From: JKGayle Date: 04 Aug 1999 03:34:37 GMT Subject: NEW: Macho (1/2) Macho (1/2) by Judy Gayle 8-3-99 Summary: Mulder's shocking behavior causes problems for both agents. Title: Macho Author: Judy Gayle E-mail: Please send comments to JKGayle@aol.com Rating: PG, maybe R Category: S A Spoilers: None, really. One reference to Wetwired. Keywords: MulderAngst, MSR-ish Archive: Anywhere Distribution: EMXC and XFF. I'll send it to atxc. Feedback: That would be nice. Disclaimer: Not mine. Chris's. Damn! Timeline: Not long after Mrs. Mulder's stroke. In this story she is not a wicked old crone. * * * * * * * * * * Ponca City, Oklahoma Tuesday, 11:45 am For a moment, Dana Scully feared that her eyes were going to pop right out of their sockets. God! She'd never seen so many gorgeous men in her life. It seemed like every man she'd seen since they'd arrived in this town was a bodybuilder of some kind. But when she and Mulder walked through the door of this health club, the sight that greeted her would have knocked her socks off if she'd been wearing any. As it was, she could definitely feel her toes curling inside her pumps. she thought. And here was not just one man- but a whole room full of them. Washboard abs- precisely defined pecs- awesome shoulders- and some of the most incredible ass she'd ever seen. She knew she was staring, but it was hard to pull her eyes away. Then she realized that Mulder was watching her. She turned her head toward him just in time to see his scowl transform itself into an impassive mask. As they made their way to the club's office, she couldn't help but notice that now she and Mulder were the center of attention. She knew that, in their business suits, they really stood out in a room full of men dressed in gym shorts, tight bicycle shorts, and- Ohhh-Myyy-Gaawwwd- In the pool area, some of them were wearing three-pouch thong bikinis- and sheer ones at that. They didn't leave much to the imagination. In fact, they didn't leave ANYTHING to the imagination. she silently scolded herself. She tore her eyes away from them and followed Mulder into the office. * * * * * * * * * * Scully glanced at her watch. "It's almost one o'clock. D'you want to go get some lunch?" Mulder was leaning over, brushing off his clothes. "No," he answered curtly. "We need to go back to the motel, so you can take a cold shower." She cocked her head slightly and studied his expression. He was not smiling. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she challenged. "Just what you think it does." He started striding toward the car, not waiting for her. "Just a minute, Buster," she hissed through clenched teeth, as she caught up with him at the car. "I'm sorry if you got your little ego bruised in there. But don't you try to blame it on me. I can take care of myself just fine. If you hadn't started trying to act like some kind of macho man, nothing would've happened." "What was I supposed to do, Scully," he shouted at her across the roof of the car,"- just stand there and let them put their hands all over you?" "They did NOT have their hands all over me! If you hadn't butted in, I could've taken care of it- And you wouldn't have gotten knocked on your ass!" She angrily got into the car and slammed the door. Mulder jammed the car into gear and floored the accelerator, leaving a trail of burnt rubber as the car squealed out of the parking lot. "Would you stop it!" she scolded. "You're acting like-" He turned and glared at her, the muscles working in his jaw. She sighed and turned her gaze away from him. "Forget it, Mulder. Just forget it. Let's go get some lunch and forget this ever happened. Okay?" He didn't answer. * * * * * * * * * * That night 11:55 pm Fox Mulder studied the glass in his hand. Nothing spectacular about it-just an everyday water glass like you could find in any motel room anywhere in the country. Aahhh- but it was what was IN the glass that counted! Good old Jack Black. Just what he wanted tonight. Just what he needed to keep him company while he sat here in his darkened room waiting for Scully to get back from her date. Her date. The words made his skin crawl-turned his stomach. He wished they'd never come to this town. It was just a little town in Oklahoma. There shouldn't have been anything here capable of turning his life upside down. But that's the way everything seemed right now. Upside down. Everything. He didn't usually drink much, but here he was with a fifth of Jack Daniels -- actually it was considerably less than a fifth by now, he noted. Drinking it out of a stained and chipped motel water glass, for God's sake. And why? He could think of lots of reasons. For one, he'd just been embarrassed -- no, 'humiliated' was a better word -- in front of his partner, by a bunch of muscle- bound male bimbos. If there was such a thing as a male bimbo. They'd gotten just a little too touchy-feely with her to suit him, so he'd tried to intervene. Tried to get them away from her. To protect her- his partner- his friend- his- His thoughts ping-ponged back and forth, aided by the Jack Daniels, between his feelings for Scully, and his mortification that morning. He and Scully