From: the chicken Date: 20 Jan 1999 16:20:06 -0800 Subject: Perchance 1/6 Perchance by Sarah Stella e-mail address: starbright_89@hotmail.com distribution: sure, send it on to the newsgroup! i'd love it if you did!! as far as archiving, anywhere you'd like, just keep my name attached and maybe drop me a little note so i can come visit! spoilers: um, lessee, small references to `darkness falls,' `humbug,' `triangle,' and `rain king' but nothing that'll ruin the ep for ya if you haven't seen it yet :) rating: i'd say PG for some questionable language classification: X UST/MSR keywords: mulder/scully ust summary: a trip to a tiny ohio town turns into an adventure for our heroes but how is a woman neither of them know involved? okay, let's all do the disclaimer dance. they're not mine, i swear. they belong to some guy named chris and his production company and a whole bunch of other guys in suits who aren't me. this is just for fun so don't sue because being in college, i have no money. ;) there are two quotes in this story. the first is shakespeare and the second is milton. however, the stuff that isn't recognizable (namely anne who's sorta named after my bud, ann fox--not that i think you'd act like this or anything, ann ;D) is mine, all mine, for good or ill. this story is my first non-crossover x-file so tell me what you think. incidentally, feedback also makes my day. :) cheers, sarah ********************************************************************** Once I sat upon a promontory, and heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath that the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, to hear the sea-maid's music. --Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream **** Washington nights are underwhelming at best. When Anne closed her eyes, she could still see the sky over Wesleyville, Pennsylvania--dotted with stars purer than diamonds and tied over with the translucent ribbon of Milky Way. The 28 year-old sighed, running her fingers through her long, light brown hair. It was still slightly damp from her shower and smelled strongly of almost-flowery Pantene. She felt considerably better than she had just half an hour ago when she'd gotten home from another absolutely fascinating day of Senate Subcommittee testimony on an air force jet crash in a field near some small town in Ohio that no one'd ever heard of before. A thrill a minute. That's what it was. Anne shook her hair between her fingers, as if this action would help it dry more quickly. She curled up into the corner of her overstuffed couch and absently watched as the final lacy flakes of an unexpected snowfall drifted past her moon crystal frosted window. Her toes were cold so she tucked them neatly under her flannel pajama-clad legs. she mused, reaching for the remote. She clicked on the television and flipped around. News, news, news, documentary on heaven knew what, some 70s-looking sitcom, finally she settled for AMC--about a third of the way through `The Apartment.' It didn't matter because she'd seen the movie a million times. No matter how many times she watched it though, it still got to her. She tried to let the lives of Ms. Cubelic and Buddy Boy absorb her but tonight she couldn't keep focused on what was going on on the screen. He was foremost in her thoughts and, try as she might, he wouldn't leave. Anne plucked at the light blue snowflake-covered sleeve of her pajamas. She laughed softly at herself. How silly, she didn't even know his name. But he came every day, regular as clockwork, and sat in the same spot--on the aisle, second row back, right behind her. He was always one of the first to arrive and one of the last to leave. She had perfected the art of stealing a casual look every now and again. If she wanted to she could draw his face from memory: uneven lips, lower slightly larger than the upper, intense, serious eyes--eyes that could belong to a writer or an artist-- her pragmatic side asked querulously. Hazel, they were hazel, but she couldn't be precisely sure, some days she could've sworn they were gray but others they were positively green. Hair that was always perfectly tousled. She sighed. She felt the beginnings of hot, angry tears well up under her partially closed lids. Anne's nose began to sting as the tears threatened. She had come into the courtroom this morning, just as casual as you please. Anne's Mr. Perfect had favored the woman with a dazzling smile, which she returned warmly. Anne's notebook had chosen that moment to slip onto the floor, her pencil following close on its heels. Anne had bent to retrieve them, taking a long look at the woman who occupied the place that she would have loved to be in. She was a petite redhead, pretty enough, in a 40s Hollywood starlet sort of way. Anne wondered what else Mr. Perfect saw when he looked at the woman because his face lit up from inside with an intensity that left Anne nearly breathless. The woman had looked down to where Anne was still collecting her pad and pencil (even Anne had to admit that