"Not the Doctor"
by Jennifer Sorowitz


Chapter 6


       I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
       I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
       Hidden in the bottom drawer


Scully made her way down the hallway toward the Assistant Director's office at
a brisk pace, her heart and mind full of dread. Something was wrong. There was
no doubt in her mind that it had to do with Mulder. Her stomach had become one
enormous knot on the drive over as all of the possibilities played through her
mind.

*Why does Skinner want to speak to me in person? Why can't he tell me over the
phone? Is the news that bad? Have they located Mulder? Did he expect-- want--
me to chase after him? Damn it, this is why I insist he doesn't go off on his
own. He knows what kind of trouble he can get into when I'm not there to cover
his ass. And now something's happened to him. Again. Is he lying in a hospital
somewhere, unconscious, hurt? I've got to get to him, to help him, before it's
too la--

*Stop it, Dana,* she mentally chided herself. *You've got to stop thinking
like this. You don't even know for sure that Mulder is the reason Skinner's
calling you in here.* The idea almost brought a smile to her lips. *All right,
in all likelihood he _is_ the reason. But, still, you have to remain in
control. Don't overreact before you have all the facts. If you let these
thoughts take over, then you'll be of no use to Mulder-- or yourself.*

With newfound resolve, Scully held her chin high as she calmly approached the
desk of Skinner's administrative assistant.

The generally chipper woman had a somber expression on her face. "Good
morning, Agent Scully," she said, her greeting pleasant, though not
accompanied with her usually warm smile. "The Assistant Director is waiting
for you. Please go right in."

*Oh, God, something's wrong. He's badly injured-- or worse.* Panic threatening
to overwhelm her, Scully suddenly had the urge to grab this woman by the
collar and shake her to demand what she knew regarding her partner's
whereabouts. But she fought to maintain her composure-- a battle that was
relatively easily won, resulting in her putting on her usual calm facade.
"Thank you," she replied coolly, nodding her head in thanks. Walking
confidently toward Skinner's office, Scully rapped loudly on his door.

"Come in," she heard him call out.

Grasping the doorknob in her hand, Scully stopped a moment. She took a deep
breath to center herself before opening the door. Walking inside the spacious
office, she saw Skinner sitting behind his desk, his attention focused on some
papers in front of him. She approached his desk and waited quietly, hands
clasped in front of her, as he finished reading the typed page before him.
Scribbling his signature, he capped his pen and placed it down on his desk.
When she was finally greeted by the unsmiling face of the Assistant Director,
Scully suddenly felt like a little girl standing before her father, awaiting a
reprimand for her latest misdeed.

"Please sit down, Agent Scully," Skinner said, indicating one of the two
chairs before his desk.

As she seated herself, Scully could not resist the urge to glance over at the
empty chair to her right, the absence of her partner almost palpable.

Skinner sat with his hands clasped over the file on his desk, staring at her
for several long moments, regarding her. An enormous scowl adorned his face.
Scully felt his eyes boring into her, and she desired nothing more at that
moment than to disappear.

She was again reminded of her childhood, of trying to sink into the huge
leather chair Ahab always sat her in before announcing her punishment as he
silently paced his study. He had wanted to try to let the enormity of her
actions sink in before he lectured her. At least Skinner was sitting down.
Although with the glare he was giving her, she was not sure which tactic was
worse.

Well, it was not as though she had anything to hide. She had done nothing
wrong. With newfound certitude, Scully crossed her legs and sat up straight in
her chair.

"Where is Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked plainly.

So much for beating around the bush.  "He hasn't arrived at work yet."

"I realize that. Are you expecting him?"

"Well, sir, it *is* a work day, and we *are* in the middle of a case."

The frown on Skinner's face deepened, and when he spoke again, he made no
attempt to hide the ire in his voice. "Do you know where he is?"

Scully glanced at her watch. "I assume either at home, or en route."

"When was the last time you saw or spoke with Agent Mulder?"

"Last night, around five, when I left the office. Sir, if I may be so bold,
why are you asking me all these questions about Agent Mulder?"

Skinner took a deep breath as he sat back in his chair. "I'm afraid Agent
Mulder is in a bit of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"You probably haven't heard yet, since it hasn't been released to the press,
but Peter Andraven was found dead in his office early this morning. The local
police have ruled it murder."

Scully's eyes widened, but she quickly reigned in her shock. "What does this
have to do with Mulder?"

Skinner sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose-- a
sure fire sign that he was not a happy camper. "The police have in custody a
video tape from a surveillance camera that places Agent Mulder at the murder
scene-- apparently engaged in quite a heated argument with Andraven."

Scully shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh, it gets better," Skinner continued, replacing his glasses. "The murder
weapon was a sig sauer. Ballistics isn't back yet, but there is a very good
chance that it was Agent Mulder's gun."

Her eyes slowly slid closed.

"The police have a warrant for his arrest. When the detectives could not
locate Agent Mulder at home or in the office, they came to me. They naturally
wanted to speak to his partner, figuring you would have the best chance of
knowing where he might be. Actually, they wanted to bring you in for
questioning as well, but I insisted that I speak to you instead."

"May I ask why you went to such trouble on my behalf, sir?"

"As employees of the Justice Department, we have a responsibility to this
country to uphold the law. That does not mean, however, that we are above it.
And the Bureau generally takes care of its own. My agents are my
responsibility, and I do not appreciate local law enforcement telling me
otherwise. Without just cause, I see no need for you to be subject to their
interrogations."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your intervention."

"Well, don't be so quick to thank me. Just because I saved you the trouble of
being hauled down to a Virginia precinct doesn't mean that I'm letting you off
the hook before I know what the hell is going on." His rage growing, Skinner
stood and began to walk the floor behind his desk. "Agent Scully, where were
you last night between the hours of eight and ten P.M.?"

She looked at his face. "I- I was at a restaurant in Maryland-- Tufano's--
from about seven until well after nine."

"Are there witnesses that can verify your story? Someone with you?"

"I was alone, but the maitre ^Ìd and waiter will probably remember me," she
replied. *How the hell could they not notice the poor loser waiting hours
alone at a table, only to be stood up by her date?*

"Tufano's, you said? That little Italian place off of Northern?"

Even the A.D. had heard of it? Scully felt the color rising in her cheeks.
"Yes, sir."

If Skinner noticed her flush, he made no indication. "I'd say that's well over
an hour-and-a-half's drive from Andraven's lab."

"Yes. But why are you asking me--?" She stopped abruptly. "I'm a suspect as
well, aren't I?"

"Given your relationship to Agent Mulder-- the fact that you two have worked
closely together for the past six years, and that you both were deeply
involved in the Andraven investigation-- they no doubt want to peg you either
as an accomplice or an accessory. But while all of the evidence seems to point
to Agent Mulder, there is nothing tying you to the crime.

"I've overseen both you and Agent Mulder for several years now. While there
have been times when your methods have been a little . . . unconventional . .
. you two have done your jobs, and done them well. You are both highly skilled
investigators that I am proud to have working for me. So, with the exception
of a few certain indiscretions--" Scully realized immediately that he was
referring particularly to Mulder's outburst at the courthouse-- "I have been
quite satisfied with your work."

"Th-thank you, sir. Agent Mulder and I have likewise appreciated all of the
support and assistance you have provided us over the years."

"Scully, I know that the Andraven case really got to Mulder," Skinner said,
his tone lessening a degree in severity as he came around to the front of his
desk and leaned against it. "I know that he has a penchant for becoming
emotionally involved in certain cases, and that sometimes he gets reckless.
Usually, though, you seem able to keep him in line. Now, I'm not trying to lay
blame here. I just want to ask you-- off the record-- in your professional
opinion, do you think that being pulled off of this case proved too much for
him?"

"I'd like to think that I know Agent Mulder as well as I know myself, sir. And
while he was no doubt upset at having to back off of the Andraven case, I did
not judge him to be at the point of obsession. He was able to get past it, and
to focus on our current investigation."

"So, you do not believe him to be involved in Andraven's murder?"

She did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. "No," she replied,
looking him straight in the eye. "Absolutely not. I do not think Agent Mulder
capable of killing Andraven. As much as he wanted to see Andraven punished for
his crimes, he did not believe in taking matters into his own hands. Rather, I
think he was framed."

"I hope you honestly believe those words, Scully, and that you're not just
giving me lip service."

"Sir?"

"I know, probably better than anyone, much of what you and Mulder have been
through since being partnered together. I know the losses you have both
incurred while working for the X-Files. And I know that it has brought you
both closer together-- as partners, and as friends. As much as you care about
him, though, it is not in either of your best interests for you to protect
him."

"Sir, I swear to you that until I came into your office this morning, I knew
nothing of this crime. Nor do I know where Agent Mulder is right now."

Skinner nodded, his belief in her sentiments apparent. "There is no doubt in
my mind that from here on out the police will have you under constant
surveillance. Therefore, I suggest that if he contacts you, you appraise him
of the situation and propose that he turn himself in. I hope I don't have to
remind you that if you try to warn him, or cover for him, that you can be
charged with aiding and abetting.

"I'll be honest with you, Scully: the evidence against Mulder is pretty
damning. Right now, they have nothing concrete to link you to the crime. I may
have been able to forestall your being questioned, but if you try to protect
Mulder, then I will not be able to intervene. You've got a bright future in
the Bureau, Scully. I'd hate to see you lose your badge or go to jail for a
transgression of which I honestly believe you had no knowledge."

"While I appreciate your vote of confidence, sir, I would hope that your
support applies to Agent Mulder as well. As I've said, I don't believe he did
it. It is, in all likelihood, a set up. I'd like to try to prove Agent
Mulder's innocence. If I can have your permission to perform the autopsy on
Andraven's body, then I--"

"Absolutely not. You are not to look at the body, nor are you to become
involved in the investigation of his murder."

"With all due respect, sir, you can't honestly expect me to just sit back and
do nothing while my partner is being wrongfully accused of murder."
 	"That's exactly what I expect you to do, Agent Scully."

"But, sir--"

"No buts, Scully. Look, I understand that you want to help Mulder. But if you
take part in the investigation, you will hurt not only Mulder but also
yourself. You know as well as I do that Liles' death was no suicide, and that
Andraven may have ordered him killed to safeguard himself and his company.
He's in all likelihood being protected-- from high places. Now, I don't know
who killed him, but it's obviously someone who wants to get your partner out
of the way in the process. If you get involved in this case, then you'll only
be putting another nail in Mulder's coffin. They'll be watching you, and could
go as far as accusing you of tampering with evidence."

"But, if, as you suggest, Andraven knew someone on the inside, then his killer
could as well. Who's to say they aren't controlling the police to doctor the
evidence themselves in order to frame Mulder?"

"I don't plan to allow the local cops to work this alone. I will put some of
my best men and women on this case, Scully. But *you* are to steer clear of
this investigation."

"But, sir, he's my *partner*."