had interviewed the manager in his office -- a perfectly normal interview. First he'd taken them on a tour of the health club and let them talk to several of the members. Then they had spent some time in his office. The manager had been fully cooperative and wanted to be helpful, but he really hadn't had any explanations for the strange things that had been happening to some of his colleagues. Not that they had expected him to be of any help. None of the other club managers had offered them any useful information, either. Then they'd been leaving, walking toward the door, when the men started crowding around, admiring Scully. He couldn't blame them for that. But they'd gotten a little too close. One had put a hand on her shoulder. Then one had touched her hair. It had been too much. So he'd started angrily pushing them away. He still wasn't clear on how it had happened, but he'd ended up on the floor, face mashed into the carpet -- with one of them on top of him. And entangled in some kind of wrestling hold that prevented him from making even the slightest movement. All he could do was curse into the carpet, while the others stood around and laughed. It had all been over in a few seconds. The manager had come out and broken it up, and Scully had given him a hand up. He wasn't hurt. But the disgrace had burned inside him. Was still burning. He poured some more Jack Black into the glass and popped another sunflower seed into his mouth. And idly acknowledged how grateful he was on this occasion that someone had had the foresight to open a package store next door to this wretchedly seedy motel. At least, Scully hadn't laughed. But she'd been angry. Which was almost as bad, 'cause she'd been angry at HIM. Hell, if anyone had a right to be mad, it was him. Ever since they'd gotten to this town, he'd had to stand by and watch, while she ogled every man in sight-especially that goddam sheriff. So, maybe he WAS good looking. Hell, they ALL were. Perfect bodies. He had to admit it -- they all looked like the male equivalent of the women he looked at in his 'special' magazines. No wonder Scully was enjoying the view. "How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?" he mumbled into his glass, as he took another drink. Yes, she had a right to go out with whomever she wanted to. No, she didn't need to ask his permission. But, dammit!, she knew how he felt about her -- or at least, she oughta know. She knew HE'D be wantin' to have dinner with her. That's what they always did when they were out of town on a case -- not sharing her with some goddam Okie sheriff. But, hell! They weren't even sharing. The goddam Okie sheriff had her all to himself. He looked at his watch for the umpteenth time. All to himself for a long time, too. It was supposed to be an early dinner. Either they're eatin' a ten-course dinner, or they're- they're- The headlights of a car turning into the motel parking lot flashed across the curtains at his window. He sat, quietly, and listened to the sound of the gravel crunching as the car pulled up in front of the room next door -- Scully's room. When the headlights went out, he walked to the window. The curtains covered it, but by leaning against the wall beside the window, he could see out through the small gap between the wall and the edge of the curtain. If he hadn't been so drunk, he'd have berated himself for acting like a voyeur. But right now, he just didn't care. He could see them sitting in the car -- talking. Then the man leaned over and kissed her. Mulder felt the blood rush to his head, his pulse pounding in his ears. He gritted his teeth and watched, unable to turn away. A moment later, the man got out of the car and went around to open the passenger door. He took her hand and helped her from the car, then offered his arm and escorted her to her door. He could hear them talking, but not well enough to make out what they were saying. Heard Scully's lilting laugh. Then a few moments of silence. Then the man was leaving, and he could hear Scully's door opening. Mulder leaned his throbbing head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Then he looked down at his watch-12:25. He took another swig of Jack Daniels and pulled the curtain aside to watch as the taillights of the car disappeared down the street. Then he knocked on the connecting door. * * * * * * * * * * Scully was mildly surprised to hear his knock on the door. She hadn't seen any lights on in his room when they drove up, so had assumed that he was at least attempting to get some sleep. After all, they'd have to get started fairly early in the morning if they were going to make their flight back to D.C. When she opened the door, though, she was startled by his appearance. He was still wearing his suit, but the tie was pulled loose, and the two ends hung down on either side of his shirt front. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and his shirttails had been partially pulled out. Everything was badly wrinkled. And he reeked of alcohol. "God, Mulder! What have you been drinking?" "The question is- not what I've been drinking-but what have you been DOING, Scully." He advanced toward her, causing her to back up. "Kind of a long dinner, wasn't it?" His words were slurred, but the meaning was perfectly clear. He glared down at her. "What the hell business is it of yours!" she exploded. "You've been acting like a jerk all day. Don't you dare question me about where I've been and what I've been doing." She took a deep breath and lowered her voice, but only slightly. "We agreed this afternoon that there's nothing further to do here. This case is over, and I'm not on Bureau time now. If I want to have dinner with someone other than you, that's my prerogative. I don't have to ask for your permission." She turned and started to walk away from him, but he grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her back to face him. "Is that the kind you like, Scully?" he accused, putting his face close to hers. "The bodybuilders-the hardbodies-the macho types?" "Get you hands off me, Mulder," she said through clenched teeth. "Go to bed and sleep it off. You're acting like a goddam drunk." "And why not? I AM drunk. I've been sittin' in my room drinking Jack Daniels, while my partner's out screwin' around with Sheriff Steele. Or should I say screwin' Sheriff Steele?" He practically snarled the words. Her eyes flashed with anger, but she held her tongue, trying to figure out the best way to defuse this situation. Mulder was obviously too drunk to know what he was doing or saying, and she didn't want to say anything that would make the situation any worse than it already was. She sighed deeply. "Go to bed, Mulder. Get some sleep. We've got an early flight out tomorrow." "Maybe I don't wanna get any sleep," he slurred. "Maybe I want some of what he got." She slowly backed away from him as he advanced toward her. Suddenly her back was against the wall and his body was pressing up against hers. "Back off, Mulder." She put both hands on his chest and pushed, but he was much bigger than she, and he didn't budge. "What'd he do, Scully?" he said, grabbing her wrists. "With all that muscle, he must've been pretty rough." He forced both wrists back against the wall, on either side of her head. "Is that the way you like it- rough?" He leaned in to kiss her, but she quickly turned her face to the side. "Let go, Mulder. You're hurting me." She hoped her voice sounded a lot calmer than she felt. "No, I'm not hurtin' you-couldn't be. I'm not nearly as big and strong as he is. And that's the kind you like, isn't it? Big. Lots of muscles." He was pressing her more tightly against the wall. She was intensely conscious of the full length of his body against hers. "What were you two doing all that time- after dinner? Or did you even bother with dinner?" He quickly shifted her hands, bringing them together above her head. He grasped both wrists with his left hand, and held them tight against the wall. "Mulder, please stop." "Did you ask HIM to stop? No-you couldn't have-or you'd've been back hours ago." His right hand was pulling her blouse up, reaching underneath it, touching her bare skin. Using every bit of strength she could muster, she wrenched her wrists out of his grasp and slapped him as hard as she could on the side of the head, at the same time slipping out from under him and backing away. The force of the blow stunned him momentarily. His brain was already foggy from the liquor, and now he was seeing a few stars winking through the fog. He blinked a few times, then turned to face her again- and smiled. "So- you DO like it rough!" Before she could get out of reach, he lunged at her, causing both of them to crash onto the bed. He was on top of her now, holding both arms down and wedging his legs between hers. She was beginning to feel panicky. Was it really possible that she was about to be raped- by her own partner? She knew she had to stop him, but nothing she tried was working. Even as drunk as he was, he was able to counter every move she made to get free. she thought. In all the secret fantasies she'd had of Fox Mulder, none of them had ever been like this. She continued to struggle, but he was just too heavy- too strong. Finally, exhausted, she just let her body go limp. "All right, Mulder. If you're determined to rape me, you just go right ahead. But -- so help me God -- I am going to file rape charges against you in the morning. Unless you're planning to kill me, too." He continued to hold her down, his breath hot on her neck. "Kill you?- Kill you?- What're you talkin' about, Scully?" He raised his head and looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, and tears were quietly streaming out from under the lashes and across her temples. Inexplicably, the words of an old country and western song bubbled up through his muddled memory: . Kill her? He released her wrists. But she didn't move. He raised himself up off her, but she didn't move. Finally, he moved out from between her legs, so that he was on his knees beside her. "Scully?-" She still hadn't moved, but now he could see her chest starting to heave with quiet sobs. "Scully?- Scully- I'm sorry." "Please leave me alone, Mulder." "Scully, I-" She turned on her side, facing away from him, and pulled her legs up, curling into a ball. "Dana?