way." "I think we'd better. I'll be by in 15 to pick you up." "I'll be waiting." Scully tossed the phone down on the couch and headed out the door. Something was wrong, this wasn't like Chris at all. Taylor's Home, Georgetown 12:41 a.m. Scully used the key that Chris had given to her when she moved back into town. She opened the door, noting that only the living room lights were on. Mulder walked in behind her and started over to the coffee table. "Chris? You here?" Scully called. She walked through to the kitchen and back. "Nothing. I'm gonna check upstairs." Scully climbed the stairs to the second floor. Pausing outside the door to Chris' bedroom, she could see that light had been left on. She saw her robe thrown across the bed and her nightshirt on top of that. The jeans and shirt that Chris had worn earlier were gone, as were her sneakers. She walked into the bathroom and back out, glancing at the open closet door. A glimmer caught her eye from the light reflecting of the open safe. Scully kneeled down and peered inside. Seeing Chris' back gun holster empty, she moved some papers aside, finding the gun no where in sight. As she got up, a thought struck her. Peering up on the rack where she knew Chris kept a shoulder holster, she discovered that it was gone as well. Quickly, she headed back downstairs. "Mulder, she took her gun." "You sure? Maybe it's down here." "I know her better than that, she'd never it leave down here. She always leaves it stored in her safe, and the only thing I found there is her empty back holster. She has the back holster and a shoulder holster. The shoulder holster is gone. I checked." Mulder crammed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and leaned against the wall. "Well, where do you suppose she is?" Scully sighed heavily and sat down on the arm of the sofa. "I have no idea. I know that this case was bothering her because we couldn't find anything to tie McMillan to the crimes." Mulder, spotting a long black object lying on top of the Law Review, the wine and phone resting next to it, pushed away from the wall. He picked it up, and discovered upon further inspection that it was a mini tape recorder, the type commonly used for business meetings. "Hey Scully, did Taylor ever record meetings or notes?" Scully thought a minute. "I'm not sure. I do when I'm doing autopsies, helps me compile the report later on. "But why would she have it by the phone? I mean it looks like she was heading to bed, so what stopped her?" Not waiting for an answer he rewound the tape a bit and then played it back. Two voices flowed from the speaker. ".to ASAC in the LA field office within two years of being assigned there. And last but not least, you've been reassigned back here in DC to be the ASAC of the legal department, with a special assignment to the X-Files division where your good friend and former Quantico roommate, Dana Scully and her partner Fox Mulder are assisting you. Have I impressed you enough?" There was a pause and then a woman's voice, "Fine. One hour. And don't even consider pulling anything stupid." "What the hell was that?" Scully asked, immediately on her feet and striding over to where Mulder was standing. "Rewind that again." Mulder hit rewind again and waited a few moments longer this time before hitting play. It started out in Chris' voice. A lecture she was supposed to give at Georgetown next week. "Standard procedure in a criminal investigation, where the law is concerned, is to exercise all the necessary steps to make sure that--" A sudden interruption in her speech, caught both of their attention. Mulder turned the tape up. "How do you know that?" "You are working with Agents Mulder and Scully. We are quite impressed with your investigative techniques. You really DID turn heads in LA, didn't you?" "That's why I'm back in D.C. What exactly do you want?" "I have information about McMillan that will blow the lid off your investigation. Right now, you don't have anything to go on. I can give it to you. You DO want to catch him, don't you?" "What do I have to do?" "Are you familiar with the Glazo Warehouse out by Route 50 on New York Avenue?""Yeah. What about it?" "Meet me there in one hour. Come alone. Once I see that you are indeed alone, I will present you with the evidence that you need to bring McMillan down." "Do you take me for a fool? You want me to meet you ALONE? What are my assurances that YOU won't try to pull some stunt?" The voice laughed again. "I hardly think that you are stupid, Agent Taylor. Quite the contrary actually. You graduated second in your class at Georgetown Law, passed the bar exam on the first try and licensed to practice law in Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia and California. You made the top ten at Quantico, and were then promoted to ASAC in the LA field office within two years of being assigned there. And last but not least, you've been reassigned back here in DC to be the ASAC of the legal department, with a special assignment to the X-Files division where your good friend and former Quantico roommate, Dana Scully and her partner Fox Mulder are assisting you. Have I impressed you enough?" "Fine. One hour. And don't even consider pulling anything stupid." "I wouldn't dream of it, Agent Taylor. One hour." The voices were replaced by the buzzing of the disconnection. Scully was already racing out the door, with Mulder close at her heels. They had to find Chris in time. En route to Glazo Warehouse 12:49 a.m. Scully was driving at breakneck speed. Fortunately, traffic was light, as she blew through traffic lights, not caring whether or not anyone tried to stop her. Mulder sat in the passenger seat, his cell phone to his ear. "Yes sir...we have Agent Taylor on tape...she was going to meet someone... no sir, it's not clear who it is...yes, we think she may be in trouble...right, we're on the way...alert HRT that we might need them. right... okay... thanks." Mulder pushed a button and ended the call. "Skinner says that he's sending backup to the Glazo Warehouse and that he's on his way. He also said he would send agents out to McMillan's partner's crime scene." He glanced out the window then back at Scully. His eyes fell to her hands, her knuckles whitened from the death grip she had on the steering wheel. "Scully, she'll be fine. Hopefully someone is just yanking her chain." Scully glanced in the rearview mirror. "That was no prank Mulder. Whoever that was knew too many details about Chris, details that wouldn't have been in his possession if it was a simple prank." She blew out an exasperated breath. "God damn, I'm tired of being ditched. First you do it to me and now her." "Scully, I don't ditch--" "Mulder, be smart, don't say another word. When I find her, she's in big trouble." Mulder could see the concern etched deeply into her face. "Scully, she's a smart woman, she'll be alright." Glazo Warehouse 12:54 a.m. Chris pulled the Honda into the parking lot, killing the lights and engine. She looked around for any other cars or movement. None to be seen. Maybe she should have called Dana and Mulder, she thought, but she didn't want to wake them if this was going to end up being a waste of time. However, her odds would have been better with back up waiting in the wings. "Well, it's too late now," she mumbled to the empty interior of the car. Cautiously, she opened the car door, and quietly made her way over to the darkened entrance on the side of the building. She tried the handle; it turned. Pulling gently, she stepped into the near pitch black, wishing she had remembered to grab her flashlight from the trunk, even as she pulled her gun from its holster. End 2/5 Outside Glazo Warehouse 12:59 a.m. "Look!" Scully shouted. "Up ahead!" She floored the accelerator and drove into the parking lot of Glazo. She searched around and saw Chris' Honda Accord parked by a small door. Scully pulled up to it with a screech, jumped out of the car, and took off for the door with Mulder only a step behind her. Pulling their guns from their holsters they counted to three before opening the door and plunging into the darkness. Scully paused as Mulder came up behind her. They had two choices here, either they both would head off in the same direction or they would split up and cover both sides. Silently, each nodded, then headed in opposite directions. Meanwhile, Chris had found her way to the center of the warehouse when an ominous voice booming through the atmosphere caught her full attention. "How nice of you to come Agent Taylor." The words were spoken as a floodlight facing directly at her, was switched on. Startled, her hand flew up to guard her eyes from the offensively bright light. "You didn't give me too much of a choice in the matter. Now what's so important that I had to come here alone." Chris couldn't see his face but his tone was completely self-assured. "Contrary to what I led you to believe, I'm not here to answer your questions, you're here to answer mine." Scully, unbeknownst to Chris, had scaled the metal stairs of the overhang that crossed over much of the center of the warehouse. She paused at the top when she spotted the dark figure behind the huge spotlight. Edging closer, Scully caught him in her sites. "Freeze! Federal Agent. You are under arrest!" The sound of her voice turned his body to stone. Whether the agent shot him now or McMillan caught up with him later, he knew that for all intents and purposes he'd end up a dead man either way. The vengeance roaring through his mind brought his still form back to life. Taking aim at the woman below him he screamed, "You BITCH!" Mulder, about fifteen feet from Chris, saw the man level his gun at her chest. Relying on Scully to take the suspect out, he moved with lightning quick reflexes and dove for her. The Cimmerian form fired at Chris, and without hesitating, Scully took aim and fired. The man's body swayed for only a second before toppling over the guardrail to the ground below with a sickening thud. First one gunshot and then another exploded in Mulder's ears, before the world around him blackened as he was introduced painfully to the concrete floor. Chris, caught off guard, took Mulder's hit full force. She heard the loud, cannon-like blasts erupting around them just before cracking her head into the cement like a hammer. Scully rushed down the stairs, and was hit head on with a nagging sense of d‚j… vu. Ignoring the sensation and the assailant's broken and now malformed body, she rushed to small lake of blood pooling where Mulder lay in a heap. Ripping off her coat she tried to stem the flow of blood escaping the gaping wound in his shoulder. There was a