"I know that in the past you've gone to great lengths, putting yourself on the
line to protect him. But if you hear from Mulder-- if you learn of his
location-- do not go chasing after him. I want you to notify me immediately. I
do not want you to inadvertently implicate yourself. This is no small matter,
Scully. This isn't merely about your reputation. If they manage to involve you
in this murder charge, then we're talking about your badge, your career, not
to mention your freedom. Are you prepared to go to jail for this? You might
think this is a noble cause, but I don't think it's worth throwing your life
away. While I do believe that both you and Mulder are innocent of any
wrongdoing, I only have so much influence in the Bureau. There is only so far
I can go to protect you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good." Skinner got up and walked back to his desk, where he reseated himself.
"In the meantime, I expect a progress report on your current case by the end
of the week." He picked up his pen and began to scan the form in front of him.
"That's all."

Without another word, Scully rose and headed for the door.

***


Scully stomped into the office, slamming the door behind her. *Damn you,
Mulder! Damn you for putting me into this position in the first place!* She
began to fervently pace the room, fighting the urge to break things. *Talk
about being between a rock and a hard place. Damned if I do, damned if I
don't. . . . If I sit back and do nothing, then your name may never be
cleared. It'll look like you're fleeing, and your actions will be used against
you. But if I do go after you, there's a very good chance that I'll lose
everything. All those years of working my ass off-- first in med school, then
the academy, in the Bureau, as your partner on the X-Files. If I lose my
badge, it will all have been for nothing.

*All that we've endured. . . . Lord, I've lost so much already. It may have
been my choice, but others gave their lives without ever knowing the
sacrifices they made. And why? For your-- no, *our*-- godforsaken quest for
the Truth. That's right. Your quest has become my own. You may have fought to
reopen the X-Files, but they've become my life as well. And if I were to lose
the work, then what do I have? If that were to happen, then there'd be nothing
left. . . . Nothing but you.*

Scully continued pacing, her hands balled into fists. *In the long run that
may not even mean much. Apparently, you don't feel the same way I do. I
thought, after the night of the storm, that you might feel the same way about
me as I do for you. But now I'm not so sure. If you preferred following a case
we were forbidden to pursue without even telling me, then what does that say
about what you think of me? You obviously don't view me as an equal. I'm just
your partner when it's convenient. When you need justification for your work.
Or someone to bail your sorry ass out of trouble. I thought you had changed,
Mulder. I thought we were past this. That we had come to respect one another.
To trust one another completely, to share everything when it came to work.
Apparently, I was wrong . . . you really can't teach an old dog new tricks.

*It's my own fault, really. I've put up with your ways for so long. You'd
ditch me, and I'd go running after you. I'd be so relieved that you were all
right that I'd never even let you know what your thoughtlessness had put me
through. I would just give in to my relief, thanking heaven for bringing you
back to me in one piece. But perhaps I should've instead told you how much I
hate it when you go off on your wild goose chases, leaving me out of the loop,
to hold the fort, until you decide you need rescuing. Perhaps it's time to
finally tell you how sick and tired I am of playing second-fiddle. Either
we're in this together, as equals, or else--*

Scully stopped pacing, and turned to face his desk, her eyes stopping on his
"I Want to Believe" poster, the one she had gotten to replace the original
that was destroyed when their office was burned down. *Or else what, Dana? Or
else you'll quit? You'll walk away from the X-Files and Fox Mulder and never
look back? If push came to shove, are you willing-- are you capable-- of doing
that? Can you go on without the work, without Mulder?*

With a wry grin, Scully knew the answer was painfully obvious. *Face facts:
despite his aggravating ways, you love him. He's your partner, your best
friend-- and also something else. Your feelings go much deeper than those of
camaraderie or friendship. The truth is, you want more. And until you find out
if he feels the same way, you can't let this go.*

Turning away, she wrapped her arms around herself. *If you're ever to have a
chance at happiness-- if Mulder is ever to be a part of that equation-- then
you have to let him know what's going on and you have to get him out of this
mess. Because, no matter how much you tell yourself that he deserves what's
happening to him because of his reckless and insensitive behavior, you'd never
be able to live with yourself if you allowed him to throw away everything you
and he have worked so hard for without at least trying to save him-- from
whomever's framing him, and from himself. Even if it means that you lose
everything in the process.*

With a weary sigh, Scully pulled out her cell-phone and dialed a number.
*Special Agent Scully to the rescue once again.*

"_Lone Gunman_."

"Hi, Byers. It's Scully. I need your help. . . ."

***

End of Chapter 6

"Not the Doctor"
by Jennifer Sorowitz


Chapter 7


         Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
       Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
       Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
       You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor


Returning to her apartment, Scully hastened toward her bedroom with her new
purchases. She quickly changed her clothes, donning a low-cut silk blouse and
a straight skirt that was a bit more form-fitting-- not to mention a little
lacking in fabric-- as compared to her usual outfits, as well as heels that
were over an inch taller than those she typically wore. Walking over to a
mirror, then took out a dark red lipstick and added a fresh coat. Next she
dabbed some perfume on her wrists and neck, as well as tracing a path down her
chest.

She paused, surveying her handiwork.

*It needs something else,* she realized. *But what--?*

Inspiration hit then, and she began to rummage through the makeup case once
again. Picking up a dark brown eyeliner pencil, she placed a small dot on the
left side of her upper lip, just below her nose.

*Perfect,* she thought, admiring her new beauty mark.

Pouting her lips to ascertain the effect, she gazed at her reflection in the
mirror, barely able to recognize herself. *This is crazy, Dana. You've finally
lost it.* She shook her head. *But you've got to do it. It's the only way to
help him-- and thus help yourself.*

With a final look at her reflection, she donned her trench coat-- ensuring
that the synch was fastened securely-- and made her way back to her car. As
she started the engine, she spared a glance into the rear-view mirror and
caught sight of the same dark blue Chevy that had followed her since she left
headquarters earlier that morning. A few moments after she pulled away from
the curb, the Chevy pulled into the street behind her. Skinner's suspicions
had been correct-- the local police were keeping her under surveillance. They
could use some lessons in the subtlety of tailing, she mused. She knew she
could lose them with little effort, and she suddenly had a devilish desire to
do so. But she restrained herself, not yet wanting them to know that she was
aware of their presence.

Arriving back at headquarters, she shut off the car and sat for a moment
behind the wheel. *I can't believe I'm resorting to this,* she thought. *I've
sunken to an all-time low.*

During her time with the X-Files, Scully had done her share of rule-bending
and had defied orders while in search of the truth-- or, more often than not,
so that she could protect her partner. How many times had she lied to her
superiors, including Skinner? How often did she withhold certain facts
regarding Mulder's actions or try to talk her way around his indiscretions in
her field reports? On one occasion she had been held in contempt of Congress
for refusing to disclose his whereabouts, and ended up spending time in jail
in order to safeguard him.

Now, though, the potential consequences of her actions could be far more
serious and have much more extensive repercussions than an official reprimand
on her record. If she were to be caught in the act for what she had planned
for today, then she could forget about working for the Bureau ever again.
Hell, she would likely not be able to escape a lengthy prison term-- although
the sentence Mulder could expect if not cleared of these murder charges would
be far worse. Since her hands were being tied as far as the investigation into
Andraven's murder, she now had to resort to cloak-and-dagger in order to try
to save Mulder.

*^ÌHad to.' Interesting choice of words, Dana. Do you wonder what they mean?*

Loyalty was a trait her family had ground into her from an early age, and she
felt an obligation to help her partner. Despite how inconsiderate his
behavior, how selfish and stupid his leaving, no matter how much it hurt that
he had stood her up the previous night and thus quite possibly did not return
her feelings, she could not just sit back and do nothing. After all they had
been through, she owed him at least this much.

*Too bad he doesn't return that same consideration, Dana. It's getting to the
point where little that Mulder does should manage to surprise you anymore.*

This was becoming an all-too-familiar pattern: Mulder runs off half-cocked,
not thinking of the consequences, he gets into trouble, and she has to chase
after him in order to bail him out, like a good little partner. Did he
continue to behave so recklessly because he knew that she would always be
there to back him up? Did he constantly risk his own life and hers, as well as
both of their careers, because he knew that she would not just sit back
without becoming involved herself? Had she become so predictable that he was
now taking her assistance, her reactions-- to say nothing of Scully herself--
for granted?

What it basically boiled down to was that he was using her when it was
convenient to keep him out of trouble-- regardless of the risks she herself
incurred. Though potentially dire under the worst of circumstances, in the
past, the ramifications of her becoming involved in his rescue amounted to
little more than a slap on the wrist. Now, however, the stakes were high
indeed.

Her job-- her career-- were vital to her existence. If she were forbidden from
working for the Bureau in general or on the X-Files in particular, then what
would she do? She had spent the past six years putting her all into her
career, at the expense of her personal life. If it were to be taken away, if
she could not continue the work, then what would she have to show for her
thirty-four years? She had no husband, no children-- hell, she could not
remember the last time she had even been on a date. This was all she had.
Mulder was not the only one for whom this job had become a means of existence.
The X-Files were her life now, too, and she was damned if she was going to let
anything or anyone-- Fox Mulder included-- take them away from her.

*Damn you, Mulder, for making me do this,* she thought irately as she exited
the car, brief case in tow, and made her way toward the Video Production Unit.
As the knowledge of what she was about to do began to sink in, her mind
started racing. *Lord, what would Mulder think if he knew his straight-laced,
logical partner was about to use her feminine wiles to procure some evidence
in a most illegal fashion?* she wondered.

For a moment, a thrill ran through her as she entertained the idea that he
might actually like it. But then it was replaced with revulsion: she was
totally repulsed with herself. She despised women who relied upon their bodies
or their sex appeal rather than their brains or their skills in order to climb
the ladder. She had always prided herself on the fact that she had achieved so
much, obtaining a position where she was valued and respected for her
intellect, her investigative capabilities, and her scientific competence--
rather than how she looked or with whom she slept. And now she was demeaning
herself, using her sexuality, just like the rest of them.

*Mulder may be a believer, but this is one extreme possibility even he would
doubt unless he saw it himself. And face it, Dana, even if he did, he would
probably be disgusted. He would expect better behavior from Special Agent Dana
Scully, M.D.*

Reaching the lab, she paused a moment outside the door.

*This _is_ decidedly un-Scully-like, isn't it? Hmm, maybe I should tell Mulder
about this after I find him. That way he can realize that I refuse to jump
through the same hoops time and again. He's not the only one who can act a
little reckless and go out on a limb in order to get the job done. Fair's
fair, Mulder: it's my turn to ignore the rules. Even if getting caught means
that my reputation is ruined, my career is over, and my freedom may very well
be lost.

*Dear heaven, Dana, you really are on self-destructive mode all of a sudden,
aren't you? You need to let out some of these repressed feelings.

*All I have to say is that you'd better be in one piece when I find you,
Mulder, because once I get my hands on you, I want the pleasure of tearing you
limb from limb myself.*

She undid the belt of her coat, removed it, and slung it over her arm. Then,
taking a deep breath to steady herself, she opened the door and walked inside.
The lab tech was sitting by a computer monitor, studying the screen.

*Well, here goes nothin'. . . .*

"Agent Tyson?" she called, attempting to keep her voice low and sultry.

"Yes?" The tech seated at a nearby lab bench looked up. Catching sight of
Scully, his eyes widened for a moment even as the first hints of a smile began
to curl the corners of his mouth. She watched his gaze move slowly down her
body: from her face, to the clinging blouse whose silk parted to reveal the
creamy white flesh beneath, to the tight skirt that was short enough to reveal
quite a bit of thigh. "May I help you?"