- I'm- sorry." When she made no reply, he climbed off of the bed and quietly left the room, closing the connecting door behind him. * * * * * * * * * * All night. She could hear him all night. Throwing up in the bathroom. She wondered how much liquor it would take to make a person that sick. Or maybe it was more than just the liquor that was doing it. She hoped it was his conscience. As soon as he had left the room, she had pulled all the covers on the bed up over herself. She hadn't noticed before how cold it was. She was shivering. Shivering and crying. But she knew that wasn't right. There was no legitimate excuse for what he had done. And it was so totally out of character. Mulder might be a violent person where criminals were concerned, but he'd never shown any violent tendencies toward her. Quite the contrary, he was always very protective of her. Maybe this was the REAL Mulder she was seeing. No. She didn't believe it. Refused to believe it. She already knew the real Mulder, and he would never force himself on her. Hell, he wouldn't have to. Probably all he'd have to do is ask. * * * * * * * * * * The next morning 6:00 am She knocked loudly on the connecting door, smiling inwardly at the thought of the effect those loud knocks would have on his head -- considering the colossal hangover he must have. "Come on, Mulder. Get up. We've got a plane to catch," she yelled through the door. And added a few more knocks, for good measure. The loud groaning from the other side of the door at least reassured her that he was still alive, although he was probably wishing he weren't. She hadn't heard him make any of those trips to the bathroom for the past hour or so, and had begun to worry that he wasn't just sleeping it off. He opened the door and squinted at her through bloodshot eyes. "For God's sake, Scully, quit making so much noise," he managed to croak out, barely above a whisper. He was still in the same suit, but now the odor of vomit was mingled with the smell of the alcohol. She turned her head away in disgust, and fanned the air in front of her face to disperse the stench. "Damn, Mulder. You can't go anywhere smelling like that. Maybe I better just go on to D.C. by myself- and you stay here and sober up." "No- No- I'm okay. Just give me fifteen minutes to take a shower and get dressed." * * * * * * * * * * Mulder leaned against the front of the shower stall, the shower stream aimed at the top of his head, letting the water wash away some of the fog from his brain. He'd started out with the water as hot as he could stand it -- needed it hot to cut through the layers of filth that seemed to envelope him. He felt dirty, and it was going to take more than one shower to get it off. Then he gradually turned off the hot water, until it was so cold he was shivering. But at least it seemed to clear his head a little. Clear it enough that he started remembering what had happened. He shook his head. He pounded his fist on the shower wall. * * * * * * * * * * Scully was waiting by the car when he came out of his room. "I'll drive," she declared. "You're hardly in any condition. If you need to throw up, make sure you let me know in time to pull over." There was no sympathy in her tone. He loaded his bags into the trunk, then got in the passenger side. Scully's hands were on the steering wheel, and the sleeves of her jacket had pulled back slightly. And that's when he saw them -- the bruises on her wrists. He reached over and took her right arm, gently pulling the sleeve back more to reveal the full extent of the bruise. It was an angry purplish-blue against her fair skin. "Did I do that to you?" He searched her eyes imploringly. "Yes." She pulled her arm out of his grasp, and turned the key in the ignition. "I'm sorry, Scully." "Sometimes that's just not enough," she replied, without looking at him. As they were about to pull out of the motel parking lot, she stopped the car and reached into the back seat, grabbing her laptop. Opening it and punching a few keys, she handed it to him. "Here's a preliminary draft of my report to Skinner. If you see anything in there that's not true, I'll change it." She waited while he read the report. "Well?" she prompted. He turned it off, closed the lid, and handed it back to her without a word. Then turned to look out the passenger side window. "No changes," he murmured. ***** End Part 1 of 2 Macho (2/2) by Judy Gayle Disclaimer, summary, etc. in Part 1 * * * * * * * * * * F.B.I. Building X-Files Office Thursday, 8:00 am Mulder was typing on his computer when Scully came in. He looked up at her hesitantly. "Morning," he said. "Want to go get some breakfast?" "No. I've got to finish this report," she replied, without looking at him. "Skinner will be expecting it." She hung up her coat, then started up her computer and began to type. "Yeah." He lowered his gaze. Then he printed off the page he'd been working on and got up from his chair. He pulled his jacket off the back of the chair and put it on. "Well, I've got some errands to run," he said, folding the paper and putting it into his pocket. "Guess I'll see you later." "Sure," she