lot of blood, too much she thought. As she applied pressure to the wound, Mulder's dazed and pained voice broke the silence. "Is Chris ok?" he asked, his features contorted by the stabbing pain in his shoulder. "Yeah. It looks like you managed to knock her out with your impression of a linebacker though, Captain Courageous," she said through gritted teeth as she examined his wound. She undid her belt and looped it around Mulder's upper arm to try and slow the flow of blood. Grabbing his hand, she placed it over the makeshift bandage. "Apply pressure while I check on her," she said, then went over to the still form of her friend and gently shook her. "Chris? Can you hear me?" Chris groaned, immediately lifting a hand to her aching head. She sat up slowly, attempting to bring her spinning world back into focus. That task accomplished, the previous events assaulted her mind all at once. "Oh my God...Mulder," she began, trying to push herself to a standing position even as Scully's strong hands pushed her back down. "Take it easy," Scully said, as she checked the large bruise now forming around Chris' right eye. "He'll be okay and--" She stopped mid breath, interrupted by the maniacal laugh directly behind her. Stealthily, Chris pushed the gun that had been resting beside her, under her thigh. Ian McMillan strode forward, gun trained directly at the agents before him. "That was really quite a show, but did you honestly think you'd be able to catch me?" Seeing the petite redhead turn, he ordered, "Don't move," as he placed the muzzle at the base of her neck. Continuing as if he had all the time in the world, he motioned with his other hand towards the body crumpled on the ground several feet away, "Stupid bastard that he is, Warren thought he could turn the tables on me." Chris, hoping that she could distract him, chose her words carefully before she spoke. "We all know you are not stupid Ian, and as I'm sure you're fully aware, there's a task force on it's way as we speak. Being the intelligent man that you are, I highly doubt you're going to wait around for them to arrive." He nodded in agreement. "So true, Agent Taylor, but I can't very well pass up the chance to remove a fly in the ointment now can I? By yourself, you were formidable, but with your partners you have become a nuisance in the extreme." He cocked the gun. "I will always win, Agent Taylor. Don't you know that by now? You can't beat me without beating yourself." Time, Chris thought, I need to buy just a little more time. She plunged in hoping to stroke his over sized ego. "Just as I would expect from you Ian, a very logical line of reasoning. You have to know however, that killing three federal agents would only serve to cause a larger annoyance. You would be hunted relentlessly, and I would assume that would make running a business quite--" Removing the muzzle from the flame haired nest it had rested in, he aimed at Chris. "Shut up! I have decided not to waste any further time with this. While it's been fun watching you work, the time has come for it to end. Pity, but it-- Chris met Scully's eyes and she smiled ever so slightly. At that moment, she knew she was going to make her move. Scully elbowed Ian and rolled out of the way, even as Chris aimed and fired, hitting him squarely in the chest. "Is he dead," Scully asked as she moved to check on Mulder Quickly, Chris rose and walked over to him. "Yeah, looks that way," Chris responded, holstering her gun. She went to kick the gun away from him when Scully called out to her, asking for her jacket to prop Mulder's head up. What happened next, came so quickly it should have been a blur. Unfortunately for Scully, it would be burned, moment by agonizing moment, into her memory, most likely until her dying day. Chris took the jacket off, stretching out to hand it to her, and stopped mid step when a loud bang thundered through the otherwise still warehouse. Scully's eyes flew to Chris' face, and then down to her white oxford, where red was already beginning to blossom in garish streaks. She felt the bullet rip through her body, followed by the white-hot burning it caused in its wake. A perplexed and bewildered expression playing across her features, she looked down at her shirt, and then at the jacket still hanging limply from her fingertips. Looking back up at Scully, she swayed slightly before falling to her knees. Bringing her gun to bear at the man behind them, now grinning in her sights, Scully caught Chris as she pitched forward. McMillan laughed. It was the laugh of a dying man. "I told you I'd always win," he sputtered, as his finger twitched to pull the trigger again. Scully's reaction was instantaneous. She fired, making a neat round hole in his forehead. Watching as his body fell backwards she said, "Not this time." Returning her attention to the still figure lying in her arms, she felt the hot, sticky liquid as it soaked through her jeans and sweater. Suddenly, Scully felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Mulder on his knees beside her, his face pale and weary, his eyes full of concern. "Is she okay?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, to no avail. She sat dazed for a moment before she replied, her voice faltering, "She's been hit." He listened closely to her voice. She'd answered the question like she was sliding into some other world. In his injured state he wasn't sure if his thought process was completely clear, but he had the growing fear she was slipping into shock. He watched as she reached out to adjust the coat covering his torn shoulder when he grabbed her with his free hand. "I'm fine, Scully. Help her. She needs you." Sensing the emotions warring within her, he realized he had to snap her out of it. Mustering his strength he snapped out, "Now!" Scully jumped with a start and nodded her head. She wordlessly yanked her sweater off, which was nearly as blood soaked as the rest of her, leaving her with only a flimsy T-shirt. Mulder squeezed his shoulder tightly while watching the scene unfold before him. He saw the anguish attempting to consume her as she fought mightily to rein herself in, and his mind screamed in protest at the wrongness of it. Scully, oblivious now to Mulder's observation, did her best to try and bring Chris around. Cradling her friend's almost lifeless body in her arms, she pressed her sweater against the wound that was continuing to pump the life essence from her body. Scully was completely unaware of the tears falling freely from her eyes. Chris groaned as the added pain of Scully's ministrations brought her to a semi-conscious state. She was sure of one thing: she was supposed to be dead. The human body was just not meant to withstand this much pain. But here she was, alive, if just barely. She wasn't sure how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity. She could barely open her eyes and when she did get them open, it was like someone was trying to pull the lids closed. Her breathing was shallow and raspy, telltale signs of a punctured lung. A gurgling sound was coming from the general direction of her chest. She could see Dana, her dear friend, in front of her. Her image was fuzzed at the edges, and she could see that she was covered in her blood, her blood she was faintly aware. She willed her fingers to move, and they did a little, creating tiny spasms of pain as they went. She tried to form a coherent thought, but she was so tired. All she wanted was to be back at her townhouse, falling asleep, reading Law Review. Realistically though, she knew that she'd be lucky to see even one more day alive. Her breath hitched, and she struggled for a moment as she choked on her own blood, causing Scully to gently pull her forward. Chris tried to spit, hating the metallic taste that the blood left. Her mind started to drift and she recalled the day she was still in the academy and had ended up with a broken nose. She could remember the bloody taste in her mouth right after it happened. Her mind came back to the present and she spit again and coughed, her body racked with pain and her chest screaming for some release. Her eyesight was starting to fail her now and she knew that she was close to passing out again. So this is what it's like to be dying, she thought as the blackness threatened to claim her again. She struggled to draw another breath, an action that was becoming entirely too labored for comfort. She tried again to move her arm, but her strength was gone and her hand slipped down. So this is what it's like to be a quitter, to give it up. Images swam in front of her blurred vision: her mom and dad, her brother Colin, her house in Seattle, her dog Casey... friends who had come and gone in her life... her graduation from Georgetown and the academy... Scully and her and their boyfriends sailing on the Chesapeake...too many things for her to give up. She took a deep breath, as deep as she could muster. Her body was racked by the pain once again and she prayed for some sort of salvation, and soon. She didn't think she could hold on much longer. Finally a voice broke through her reverie. "Come on Chris, don't you leave me now. You are not allowed to die on me. I graduated from the academy higher than you, which makes me your superior, so I do NOT give you permission to die!" Scully was close to sobbing, fighting to maintain control. "I'm so...tired...just wanna...go to...sleep," Chris gasped out, her breath hitching, the pain in her chest growing worse with each passing moment. "Damnit.Dana.it.hurts." Scully tightened her grip on Chris' body and applied more pressure to the gaping hole in her chest. "I know it does, Chris, but you can't go to sleep. Come on, stay with me. Open your eyes. I promise later you can sleep, but for now stay awake for me." With the will of a thousand men, she raised her arm to grip Scully's. Dana...there's not...going...to be a...later...and we both...know it," she gasped out, her voice cracking. "You...were...always a...a bad...liar." Her words pierced through Scully like a sword. "Damn it, don't say that! You're going to be fine. Just hold on!" Taking in as much air as her damaged lungs would allow, she begged, "Promise...me something..." Scully sat stunned, only able to nod. Her grip on Chris tightened, as if she could will her to stay by holding her tighter. Her words were barely above a whisper. Her breath hitched again and she fought to get one last good one. This needed to be said. She locked eyes with her old friend. "Promi..promise me...you'll take...take that...chance." Chris gave Scully a smile of pure love, of friendship, even through the pain and Scully's heart broke. It