Scully sauntered over to him, making a conscious effort to sway her hips even
more than usual. "Agent Scully," she told him, extending her hand. "I believe
we've met once before."

"Not that I recall," he replied, taking her hand. "I'm sure I'd remember
making your acquaintance." She could feel his thumb gently stroking the back
of her hand.

"Why, thank you," Scully smiled, even as her skin crawled. It took all her
conscious effort to repress a shudder and resist the urge to knee him in the
groin.

Well, at least she had been right about Agent Tyson. Rumor had it that he
chased anything in a skirt, having already tried his hand a large percentage
of the young, single administrative assistants and technicians, as well as the
female agents that came his way. She had worked with him on occasion during
the past six years when the evidence warranted it, and Scully had recalled him
as being overly-flirtatious, even with no encouragement from her. Normally,
she merely maintained her cool demeanor, keeping the conversation
strictly-business, as well as keeping her distance so as to avoid any chance
of contact. Of course, the fact that Mulder usually accompanied her to the lab
helped as well. He seemed to sense her discomfort, and whenever they were
viewing the videos being analyzed, he would often strategically stand or sit
between them so as to prevent Tyson from getting anywhere near his partner.
Though Scully did not like being protected, she now could not help but wish
that Mulder were here to keep the Casanova at bay.

*If Mulder were around, then you wouldn't be in this position in the first
place, Dana,* she reminded herself. Annoyance once again rearing its ugly
head, Scully used the emotion as motivation to get the job done.

"So, what can I do for you today?" Agent Tyson asked, finally letting her hand
go.

"I'm here to pick up a tape that was being analyzed."

"Oh? I don't remember you bringing it in."

"I brought it in the other day. It was from a surveillance camera at a grocery
store. It was supposed to be ready this morning," Scully told him as she
leaned back against the lab bench beside Tyson, her torso at the technician's
eye-level.

"Let me check the computer for you," Tyson said, his eyes clearly focused on
her chest as he spoke.

"Thank you." *Pig.*

Reluctantly turning back to his computer, he typed in some information. "Hmm.
I don't see any record of it. Are you sure it was brought in?"

"I gave it in myself-- to a young tech."

"Riley? That guy is scatterbrained. He probably took it in and forgot to enter
it in the computer. I swear, he'd lose his head if it weren't attached."

"Will you be able to find it for me? It's oh-so-important to my case," Scully
purred, looking up at him and batting her eyelashes.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'll find it for you," he said,
placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'll have to check the back room. In the
meantime, why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable?" he suggested,
pulling out a chair for her.

"How thoughtful of you," Scully replied, putting down her brief case and coat
on the counter top. Sitting down, she slowly crossed her legs, the gesture
causing her short skirt to rise even higher.

"I'll, uh, be, uhm, right back." It seemed to take a physical effort for Tyson
to tear his eyes from her legs. Scully smiled sweetly as he left the main lab.

The moment he was gone, she got to her feet, and hurried to the lab bench.
While she had been speaking to Tyson, she had been searching the room for the
possible location of her objective. Beneath the counter top was a cabinet that
apparently housed numerous video tapes. She opened the top drawer, labeled A-E
and quickly began to scan the labels. Adams . . . Alexander . . . Anderson . .
. Andraven.

*Jackpot!* Pulling out the video tape, Scully removed it from the case and
placed it on the counter top. She quickly retrieved a small metal apparatus
from her briefcase and placed the tape inside. Pressing a button, she glanced
at her watch. She looked back at the door that Tyson had gone through a few
moments earlier.

*Come on,* she thought, listening to the low humming of the machine. *Byers
said two minutes. And that was allowing for a long tape.* She looked back at
her watch, her eyes focusing on the second hand. Each movement seemed to take
an eternity. *One minute. Okay, halfway there.*

She heard a crash from the back room, quickly followed by a muttered curse by
Tyson.

"Everything okay?" Scully called.

"Yeah! I'll be right there!" Tyson shouted back.

"Take your time!" She looked at her watch. Thirty seconds left.

She heard Tyson's footsteps. "It doesn't seem to be here," he called ahead of
himself.

*Shit!* Ten seconds left. *C'mon, c'mon.*

"Are you sure that Riley finished with it?"

Five seconds. *Finish, damn you!*

She could hear Tyson approach the doorway.

There was a beep as the machine finished copying. Scully quickly ejected the
Andraven tape, shoving it back into its case. She replaced the tape in the
cabinet and pushed it closed. She then made a leap for the chair and reseated
herself. Seeing Tyson's shadow in the doorway, she suddenly realized that she
was still holding the copying machine, and that her briefcase was several feet
away on the counter top.

Without time to hesitate, Scully pushed off the floor, sliding the wheeled
chair to the lab bench. She was in the process of returning the machine to her
brief case when Tyson reentered the room.

"I can't seem to find the tape," he told her. "Did you just hear something?
Some kind of ringing?"

"Ringing? Oh, that was my cell," Scully said, patting her brief case. "My
partner just called, to say that he had picked up the tape already from Agent
Riley."

"Well, that'd explain why I couldn't find it in back," Tyson said with a
chuckle.

"I'm so sorry to have troubled you, Agent Tyson," Scully said, her voice
sugary-sweet.

"No trouble at all. Listen, if Riley's analysis doesn't pan out, I'd be happy
to take a look at the tape for you. Go over it frame-by-frame with you if need
be."

"That's a very generous offer."

"I've got some time later this afternoon. And maybe afterwards, we could go
grab a bite to eat?"

"That sounds wonderful," she told him as she slowly rose. "Unfortunately,
though, my partner and I have to go check out a lead on this case. Can I have
a rain check?"

"Sure. Give me a call anytime," he said, handing her his card.

"I'll do that," Scully said, taking the card and slowly sliding it into her
bra. "Thank you again for all your help."

"My pleasure, Agent Scully. And be sure to let me know if I can be of any
further assistance."

"I will," she said, retrieving her coat and bag. "Good-bye."

"'Bye."

With a final nod and a wink, Scully quickly exited the lab. She hastened down
the hallway toward the elevator. Entering the empty car, she pressed her back
to the wall, closing her eyes and letting out a loud sigh. *Lord, that was
close.* Right now, she had to get the copy of the tape over to the Lone
Gunmen. Hopefully, they would be able to tell if the supposed confrontation
between Mulder and Andraven had actually occurred on the night in question.
She prayed they would be able to find some sort of indication that the tape
had been doctored that would help to clear his name.

She was in the process of donning her coat when the elevator doors opened and
a man walked inside.

"Agent Scully, I was just on my way down to see you," came an all-too-familiar
voice.

Breath catching in her throat, Scully hastened to close her coat, her brief
case slipping from her grasp in the process.

"Here, I've got it," Walter Skinner said, bending to pick up her bag for her.

"Thank you, sir," Scully replied, taking it from him.

His eyes widened a moment as he caught sight of her face, and she could almost
have sworn she saw him trying to suppress as smile, but he quickly resumed his
usual scowl. "I wanted to give this to you," he said, handing her a file
folder.

"What is this?" she asked, taking it from him.

"I thought you might find this report interesting," he replied cryptically.
The elevator doors opened, and he exited the car without another word.

Brow furrowed, Scully opened the file, her eyes quickly scanning the page.
"I'll be damned," she muttered. Even after all these years, she had yet to
figure Skinner out. As the elevator arrived at the parking garage, she placed
Peter Andraven's autopsy report into her brief case and headed back to her
car.

***

End of Chapter 7

"Not the Doctor"
by Jennifer Sorowitz


Chapter 8


       I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
       I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart and its wounded
beat
       I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
       What do you thank me
       What do you thank me for


"Where to?" the driver asked as Scully climbed into the cab.

"The Upper West Side," she replied, pulling out a piece of paper and reading
him the street address.

"You got it."

With a weary sigh, Scully settled back in her seat, gazing out the window and
contemplating the events of the past twenty-four hours.

After procuring a copy of the surveillance tape from the Video Production Unit
and her brief encounter with Skinner, she had rushed the tape over to the Lone
Gunmen for analysis, not even bothering to change-- a fact that was much to
Frohike's delight, if the drool that pooled at his feet when he got a good
glimpse of ScullyThigh were any indication. Hell, she had been so relieved to
be done with the entire operation that she had paid him no heed. Frankly, if
the trio could find some evidence on the tape that would help to acquit Mulder
of the murder charges, Frohike's ogling was well worth it.

They had all watched it once through together. The view was of Andraven
sitting at his desk in his office. The tape revealed Mulder entering the room
unannounced. They exchanged words, and it quickly escalated into what appeared
to be a heated conversation. After a few minutes, Andraven apparently asked
Mulder to leave. Mulder said something else-- what could very easily be
interpreted as a threat if his posture and pointing were any indication-- and
then reluctantly left the office. Rather than return to his desk, Andraven
retired to his private bathroom-- where his body was ultimately discovered.
Several minutes later, someone entered the office. There was no direct view of
the person; rather, he remained cloaked in shadow as he headed toward
Andraven's bathroom. When he left a few minutes later, his identity was still
hidden.

The Gunmen did not appear very hopeful, but they told Scully they would give
it their best. And so she had left the boys to their task-- with strict
instructions to call her if anything panned out-- and had returned home. After
a long, hot shower-- her encounter with Agent Tyson had left her feeling
rather unclean-- she made herself some dinner and settled at the dining room
table with Andraven's autopsy report.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the
head at close range. The murder weapon was standard Bureau issue. There were
no signs of a struggle. The toxicology screen likewise provided no useful
information. In sum, nothing stood out to her as a means of clearing her
partner of culpability. And yet, after reading and re-reading the report
several times, it tickled a nerve. Something about it seemed oddly familiar,
though in what regard she could not pinpoint.

It did not take long for her mind to drift to other more pertinent matters--
like where the hell was her partner? What could have caused him to leave town
suddenly without notifying her-- short of the obvious answer the police
proposed?

There was no way that it involved their current case. Mulder had not even
bothered to give it more than a cursory thought, his mind instead preoccupied
with Andraven. No, she was pretty damn positive that Mulder's sudden
disappearance involved Andraven and his desire to see the CEO punished. One
thing she *was* sure of, however, was that Mulder did not kill him. Obsessed
with bringing him down, yes; wanting to see him rot in jail, damn right; but
he was not so far gone so as to operate outside of the law. Of this fact she
was certain.

So, where the hell was he? Better yet, how could she locate him?

*Why not just call him?* The voice had sound suspiciously-- not to mention
frighteningly-- like that of her mother. *Well, Mom always knows best.*
Picking up the phone, she dialed his cell-- and got the same out-of-service
message she had received several times previously that day. Mulder probably
lost or broke it yet again.

A thought occurred then. If Mulder ran off suddenly without her, the odds were
that he was following an impromptu lead. And it was quite likely that he
received that information via a phone call.