she'd been taking far too long to complete such a simple task) and a single brush fine eyebrow had slid carefully upwards. Anne had felt pinned like a bug on cork by the woman's clear blue gaze and to her shame, a hot blush had spread across her face. Mr. Perfect, of course, had remained oblivious to the women's encounter. He had flicked a single, furtive, appreciative glance at the redhead's backside as she had moved past his knees and settled into the seat beside him. Anne had gathered pad and pencil and tried to return her attention to the testimony but without much success. Her ears pricked when she had heard the soft murmur of voices behind her. "I didn't think you'd make it," Mr. Perfect had said. His voice had a rumbling quality. Anne tried to imagine what his honey warm tones would sound like wrapped around *her* name. "I didn't think I was going to," the woman had whispered back. "I had to kill off an aunt to get Kersh to let me off early." Mr. Perfect chuckled quietly. "So tell me again what I'm doing here." "I think the `jet' was more than it seemed." "A UFO?" Anne's eyes had widened fractionally. "You know me too well." "I don't think I need to remind you that this isn't our jurisdiction," the redhead had said primly. "I've said it so many times...we aren't on the x-files anymore." "Old habits die hard I guess," Mr. Perfect had said. Anne had heard the smile in his voice. "Don't tell me you're not interested anymore. Aren't you tired of all the jerk-off assignments?" "I might not put it in quite those terms...." But Anne had heard the answering grin. "But what can we do? This case is closed." "Maybe not," Mr. Perfect had said, but nothing more. Anne smiled at the memory. His voice had been filled with such promise of dreams realized. Chasing shadows seemed to make him happy, be it a UFO or something less...tangible. As for his lady friend, she was less pleased by the prospect, but her loyalty to Mr. Perfect allowed her to gain some joy from the things that made him happy. Anne settled back into her couch, finally giving the movie her full attention. She wished, truly wished that there were some way she could give Mr. Perfect what he wanted. The desire filled her with a warm, tingly feeling, like New Year's champagne bubbles. She felt that if she turned off the lights, golden illumination would shoot out her fingers and toes and disappear into the underwhelming night sky. continued in part 2.... From: the chicken Perchance 2/6 ------------------------------------------- disclaimer etc. in part 1 "Fortune has smiled on us, Scully," Mulder said, his mouth stretched into an impossibly wide grin. "Good morning to you too," I replied with a wry twist of my mouth, sliding into the desk behind him. "I have here two tickets to that tiny Ohio town that I know you've just been *dying* to visit." "Mulder." It was all I said, but there was such a note of warning in my voice that any more words would have been unnecessary. But Mulder had plowed on ahead regardless. "Well, technically, the tickets aren't *to* the town per se, but to the Columbus airport, from there we drive." "Don't tell me Kersh actually *assigned* us this case..." "No, we're doing more interviews but I'm sure we can find time to squeeze it in." He smiled at me in the way that makes my mouth go a little dry and usually dissolves any objections I might have. However, it wasn't gonna work today. "Mulder, *if* we do this--the operative word being *if*--you have to promise me that it won't be like last time and I won't get stuck interviewing a bunch of guys who don't realize that Jerry's dead while you're out drag racing a demon or whatever the hell you were doing." Mulder captured one of my hands between both of his and smiled ingenuously at me. "We'll do the interviews together, do a little poking around, sample the local cuisine. Have you ever had a buckeye, Scully?" Somehow, I didn't feel very reassured. Something he'd said to me years and years ago came back in that moment: "It'll just be a nice trip to the forest." **** I've always thought that there was a special surplus reserve of `94 Ford Tauruses that the rental agencies keep specifically for FBI agents. I've also always thought that most of said Tauruses are aqua blue. Of course I can't *prove* these theories any more than Mulder can produce an EBE on command. Nevertheless, there we were, sitting in the inevitable aqua blue Taurus heading south out of Columbus. I decided to take the opportunity to catch up on some rest that I'd been missing lately, what with Skinner's hospital visits and the *interesting* trip to Kroner, Kansas. After what seemed like five minutes I was awakened by a loud and completely unreassuring `kachunk kachunk' sound from underneath the car. I raised my leaden eyelids and peered at Mulder from beneath sleep-heavy lashes. "What the hell is *that*?" His face was set and his fingers gripped the wheel more tightly than I'd ever seen. "I think we blew a tire. I'm having a little trouble...." There was a skritching, skidding