was time to go, Chris thought at last. Quietly she whispered, "Time to go sailing on the Chesapeake again." Then her eyes closed and her head lulled lifelessly to the side. Scully couldn't even assimilate the ramifications of her plea as she looked at her face, the meaning dawning on her all at once. "Chris? CHRIS! Damn you, wake up! Don't you dare go now..." Suddenly, the warehouse was filled with Agents and EMTs. Skinner stood off to the side, looking sick with shock at the sight of one of his Agents gunned down and another severely injured. Determinedly, Scully held onto Chris as they administered emergency procedures, hooking her up to several lines. She continued talking to her and urging her to stay with them, when the monitor they had just hooked up screeched as her heart stopped beating. Racing, they pushed Scully roughly to the side, discarding her in the flurry of activity. It was through sheer willpower alone that Mulder was conscious, the fact that he was still standing was nothing short of a miracle. Witnessing the sight, he pushed off the stretcher the EMTs were insisting he lay down on. As Scully's control broke she felt strong fingers pull her back. He drew her in to his embrace as tightly as he could with his uninjured arm as the sobs began wracking her body. "We've got a pulse! Let's get her up and out of here!" The EMTs quickly lifted Chris' body onto the stretcher and raced for the door. The second group of technicians discovered it was proving futile to try and separate the remaining two agents. Giving it up for a lost cause they led them quickly to the ambulance waiting outside. Northeast Georgetown Medical Center 1:42 a.m. Chris' ambulance was first to arrive "Okay, people, what do we have?" the ER doctor yelled to his nurses and the support staff as Chris' stretcher was downloaded from the ambulance. "GSW to the chest. BP is 80 over 35. Pulse is 47. She crashed at the scene and we did CPR to bring her back. Major chest trauma, possible damage to the cartaroid artery. She is knocking on death's door even as we speak. And we've got another GSW, on the way." "Alright. Start an IV, type and cross match blood, and get both radiology and cardiology down here STAT. Do a CBC, Chem20, Lytes. Check pupil response. Let's go, people!" A second team of doctor's rushed to the doors as the ambulance that carried Scully and Mulder arrived. Scully sat, ashamed at her behavior, as the vehicle pulled to the stop. Gratefully, the morphine drip they started Mulder on had taken effect and he was no longer forced to endure the searing pain she knew his shoulder was inflicting on him. The trauma room was a nest of activity. Scully stayed at the door between the two trauma bays, her clothes and hands stained with both Chris and Mulder's blood. The doctor currently working on Chris frowned, as he got no pupil response. He looked over at Scully. "What's her name, miss?" Scully looked at him struggling to find her voice. "Chris Taylor. She's an FBI Agent." Her voice broke. "And my friend." The doctor looked somber. He had seen this before, too many times. "We'll do our best." Another statistic, he thought to himself. Saturday, January 31st 9:39 a.m. Scully stretched across the hard bench in the surgical waiting area. She put her hands over her eyes and tried to shut out the sounds of the hospital. Nothing seemed to work. Footsteps nearby caught her attention and she pulled her hands down. She opened her eyes to find Skinner peering down at her with concern. He sat down on a chair across from her. "Any word yet?" Scully sat up and rubbed her face. "The bullet tore straight through Agent Mulder's shoulder sir. They spent several hours with him in surgery, but thankfully, he's resting and listed in stable condition now. As far as Agent Taylor is concerned, I know nothing, not a damned thing, aside from the fact that the bullet went right into her chest from the back. They've been in there since 2:00 this morning. Over 6 hours, sir." She looked down at her hands and the dried blood still caked in the creases and under her nails. "You should go and get cleaned up. I stopped and picked up a change of clothes," he said as he handed her the bag. "Thank you sir. I'll be back out in just a minute." Hastily, she surveyed her appearance in the mirror. She was a wreck. Bad horror films didn't look as gore covered as she did at the moment. She scrubbed her hands in revulsion, nearly taking the skin along with the grime that was on it. Once she had finished drying her hands she stripped, not able to get her clothes off of her quickly enough. Balling them up, she forcefully rammed them into the wastebasket. Next, she turned her attention to the rest of her bloodstained skin. Left with no choice, she washed herself down with the coarse paper towels. That task completed, she donned the jeans that were a size too big for her and FBI Academy sweatshirt the AD had been thoughtful enough to bring. Drawing a deep breath, she rested her forehead against the cool glass in an attempt to regain her composure. She pushed away from the sink, and left the room without even a cursory look back. Re-entering the hallway she was greeted by the presence of Chris' surgeon. The doctor caught sight of the petite redhead he'd seen enter with his patient earlier that morning, and questioned her. "Are you a family member of Agent Christine Taylor's?"" "I'm Agent Dana Scully, her partner and a close friend. Is she alright?" The doctor sighed. "I'm really only supposed to give the information to family members and. " Scully glared at the doctor as Skinner came up behind her. In a tone which brooked no argument he stated, "Her family is in Seattle, Washington. They won't be here for another couple of hours. My name is Walter Skinner and I am an Assistant Director with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, as which I have the right to know the condition of the agents under me. So, you were saying." He paused, letting the words sink in for the somewhat surprised doctor. Taken aback, the doctor blurted, "Oh, I see." Christ, he really didn't want to do this twice in one day, but it appeared there was no hope for it. "We were able to repair the damage to her lungs, but during surgery, her heart stopped. We did everything we could to bring her back around, but the bullet's damage was just too intense. I'm sorry." A lone tear caught glistening in the lashes of the otherwise stoic face of this woman captured his attention. It wasn't the first time he'd had to relay this kind of news, and it wasn't pleasant, but eventually you learned how to steel yourself against it. However, something about that lone tear, pricked painfully through a chink he hadn't known existed in the armor he'd long ago placed around his heart. "I truly am sorry." Scully exhaled as if another force had drawn the very life breath from her. She was sure her insides were being ripped apart from the pain that coursed through her. Looking once from the doctor to her AD, she nodded and walked away. And she kept walking. She didn't know where she was headed, but she had to keep moving, if she didn't her world was likely to come crashing down on her like a ton of bricks. She slowed outside Mulder's door. She wasn't sure how she had ended up here, but something inside pulled at her, telling her that this was where she needed to be. She walked into the sterile white room, closing the door behind her. Looking across the room, she could see her slumbering partner's pale, but peaceful face. Not wanting to disturb him she padded noiselessly to the far side of his room and leaned against the wall. She replayed the events of the last twelve hours over and over in her mind. Finally, it was more than she could bear. Slowly, she slid down the wall until her head was resting against her knees, and silently she wept. 12:45 p.m. The midday sun was streaming brightly into the room and right into Mulder's eyes. He blinked in recognition of it, mentally noting that he preferred rainy days rather than to be assaulted in this way. His vision clearing, he gradually became aware of his surroundings and of the intense pain in his shoulder. What was that from, he wondered? He turned his head to the side catching sight of the large white bandage over his right shoulder causing the memory to come flooding back. His gaze returned to the window and he caught sight of the small figure huddled against the far wall. Even if he had no memory, he would know that shock of red hair anywhere. "Scully," he called hoarsely, his throat dry. She raised her head, wordlessly coming to her feet. Her shoulders slumped, she plodded to his bedside in a trance-like state. "How do you feel?" she asked. Something was horribly wrong, Mulder thought. That wasn't Scully's voice. There was no passion in it, as there always had been. "Scully, what happened?" he asked, his right hand searching for her hand and grabbing it. It was lifeless. She looked dead to the world, and her eyes were red and swollen, looking as if she had been crying all night. "The doctor said that you'll be fine. The bullet went clean through." Mulder met her gaze as she spoke, knowing instinctively what she was about to say. "Chris..." She paused, loathing the words as they left her lips. "The damage was just too much and...um...she...she's gone," Scully whispered. Her tears fell soundlessly, searing his arm as they splashed on his cool skin, just as her pain in each tear seared into his soul. He assumed his face must have betrayed the shock and sorrow he felt, because she turned away, unable to face him. He cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry, Dana. More than you'll ever know." He squeezed her hand. "Dana..." He felt her gently pull her hand away from him. "Dana, stay with me." "No, Mulder, I.I have to go...I'll be back later. I...there's just some things I have to do." She turned her back to him, and Mulder swore he could hear each tear fall as she walked from the room. Once in the hall, Scully did her best to compose herself. She knew what she had to do and entered the elevator. The doors closed behind her and she stared at the unlit B, the end of the line. Coldly, she hit the button and waited for the decent. The attendant working the morgue was like all morgue attendants Scully mused distractedly. You have to have a detachment or you'll go nuts. Which is why he showed no emotion as he pointed the way to the viewing room. He questioned her with his eyes. Did she want him to go with her? Her eyes, devoid of any life, replied for her. No. I must do this now, Scully thought. I must say goodbye to my friend, before honor and ceremony gets