Twenty minutes and a few pulled strings later, Scully received a fax listing
all incoming and outgoing calls to Mulder's cell phone, as well as to their
office line. The latter proved quite interesting: at 6:03 PM-- just over
forty-five minutes after she had left and about an hour before they were
supposed to meet at Tufano's-- Mulder had received a call from a 212 area
code. New York, New York. A little digging revealed that the phone call
originated from the United Nations Building-- specifically, the office of the
Special Representative to the Secretary General, i.e. one Marita Covarrubias.

Scully recognized the name. Over a year back, while they were investigating
the case which had led Mulder to Tunguska, he had asked Scully for Marita's
address. Scully had her suspicions that the SRSG was serving as Mulder's
latest informant, but seeing as how she herself had never met her-- as she had
Deep Throat and the man known only as X on more than one occasion-- Scully had
not given this source of information serious thought. Perhaps she had mistaken
the extent of Marita's influence.

Scully had just tracked down Marita's home address yet again when she received
a call from Byers. They had found something on the tape.

A half hour later, Scully was seated in front of a television monitor as the
Gunmen played her a scene from the surveillance tape. The view was of Andraven
sitting at his desk.

"I don't get it. What's so informative about this?" she asked, brow furrowed.
"Andraven's pushing paperwork. How does this exonerate Mulder?"

"The proverbial needle has been located and is sitting in plain sight, for all
the world to see," Byers replied cryptically.

Scully arched an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"See that thing?" Langly asked, pointing to a corner of Andraven's desk.

Scully moved her face closer to the screen for a better look. "It looks like a
thin glass bottle of some kind. It's hard to make it out."

"Zoom in, Frohike," Langly told him.

"You got it, dude." A few taps of the keys and clicks of the mouse, and the
item of interest filled the computer screen.

"Recognize it now?" Langly asked.

"Yes. It's one of the old-fashioned barometers-- the kind where the level of
colored liquid indicates the atmospheric pressure."

"Give the lady a prize, Frohike muttered.

"I still don't understand the significance," Scully said, crossing her arms.

"You see the level of the liquid?" Byers asked. "It indicates that the
barometric pressure was rather low."

"In other words, a storm was brewin'-- in more ways than one," Langly
elaborated.

"And?" Scully's indignant tone indicated that they had better cut to the
chase.

"And a check into the weather records for Virginia on the night of the murder
indicates that the barometric pressure was on the high side-- much higher than
is indicated by the liquid level," Byers explained.

"Simply put, Andraven died on a clear night," Langly added, "whereas this tape
indicates that it was dark and stormy. What we're seeing did not occur the
night he was killed."

"I'll be damned," Scully muttered. "Someone doctored the tape."

"A good effort, for what was surely a rush job," Byers remarked, what sounded
suspiciously like admiration filling his voice. "But you were right, Scully--
Mulder's been set up."

Knowing that the longer he was missing the worse it would be for him, Scully
wasted no time booking a flight to New York, intent on tracking down her
partner.

"Here we are." The voice of the cabdriver brought Scully out of her reverie.
Paying the fare, she exited the taxi and made her way past the doorman and
into the apartment building. During the elevator rise up to the 13th floor,
she closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind and steel her resolve.

With a *bing!* the doors slid open. Scully squared her shoulders and strode
down the hallway toward the further-most apartment. Reaching her destination,
she looked at her watch. 11:21 PM. Late enough for the occupant to be home.
She raised her hand to knock, but hesitated, and let her arm fall back to her
side.

*You can do this,* she thought, giving herself a silent pep talk. Taking a
deep breath, she quickly lifted her fist again and rapped loudly on the door,
fearing that if she were to wait any longer, she might lose her nerve. When
there came no answer, she waited a few moments and knocked again.

This time, she heard movement from inside. "Who is it?" came a muffled reply
from the other side of the door.

Imagining the occupant peering at her through the peep hole, Scully raised her
chin high. "FBI," she replied in the best tough-as-nails tone she could
muster, thankful that her voice remained steady.

There was the sound of a lock being turned, and a moment later the door opened
the few inches the chain would allow. "Can I see some identification, please?"
asked a woman, her face largely obscured by shadows.

Scully pulled out her badge and held it up for the woman to see. "Special
Agent Dana Scully. I believe you know my partner, Fox Mulder."

"Yes," the woman replied, her head moving slightly forward and into the light
of the hallway. Scully studied her face carefully. She was a rather attractive
woman, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, full lips, and ice blue eyes.
Her face was framed by straight light blonde hair that was tucked neatly
behind her ears.

"I'd like to ask you some questions regarding his whereabouts," Scully
resumed.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you," the woman replied. She moved to close the
door-- and with it, Scully realized, quite possibly her one chance of finding
her partner.

"No!" Scully snapped, stopping the door with a firm hand. "His life is in
danger. Please, Marita, I need to find him." Scully looked at her, her face an
image of calm determination-- though her eyes gave her silent plea for help.
"I know you called him last night, Marita. If you know anything, please tell
me."

Marita silently regarded Scully for several long moments. Finally, she nodded.
"All right."

Scully released the breath she had not realized she had been holding, and let
go of the door, permitting Marita to close it so as to unfasten the chain.
Swinging it wide open, Marita stood back, allowing Scully passage into her
apartment.

Walking into the foyer, Scully turned around and watched as Marita locked the
door and sauntered slowly toward her, gliding past Scully and into the living
room, her white silk robe swishing as her hips swayed provocatively. She sat
down on an overstuffed chair and crossed her legs, one long shapely calf
peeking through the shimmering fabric. She gestured toward the couch.

Silently, Scully sat down.

"So, what is this about Fox's life being in danger?" Marita asked, noticing
how Scully stiffened at Marita's use of her partner's first name.

"You've probably heard about the death of Peter Andraven," Scully began.

Marita nodded. She had a good idea who was behind it, too. "The lab CEO who
was murdered the other night?"

"Yes. What you may not know is that Mulder is the chief suspect."

"What?" Marita's eyes widened and she sat forward in her chair. "No, I didn't
know that." This was not part of her plan. One who liked to anticipate
unforeseen complications, she hated to be taken off guard. *Damn that Kronos.
I wanted to split them up, make Mulder vulnerable to outside influence. He's
still too useful to be taken out of the picture entirely. If Kronos's meddling
has cost me my goal--*

"You spoke to him earlier that night, didn't you, Marita?"

Marita did not reply, trying to determine how best to play her hand given this
latest turn of events. Should she maintain the separation between the
partners, as she initially intended, or continue her role as helpful
informant, and hope the damage already done was irreparable?

"I traced an incoming call to our office phone," Scully continued. "It was
your work number."

Damn, the little bitch was resourceful. It would seem that the latter was the
best option. She would continue her role of the secret benefactor-- for now.
And perhaps she could also continue to maintain the distance she had worked so
hard to create. "Fox didn't want you to know. He had contacted me for some
information regarding Andraven, and I was calling to tell him what I had
learned."

"Why didn't he want me to know?"

"Fox said you were reluctant to pursue the case any further after you had been
told to back off. He realized that trying to convince you otherwise would have
been a senseless venture. Time was of the essence if he were to make use of
the information I had discovered, so I arranged for Fox to fly to New York to
pursue the lead immediately."

Scully said nothing, but Marita noticed a peculiar twitching of her cheek.

"Fox came over here to my place, so that I could show him the information in
person. We went over every aspect in painstaking detail. It was a prolonged
process-- it extended much longer than I ever thought possible-- but it was
highly rewarding in the end. Fox is very meticulous and very thorough. It's
always a pleasure working with him. As I'm sure you must know." Sitting back
with a smug smile, Marita uncrossed and then recrossed her legs.

Marita watched as Scully shifted uncomfortably.

"I can't even begin to express how satisfying it is to witness first-hand how
quickly and easily Fox can reach his full potential once he is no longer held
back or stymied. I must say, it is absolutely amazing to see his mind at
work."

Marita leaned forward, her next words spoken in a hushed whisper. "You know,
Dana, sometimes a man just needs a little encouragement rather than criticism.
I'm sure you would be pleasantly surprised by the resulting reaction such
stimulation can cause," she said with a wink and a smile.

 Color suddenly rushed into Scully's cheeks. Just as Marita noticed a flicker
of emotion in her eyes, but Scully quickly turned away, the knuckles of her
clenched fists white. She then closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply,
and finally turned back, her face once again a mask of calm. She offered a
strained smile.

"While I'd love to sit and chat some more, Marita, I need to locate my partner
as soon as possible. The longer he's missing, the harder it will be to deny
the murder charges. I need to find him so that I can help clear his name."

"Of course, of course. You know that I'd do whatever I can to help Fox."

"Well, if you could tell me where he was headed when he left here last night,
that'd be as good a place to start as any."

***


Fifteen minutes later, Marita stood at her living room window, looking down at
the street as Dana Scully climbed into a cab in pursuit of her partner. She
had certainly managed to get under Scully's skin tonight-- the agent was
practically squirming in her seat. For a while there, Marita was not sure if
Scully was going to burst into tears or shoot her in a blind rage.

Marita had decided to play the role of temptress simply to undermine the trust
the partners shared, to cause doubts and make Scully think that there were
significant aspects of her partner's life that she knew nothing about. But
from the stricken look on Dana Scully's face, from the way she abruptly lost
her color and her eyes shone with unshed tears, Marita learned something even
more useful: Dana Scully was in love with her partner. Her reactions were not
those of a co-worker left in the dark, but rather those of a woman who learned
that the object of her affection did not return her love. And that delicious
little bit of knowledge was something that Marita could use to her advantage,
not only to have some fun toying with Scully's emotions by seeing how far she
could take it, but also to help her realize her ultimate goal of splitting the
partners. As the saying went, divide and conquer. And with the partnership
between Mulder and Scully severed, nothing could stop her from infiltrating
the higher levels of the Syndicate and obtaining a chunk of the power.

"You're looking quite happy with yourself," came a man's voice from behind her
as a pair of strong arms snaked around her waist to pull her back against him.

"I should have considered a career in acting," she replied, arching her neck
back. He took immediate advantage of the access she provided, his dark goatee
rasping against the smooth skin of her neck as he nuzzled her. "Mmm," she
moaned. "Poor little Dana will probably be crying in her pillow tonight."

"Care to demonstrate some of that stimulation you told her you were giving her
partner?"

"You were listening?" Marita asked, turning around in his arms.

"Oh yeah," he replied, running his hands down the smooth fabric of her robe
until he was cupping her ass. "Want to see how thorough *I* can be?" he asked,
kissing her.

She ground her hips against his groin, and smiled at the immediate response it
evoked. "What time do you have to be at work?" she asked, running her fingers
down his chest.

He sighed. The work of a major domo was never done. "They gave me the morning
off since they're not meeting until noon, to discuss the repercussions of
Andraven's death on the project. And you know how long their meetings can
last."

Marita grinned mischievously. "Then we've got plenty of time to have some
fun." Taking his hand, she led him back to the bedroom.