replied noncommittally, not looking up from her computer screen. He just stood there looking at her for a moment, then walked out of the office and closed the door softly behind him. * * * * * * * * * * "Is he in?" Mulder asked, as he approached Skinner's secretary. "Yes, let me..." But he didn't even slow down -- just walked on into the office. Assistant Director Walter Skinner looked up, somewhat surprised and annoyed. His agents -- even this one -- didn't usually just barge into his office unannounced. "What is it, Agent Mulder?" he growled. Mulder handed him the folded piece of paper, then silently removed his ID badge and laid it on Skinner's desk. It was followed by his ID wallet and cell phone. Lastly, Mulder pulled out his gun, removed the clip, locked the slide back, and laid it on Skinner's desk. "I left the laptop in the office," he added. "Are you planning to tell me what this is all about?" Skinner asked. He hadn't even looked at the paper. Mulder just pointed at the paper. Skinner hesitated for a moment, before unfolding the paper. " 'I hereby resign from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, effective immediately.' " he quoted, then looked at Mulder questioningly. "Well?" "I can't work here any longer," Mulder replied, woodenly. "I'm waiting for a reason, Agent Mulder." "Scully's almost through with her report. That'll make it pretty clear." He turned on his heel and started for the door. "Goodbye, Sir." "Agent Mulder!" Skinner quickly got up and came around the desk, catching Mulder by the arm before he could get out the door. "Don't you think you owe me a little better explanation than that?" Mulder met his eyes briefly, then looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "Just read the report, Sir." Skinner was stunned to see tears welling in Mulder's eyes. He let go of his arm, and watched as Mulder walked away. * * * * * * * * * * Dana Scully read and re-read her report. It was easy enough to report everything that had happened on the case itself, since they hadn't actually found anything. It appeared to be just isolated cases of 'roid rage -- bodybuilders abusing anabolic steroids. All of the incidents had involved bodybuilders suddenly erupting in violent attacks on people who were close to them -- family and friends. But they had all denied taking steroids, and they had all been horrified -- unbelieving -- at what they had done. But the agents had found no hard evidence of steroid use...or anything else. It seemed to be one of those cases that just wasn't going to be explained. So they had finally ended up having to chalk it up to a series of baffling coincidences. There was so little actual evidence that it didn't take Scully long to document their findings in the case. But how much should she say about Mulder's behavior? Anything that far out of line had to be reported. She'd already opted not to file assault charges with the local authorities...and not to file a sexual harassment charge with the Bureau. But she couldn't just let it slide. He had to be held accountable for his actions. Why had he done it, she wondered. She blinked back tears as she tried again to find a reason. He was drunk, of course. But Mulder never drank like that...so why had he gotten so drunk this time? She'd taken enough psychology courses in college and med school to understand some of it, and she'd certainly worked with Mulder on enough psychological profiles to come up with some reasons. But they were all so uncharacteristic of the Mulder she knew. It would have been obvious to even a casual observer that he was upset by his confrontation with the men at the gym, and he had acted very territorial when the Sheriff, John Steele, had shown some interest in her. If she just hadn't had dinner with John that night, maybe it wouldn't have happened. And maybe Mulder had been looking through the window and had seen him kiss her goodnight. Scully lowered her head into her hand and groaned softly. she thought, Mulder was just about the most attractive man she had ever met, and she knew that he was aware of how women reacted to him. But the men in the gym had such...perfect...bodies. And she had to admit that she'd been staring at them. Maybe he felt inadequate... had some kind of a self-image crisis... especially after that little wrestling match in the club. And, damn it, she had to admit that Sheriff Steele was gorgeous, too. Not as heavily muscled as the other men, but a lot more muscular than Mulder. And he had beautiful blonde hair...and fascinating blue eyes. And he was a perfect gentleman, too,...even persuading her to let him open her car door for her. She'd even flirted with him a little, she remembered. It had been a long time since she'd seen such a perfect specimen. In fact, the only thing wrong with him was that he wasn't Mulder. In the last five years, she hadn't met a man who could stand up to that comparison. But, apparently, Mulder didn't know that. He must have felt totally emasculated. And when she filed this report, she'd be doing it to him again. Scully quickly highlighted the whole section about Mulder and hit the delete key. * * * * * * * * * * "Come