sound as we rolled into the soft shoulder and slid to a stop. I was fully awake by then and my heart was beating so loudly I was sure that he could hear it. Mulder sighed in obvious relief. "I'll inspect the damage, you don't have to get out." "Like hell," I answered forcefully. "You'll need help with the spare." He grinned gratefully at me. We climbed out of the car and rounded the back. Mulder opened the trunk and together we emptied it. I pulled back the carpet and opened the spare compartment. "Now, I don't pretend to be Click Tapit but don't spare compartments generally contain *spares*?" I fought the rising wave of distress as well as I could. "Generally they do. I guess the rental place just forgot." Mulder surveyed the late afternoon fields that surrounded us, crusted with fallen snow that was half melted but still had the iridescent sheen of ice. "Wonderful." He pulled out his cell phone, dialed a number and put the receiver to his ear. A puzzled expression crossed his face. He held the phone away from his ear and peered at the display screen. "No network, dammit. Where's your phone, Scully?" I felt in the pockets of my trench coat with a growing sense of abandonment. "Uh," my fingers fumbled around, tripping over each other, "I think it's at home." I could see it now, sitting on my coffee table, the memory mocking me. Mulder smiled wanly at me. "Well I guess we walk then." He looked dubiously at my figure; from my sleep rumpled jacket to my heeled feet. "I hope you brought some more...ah...appropriate clothes." "I have some jeans and a pair of sneakers I think," I said, unzipping my suitcase and rifling through its contents. "Yeah. I've got a sweater and a tee shirt too." He nodded his approval, leaning one long arm against the roof of the car. "You can change first." I grabbed my things and ducked under his arm. I opened the back door and slid onto the seat. "And Mulder?" "Hmmm?" "No peeking." I flashed a brilliant smile. He affected an air of injured dignity. continued in part 3.... From: the chicken Perchance 3/6 --------------------------------------------- disclaimer etc. in part one Unprofessionally clad in sneakers, sweaters and jeans, we trudged through the outskirts of a small town called Gambier about two hours later. We were both bone tired and muddy and wet. At that point I would have cheerfully murdered Mulder for a dry bed and a hot shower and (no doubt in my fatigue-induced delirium) I told him so. His mouth straightened out into a grim line. "And I thought you cared." I sighed. Sometimes I didn't know what to do with him. One second he would be joking and the next moment he'd morph into the most hypersensitive bastard I'd ever met. I wisely decided that this wasn't the best time to bring this up, however. So I placed one of my hands on his arm (which was frightfully tense) and we walked up a largish hill towards what was (hopefully) the main part of town. When we reached the top of the hill, we were able to see downtown (such as it was), desolate-looking and supernaturally quiet. Gambier was nestled into the opposite side of the hill, its outlines gently sloping towards a lake that glittered coldly and gorgeously silver in the waning light. I could have sworn I heard Mulder catch his breath. But no, that was just my imagination, Mulder would never succumb to something so overtly maudlin. "I see a light, down there," I said, pointing toward the lakeside where pinpricks of illumination bobbled like late fireflies. Hand in hand, we scrambled down the hill, slipping and sliding over patches of slushy snow and ice. The lights I'd seen turned out to be the appropriately-if-somewhat-unimaginatively named `Lakeview Cabins.' We didn't stop long enough to debate the merits of the name. The main office was cozy. A restless fire kept the damp from outside from intruding. The person behind the desk (who introduced himself as Rufus), was a kind-looking man who reminded me of my grandfather. "What'll it be, folks?" Rufus asked politely, his alert hazel eyes taking in our flushed faces and the condition of our clothes with barely a raised eyebrow. "We'd like two rooms," I told him evenly. He met my eyes with perfect assurance. "Two rooms?" he sounded surprised. "Are you sure?" "I'm sure," I replied, trying to keep the temper out of my voice. I could count on one hand the times Mulder and I had been mistaken as `an item' in the past 5 years. "Will do. Cabins are $70 a night with full dock privileges." "Thanks," I said. "We probably won't be here for more than a night or so. Our car broke down a ways back, is there a garage in town where we could get a tow?" "Yeah, I can point you that way in the morning if you like." "That'd be just fine." Rufus dropped two keys into my upturned palm. "Here you go. Cabins 11 and 12, right along the water, pretty view." "Thanks." Mulder and I exited the office. We found the rooms without difficulty. I handed Mulder one of the keys. "`Night Mulder." "`Night Scully," he replied, squeezing my hand in a way that warmed me more