***

End of Chapter 8

"Not the Doctor"
by Jennifer Sorowitz


Chapter 9


       I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
       I don't want to be your idol
       See this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights


*How could he do this to me?* Scully wondered, walking to the curb to flag
down yet another taxi cab. *It's bad enough that he never told me that he had
a new informant, but to stand me up and rush to go see her without so much as
a phone call--* She shook her head. *Lord, did he want her so badly that he
couldn't spare a few minutes to pick up his cell-phone?*

She could potentially stomach the fact that he would not tell her where he was
going over the phone so as to assure the security of his newly-acquired lead,
but the fact that he did not covertly clue her in-- hell, that he did not make
up some lame excuse rather than just leave her high and dry-- cut to the
quick. After half-a-dozen years of partnership, after all that they had been
through together, she could not believe that he would willingly treat her with
such disrespect. She deserved better than that.

*Face it, Dana, your partner ditched you yet again for a case that he felt was
more important than you-- and so that he could get some while he was at it.*
Scully had found it increasingly difficult not to wince every time Marita said
his first name, rolling it off of her tongue with the familiarity of an old
friend or long-time lover.

A taxi pulled up to the curb, and Scully climbed in. "Seventh and
twenty-third," she all but barked at the cabbie. Scully crossed her arms
across her chest and gazed out the window, eyes not really seeing the
Manhattan blocks that passed by.

Suddenly, she felt the familiar prick of unshed tears in her eyes. *That's
what hurts the most, isn't it? Not the fact that he decided to follow up on
the Andraven case. Not even the fact that he ditched you. But the fact that
he's sleeping with that blonde bimbo.* She bit her bottom lip. *I thought
there was a chance that we could have something. From the way he was acting,
it seemed like he was completely open to the possibility. Hell, it seemed like
he wanted it, too. How could I have been so wrong about him-- about us?*

Did Mulder really think of her as a hindrance? A frustrating encumbrance? Had
she pushed him away when she should have embraced? Had she kept him at arm's
distance too long, inadvertently pushing him right into the arms of this
seductress?

*Stop it, Dana! Just stop it!* She swiped at her cheeks, anger quickly
replacing sorrow and disappointment. *This is neither the time nor the place.
You've got to put your personal feelings aside. First and foremost, Mulder is
your partner. And right now, both of your careers are depending upon your
finding him and clearing his name of Andraven's murder. That is your first
priority. The rest can wait until after this more immediate concern is
settled.*

With a sigh, Scully leaned her head back and closed her eyes, attempting to
clear her head for the remainder of the drive.

"Holee--!" The surprised voice of the cabbie woke Scully from a light sleep.
Her eyes widened as she gazed out the window at the chaotic tableau before
them.

They had been heading toward a building that had once been owned by Rausch, a
research and development laboratory. Due to financial cutbacks, Rausch had
closed the facilities earlier that year. Several weeks previously, Andraven
Laboratories acquired the building at a bargain price. Marita had reason to
believe that the anthrax project begun by Tim Liles was continuing in the
Rausch building.

Apparently, the local authorities had been alerted to the fact that something
had been going on inside the supposedly vacant laboratories. They suspected
manufacture of illicit substances. Little did they know that the activities
were much more heinous. Regardless of what they expected to find, the NYPD was
getting ready to make a move. And according to Marita, to protect their
research, Andraven's employees were going to salvage what they could of the
research and destroy the rest to assure that the cops did not accidentally
stumble upon evidence of biological weapons. Mulder hoped to get there both
before the police and before the research was removed.

They were still several blocks from the Rausch building, but the red and blue
flashing emergency lights were already visible. Scully quickly unrolled her
window and thrust her head out into the night air to get a better look. Her
nose was immediately assailed by the unmistakable stench of smoke.

"Can you get any closer?" she asked the driver as she pulled her head back
inside.

"Looks like da cops ain't lettin' anybody past da end'a da block. Dis is da
best I can do."

"Guess I'll just have to go the rest of the way on foot," Scully said, opening
the door.

"You want I should wait for you?"

"Don't bother," Scully said, tossing two twenties in his direction.

"Hey, thanks Red! Be careful out dere."

Apprehension gripping her heart, Scully jogged toward the Rausch building. She
counted five patrol cars and over a dozen officers, as well as an ambulance,
firetruck, and assorted paramedics and firefighters. Even at the late hour,
there was quite a crowd gathered behind the police barricades. She pushed her
way toward the front of the civilians to get a better look at the building.
The blaze seemed to be under control, a trio of firefighters carrying a hose
back toward their truck. About twenty feet away a man sat on a gurney while an
EMS worker tended to an injury on his forehead. There appeared to be no other
wounded. She gazed at the cops milling around the area, looking for her
partner, but there was no sign of Mulder. She decided to take a closer look.

Scully ducked under the police barricade and strode determinately into the
heart of the activity. She did not get far before an officer stepped in front
of her. "Excuse me, ma'am, but this is a restricted area. You need to go back
on the other side of--"

"Special Agent Dana Scully, FBI," she stated, pulling out her badge and
thrusting it in his face. "Can you tell me who's in charge here?"

"That'd be Detective Berger, ma'am."

"And where is he?"

The officer turned around, looking out over the crowd. "Not sure, ma'am. Last
I saw ^Ìim--" When he turned back, Scully was already on the move again.

She next encountered a pair of cops arguing as they gestured toward the
building. "Excuse me, can you please tell me who Detective Berger is?"

"Who wants ta know?" the heavy-set officer asked her, his hands moving to his
portly hips.

"Special Agent Scully," she said, showing him her badge.

"This was Berger and Sabella's operation," the second cop explained. "Saw ^Ìem
^Ìbout twenty minutes ago, over by the medics, with some other Fed."

*Mulder's here? What if he's hurt? I have to get to him, help him--* She took
a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. "Was there another agent here? A
man?"

"Word of mouth is that they met up with a Fed inside the building. Must've
come upon some perps, ^Ìcause shots were fired, and the building was set
ablaze."

"Was anyone hurt?" Scully asked, looking past the cops toward the paramedics.

"Berger was getting the once over," the first cop said.

"I thought I heard the Fed took a bullet," the second cop said to the first.

Scully felt her heart in her throat. *Dear God . . . Mulder.* She swallowed,
willing herself not to panic. "Who told you that?"

"Martinez said she saw. . . ."

*I don't have time for this bullshit.* Leaving them to argue about the source
of their information, Scully hastened toward the ambulance. She kept her badge
raised, muttering "FBI" and "Federal Agent, coming through" as she pushed and
shoved her way past various members of the NYPD and over to where the man sat
on the gurney. Aside from the blood on his collar and soot on his face, as
well as the bandage the paramedic was placing on his temple, he appeared
otherwise unhurt.

"Detective Berger?"

The man looked up at her questioningly. "Yeah, that's me. And you are--?"

"Special Agent Dana Scully, FBI," she replied, flashing her badge for the
umpteenth time. "Are you in charge here?"

"You could say that," Berger replied. "You done?" he asked the EMS worker.
When the medic replied in the affirmative, he reached into his shirt pocket
and replaced his small, wire-rimmed glasses. "My partner and I headed this
operation. As you can do doubt tell, it turned out to be a bit bigger than we
anticipated. Expect the unexpected, that's what Sabella always says. Which
probably explains how she got out of there without a scratch on her, whereas
I--"

*Oh, Lord, please just let him be alive.* Scully's patience was wearing
paper-thin. "Was there another federal agent with you?" she asked, cutting him
off. "A man, just over six feet with dark brown hair?"

"Yeah, an Agent Mulder. We were staking out the building last night when we
caught him trying to sneak in. Once we all swapped stories, we decided to work
together on the case. He tagged along with us tonight when we went to do a
sneak and peak. Good guy. Competent, too. Saved Sabella's life, pushing her
out of the line of fire. Shame he had to take a bullet in the process."

*Please let him be alive so that I can wring his neck.* "Mulder was shot?
Where? How badly? Where is he?"

"I'm not sure of all the particulars. I got separated from Sabella and him
during the firefight. She went with him to the hospital. So, you know this
guy?"

"He's my partner. What hospital was he taken to?"

"St. Vincent's, I believe. Partner, you say? Then why the hell weren't you
here, covering his ass?"

Scully opened her mouth to reply, but found she had no answer. Berger was
right. She should have been here with Mulder, watching his back. She may have
been able to prevent his having been injured. Or if not, she should at least
be the one to be with him, to comfort and reassure him, rather than some
stranger. Being a doctor, she would have been able to offer him first aid,
which is often critical in determining a victim's fate. If anything were to
happen to him, she would never forgive herself.

"Agent Scully?" She started when Berger placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Look, I didn't mean to accuse you like that. I'm a fine one to talk,
considering your partner was the one who saved my partner's life. Listen, I
know you must be worried-- a partner becomes like family. I've gotta stick
around here to oversee the clean up, but I can have one of my men give you a
ride to the hospital."

"Th-thank you, Detective. I'd appreciate that."

"Martinez!" he called to an officer standing a few feet away. "Get your ass
over here!"

Martinez hotfooted it over to them. "What's up, Detective?"

"This is Agent Scully. She's with the Bureau. Her partner was the guy who got
shot. Give her a ride over to St. Vincent's. Go on, now, hustle!"

"Sure thing, Detective. This way, ma'am."

"Thanks again, Detective," Scully told him before hurrying to catch up with
Martinez.

***

End of Chapter 9

"Not the Doctor"
by Jennifer Sorowitz

Chapter 10


         I don't want to be lived through
       A vicarious occasion
       Please open the window


Office Martinez made good use of her siren, which cut the trip down to about
seven minutes. For Scully, they were perhaps the longest seven minutes of her
life. During the ride, images flashed before her mind's eye of the other times
Mulder had been injured.

She remembered the Boggs case from their first year together, when Lucas Henry
shot Mulder in the leg. The look of shock and confusion on his face as he went
down, which quickly turned to pain. Her high-pitched cries of "Officer down!"
and her anxious calls for help as she covered him with her jacket to keep him
warm. The panic and dread when she realized the bullet had hit his femoral
artery, and it would only take a few minutes for him to bleed to death. How
she tried to keep her voice confident and reassuring as she felt his lifeblood
seep through her fingers as she desperately tried to slow the flow. Watching
helplessly from the sidelines as the ER doctors worked on him.

Then there was Alaska. How she burst into that ER, and saw her half-dead
partner in the hot water bath, and realized that the heat would cause the
retro-virus he had been infected with to kill him. How they no sooner got him
out of the bath and he flatlined. She may have sounded confident as she barked
orders and brought him back with the defibrillator, but the truth was she had
never been so frightened in all her life. Nor had she ever been so relieved as
when his heart started beating again. Over the next several days, she had kept
a silent vigil at his bedside, not leaving his side for hours at a time. She
could still remember the morning he woke. She had been clutching his arm,
silently praying that he would wake soon, when she felt the slightest
movement. His eyes opened, and she graced him with the brightest smile she
could muster.

The other time he had been shot was at her own hand. At the time, it seemed
the only way to keep him from killing Krycek and clearing him of the murder
charges for his father's death. She treated him as best she could under the
circumstances, keeping him doped up while the hallucinogen left his system,
cleaning and dressing the wound while she drove him cross-country. Luckily,
once she explained her reasoning, Mulder did not hold a grudge. Although he
did still like to remind her about it from time to time-- usually when he
wanted to shame her into doing something for him. What she wouldn't give to
have him tease her right now.