in, Agent Scully." Skinner indicated for her to sit down. Skinner took her report and quickly scanned it, then returned to the first page and read it more slowly. When he was through, he dropped it on the desktop and spread his hands, palms up. "So where is it?" "Where is what, Sir?" "The part that explains why Agent Mulder just turned in his resignation." When he saw Scully's quick intake of breath and dropped jaw, he realized that she hadn't known. "Did you leave something out of this report, Agent Scully?" he asked. "Nothing that the Bureau needs to know about, Sir." "Agent Scully... Anything serious enough to cause one of my best agents to resign...is something that the Bureau needs to know about." "Then don't accept the resignation. Give me a chance to talk to him." He could see from the set of her jaw that she wasn't going to elaborate. "You didn't know about this, did you?" he asked, more softly. "No. But I should have seen it coming." She looked down at her hands, then slowly back up at him. "Can you just sit on that resignation for a while? Maybe I can talk some sense..." "Just like Agent Mulder not to put a date on this document, isn't it?" Skinner grouched. "Guess I'll just have to delay processing it. "I can give you a few days," he continued. "In the meantime, I'll treat it as an indefinite leave of absence. Judging by the way he looked when he left here, it's going to take all of your considerable powers of persuasion to get through to him. "I'm not going to ask you what happened," he went on, as she got up to leave, "because I don't think you'd tell me, anyway. But I expect some progress reports -- off the record." "Yessir. Thank you." * * * * * * * * * * Mulder sat down in front of his home computer and began to type. To: Dscully@fbi.gov Subject: I'm OK Message: Hey, Scully, I know what a worrier you are, so I thought I'd better head you off at the pass, so to speak. No need to track me down this time (just in case it had crossed your mind). I'm okay. Just thought I'd find a little cave to hide in... or maybe a rock to crawl under... and indulge in a little introspection. I know you can't disagree with the need for that! M PS -- I know it's not enough, but please believe that I am VERY SORRY. :( He re-read the message once, then clicked the Send button. * * * * * * * * * * He knelt down in front of the elderly woman's chair and took her hand in his. "I've got to go away for a while, Mom." "Fox, are you in some kind of trouble?" "Some kind, I guess. But not with the law, if that's what you mean. Nobody's after me. Nobody wants me. At least, I don't think so." "Then what's wrong, Fox. Let me help you." "No, Mom. This is something I have to do myself." "Will you call me? Can I call you?" "I'll call whenever I can. But I'm not sure where I'll be, so you can't call me." "Not even on your cell phone?" "No. I...I don't have that phone anymore." "Then how can I get in touch with you if I need to?" "You can't, Mom. But if there's anything you need, or any problem...call Dana Scully. If she can't take care of it herself, she'll find someone who can. You can depend on her" "How long are you going to be gone?" "I honestly don't know. Not long, I hope." * * * * * * * * * * Scully thought, as she drove toward the Chilmark house. Mulder had been concerned enough for his mother, especially since her stroke, to let her know that he'd be out of contact for a while. He hadn't wanted her to worry if she couldn't reach him. But she had worried. The usually unflappable Mrs. Mulder had worried for two days, before finally calling Scully. Scully breathed a sigh of relief as she drove up to the house and saw his car parked in front of it. His mother had been right. He had come home. Not finding him at the house, Scully drove down to Squibnocket Beach, on South Road. His mother had told her that this was his favorite beach... how, as a child, he had loved to sit there for hours, just listening to the surf. she whispered, letting out another sigh of relief. He was here, sitting out on the beach, looking out to sea. The breeze coming off of the ocean was ruffling his hair... blowing his loose shirttails out behind him. Muffling the sound of her approach over the sand. When he finally sensed her presence, he got quickly to his feet, brushing the sand off his pants, and leaned slightly to the side, looking behind her. Scully stopped and turned to look back in the direction from which she had just come, then turned back to Mulder. "What are you looking at?" He shrugged. "Guess I was half expecting to see a couple of police officers, coming to arrest me." "Arrest you? Don't you trust me anymore, Mulder?" "I trust you...but I can't trust myself anymore. By all rights, I ought to be arrested." "No criminal report was filed." "Maybe not. But it should have been." "And I didn't file anything with the Bureau. No one knows about it." "Skinner knows." "No, he doesn't. He knows something happened...but there was nothing in my report. I took it out." "Took it out?" "Yes." He turned away from her and sat back down on the sand, forearms across his knees. "It doesn't really make any difference, though,...because