than Rufus' fire ever could. **** Perversely, although I should have been asleep the moment my head touched the pillow, I found myself tossing and turning over an hour later. I wasn't sure what it was exactly. The bed was comfortable, the sheets were warm, the room was quiet--no, that wasn't true, there was something there, just outside the range of my hearing that seemed to ring through the profound silence. Of course I was being stupid and frivolous but the un-sound kept nagging at me until, finally, I pushed the sheets away with a grunt of frustration. The cold floorboards revived me a little and I paced quickly for a few minutes, trying to decide what I should do. What was that Rufus had said about dock privileges? **** Try as I might, sleep wouldn't come tonight. Of all the nights I had sat up battling unconsciousness, half-afraid of the pictures that painted themselves behind my eyelids, it was ironic that now, when I was truly exhausted, Morpheus wouldn't come. There was something in the quality of the silence that kept me awake I think. "Dammit," I swore softly so as not to awaken Scully. I had no idea how thin the walls between our cabins were and I was sure at least *she* was getting a good night's sleep. The corners of my mouth turned up ever so slightly as I thought of her nestled under the blankets, her hair spread like a smoldering halo around her face. I smiled again but the expression was bittersweet. I knew she would never think me capable of such emotional sentimentality. `I love you,' I had said. `Oh brother,' she had replied. My jubilant spirits fell a little bit. Maybe she was just more attracted to guys like Jack Willis or (God forbid) Ed Jerse, who kept their emotions closer to the surface. I shook my head. This line of introspection was getting me nowhere and I was still as alert as ever. I pulled on my jeans, sweater, shoes and socks and opened the door into the darkly singing night. Walking along the lake, enjoying the feel of the soft sand against the soles of my sneakers, the midwinter chill was bracing. It was a rare moment of peace. And even more amazingly, I was of a mind to enjoy it. Tomorrow Scully and I would leave Gambier and rejoin the rest of the world. We'd do our awful, pointless interviews and maybe we'd discover something about the jet crash and maybe not. We'd go back to D.C. disappointed or disillusioned and go on pretending that our work had any sort of meaning anymore and that there was no electricity sparkling through the air every time we were together. Sometimes I wished I could just *stop*. I was so wrapped up in my musings that I didn't notice the figure resting on the shore until I was almost on top of it. "Hey," the figure said sharply. "Hey, you," the mermaid said again. continued in part 4.... From: the chicken Perchance 4/6 --------------------------------------------- disclaimed etc. in part 1 I boggled fish-eyed at her. The mermaid looked like a marvelous figurehead, worn into ashen whiteness by the wind and the rain. She was the color of milk, of albino fish from the sunless ocean deeps, of the pale shiny wings of chalky moths. Her hair spread, sharply silver and heavy with moisture, down her back. Where the hair ended, her fishbelly skin curved and dissolved into a lean, salmon grey tail. "What on earth . . . " I muttered, rubbing my eyes. The mermaid turned to face me more completely. Her eyes glittered pale yellow like morning light bouncing off waves. Her lips, instead of being pink, were distinctly grey. She was slender as an eel but there was a strange, shivering along the edges of her thinness like the palsy of a fatigued muscle; as if she were struggling to hold herself in my vision. "Exactly what you think I am," the mermaid said, her voice drifting lightly over my ears like the murmur of the ocean in a very small shell. "Why . . . how?" I amended (after all, I'd been ready to believe in the Fiji mermaid). "This is a *lake*!" "So I see. But it's a deep lake." The mermaid shrugged casually, the small crystal-delicate gills at her neck flickering, throwing sparks of light everywhere. I reached out my hand, fingers spread wide, toward the still-moving gills. The mermaid stopped me with a vicious glare, her golden eyes darkening to warm bronze. "How do you . . . breathe?" I asked, retracting my hand. "Fish, I mean, fish have gills but they can't . . . " I was getting frustrated and angry, it was late and I was struck stupid by this impossible . . . creature. The mermaid looked at me appraisingly in a way that I found strangely seductive. "How do *you* breathe?" she demanded back, her ocean murmur voice hard. "I don't know *how* I do it. I just *do*." "Oh," I said quietly, nodding my understanding to appease the mermaid. Then, obeying some perverse pull, I sat down. The mermaid smelled like green algae and lakewater. I stared very hard at the shore, digging canals in the dirty sand with the toes of my shoes. "I...I've always wanted to know something," I began, yielding to an impulse and feeling the