*Please, Lord, just let him be all right. He can marry Marita for all I care.
Just let him be okay.*

Martinez had barely brought the car to a stop outside of the ER when Scully
threw open the door and ran into the hospital. Cutting in front of several
people, she approached the triad nurse. "I'm looking for Special Agent Fox
Mulder. He was brought in here a short while ago with a gunshot wound."

"Excuse me, ma'am, but you'll have to wait your turn. I'm in the middle--"

"Unless you want me to haul your ass to jail, you'll tell me where the hell he
is," she growled.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked a security guard, approaching them.

"I'm a Federal Agent," Scully said, showing him her badge. "I'm looking for my
partner."

"The information line is right over there, ma'am," the guard replied. He took
her arm and pointed across the room. "Why don't you--"

"Fuck you!" Scully muttered, pulling out of his grasp and heading toward the
examination area. She was ready to search the room for Mulder one gurney at a
time.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked a middle-aged man in a lab coat as he
approached her.

"Was a federal agent admitted this evening with a gunshot wound?" she
countered.

"As a matter of fact, yes. And you are?"

"His partner."

"Can I see some form of identification, please?"

"Oh, for Chrissakes . . . !" Scully muttered, pulling out her badge. "Is he
all right?"

"That I couldn't tell you. I wasn't the one to treat him."

"Then who did? Who knows where he is?" She felt the panic threatening to take
control. "Goddammit, where the hell is he?"

"If you'll calm down a minute, ma'am, I'll try to find out for you. Why don't
you go sit down in the waiting area and--"

Was she speaking a foreign language? What was so difficult to understand about
what she wanted to know? "I'm only going to ask one more time before I start
taking names: ^ÌWHERE-- IS-- HE?'!"

"What's going on, Mike?" asked a thirty-something woman in scrubs.

"Who worked on the gunshot wound that came in about a half hour ago, Eleanor?"

"I did."

"How is he?" Scully asked.

"Are you his wife?"

"Partner. Can you please tell me his status?"

"He was hit in the shoulder. It entered and exited cleanly, missed the scapula
completely. He suffered a bit of blood loss, but otherwise he's fine. He just
won't be throwing any fastballs for a while."

"Oh, thank God!" Scully sighed, her eyes sliding shut in relief as she clasped
her hands over her mouth. She took a moment to offer a silent prayer of thanks
before returning her attention to the female doctor. "Where is he? I'd like to
see him."

"He's resting in Room 3. Here, I'll show you the way," she said, leading
Scully across the room. "Just so you know, we gave him some painkillers, so he
might not be completely coherent. The detective who came in the ambulance is
with him now. Here we are," she said as they came to a small room on the side
of the main examination area.

"Thank you," Scully said. She reached for the curtain, but stopped in
mid-motion when she realized that her hand was shaking. Why was she nervous,
she wondered. Strange how she had been desperately searching for him for the
past twenty-four hours, and now that she knew exactly where he was, she
hesitated before going to see him.

*Get a grip, Dana. Don't fall apart now. You've got to give him hell for
ditching you, remember? That's it-- deep breath. In and out. In and out. Okay,
here goes nothing.*

Squaring her shoulders, Scully pushed the curtain aside and walked into the
room. But nothing she could have done could have prepared her for the sight
that greeted her eyes.



       I don't want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon
       I don't want to be your other half I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
       I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face
at midnight
       Hey what are you hungry for


Mulder sat on a gurney, his back propped up with some pillows. Aside from the
bandage on his right shoulder and the sling he wore, he seemed none the worse
for wear-- and in good spirits, especially given the fact that he was grinning
broadly at the buxom raven-haired woman who was perched on the side of the
gurney. She sat not two feet in front of him, with her hand on Mulder's thigh.
She whispered something, and they both laughed.

They evidently had not heard Scully enter the room. Scully was immediately
reminded of the Gibson Praise case, when she had walked into the psychiatric
facility and found Mulder and Diana Fowley standing together, hands clasped,
heads bowed closely, as they spoke in soft, intimate tones. Like then, she
felt as though she had been kicked in the gut. She had a similar impulse to
flee, to turn right around and walk back out of the room. But she fought it
with all the willpower she could muster. She had worked too hard, she had gone
to such great lengths to find him. She was not going to turn back or walk away
now.

Scully cleared her throat loudly. That seemed to do the trick, because Mulder
glanced up in her direction. He did a double take, as though unwilling to
believe his eyes. "Scully? What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you, too, Mulder," she replied coolly, walking towards him. "Glad to
know you're so happy to see me."

She stopped a few feet in front of the gurney and looked the other woman right
in the eyes. This woman was supposedly in a shoot out and fire? Not a hair was
out of place, her make-up was perfect, she looked fresh and well-rested.
Scully, on the other hand, was hot and sweaty. She had not slept in over
thirty-six hours, and was sure that she had dark circles under bloodshot eyes.
Well, too late to do anything about that.

"Dana Scully," she said, offering her hand. "You must be Detective Sabella."

"Toni," she replied, using her well-manicured hand to shake with a firm grip.
"So, you're Fox's partner?"

Scully stiffened. "Yes," she replied with a forced smile.

"He played quite the hero tonight-- took a bullet and saved my life."

"So I've heard. How are you feeling, Mulder?" Scully asked him.

"Like I was shot in the shoulder. Guess now I'll have a matching scar to go
with the one you gave me, huh, Scully?"

Sabella looked from Mulder to Scully and back to Mulder, eyes widened in
surprise. "She shot you?"

Scully felt her cheeks grow warm.

"Well, she's also a doctor, so she made up for it by patching me up
afterwards."

"Mmm hmm," Sabella said, folding her arms. "You probably deserved it."

"It's, ah, a long story," he mumbled. He noticed the cold look Scully was
giving him, and  realized that he had better change the subject if he valued
his livelihood. "So, Scully, how'd you find me?"

Steee-rike two!

"Well, you sure as hell didn't make it easy for me, Mulder. Ditching me yet
again and flying off to New York without so much as a ^ÌSee ya later'. No phone
call, no message, no nothing."

"I was working against the clock--"

"Don't bother, Mulder. Marita explained about giving you the information on
the research going on in the abandoned Rausch building."

Mulder looked taken aback. "You spoke to Marita?"

"I stopped by her place before heading over to the Rausch building."

"How did you know to see her?"

"I checked the phone records to your cell and our office phone. Hers was the
last incoming call you received last night. Not hard to figure out what the
phone call must have been about."

Sabella whistled. "Jesus, Fox, if she's that good an investigator, you should
have clued her in. You ever get tired of the Bureau, Scully, my unit'd love to
have you aboard."

Scully gave Mulder her best "I-told-you-so" look as she crossed her arms. "Why
the hell didn't you tell me where you were going, Mulder? Bad enough you stood
me up that night, but I'm your goddamned partner. The Andraven investigation
was *our* case. I had just as much right to be let in on this information as
you."

Mulder glanced over at Sabella. "Toni, would you excuse us, please?"

"Sure, no problem. I should go check in with Doug anyway. Thanks for
everything, Fox. Take it easy," she said, giving his good hand a squeeze and
bending to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "Nice to meet you, Scully."

Mulder watched her leave, his gaze lingering several long moments.

Noticing how easily he became distracted, Scully felt her anger rise. "Well,
Mulder?" she asked impatiently, arms crossed across her chest.

He finally turned his attention back to his partner. "Scully, they were
getting ready to abandon the lab and destroy evidence."

"A phone call takes less than a minute, Mulder."

"But I couldn't call you, Scully. I'm pretty sure that Andraven has had us
under surveillance ever since the hearing. Since we've been breathing down his
back, I think he's been keeping a close watch on us so that he could be
alerted if we decided to make a move against him. So, not only was time of the
essence, but I also didn't want to alert Andraven that I knew about the Rausch
facilities."

"I don't think there's much Andraven could have done about it anyway, Mulder."

"Don't underestimate his influence, Scully. He--"

"He's dead, Mulder."

He stared at her, nonplused. "What?"

"He was murdered last night."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Oh, if you think that's good, it gets better. *You're* the prime suspect."

"Me? You're kidding, right?"

"Do I look like I'm in a joking mood? This afternoon, Skinner called me into
his office. The police wanted to question me, but he did a pretty good job of
that on his own. They think I might be an accessory. I was advised to notify
them immediately if I heard from you. If I didn't cooperate fully, not only
would it be my badge, but criminal charges as well."

"But you came looking for me anyway?"

"What did you expect me to do, Mulder? After all these years, I at least still
feel fidelity toward our partnership, our friendship." *Do you still feel the
same?* she wondered, unable to give voice to her fears.

Mulder did not seem to pick up on her unasked question. "What kind of evidence
do they have?"

"Your gun as the murder weapon, for starters."

"I had a little run-in with a perp on the way to the airport. I didn't have
time report my weapon as lost. I decided to make due with the gun in my ankle
holster."

"Would you care to elaborate on this little run-in?"

"I'd rather not go into it," he muttered, obviously wanting to side-step the
topic. "What else do they have as evidence?"

"A security tape of Andraven's office, showing you and him engaged in a heated
argument the night he died."

"That's bullshit, Scully. I wasn't there last night. I haven't gone near the
bastard in well over a week."

"I know, Mulder. I had the Gunmen check out the tape. It was doctored."

"They let you bring the Gunmen a copy of the tape when you're accused of being
an accessory to murder?"

"Well, they didn't exactly *let* me," she replied sheepishly.

His eyes widened as the corners of his mouth raised in a smirk. "Why, Scully,
do you mean to tell me that you commandeered the tape?"

"Just a copy of it. And if Skinner ever finds out, it'll be my ass. So, where
the hell were you between eight and ten last night?"

"Eight and ten," he repeated, looking up at the ceiling as he searched his
memory. "Well, after my plane got in about 7:30, I took a cab over to Marita's
apartment. I stayed about an hour so that she could show me some blueprints of
the Rausch building. I decided to go check out the building for myself. That's
when I ran into Sabella and her partner, Berger. They knew something was up
inside, but they thought it had to do with drugs. I told them what I
suspected. We decided to work together, and we staked out the place. Tonight
was our deadline, so we decided to go in and have a little look-see for
ourselves."

"Did you find anything?"

"Toni and I split from Doug, and we managed to get into the lab. But someone
was waiting for us. He shot at us, pinned us down in the corner. Then he set
the room on fire. We were able to get out of the room, and I pocketed some
vials on the way out for evidence. But when Toni opened the doorway to the
stairwell, I caught sight of a shadow moving. I pushed her out of the way, but
before I could get clear, I got hit in the shoulder. Unfortunately, I fell on
the vials, and they were smashed."

"We can still check your pocket for trace evidence--"

"Good luck finding it. They cut it off of me in the ambulance. That was my
favorite jacket, too. I paid a pretty penny for that suit."

Scully rolled her eyes. "So, in other words, you've got nothing to show for
this little escapade."

"Well, a gunshot wound and accusation of murder is a pretty decent
accomplishment, wouldn't you say?"

"Is this all some big game to you, Mulder? A joke? Because I, for one, am not
laughing. You've got enough on your plate right now to get us both suspended--
or worse. If you want to get yourself fired, or jailed for murder, that's your
business. But I'll be damned if you're going to drag me along with you. My
career is important to me, Mulder. It's been an uphill battle for me-- first,
as a woman in a male-dominated profession, and then being assigned to the
X-Files, trying to legitimize work that almost no one treats seriously."