YOU know. And I know." She sat down beside him, and for a few moments, they said nothing. Mulder leaned his head into one hand and slowly shook his head. "Y'know, Scully, for the past few days I've been doing a lot of thinking. I've really been trying. But I just can't find it." "Find what?" "That precise moment in my life when I became a monster." "Mulder... You're not a monster." "Well, what would you call it?" "Oh...I don't know. Stress, maybe. Feelings of rejection and inadequacy. Jealousy maybe? Coupled with liquor and drugs, all of those things will make people do things they wouldn't ordinarily do." "Drugs?" She smiled, then, and reached into her pocket. "I found something." She handed him an already-opened package of sunflower seeds. "Thanks." He absently took the package from her and reached in to take out a seed. "What'd you find?" She closed her hand over his, stopping him from removing the seed. "This." "The sunflower seeds?!" he asked incredulously. "What's wrong with them?" "They're tainted...with... I've never seen it before. It has some characteristics of the steroids that the body builders claim they're not using. But it's decidedly different. Looked like somebody'd been tinkering with their chemistry set." "So, are you thinking that this drug is what caused all those people to go off the deep end?" "That seems to be the most logical explanation. Their reactions were similar to yours, Mulder...only much more violent. And we'll never know what size of dose they got, because the lab tests didn't reveal anything unusual in their blood. This stuff must metabolize quickly." "How did you get this, Scully? I left it in the room." She hesitated for a moment. "On the flight back, I started thinking that there might be more to it than just the liquor, so...one of those times when you were in the lavatory...I called Sheriff Steele and asked him to go out there and pick up anything you'd left behind. Luckily, they hadn't cleaned the room yet." "Sheriff Steele!" he growled, turning his gaze away from her. "Anyway," she continued, ignoring his snappishness, "he sent it to me and I had the lab do some tests on it. They weren't able to tell how it was introduced into the package, but there's a fine powder in there -- tasteless, virtually colorless. Most of it's on the outside of the sunflower seeds, but some of the substance has infiltrated the seed itself. And even if it hadn't, just by taking the whole seed into your mouth, the substance is absorbed -- even though you spit out the hull." "And I suppose drinking most of a fifth of Jack Daniels just magnified the effect." "Yes, but there was more to it than just a simple cause and effect relationship. In fact, it's quite likely that it was just the other way around," she explained. "The drug was probably at least partially responsible for your drinking that much to start with. You had started eating from that package while we were still in the club." "Nice try, Scully," he replied, his gaze dropping to the sand between his legs. "But it won't work. It wasn't the drugs or the liquor. It was me. I remember what I was thinking. I WANTED to get drunk. I wanted to...I wanted... You, Scully. I wanted you. I remember." "Remember? How much can you possibly remember after drinking that much?!" His head remained bowed, and he didn't answer. Scully gently put her hand on his arm. "Mulder. How much do you remember about what happened?" "Too much," he whispered. "How much?" she insisted. Mulder rubbed both hands roughly up and down over his face. "All of it, Scully. I remember every word. Everything I did to you. Everything I said. Sometimes this memory is a curse." He still wouldn't face her. "All of it, huh?" She took her hand from his arm, and they just sat there, saying nothing, lost in their own thoughts. "Well," she finally said, "if that's the case...I guess I should tell you that... I don't." He looked up, not comprehending. "Don't what?" She looked directly into his eyes. "Don't like it rough." He groaned and brought both hands up to cover his face again. "Scully, I'm so sorry...so ashamed." "I remember feeling the same way after I had almost killed you, thinking you had betrayed me." "It's not the same thing, Scully." "Yes, it is. And you know it!" "No. That case involved magnifying a person's worst fears, their suspicions. In this case, people were doing things they'd actually thought of doing before, even if only momentarily. The teenager hit his grandmother, 'cause she was always telling him what to do. The man strangled his wife for asking him to take out the trash. That one guy even killed his own dog, for Chrissake... just because it was barking at a squirrel. Little annoyances that they would ordinarily have easily suppressed came to the surface. Things that had only fleetingly crossed their minds before, things that they would never actually want to do...were acted out. It's not the same thing!" "None of the incidents were exactly the same, Mulder. And yours was complicated by the...the uh...situation...at the club that morning. Or maybe the contaminant was already working, and actually CAUSED you to react that