in the way. She walked over to where Chris lay on the table in the middle of the room, a white sheet pulled up to her shoulders. It looked as if she was sleeping, Scully thought, wishing it could be true. Of course it wasn't, as the bruising on her chest peeking out from under the sheet suggested. The irony was that Chris requested to be an organ donor, to give her heart to someone who needed it if something should happen to her. The single bullet that ravaged her heart made sure that it wouldn't be so. Scully checked the list from the autopsy. Chris' eyes would shine brightly for someone who couldn't see before, her kidneys would help someone live one more day. Scully remembered when they had filled out the cards so long ago in college... "Which box are you checking?" Chris asked, chewing the top of her pen. Dana looked at the form once again. "All, I guess. Give someone else a chance at a normal life." Chris laughed. "Be an organ donor. Too many people have pianos," she cracked a sly grin as Dana laughed. "I sure am glad I'm not one of those people who insist on keeping all my original parts when I go to the great beyond." "Really. What the hell are you gonna do with them there anyway?" Dana answered back, laughing. "Well, God and I have it worked out where I'll get a whole new body, kind of like a car trade-up." Chris thought for a minute. "I want someone to experience life through my eyes." Dana smiled at the sentiment behind that innocent remark. "No one could experience your life, Chris." "Here's to hoping that this won't go into effect for quite some time," she replied, signing her name with the usual flourish only she could read. "Christine Gillian Taylor, future lawyer extraordinaire." Dana took pen in hand and signed her name, as well. "Dana Katherine Scully, future M.D. to the stars." They'd both laughed until their sides hurt. Scully shook her head to clear the memory. She gently took her hand and placed it on Chris' cheek, right by the bruise from where she had hit her head on the cement floor "So, you've finally found something to beat me at. Funny, in all my time with the X-Files, I figured that I was the one that would get shot in the line of duty. Been lucky so far, one incident with a serial killer that shot into my kevlar, and once when someone decided I needed a new part in my hair. I have never been afraid to die, not even when I was gone for so long. But I'll tell you this Chris, I would give my life to get you back here, even if only for one more day." Scully took a deep breath and it came out ragged as she realized that she was crying again. "I let you down Chris, I promised I would never let anything happen to you, not as long as I was around. I wanted to help you and I couldn't." Scully absently swiped at the tears trailing down her cheeks. "In all my life, I can count on one hand how many close friends I have had, people that I trust absolutely. Blame it on being a Navy brat, never having the time to make proper friends before we had to go again. But when I met you, I knew I'd found a friend for life, I just didn't realize that part of the trade-off would be losing you so soon." Scully stroked Chris' hair behind her ear. "Never could keep your damn hair off your face." She wiped her eyes once more and took a breath. "I am proud to have known you, Christine Taylor. And I will never forget you. That's a promise." Scully squeezed Chris' hand and placed it gently across her chest. The morgue attendant called to her as she turned to walk out "Excuse me, Agent Scully?" he queried. She nodded once and waited for him to continue "I have some personal effects here that belong to Agent Taylor. Would you like to take them with you or should I keep them here for her family?" Scully looked at him blankly. "I'll...I'll take them," she choked out. She took the box he passed across the desk and nodded at him as she scribbled at each point he indicated. Thanking him, she shifted the box and left the room, proceeding back down the hall to the elevator. Coming to a stop in front of the shiny steel doors, she dared a glance down into the box that held what was left of the last hours her friend's life. A battered, Steelers ball cap sat on top, one that betrayed its age, Chris called it her lucky hat. Scully remembered it from college. Chris was a diehard fan, even in the bad years and had taken a good dose of ribbing from her classmates for it. She'd worn that hat for every softball game that she played, both in school and out of school. How ironic, she was gunned down wearing her lucky hat. Scully spotted the traces of blood along the rim, a stark contrast against even the dulled gold. Lovingly, she traced the edge with her finger as she whispered, "I miss you." End 3/5 Scully's Apartment, Annapolis 2:18 p.m. She'd been awake for over thirty-six hours. Never could she have imagined when she had left her bed the morning before, that her life would be changed so irrevocably. It was amazing she'd been able to drive home without getting herself or someone else killed, she'd been in a permanent fog ever since the doctor had given her the news. Mindlessly she unlocked the door to her apartment and immediately ripped her clothes off. She could still feel the blood on her and couldn't get far enough away from herself, she wanted to jump out of her skin. Instead, she wandered to the bathroom and cranked the hot water on the shower as far as it would go. Stepping in, she allowed the water to beat down on her, it burned like hell but what did it matter. She was the one that should be dead, not Chris. "What right does she have," she screamed as she pounded her fists on the tiled wall. Her words were a surprise even to her own ears. But damn it, how could she walk out on me like this, it's not right. That thought brought what were now all too familiar tears to her eyes, and once she started there was no stopping the flow that fell from her eyes mingling with the water below as it drained away. She collapsed on the ceramic tile floor as wave after wave of anguish and guilt stormed over her. The water had long since run cold before she found the will to move. Slowly, she all but crawled from the small space grabbing her robe as she went. She was physically and mentally exhausted but knew sleep would elude her. Wrapping the robe tightly around her she made her way to the rarely used liquor cabinet, grabbing the first bottle she touched. Holding it up, she watched as the bottle of Absolute distorted the images that passed through it in the early evening light. She padded over to the couch and set the bottle in the middle of the coffee table, staring at it as she sat down. Distortion, she mused. She didn't really want distortion, just a softening of the harsh edges that were cutting into her soul. It seemed as if eternities had passed before she took her eyes away from the bottle. It was rare for her to drink, and even if she did it was only one or two. Tonight however, she knew without a shadow of a doubt she wouldn't stop at just that. What if Mulder needs me, she wondered? "Need me?! Ha, now isn't that a joke on good ole Dana Scully?! He's better off without me." She spit the words out like venom as she uncapped the bottle and tipped it towards her lips, letting the vodka burn a trail down her throat. Hours had passed, and along with it nearly half the bottle she was cradling, when the phone rang. "To hell with it, let the damn thing ring," she nearly growled. Eventually the answering machine picked up and Mulder's voice broke into her drunken thoughts. "Scully? Scully it's me, pick up. You've got to be home," he sighed. "I swear I'm gonna shoot this battle ax that keeps trying to give me a sponge bath. I don't suppose you might be able to spring me from this joint? Well I just called to see how you were doing. Call me when you get in." "How I'm doing? I'm fucking fine Mulder. Just peachy fucking keen," she screamed as she ripped the machine out of the wall and sent it hurling at the fireplace. The cord caught on one of the several picture frames that sat on her mantle, sending it crashing to the stone hearth below. It was the sound of shattering glass that caught her attention. She walked over to the hearth and crouched down to pick up the frame. Turning it over, the sight of Chris and she, their laughing faces frozen in time, stared back at her. A football game wasn't it? It didn't really matter did it? It was a happy moment that was never to be again. She took another long drag at the bottle as yet another tear slipped down her cheek. "Why? Why did you do this to me," she asked as the frame tumbled slowly from her fingertips. She stood up and looked at the images along her mantle. Each happy face mocked her, mocked her loss of self-control. Her rage burned molten as it coursed through her. She swept her arm across the mantle, knocking precious trinkets and family photos flying. Gulping once more from the bottle she swung at the lamp sitting on the end table. Striding across the room she ripped the pictures from the wall and swung each one with all her might against the nearest doorframe. She turned carelessly to snatch another breakable item to vent her fury on, and tripped on the mounting debris cluttering her living room floor. She stretched her free hand out in front of her to break her fall, landing in a pile of glass. "Shit," she blurted, as she brought her stinging hand up to inspect the damage. "God damn it," she muttered, "I can't even get mad right." Picking the bottle back up, she wandered to the bathroom a bit more cautiously. Unceremoniously she plopped down in the middle of the bathroom floor. Continuing to nurse the nearly empty bottle she removed the nuisances piece by piece but found it difficult to dislodge many of the smaller shards. In the end she wound up winning quite a few slices in the fingers of her uninjured hand for the effort. Clumsily she stood and rinsed her hand, then wrapped it in gauze. The sight of the haphazardly wound bandaged brought a hysterical laugh bubbling to the surface. "Christ.six year olds could have done a better job than you just did Dana," she slurred. Tipping the bottle back again, she was disappointed to find it empty. "Time to find another," she giggled, but then stopped as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She almost didn't recognize the person staring back at her. Deep, dark circles lined her blue eyes, made even more intense by the continual crying. Her cheeks and eyes were both swollen and red, her hair matted down and tangled, since she hadn't bothered to brush it after the shower. She looked closer at the person, willing herself