"Are you saying that you don't consider what we do real work? If that's the
case, then why the hell have you stayed on these past six years?"

"Of course it's real work. You know that, I know that, even Skinner knows
that. But precious few others do. Which means that when we screw up, it looks
that much worse."

"Since when do you care what other people think of you, Scully? It's never
bothered you before. Or are you getting tired of being Mrs. Spooky?"

"Stop twisting everything around, Mulder. As much as we like to tell ourselves
otherwise, it does matter what other people think. Our superiors have to
believe that what we're doing is important, that we're making a vital
contribution to the Bureau. Because if they don't, then the X-Files are
history. And without the X-Files, without the acknowledgment that we are
working on legitimate cases, what the hell do we have to show for the past six
years? I want-- I *need*-- for it to mean something, Mulder. I've worked too
hard, I've sacrificed too much, to flush it all down the toilet on account of
your wanting a quickie with that vacuous blonde floosy and then deciding to
hook up with Detective Seductive when the opportunity presents itself."

He stared at her incredulously. Where the hell had that come from? One moment,
she was raising hell that he was ruining her career, and the next she was
accusing him of being more concerned with getting some than with the case? Did
those words really come out of Dana Scully's mouth?

Never in all the years they had worked together had she ever voiced an
objection to his involvement with another woman. And he could count such
encounters on the fingers of one hand: Scully had been wary of Phoebe-- but
that uneasiness proved quite justified. She had not particularly cared for
Detective White, but then neither of them were really acting rational during
the case in Comity. And while she had seemed a little bothered by his interest
in Dr. Bambi, she never really said anything explicitly-- especially given the
fact that nothing had come of it. There was nothing with Diana Fowley to begin
with, but even so Scully had behaved with the utmost professional courtesy.

So why was she now accusing him of going to New York under false pretenses?
Sure he had flirted a bit with Toni. So what? She was an attractive woman, and
she had been warm and friendly toward him from the start. Any red-blooded
heterosexual male would have been warm and friendly right back. Where was the
harm in that? Maybe subconsciously the part of him that always enjoyed
flirting with her was even trying to make up for the fact that Scully could
not be here with him.

Still, that did not explain where the bloody hell Scully had gotten the idea
that he was interested in Marita. That was just plain crazy. And he intended
to tell her just that.

"Scully, there's nothing going on between Marita and me."

She *harumphed*. "Mulder, I have eyes. I'm not that dense."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're the Oxford-educated psychologist-- you figure it out. I'd just be
careful if I were you. Because I wouldn't trust her anymore than I would
Krycek."

"What are you talking about?"

"You give her the opportunity, she'll stab you in the back, Mulder."

"On what do you base that conclusion?"

"It just seems a little too convenient to me that she happened to contact you
with information about Andraven on the same night that he was murdered. I
think she was deliberately trying to get you out of town by sending you on
this wild goose chase. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she were in on the
whole thing. She probably set you up."

"That's crazy, Scully."

"Is it? Then how is it that you contacted her weeks ago, and she only got back
to you last night?"

"She had been out of town. And she only recently came by the information."

"Andraven bought the Rausch building months ago. The cops have been
investigating it for weeks. This is old news."

"Jesus, Scully, you're being more paranoid than me."

"Well, at least I'm able to see the forest for the trees. Marita's got the bed
sheets pulled up way over your eyes."

"What the hell are you implying, Scully?"

"It's dangerous to mix business with pleasure, Mulder. You're likely to get
careless. And that can leave you dead."

A sudden intake of breath as realization dawned. "You're jealous."

"What? Of course not. Don't be ridiculous."

"Yeah, you are. You're jealous of Marita. You think I'm sleeping with her,
don't you? What, you're afraid she's screwing me for information? Or is that
the other way around?"

"You never put out for Deep Throat or X. Why start now?"

"They weren't my type," he quipped. "For Christ's sake, Scully, what's gotten
into you?"

"Oh, I don't know. My partner's accused of murder, and I'm accused of being an
accessory. I've got the cops and Skinner breathing down my back. I was ditched
yet again, and left to take all of the heat. Meanwhile, you're off cavorting
with an informant I know absolutely nothing about. You never hid the existence
of Deep Throat or X from me. I met them both myself. Why the hell didn't you
tell me about her, Mulder? Afraid I'd put two and two together?"

"Scully, I have no idea what put this insane notion in your head, but I'm not
sleeping with Marita." Enough was enough. He did not like having to explain
himself, and he sure as hell did not like being put on the defensive. "And
even if I were, it's none of your goddamned business. What I do on my own time
is none of your concern."

"It sure as hell is when it affects my career and my life. Do you even realize
how serious this accusation is, Mulder-- for both of us? For God's sake, we
could lose everything. Or do you not even give a--"

The shrill ringing of her cell-phone cut her off mid-sentence. Her momentum
gone, and her train of thought interrupted, Scully reached into her pocket for
her phone. "Scully," she snapped, her tone irate.

"Agent Scully, this is Assistant Director Skinner. I realize the hour is late,
but there was no answer at your apartment."

"I'm out of town, sir."

"Working on a case?"

She hesitated for the briefest of moments. "Uhm, yeah." She sighed. "What can
I do for you?"

"A package was just delivered to my home. It contained a video tape. It seems
to be a copy of the security tape from Peter Andraven's office the night he
died. There is also a print out of the weather report from that night, along
with a blown-up image of some sort of glass bottle."

"A barometer, sir."

"Excuse me?"

"The bottle-- it's a barometer. And the low pressure it indicates does not
match the weather conditions on the night Andraven died."

"So you're saying the tape is not accurate?"

"That is correct, sir. I believe it to have been doctored."

"You realize I should be questioning you as to how you know so much about
this, don't you? But I don't think I even want to know how it is that you're
aware of this, Agent Scully."

"No, probably not."

"Where are you, Scully?"

"In New York City."

"I don't suppose you've heard from Agent Mulder?"

"As a matter of fact, I've managed to locate him."

"What? Where is he?"

"Sitting right here next to me in St. Vincent's hospital."

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, sir. Physically, anyway. Agent Mulder sustained a gunshot wound to
the shoulder, but otherwise he's alive and well."

"And just how did you happen to find him?"

"It was the funniest thing. I was in a taxi, when the street we were driving
on was blocked off by the police. I got out to see what was happening, and
learned that a federal agent had been injured during a shoot out in a building
that had been set on fire."

"In other words, it had ^ÌMulder' written all over it."

She had to suppress a smile at that. "In a matter of speaking, yes."

"Does he know about Andraven?"

"Yes, I've filled him in. It turns out he has an alibi. Some NYPD detectives
can vouch for him."

"That's good news. All the same, he should get back to DC ASAP, speak to the
local cops and make a statement. The sooner we can clear up his involvement,
the better."

"We can catch a red-eye, and be back in the next few hours."

"You sound exhausted, Scully. Why don't you get some sleep first. You can take
a later flight, and speak to the police tomorrow morning."

"I'd just assume get back today, sir, and get this taken care of immediately.
The sooner this whole ordeal is over with the better."

"All right. Why don't you give me a call when you know what time your flight
will be arriving. I'll call the captain, explain the situation to him, and
arrange for some officers to stop by Mulder's apartment to take a statement."

"Thank you, sir. I'll speak to you later." She disconnected and returned the
phone to her coat pocket.

"That Skinner?"

She nodded.

"Scully, I--"

"Not now, Mulder. I don't want to talk about this anymore right now. I'm going
to see about getting you released. Then we're going to fly back to DC and get
this all straightened out with the cops so that I can wash my hands of this
whole sordid mess." That said, she walked out of the room to find a nurse and
get his release papers processed.

***

End of Chapter 10

-----== Posted via Deja News, The Leader in Internet Discussion ==-----
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From jis@admin.con2.com Tue Aug 18 23:38:00 1998
Date: Sun, 02 Aug 1998 03:04:22 GMT
From: jis@admin.con2.com
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Not the Doctor 11/11

Not the Doctor 11/11
by Jennifer Sorowitz
jis3@yahoo.com

Category: MSR, A
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: Through Season Five
Summary: A man from Scully's past returns, asking for her and Mulder's help to
stop the development of a deadly biological weapon. But will the case bring
Mulder and Scully closer together, or tear them apart?

Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other characters
associated with the series are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and the Fox Network. Characters are used without permission and
no profit is being made. The song "Not the Doctor" is by Alanis Morissette.

All comments and criticisms are welcomed at jis3@yahoo.com. Please tell me
what you think. Thanks for reading!


"Not the Doctor"
by Jennifer Sorowitz


Chapter 11


         I don't want to be your babysitter
       You're a very big boy now
       I don't want to be your mother
       I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
       Show me the back door


"Well, I'd say that about does it," said Detective Williams of the Virginia PD
as he closed his notebook and stuffed it into the pocket of his blazer.

*About bloody time,* Scully thought, closing her eyes and craning her neck
backwards to get the kinks out. She could not remember the last time she had
felt so tired. *That tends to happen when you don't sleep for nearly
forty-eight hours, Dana.*

She and Mulder had taken the first available flight back to DC. Since she had
left her car at the airport, she took pity on Mulder and drove him back to his
apartment. The exhaustion from his injury had apparently finally caught up
with him, because he dozed the entire trip home. It was just as well as far as
Scully was concerned, because she really did not want to talk to him right
now.

She pulled up in front of his apartment and shut off the engine. She was
prepared to drop him off and go home for a much-needed bath before going to
sleep for the next week. That is, before she stole a glance at her partner.

Mulder slept with his chin tucked into his chest, his head lifting
ever-so-slightly with each breath. She gazed at him, amazed at the way he
looked like an innocent boy when he slept. An image swept across her mind's
eye of a night spent in a forest in the Florida Everglades. Her back propped
against a log, Mulder curled up like a small child in her lap, her arms
wrapped securely around him in an attempt to keep him warm. His sleepy plea
for her to sing him a lullaby. Seeing him now, one again hurt and tired, she
had a similar urge to take him into her arms, to hold him close and protect
him from harm. She slowly reached for his forehead, intent on brushing a stray
lock of hair that had fallen onto his brow.

*What the hell are you thinking, Dana?* she chided herself, her hand quickly
falling to her side. *If you coddle him now, he's going to get away with it
again. How many times has he taken advantage of your kindness, of your
forgiveness? He constantly ditches you, conveniently forgets that you might
actually be worried about what the hell he's doing, and only bothers to
remember when it's convenient for him, when he wants something. He doesn't
treat you as a partner, but as a nursemaid, as damage control. He doesn't give
you the respect you deserve. And if you don't finally say or do something
about it, the pattern is just going to repeat again and again and again. I'd
say it's about fucking time that you put an end to it. Here and now. Tonight.*

She reached for him again, this time grasping his arm and shaking him
none-too-gently. "Mulder, wake up. You're home."

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open and his head lifting. "Wha-- What'd you
say, Scully?"