way. And then you drank so much. Surely you're not saying that you've thought about raping me before?!" "Oh, God, Scully! Of course not. Not rape. But I've certainly thought about...about..." He turned away from her again. "And the thought of you being with that damn sheriff! If he had come into your motel room with you, I probably would have killed him." "Funny," she observed. "I would have thought you'd have liked him." "Liked him! Why would you think that?!" "Well," she replied, ticking off each point on her fingers, "he was astute enough to recognize that something strange was going on..." "Yeah, well..." "Informed enough to know about you and ask for you specifically..." "True, but..." "Smart enough to stay out of your way, once you got on the case..." "Okay. Okay. You've made your point...even if we didn't solve the case. But he was also too..." "Too what?" Mulder looked away from her, not answering. "Too what, Mulder?" she insisted. "Too damned good looking," he finally admitted grudgingly. "And too damned interested in you." "You needn't have worried about that," she chuckled. "He's a really nice guy, and very attractive, but he's just not my type. Didn't you know? I like 'em tall, dark, and... spooky." He turned to look at her again, and a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Really?" She laughed then. "Yes. Really. Mulder, I don't understand how a man as attractive as you are could feel threatened by someone like that." "I was afraid you were falling for him." "Well, I wasn't." "I'm glad." "Anyway, the case is solved now, even if we didn't do it. The sheriff wrapped it up for us." "What do you mean?" "After I told him what I had found in the sunflower seeds -- and that I suspected it was the same package you had picked up at the health club that morning -- he did some checking and found that the snack bars in several of the health clubs had packages contaminated by this same substance. He traced it to a young man who worked for the distributor who furnished the snacks to the different clubs." "The snacks? It was that simple?" "Well, we already knew it had SOMETHING to do with the clubs, 'cause every single incident had involved a member of the body building community. We still don't know exactly how he introduced the substance into the packages. But, it turns out, his girlfriend had dumped him for a body builder, and he was just seeking revenge. They found an elaborate chemistry setup in his apartment." "So the sheriff knows about this, too?" "No. Of course not. I just told him that you'd been very sick and were exhibiting some aberrant behavior. And that I suspected it might have been caused by something you had eaten or drunk that night." "Thanks." After a few minutes of silence, Scully stood up and brushed the sand off her pants. When Mulder looked up at her, she extended her hand to him. "Come on, Mulder. Let's go back." "We can't, Scully. It's too late." She hesitated a moment before dropping down onto her knees beside him. Gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned her head in close to his. "You can't give up, Mulder. Skinner wants you back -- and so do I. We can do this. It's not too late," she pleaded. A slow smile spread over Mulder's face as he looked up at the now-darkened sky, then back at Scully. "I mean it's too late to leave the Island. This is the off- season, Scully. The last ferry left an hour ago. Guess you'll have to stay here for the night." She chuckled with relief. "Okay, then. Let's go find a motel." "No need for that, Scully. We can stay at my house." "Your house? You mean your father's house in West Tisbury?" "No. I mean the Chilmark house." "I always assumed that you had sold it when your parents divorced," Scully said, puzzled. "I'm surprised that you'd want to keep the house, Mulder...I mean, with all the bad memories..." "There were a lot of good memories, too, Scully. Before... before it happened." He gazed off into the distance, silent for a moment. Abruptly he smiled and turned to face her. "But that's another story." Mulder got to his feet and took her hand, helping her up. "Right now, I seem to have a house, complete with working utilities. And you seem to need a place to stay for the night," he grinned. Scully smiled. "I certainly do!" The smile suddenly died on his lips, and he clenched her hand in both of his. "Would you feel comfortable staying with me tonight, Scully?" She covered his hands with hers and squeezed. "Yes, Mulder. Of course I would." "You wouldn't be afraid?" "No." They turned and , hand in hand, started walking toward her car. "Scully?" "Hmmmm?" "I'm really sorry about what I did..." She stopped and turned to face him. "Mulder, you don't..." "No. Let me finish, Scully." He inhaled deeply and let it out in a rush. Then looked into her eyes. "I'm very sorry about what I did...regardless of the cause. I just hope that someday I'll have a chance to make it up to you." "You will, Mulder." She reached out and hooked her arm in his, tugging him forward as they resumed their walk toward the car. Under her breath she murmured, "Maybe sooner than you think." * * * * * * * * * * END * * * * * * * * * *