to see a glimmer of recognition, but all that stared back at her were the eyes of a failure, of someone who couldn't save her friend. Anger past the boiling brink, she pulled the empty bottle back and launched it at the unsavory image, sending glass soaring, and cracking the mirror into thousands of pieces. Sunday February 1st 10:13pm He was tired of sitting in this damn bed. He was tired of the horrendous food they tried cramming down his throat, and where the hell was his partner? Anxiety had overcome annoyance when the last of visiting hours had passed for the day and he still hadn't heard a word from her. He had no doubts as to how seriously this had affected her. Never in their time together, had he seen her in the state she was in when she left, not even after the death of her sister. It scared him not knowing how she would deal with this. Hospital procedure be damned, he wasn't going to wait around to find out. His mother had stopped by earlier, and admittedly they weren't very close, but at least she had brought a change of clothes for him. Awkwardly he slipped out of the hospital gown and into his clothes. The pain in his shoulder nagged at him relentlessly as he went through the process, but there was no way he would spend another moment in that bed. Picking the leather jacket up with his good arm, he inspected it, and gave it up for a lost cause. "I've really got to stop getting shot, that was my favorite jacket," he lamented halfheartedly. The nurses behind the station desk threw nothing short of a fit when he told them of his intentions, but eventually the proper papers were completed and he signed himself out. The cab ride to her apartment had been miserable, but it achieved his goal. Without a car and with one arm that was no where near healed he'd had no choice. He knocked on her door several times and still no one answered. Feeling the slightest twinge of guilt for invading her privacy, he appeased his conscience by telling himself that the invasion was worth his peace of mind. Taking out the key she had given him, he unlocked the door and turned the handle. The stench greeted him first. The careless destruction assaulted him next. He felt a knife twist in his gut. What the hell happened here? "Scully?" He shouted her name twice and no one answered. Carefully he picked his way across the undecipherable mess at his feet as he tried to find her. To his horror, he found her curled up in the fetal position on her kitchen floor. "Dana," he hollered as he shook her. Her robe had all but fallen off her, covering only one shoulder and just the top of her thigh. Carefully he turned her over, and was profoundly relieved to find that she was breathing. Her breath was slow but rhythmic, and God did it stink. He covered her the best he could and was shocked to see tiny spots of blood spattered on the robe. He looked at the crimson bandage on her left hand and cringed. "Jesus Dana, what did you do to yourself?" Ever so gently he managed to carry her to bed, which was no small feat considering his condition. It was only as he brushed the knotted red mat of hair from her face that she mumbled his name. "Mulder?" "It's ok Dana. It's me. Go to sleep." "Pl..please don't go," she begged as she reached out for him. He lightly squeezed her hand. "I swear, I'm not going anywhere." Scant seconds passed before her eyes closed, and she was dead to the world once more. As quietly as he could he made his way to the bathroom, trying to avoid smashing anything that hadn't already been smashed beyond recognition. He brought back the supplies he needed, and set to work on her hand. Delicately, he unwound the covering and cleaned out the remaining debris. It was a painstaking process but eventually the wounds were treated to his approval, and the deed was done. He rose to toss the mess in the wastebasket when she called out for him again. "Mulder, please don't leave me." "I won't. I just need to throw these away." "Ok," she mumbled sadly. He disposed of the mess, and decided to tackle the disaster that was once her living room. By the time he was finished he could barely keep his eyes open. Deciding to check on her one last time before he fell asleep on her couch, he popped his head in only to be greeted with the sight of her thrashing about and screaming his name in her sleep. It was more than he could stand. He sat down on the side of the bed and gently stroked her hair, it was the only thing he could think of to soothe her. He kept it up until she quieted down and was surprised when she curled up next to him like a frightened animal seeking protection. He was too tired and sore to move and didn't have the heart to leave her side. Kicking off his shoes, he lay down beside her and held her close. If he was unable to spare her the agony of her loss, at least he might be able to help her find the strength to survive it. Monday, February 2nd 11:06 a.m. She could hear the sounds, like jack hammers in her ears. The wail of a guitar painfully urged her to open first one blue, bloodshot eye and then the other, as she attempted to pin down the source of the infernally obnoxious noise. Clock radio, Scully surmised, as her half-open eyes came to rest on it. Turning over ever so slowly, she grimaced as a wave of nausea swept over her. Prying her eyes open once more in her new position, the sight of a hand quickly caught her attention, a man's hand, to be precise. She watched the fingers tap impatiently and concluded they were most definitely not her own. Confused, she trailed her gaze up the arm and smack dab into the face of her worried partner. Quickly schooling his features, a small half smile tilted the corner of his mouth upward. "Welcome back from slumber land Sleeping Beauty." Stunned speechless she continued to stare open mouthed at the man propped up in bed beside her. Her mind sped into overdrive as she tried to piece together the events since she had left the hospital. She remembered very little, including how she ended up in bed. More importantly, she vainly strived to recall how the hell her partner, who thankfully was clothed she observed as a mental side note, had ended up in her bed with her. Gently, he nudged her chin until her mouth closed. "Careful there, you'll end up catching flies at that rate." His touch brought full awareness to her scattered senses. Groaning, she pushed herself into a semi-sitting position to ask him just what he was doing here. "Muld- -" Before she could even finish his name another wave of nausea, much worse than the first, kicked her in the gut. She nearly flew out of bed as she ran for the bathroom. He decided it was best not to follow her since there wasn't much he could do for her at the moment. Her system need to purge itself of the poison she'd apparently guzzled bottles of, and having him present for it would only serve to embarrass her further. He shook his head and sighed, praying this would be the end of her self-abuse as he headed into the kitchen hoping to find something to soothe her stomach. Groaning, she cursed the almighty porcelain god. Well I suppose we've all bowed down to it at some point she thought, as she tossed up what she prayed was the last of the contents of her stomach. She sat motionless for several minutes, trying to regain her equilibrium. Giving it up for a lost cause, she finally grabbed on to the edge of the sink and dragged herself to her feet. In her flight to the bathroom she hadn't had the opportunity to take in the much-improved condition of her living room, or her bathroom for that matter, she realized. She looked down at the neatly wrapped pristine bandage that covered her hand. "Damn him! It was my mess, and if I wanted it clean I would have cleaned it," she grumbled under her breath. At the same time though, she was grateful she wouldn't have to, and begrudgingly thankful that he had thought to do it for her. "But damnit, I can take care of myself," she mumbled, not yet ready to grant him victory in this battle with herself. She was still mumbling when she found him seated at her kitchen table, blowing on a steaming hot cup of coffee. Looking up from the newspaper that lay in front of him he asked, "Feeling any better?" With what was most definitely not the most grace he'd ever seen her use, she plunked down into the chair across from him. "That good huh? Think some coffee might help?" He hadn't thought it possible, but she turned an even more sickly shade of green at the mention of it. She'd brushed her hair he noticed, or at least had made an attempt at it, and then pulled it back into a ponytail. He watched the ponytail bob, as she almost imperceptibly shook her head no. "Scully, do you mind if I ask you a question?" She brought her chin up from its resting-place on her chest, and eyed him warily. "Even if I did, you'd probably still ask, if I know you," she sighed. A small smile settled on his lips as he said, "Probably." "Well then go ahead." The smile faded as he asked in deep sincerity, "Why did you do this to yourself?" The question had her incensed, that much he was sure of from the fire in her eyes that threatened to burn him to a crisp. He wasn't overly pleased that she looked like she wanted to kill him barehanded, but it was a vast improvement over the lifelessness he'd seen in her since that night in the warehouse. Furious, she spat out, "I don't see how whatever I decide to do with myself is any of your god damned business!" That stung, but he was willing to ignore it if he could figure out a way to get her to open up. Pushing on he said, "You're my partner, I'd say a nearly two day drinking binge is my business, wouldn't you?" "No, I wouldn't." She was angry at the world and that included him. Added to that was the fact that she was nothing but a liability now, she had failed Chris and she wouldn't take the chance that she would fail him as well. With that thought in mind she decided now would be the best time to make a clean break. She knew it would hurt him at first, but she was doing him a favor by getting him as far out of her life as possible. "You won't have to worry about your partner any longer, I'm resigning." He couldn't have been more shocked if she had pulled out her gun and shot him, it sure as hell wouldn't have hurt as much, he thought. "Excuse me?" "Listen to me Mulder, and listen good because I'm not saying it again. I said I'm resigning. Now you can go home, take care of your arm, find yourself another partner, and forget I ever existed." This definitely wasn't going the way he'd hoped, but whether she liked it or not he wasn't going to give up on her, not now, not ever. With complete conviction he said, "You