"I said you're home, Mulder. C'mon, I'll walk you up." She got out of the car
and walked over to the passenger side. Seeing him fumble with the handle with
his left hand, she jerked the door open for him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, climbing out of the car and closing the door behind him.
He started to walk towards the front door, but his legs grew wobbly, and he
felt himself falter.

"Easy does it," he heard her say as she slipped under his left arm. He
accepted her help with no protest, and leaned heavily on her shoulder as they
made their way into the building and to the elevator. As they slowly walked
down the corridor toward his apartment, they saw two men in suits and ties and
dark trenchcoats waiting for them. They introduced themselves as Detectives
Williams and Alvarez of the Virginia PD, there to take Mulder's statement
about his involvement-- or lack thereof-- in the Andraven murder case.

After depositing Mulder on his living room couch, Scully put up a pot of
coffee and then retreated to the bathroom to wash up. After placing a
tray-full of steaming mugs onto the coffee table, she sat down at Mulder's
desk and listened to the detectives conduct their interview.

They explained that Skinner had contacted their captain to inform him that
Mulder had been located, and that new evidence had surfaced which would prove
his innocence. The Assistant Director had explained about the video tape. Both
the Bureau's Video Production Unit and the VAPD's equivalent were verifying
the reliability of the barometer as evidence. Williams and Alvarez had already
contacted NYPD Detectives Toni Sabella and Doug Berger, who vouched for Mulder
being in their company during the time the murder was committed. They
questioned Mulder a bit about the last time he had seen Andraven, as well as
his involvement in the shooting and building fire in New York. Finally, over
an hour after they arrived, they took their leave.

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience, Agent Scully," Detective Williams told her,
actually managing to sound repentant. "We were just doing our jobs, is all. No
hard feelings?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Scully shook it. "Thank you for taking care of this so quickly, Detective."

"Yeah, well, I think your boss is even more of a tight ass than my captain.
Anyways, you and your partner get some rest. You both look like you could
sleep for a week." With a final nod, he left.

Scully closed the door with a weary sigh. She looked at her watch: 10:13 AM.
God, it wasn't even noon yet. She returned to the living room, intent on
offering a hasty good-bye before heading home. She found Mulder trying to
gather the mugs onto the tray.

"I'll take care of it, Mulder," she muttered, grabbing them from him and
depositing them in the kitchen sink with a bang. "You should get some rest,
Mulder," she told him as she returned. "Do you have any pain medication you
can take?"

"I'm sure I have something left over somewhere," he mumbled as he kicked off
his shoes and lay back with a grimace on the couch.

"All right, then. I'm outta here," she said, walking to the desk to collect
her things.

"What, no sponge bath before you go?" he asked, giving her his patented
puppy-dog pout.

This time, it did not have its usual effect. No flip-flop of her heart. No
sudden rush of desire. Not even the impulse to baby him. Instead, she had the
sudden urge to dump a bucket-full of cold water on him. Somehow, though, she
doubted even that rude awakening would have the desired effect. "Why don't you
give Toni a call? Hey, I bet Marita could charter them a private jet, and you
could get a threesome going."

His eyes shot open and he turned his head to look at her, brow furrowed.
"Scully, what the hell is up with you lately? You've been acting strange ever
since--"

"What's up with *me*? With *me*? I can't believe you have the audacity to ask
me such a question!"

"Scully, you're not still hung up about my trip to New York, are you?"

Was he for real? How could he not realize how upset she was? Did he merely
view her as some unfeeling object? Someone to answer to his beck and call, to
come bail him out of trouble whenever the need arose, and never protest? Well,
it was time for him to get his head out of his ass, and realize that she was
more than his mindless minion.

"God, you just don't get it, do you, Mulder? Do you know how worried I've
been? I hate not knowing, wondering where the hell you are, if you're alive,
if you're lying somewhere, bleeding to death. Do you realize what I've been
through in the past two days? Forget the fact that I sat in that goddammed
restaurant for over two hours waiting for you to show up. That's a walk in the
park compared to what came next. I have disobeyed a direct order from my
superior. I have lied and stolen. I have humiliated myself. I have put
everything on the line. And for what? For a so-called partner and friend who
couldn't even be bothered to hit the speed dial on his cell-phone. 		"Do you
know how upset I was when I got to the Rausch building and heard that you'd
been shot? Do you realize that I spent the entire drive to the hospital with
my heart in my throat, wondering if you were alive or dead? When they told me
it was little more than a flesh wound, all I could think about was getting to
you, to see with my own eyes that you were okay. And then I walked into the
room, and saw you laughing and joking with Detective Sabella. I'd been going
out of my head with worry, and you were trying to score."

"Scully, it wasn't like that at all. I don't know where this sudden jealous
streak has come from, but there's nothing between Toni and me."

"That's not the point, Mulder. I don't give a damn who you fuck. The point is
that while you were amusing the good detective, it never occurred to you that
I might be wondering where the hell you were. The point is that you had no
compunctions about working with this stranger, of going into a fire zone with
her to cover your back, while you couldn't be bothered to let me back you up.
Did it even occur to you to pick up a phone?"

"Scully, we didn't have time to wait for you to get to New York. They were
about to torch the place--"

"Please, stop! Stop with the goddamned excuses! I don't want to hear it
anymore!"

"Fine!" he shouted back. "Because I really don't think I owe you any kind of
explanation anyway."

"Bullshit! You owe me that, and then some!"

"Why? You're not my goddamned keeper, Scully."

"Well, maybe if you behaved like a rational adult, you wouldn't need one."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That means that maybe if you acted maturely, and didn't constantly run off
half-cocked, I wouldn't feel the need to play protector."

"What the hell do you want from me, Scully? What do you want me to say? What
is it you want to hear from me?"

She was positively livid now. How could any thinking, breathing, feeling human
being be so dense, so clueless? Mulder usually considered himself intuitive,
but right now he might as well have his head buried in the sand.

"How about ^ÌI'm sorry, Scully'? That'd be a great start. ^ÌI'm sorry for
treating you like shit.' ^ÌI'm sorry for not giving you the respect you deserve
as my partner and friend.' Is any of this registering in that thick skull of
yours, Mulder? Here, let me spell it out for you: I am sick and tired of being
forgotten about, ignored, and taken for granted. This may be a newsflash to
you, but I do not like being ditched. I do not like being left out of the
loop. I don't like playing damage control, chasing you all around the country
to wipe your nose and bandage your wounds. And I sure as hell do not like
having to take the heat when you screw up."

"Scully, I've never asked you to--"

At this point, she was seeing red. It took all her restraint not to pull out
her gun and shoot him where he lay, or to pummel him with her bare hands.
Instead, she blindly reached for the nearest heavy object-- which happened to
be a snowglobe sitting on his desk-- and pitched it at his head with a
vehement shout. Luckily, her aim was a little off, and it smashed against the
wall behind the couch, pieces of plastic and fake snow and stale water raining
down on the cushions.

"No, Mulder, you've never asked me to play nursemaid, but you've expected it.
You've assumed that if you get into trouble, good little Scully will come to
bail you out. You decide to follow a lead on your own and things go sour,
Scully will come to your rescue, no questions asked. You get information from
a supposed-informant but don't bother to tell your partner where it came
from-- no big deal, Scully won't care. And for six years, I haven't said boo
to you. I've gone along with your selfish, foolish actions, giving you my
loyalty. But you know what, Mulder, enough's enough. A partnership is supposed
to cut both ways, but right now it feels a little one-sided. And I'm sick and
tired of it. I've had it up to here--" she raised her hand a foot above her
head-- "with your impulsive behavior."

Pausing to take a breath, Scully noticed that Mulder had been looking for the
longest time at wet blotch on his wall where the globe impacted. His mind
seemed a million miles away. He was, in fact, remembering how they had
traveled to the Norwegian Sea during their second year together to investigate
a ship whose crew had mysteriously aged at an accelerated rate. He and Scully
had similarly fallen victim to rapid aging. After they ran out of water,
Scully had managed to collect a small jar of liquid-- consisting of sardine
juice, half-a-dozen lemons, and the water from the snow globe. Both of them
had insisted that the other drink it, willing to forsake the precious liquid
so that the other could survive.

While he was still recovering in the hospital, Scully had picked up a cheap
plastic snowglobe of the Washington Monument in the gift shop and had given it
to him to cheer him up. Upon returning home, Mulder had placed the snowglobe
on his desk in the living room. And it had remained there ever since, a
constant reminder of his partner's devotion to him.

Only now it was gone, smashed by Scully's own hand.

Meanwhile, Scully's blood was boiling. Did he find that wet spot more
interesting than what she had to say? That pushed her over the edge. "For
God's sake, Mulder, did you just hear a word I said?"

He turned back to face her, a stricken look on his face. He face had drained
of what remained of its color. And his eyes shone with the unmistakable glint
of unshed tears.

Scully supposed she had been wrong: he must heard her rant about the pain his
treatment had caused her these past several years. And judging by his
reaction, he was still capable of feeling pain himself. She felt a vindictive
pleasure in knowing that she had caused that pain-- that he might finally feel
a fraction on the hurt that he had caused her over the years.

*Good,* she thought. *He made his bed-- let him lie in it for a while. Let him
mull over what I said, and see if it makes any difference in his thinking.*

"I hope you give what I said some thought, Mulder," she said, picking up her
coat. "Because I refuse to put up with this anymore. Unless you decide to make
a conscious effort to change your behavior, to give me the respect that I
deserve, then I really don't know what the future holds for us."

She felt a lump in the back of her throat and and the familiar prick of tears
in her own eyes. How had things managed to deteriorate so quickly? Was it just
over a week ago that they were working together like a well-oiled machine,
each utilizing their skills and expertise to solve their case in record time?
That they spoke with playful banter and interacted with casual flirting--
flirting which she even reciprocated much more than usual? That she considered
telling him how she felt about him? A week ago, she had been hopeful that they
might take their relationship to the next level, but right now she was fearful
that their partnership might end today.

And if that was what he decided, she had no one to blame but herself for
initiating this course of action. So be it.

She wanted to say more, but knew that if she tried to speak, her words would
be swallowed by tears. And that just would not fit with the determined image
she was trying to portray. So rather than say anything, she quickly took her
leave, walking out of his apartment and slamming the door behind her.

She quickly headed toward the elevator, secretly hoping that he would chase
after her. That she would hear him call her name. That he would tell her how
sorry he was for the way he treated her and that he would never ever take her
for granted again. That he would take her in his arms and beg her not to go.
That he would finally admit that he loved her, and that he could not live
without her. But he did not come.

With a *bing*, the elevator doors opened. She walked inside, and did not look
back.

The End

***

"Not the Doctor" can actually be considered the set-up for a much more
extensive storyline. If you'd like to know what happens next, please let me
know by writing to jis3@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading!

***

Not the Doctor
by Alanis Morissette

I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine
Lend me some fresh air
I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I don't want to be your babysitter
You're a very big boy now
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door

Chorus:
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor

I don't want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon
I don't want to be your other half I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face at
midnight
Hey what are you hungry for
I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
I don't want to be your idol
See this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights
I don't want to be lived through
A vicarious occasion
Please open the window

Repeat Chorus

I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart and its wounded beat
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
What do you thank me
What do you thank me for

Repeat Chorus