aren't getting rid of me that easily, and if you thought you could you were dead wrong. I'm not going anywhere, and I recommend you resign yourself to that fact." Aggravated, she said, "Fine, sit there," as she got up from the table and left the room. He sat alone, deep in thought, as he plotted out his next move. During the trials and tribulations they'd survived during their investigations into the X-Files cases over the years, a deep bond of friendship and understanding had grown between them. To be sure, he knew his partner well, but this was a side of her he had never seen, didn't know how to deal with, and prayed he would never see again. Fat lot of good all that psychological training at Oxford did you, he thought to himself. It didn't take long for him to come to the conclusion that there were only two possible courses of action here, either take her advice and walk out without another look back, or stand by her and help her work through it, with or without her permission. With that thought in mind, he realized there was no need for further deliberation on the matter. Hell would freeze over before he walked out on her. He walked out into the living room to find her sitting on the couch, her legs pulled up against her chest, as she stared out into space. In an attempt to give her space, he folded his long frame at her feet and propped his chin on his uninjured arm on the cushion beside her. They sat in silence for quite a while before he spoke up. "Penny for your thoughts?" She sat stock-still and continued gazing out at something he was sure her eyes weren't seeing. He wouldn't have known she was even aware of his presence had it not been for her eventual response. "Sorry to say Mulder, but they aren't worth that much." He continued on, hoping he might actually see her move this time. "Figures I'd be outta change for a penny, knew I should have stopped at the bank on the way over." She rewarded him with a tilt of her head in his direction. "You just don't give up do you?" "Not on the things that are important." "And what makes you think that I am of some importance now?" Scully asked, rubbing her eyes distractedly. "Get out while you can, Mulder, while you still have a body to leave with." Mulder unconsciously shook his head. "Sorry, Scully. Just don't seem to be able to take the easy way out," he sighed. "I want to help you through this. I want you to tell me how--" "What, Mulder? You want to know what?! How I feel? How I can't even look myself in the mirror because of what I've done? How every time I close my eyes, I see Chris lying there in my fucking arms, bleeding to death! How I couldn't even save her!" her voice was rising to a fever pitch. She looked him dead in the eye and in a low tone she asked him, "What exactly is it that you want to hear?" She sprung from the sofa like a scalded cat and went over to the cabinet where she kept her liquor. She ripped open the door, nearly taking it off its hinges with the force, and grabbed the sleek bottle of vodka. So perfect, she thought, but not for long. She nearly broke the bottle opening it up, and took a huge gulp for her troubles. Mulder effortlessly ate the space between them in a few long determined strides. "Scully...give me the bottle." "Just go away, Mulder." she raised the bottle again, eyeing him with a defiance that called to mind past face-offs with her father. "Scully, I will not be a party to you destroying yourself. What happened to Chris is a tragedy but it wasn't your fault!" Scully sneered and tipped the bottle again. "You don't wanna be a party to this?!" she stumbled over to the door and swung it wide. "There! Don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out!" Mulder shut his eyes tight in frustration. Opening them he called on every ounce of willpower he possessed not to scream. "I'm not leaving you like this. Whether you believe it or not, you need help with this. I want to help you through it." Her anger and resentment boiled to the surface. She could barely contain herself as the dam finally burst. "I don't want your damned pity! I don't need YOU, Mulder. I, Dana Scully, can get along fine without you!" she chugged from the bottle again, vodka streaming down the sides of her mouth, splashing onto her robe in a silent river. Mulder's hand lurched out, like a snake striking it's prey, as he all but ripped the bottle from her lips, spilling the contents everywhere. Scully stared at Mulder, eyes wide in disbelief, as if he just took her lifeline to sanity. "Give me back the bottle," she said, ice creeping into her voice. "Can't do that, Scully. These are recyclable." Her words were clipped and as sharp as the glass he cleaned up last night, "Mulder! Give. Me. The Bottle!" Marching into the kitchen he overturned the bottle, glancing at her as he let it drain into the sink. "God damn you!" Scully shouted, running to him and pulling at his arm to try and reach the bottle. "You bastard!" "Oh, I'm a bastard am I? Why? Because I won't let you drink yourself to death? Scully, you have got to come to grips with this. It wasn't your fault! Why can't you believe that? Why are you trying to slowly kill yourself now? What? Do you think that Chris would be doing this? I can tell you one thing," he said, placing the empty bottle on the counter, "If Chris were here now she would be ashamed of how you're acting. There's not a doubt in my mind that she would be disappointed in you for what you're doing to yourself now." Scully was taken aback. Her expression held the shock of a person who had just been slapped in the face. She didn't think, couldn't think. Reacting instead, she grabbed the bottle, and hurled it at him in blind rage. Mulder ducked as the bottle flew through the air, striking the cabinet behind him. Glass sprayed everywhere, creating prisms of light, their beauty absurd in their setting on the floor and counter. "Jesus Christ, Scully!" Mulder said, shaking his head to let loose the shards of glass that had taken residence there. Staring at him dumbfounded, her breath came in huge, choppy gasps, somewhere between choking and sobbing. He caught her gaze with his own and held it, watching as the layers of her countenance fell away one by one, finally cracking under the weight of realization. Her face contorted, and she dropped to her knees on the floor. The tears began spilling before the sound of an almost inhuman wail filled the room. At first he couldn't place it, then he knew. It came from Scully. Bringing her hands to her face she attempted to block the visions of her memories, as they bombarded her in agonizing clarity. Her wails ebbed into sobs, as the walls she had constructed came tumbling down around her. Mulder tentatively crouched down beside her, not sure how she would react to his presence. He wrapped his arm around her and held her to him, tucking her head under his chin, he desperately wished he knew how to wash her pain away. Instinctively, she searched for his solid form. Finding him, she also found his strength, and held onto both for dear life. End 4/5 ARLINGTON CEMETARY Thursday, February 5th Scully watched, silent and still, as the gravesite began to overflow. There was barely enough room for everyone to gather around and bid good-bye to their colleague and friend. Standing behind the family row, Scully could feel the grief that flowed heavily from them wash over her in caustic waves. Chris' father stared straight ahead, his arm protectively around her mother. Her brother, Colin, having only arrived from England last night, looked as if he hadn't slept in days. His head was down and he didn't try to conceal the tears that were streaking down his face or the anguish that was ripping him apart. He and Chris had been extremely close while growing up. It was only since he moved to England that they didn't speak as much. Which made this all the more difficult to take. She found herself not meeting anyone's gaze, the shame of her inability to protect Chris from this tragedy, still rearing its ugly head. She tried to block out the feelings but in the end, had resigned herself to the fact that it would always be with her. On one ground however, she stood firm. No one would see her cry. Dana Scully would not break. She shifted slightly, taking in the whole display with a dazed feeling. She swayed and felt a hand on her elbow. Turning, she saw Mulder reaching out to her. His eyes questioned her. 'Are you okay?' She gave a small, sad smile. 'I'm fine,' she replied, without saying a word. Am I fine, she wondered? How can I be fine? This is so wrong. It was never supposed to happen like this. What was today? Thursday? Friday? Time had stopped for Scully when she felt her friend's life-blood spill out onto her hands. She couldn't organize her thoughts, couldn't concentrate. She likened it to sleep walking and her entire being screamed for the nightmare to be over. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." The words blew through her like a winter gale, and she strived for control. She needed to get it together. Looking down she saw the stark white of the bandage on her hand, a vivid reminder of her total loss of control. Mulder had taken her to the doctor after she had recovered sufficiently from her hangover, and she hadn't so much as flinched when the doctor stitched up the worst of the gashes, a dulling of her senses. She found it ironic that now, after all was said and done, she would bear a scar for the rest of her life, one that matched the scar on her soul. The priest continued in his eulogy with a prayer. "Heavenly Father, we command the soul of Christine Gillian Taylor unto you. Keep her safe in your hands as she is welcomed into the kingdom of Heaven. We ask this through Christ, our Lord. Amen." Keep her safe, Scully thought, something I couldn't do. It had been a long time since Scully had prayed and now her thoughts wandered. "God, if you could, please let Chris know that I'm sorry...sorry that I failed her when she needed me the most. Let her know that she took part of me with her when she left.and I will never be the same." She took a deep breath and let it out, straining to keep her emotions in check. Mulder watched her waging the battle for control within herself, and it cut deep, jagged gashes in his heart as he wished futilely once again that he could take away the pain. He knew what it was doing to him, and could only try to imagine what it was doing to her. Two agents behind him whispered, their murmurings drifting to his ears. Unconsciously, he shifted nearer to her trying to use himself as her shield. "See? I told you she was the 'Ice Queen'. Look, she doesn't even cry. I swear only ice water runs through that woman's veins. Her partner is gunned down and she can't even find it in herself to cry." "I know. I would be a wreck. Apparently she's too wrapped up in herself to care." "Too true. I heard that Taylor died in her arms. Talk about guilt." "Really? Wow, and yet STILL no emotion. I tell you..." Mulder glared at them, beyond furious. The voice stopped dead when it's owner caught sight of the murderous gleam in Mulder's eyes. If looks alone could kill, they would have both dropped dead where they stood. The two agents, uncomfortable with the situation, hedged away from him, not daring to open their mouths for the remainder of the service. No matter what you heard about 'Spooky' Mulder, you didn't dare cross him when his eyes were as dangerous as they were now. Of all the places for them to start this shit, he thought, this took the prize. Had it been any other time, any other place, he would have beaten them both to a pulp. As it was, he allowed his eyes to speak volumes for him. They hadn't the slightest inkling what Scully had gone through the last week. How she had held her friend as she closed her eyes for the last time, how she had almost managed to drink herself to death from the guilt that was eating her up inside. And if their petty chitchat was any indication, apparently they didn't care. Concluding the service the priest commissioned the mourners to "Go in peace". He touched his forehead and chest and then each shoulder as he made the sign of the cross and the mourners followed suit. Then slowly, the crowd started to disperse. Chris' family stood to shake hands with the priest, as well as with the Director of the FBI and then Assistant Director Skinner, who told them how sorry he was for their loss. Scully remained where she stood, her eyes transfixed on the coffin. Skinner caught sight of his agent's action and beckoned to Mulder. "Agent Mulder, how is Agent Scully holding up?" Mulder sighed. "As well as can be expected, sir. She is quite torn up by all of this." Skinner shook his head sadly. "I know. I am accompanying Taylor's parents back to her townhouse. I'm sure they'd appreciate it if you and Agent Scully would come by." "We'll see, sir. I'll let you know." Mulder turned and walked away from his superior, seeing Scully, the only one now remaining at the gravesite. Carefully, he made his way over to her. Scully heard him come up. "It's funny, Mulder," Scully said, not looking at him. "Chris always hated the color bronze. Said it was like placing third in the Olympics, and loosing was never an option in her book." He looked down at the woman before him, seeing just how much this past week had taken its toll on her. "She didn't loose Scully, even though she died in the line of duty, she died a winner." Scully sighed and rubbed her hand absently over the bandage. "Yes she did, didn't she." It wasn't a question but more a statement of fact, an acceptance. Mulder took hold of her lifeless hand and held it for a moment. "Do you want to get a bite to eat, Scully? Maybe just hang out for awhile?" Scully gave his hand a small squeeze. "Thanks, Mulder, but I have someplace that I have to be. Maybe another time." She looked up at him and he swore he could see straight into her soul through the azure orbs set in her beautiful though saddened face. Then she turned and walked away from the bier, a lone figure huddling in her overcoat, the sadness in her life weighing down heavily on her once proud shoulders. She didn't look back. Office of Employee Assistance 4:23pm "Dana. Dana?" Karen called her name softly. She tilted her head up, Karen's voice pulling her back into the present. "Hmm? Oh.I'm sorry, just lost in my thoughts once again I suppose." "That's quite alright, it's been a very difficult time for you. You seem a bit more at ease though. Do you feel that our time together today has been beneficial?" Scully mulled the question over in her mind for several moments before answering. "Yes, I suppose I am. It hasn't been easy dredging this up, but it has helped to talk about it." Karen set her pen down on top of the file and came around to the front of her desk as Scully stood, retrieving her coat. "Good, I'm glad. And Dana, please don't hesitate to stop by anytime. Together they walked toward the solid oak door. Stopping, she turned and told Karen, "Thank you. and I will." Once out in the hallway, Scully was relived to see that it was nearly deserted. Most of the Bureaus employees were hidden away in their office putting the finishing touches on matters for the end of the day, and for that she was infinitely thankful. She didn't know if she would have been able to handle the onslaught of gossip about the infamous "Ice Queen" muttered behind hands where they thought she couldn't hear. She made her way to the car without event, got in, and turned the key, listening to the quiet hum of the engine. Home. She wanted to be home where she could let the fa‡ade of the ever contained, always in control, Agent Dana Scully, fall away. Pulling out onto the street she turned on the car radio hoping it might temporarily silence the not so silent hum of her mind, and with the touch of a button, peaceful chords from a Luther Vandross tune eased over her. The song came to an end and she reached to change the station, pausing when the lyrics from a Gloria Estefan song caught her attention. I, get a little tongue twisted Everytime I talk to you When I see you And I'm so glad that you just missed it The way I stared To memorize your face. To kiss you in my mind Love you all the time Cause when I close my eyes I can still see your smile It's bright enough to light my life Out of my darkest hour Please believe it's true When I tell you I love you I've taken too many chances Searching for the truth in love That's in my heart Scully drew a sharp breath, bringing the back of her hand to her mouth as Chris's last words to her slamed into her consciousness, full force. 'Promise me you'll take that chance' she'd told her. She pulled the car to the side of the road as the epiphany rocked her senses. Dear god this is what she'd meant. Tell me if I made the wrong advances Tell me if I made you feel ashamed Cause I know I have to do this Would you hold my hand right through it? Cause when I close my eyes I still can see your smile It's bright enough to light my life Out of my darkest hour Please believe it's true When I tell you I love you I had to let you know Just what would happen? Yes, I had to let You know the TRUTH I know I've got to do this Would you hold my Hand right through it Would you Cause when I close my eyes I can still see your smile It's bright enough to light my life Out of my darkest hour Cause when I close my eyes I can still see your smile It's bright enough to light my life Out of my darkest hour I know now this Is true when I Tell you I love you. The events of the last year had shown her just how unpredictable life can be. Her cancer had taught her that, Chris' death emphasizing the lesson painfully. And through all of it Mulder had stood by her side. Granted he'd had his share of near mental breakdowns during that time, but most of it had stemmed from his fear of loosing her, she realized. She thought back to the scant few days ago when she'd tried to remove herself from his life permanently. Simply recalling the moment made her stomach clench in a sickening knot. No matter how she tried to detach herself from it, they, she and Mulder were an inextricable part of each other's lives. The bond between them had even spawned a language only they could understand. Speaking without words had become second nature to them, sometimes as protective a tool as the SIG they carried with them. On rare occasion however that communication had failed them, and their strong suit had never been the spoken word. Did he know? Could he know? 'You just don't give up do you,' she'd asked in a building fit of resentment. His quiet reply roared through her ears like a raging river, 'Not on the things that are important.' Does he know Dana? Does HE know how important he is to you? Take that chance, she thought to herself as she made one more stop before returning home. *** He stretched his long legs across the bench seat of the Taurus, trying to relieve the cramp that had been nagging at him for the last half-hour. Glancing down at his watch once more he saw that it was nearly 5:30. They'd parted company a little before 2:00, so where was she? He shifted once more, this time trying to find a comfortable position for his still tender shoulder, cradled in a sling. Sighing, he replayed the events of the last year, most especially the last week over in his mind for what he was sure must have been the thousandth time. He thought long and hard about the diminutive but commanding woman who had just recently been to hell and back and had the scars to prove it. Diminutive and commanding he mused. True, it was a contradiction in terms, but then what about her wasn't? She could be hard as nails, bringing a perp twice her size to his knees, but then morph before his eyes to a woman so soft and caring, and on the rarest of occasions, even fragile. Capable hands could collect forensic data in the cold and sterile environment of an autopsy bay or warmly soothe an injured body or wounded soul. Complex came no where near describing the woman that is Dana Katherine Scully, of that fact he was utterly sure. That complexity was just one of the many things he respected and loved about her, then again she'd had his respect for a very long time and though he hadn't realized it until recently she'd had his heart as well. It was no longer a shocking revelation to him, at one time it might have been, but that time had come and gone. The woman who gave so freely of herself, yet asked for nothing in return, unfailingly stood at his side, sometimes disagreeing with his outlandish theories, but always supporting him regardless. How could she not possess his heart? He remembered back to the night he'd returned to her in the hospital, his life crumbling down around his ears as the cancer came so terrifyingly close to consuming her. Even in her blissfully unaware sleep, she'd had the power to draw him back to their reality. Kneeling at her bedside that night, he'd realized all the things he wanted for her in life and was reminded of the beautiful heart shaped trinket with a blazing white sapphire set inside, that had enthralled him as a child. It had belonged to his grandmother, a Scott through and through. She told him of the history behind the charm as he held it in his childish hand, a Luckenbooth she had called it, a symbol of love and friendship to some, protection to others. She regaled him with stories of the Scottish gold it had been crafted from, always purported to bring luck to the wearer. Sadly the charm had become lost along the way but the story had always stayed with him. He'd sworn to himself on that night, that if she could bring herself to see the next light of day, he would see to it that a Luckenbooth would grace her slender neck. Amazingly, a short time after his visit, her cancer began a quick remission. Like the determined fighter she is, she defied the odds and beat it, saving them both in the process whether she was aware of it or not. It was then it had come to him in stunning clarity, no matter where life took them it would take them together as one. She was his touchstone. That is what made living this past week so unbearable for them both. No one had been able to stop the passage of Chris' life from this one to the next, and Dana ended up loosing a piece of herself with that passage. Did she realize, he wondered, how integral they'd become to one another? That which hurt the one brought pain to the other, and that which brought joy to the one brought happiness to the other as well. He glanced at the clock on the car radio. It was nearing 6:00. Stirring again, he disrupted the thin box near his thigh. Picking it up, he opened the cover, studying the flawless gold filigree heart with a crown atop it. The exquisite white sapphire winked back at him. He delicately fingered the airy gold chain resting inside the snow-white satin lined box. As soon as he'd received the news he held good on his unspoken promise. Going directly to a jeweler, he described in detail the charm he wanted made, right down to the type of gold he wanted it made from. He'd planned on giving it to her for her birthday, god knew she deserved that and so much more for simply surviving this past year. After the funeral, he had decided instead to give it to her now in hopes that this token and the feelings behind it could help her begin to heal, if only just a little. The beam from the lights of a car turning her corner distracted him, and as it neared, he breathed a small sigh of relief. She was home. Before he got out of the car he closed the small box, sliding it into the inner coat pocket over his own heart. He met her at her car door and was happily surprised to see a warm smile settle on her lips. "Are you checking up on me Mulder," she chided. At that moment, he decided he was going to have to get his hearing checked. Though the tone in her voice couldn't quite qualify for ecstatic, it definitely rang a close second. Deciding to test the waters to make sure he wasn't loosing his grip on reality, he replied in typical Mulder style. "Well you see, there've been sightings in this area tonight, so I had to come and check it out for my self. I have this partner you see, and every time someone sees a UFO, she swears by the theory it's swamp gas." She laughed. He wasn't going crazy, he knew he heard it because he could see it as well. It bubbled forth in front of his hazel eyes and as it did a weight lifted from deep inside him. She stood and quickly hid the small package she'd been holding, in her pocket. Wrapping her arms around his trim waist, she hugged him tightly to her. Not releasing him, she spoke. "Well Mulder, it sounds to me like E.T. needs a dose of Maalox and your partner needs to expand her mind a bit." His heart soared. He didn't know what had happened to her in the few hours she was gone, and he didn't dare ask. Uttering a silent prayer of thanks to unknown powers, he wrapped his arms around her back and held her close, wanting for the briefest of moments to draw her into him completely. He settled instead on resting his chin atop her auburn tresses. Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, he spoke, his tone soft, but undoubtedly possessive. "I don't know about E.T., but I happen to like my partner just the way she is." He swore he could feel her smile even through the coat and the shirt wore beneath it. Pulling back, she broke the contact. "Come on, lets get inside, it's chilly out here." For the briefest of moments, he felt bereft as she left the circle of his arms. He shuddered involuntarily, not quite sure if the response was from the cold. "Mm..kay, lead the way." She unlocked the door, and he held it open for her as they walked inside. "I'll be right back Mulder, gonna change my clothes." She headed down the hallway and came to a sudden stop. Reaching into her coat pocket she brought the gift wrapped CD out of her pocket. "Oh I almost forgot." "Forgot what," he asked, peering around the corner. "This," she said, the slightest of blushes tingeing her cheeks pink, as she held out the gift-wrapped jewel case. She knew she was taking a huge chance here, but damn it all to hell and back, for the first time in her life she knew it was worth the risk. He took it from her hand gently, a somewhat confused look sweeping across his features. "For me?" She nodded, feeling younger than she had in ages. "Open it up." Gingerly he removed the gold foil paper to reveal a Gloria Estefan CD. He looked up at her, bewilderment apparent in his eyes. Catching his gaze, she felt a sudden twinge of nervousness as her heart skipped a beat. "Umm, track twelve, I want you to listen to it. Go ahead and pop it in the player and I'll be back out in just a few." Without another word she turned and walked to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Once inside she leaned against it and assured herself that though there was risk, the possible rewards were to precious to let slip through her fingers. She pushed away from the door as the first notes began to drift their way through the apartment. She stripped quickly. Not bothering to hang the suit up she'd been wearing, she carelessly tossed it over the back of a chair instead. She walked over to her dresser pulling out, first a battered pair of black Levis and then a pink cotton button-down sweater. Once she'd finished redressing she took a quick look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright and alert, though the shadows still lurked in light bluish crescents under them. She ran a quick hand through the slightly tousled mane above her brow and surveyed the results. "Well Dana, it's not the best you've ever looked, but he's most definitely seen you worse," she commented aloud. Taking one last glance, she deemed the reflection acceptable before she turned away from the mirror. The song was still playing, and she sat on the edge of the bed waiting for it to end. The suspense caused her to nibble lightly on her lower lip. Realizing just what she was doing, she decided that enough was enough, and headed for the living room where the last bars were fading into silence. The sight before her left her speechless. A handsome man perched on the edge of her couch in a navy blue Henley, the dark blue sling causing just the slightest of contrast. He looked up at her, awe and pure love shining from his eyes as brightly as a newly born star, as a single tear slipped down each cheek. Her feet found a will of their own and she found herself standing before him. She knelt down, and with a kiss on each cheek, wiped the tears away. "Mulder, together we search for the truth everyday, and somehow in all this, I managed to overlook the most important truth of all. I love you." Even if he could have found his voice to speak, he doubted the words would ever be capable of conveying the feelings behind them. Instead he tenderly brushed an auburn lock behind her ear then cupped her face with both of his hands. A lovers first caress, he explored her face with the pads of his thumb, memorizing every touch and every texture. He tilted her head up slightly and brought his face to hers in a slow descent. Lightly grazing her lips with his own in a feather caress, he took in the essence that was wholly her and absorbed it into his being, now as much a part of him as it was herself. She allowed him to wander and explore, to touch and to learn as every moment was branded into her memory. Were she to admit it, she had dreamed of this, but with each passing breath reality surpassed the dream in ways unimagined until now. He drew away from her, catching her palm in his hand, caressing it's sensitive surface with his lips, lightly nipping at each sensitized fingertip, not once taking his eyes away from hers. He spoke to her silently, never moving his lips. "I love you with all that I am." He placed her hand in her lap and drew back ever so slowly, as if the loss of her touch had become a physical burden. Reaching back to his jacket, he withdrew the slender box and placed it in her hands. "Like you, there is no other like it. I love you," he whispered. She opened it and gently removed the precious piece, nearly daunted by it's intricate beauty as she cradled it in her hand. Looking up to thank him she was surprised once more. He was searching for her approval. She smiled wide, hoping her eyes could express half the rapture that sang through her soul. "It's beautiful Mulder. Thank you." Bringing herself up beside him, he captured her in his embrace. In their lives it was impossible to tell what lay ahead, but of one thing they were certain. Whatever it was, they would face it together. *Epilogue* Three months have come and gone, and with the passing of time has come the lessening of pain. With a little help I realized that Chris wouldn't have wanted me to beat myself up over this. I look over at Mulder now, and he is watching me, a small smile playing on his lips. My hand goes to the Luckenbooth around my neck. He has stood by me in all of this. He knows I still hurt and yet he has given me the time and space I need. I am lucky I have him. Chris was right in telling me to take the chance. She always could call them out to me, the one thing my beloved science could never explain. Tomorrow is Saturday, and Mulder and I are going sailing on the Chesapeake. The weather is supposed to be excellent, and somehow I am sure Chris had a hand in that. For me, it is a time to heal. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx And for the curious, the story behind the Luckenbooth: This Scottish symbol dates from 1700 when it was used as a love token, hence the heart pattern. The name comes from their sales in Luckenbooths (locked booths) around St. Giles Kirk Edinburgh. In the 18th century they were worn as a protection against witches. Additional disclaimer: The song, I SEE YOUR SMILE used in this story is not our property. Words & Music by Jon Secada & Miguel A. Morejon. Sung by Gloria Estefan. End 5/5