mermaid's strange pull once again. "Shoot," the mermaid said as kindly as she knew how. "Why're you guys, I mean, in the stories anyway, always luring men to their deaths? Aren't there enough mermen to go around?" I tried to add a little humor to my question and failed miserably. The mermaid's eyes bronzed over again. "And it never occurred to you that they might come *willingly*?" her voice was angry now, it sloshed and churned like waves splashing against jagged, cold, sea rocks. I lowered my eyes until they were even with the mermaid's glowingly pale shoulder. I remembered the beautiful, sleek creature beside me. "The thought *had* crossed my mind. Do they?" I whispered invisibly. The mermaid smiled tolerantly at me. "Do they?" she repeated in gentle mockery. "Why don't you find out?" This was enough to jolt me out of my bashful (and uncharacteristic) embarrassment. My head snapped up and inquiring hazel eyes met prisimed gold. The mermaid caught my gaze and held it. She plucked the thought out of my head just as casually as if she were picking a freshwater clam shell off the shore. "I'm what you want," the mermaid said with perfect assurance. "What?" I breathed faintly. I felt slightly exposed, as if the mermaid had really just dragged a half-thought-up, half-realized wish out of a corner in my brain. That was silly though, I had never, not in my wildest dreams wanted *her*. Or did I? I struggled to remember Scully and the imagined halo of her hair across her pillow. "Come with me, come see how it is," the mermaid said, her voice whisking my thoughts away. "You could come back if you didn't like it," she added quickly, sensing unborn panic building at the back of my mind. "How?" I asked, even softer than before. The mermaid shrugged, her skin growing pearly as dusk coiled in around them. "I don't know. I can just do it, is all." Her tone had become softer, more bewitching. I was fascinated by the cadence of it, the rise and fall that reminded me of ripply waves, crinkling the lake's surface when the wind blew hard against it. I shook my head and blinked slowly and sleepily in the mermaid's direction. "How long?" I managed to blurt out numbly. "Oh, I don't know," the mermaid said breezily, weaving her hands in intricate patterns through the air. "As long as you like. You'll enjoy it," she urged with a shade of restlessness swimming under her breath. I closed my eyes and imagined the cool depths of the late January lake. Surprisingly enough, the cold didn't touch me. The dazzling sunshine filtered through the dark green water and spattered the sandy, silty bottom with speckles of light. I could feel the lake's crispness against my face as I flicked the borrowed salmon grey tail and pushed deeper. Tangly plants twisted and brushed against my figurehead paleness, touching with a strange reverence. Far ahead of me, even deeper into the veiled water something glinted expensively and extravagantly like old gold. I was making my way toward the mysterious saffron light when the mermaid pulled me back roughly, her mind touching mine like a fist smashed into the middle of a still pond. "What *was* that?" I demanded breathlessly, rubbing my right cheek, searching for traces of the verdant depths. "A city. You could see it for yourself," the mermaid suggested alluringly. "I . . ." My jaw worked but no sound came out. I looked at the mermaid and the mermaid's calm, gold prism eyes watched me. A whisper of a self-satisfied smile curled across her grayish lips. Far away, I felt an interior alarm go off but I was spinning away from it. My mind seemed to thrum in syncopated time with the mermaid's unusual shivering. A single coherent thought caught and held inside my whirling brain. "Is it really true that mermaids don't have souls?" I asked dreamily, half-turning my face away from the golden eyes. The mermaid looked at me searchingly, recapturing my stare and judging my thoughts on the matter before replying. "What does it matter if we don't? You don't believe in souls anyhow." I pressed my lips into a straight line. "I guess not," I sighed, all the air rushing out of my lungs in one nervous whoosh. "Do we have a deal?" the mermaid asked eagerly. Her eyes were greedy now, the color of the old gold city at the very bottom of the lake. My mind reeled drunkenly. "I...I guess. I mean, it might be fun, right?" "Right," the mermaid agreed, her edges had stopped shaking. She leaned in and suddenly, her gray lips were on mine and mine were on hers, eagerly, greedily, as if I might swallow her whole. She reached toward my neck in the spot where the gills would go. "Mulder? Mulder!" the female voice called from further up on the shore. I realized after a lengthy pause. "Is that you?" The mermaid started as if she'd been stung and recoiled slightly, her fingers hovering inches from my neck. I swiveled my head in the direction Scully's voice had come from. She was closer than I'd thought. I scooted backwards, away from the mermaid's searching hands, stood uncertainly and stepped toward her. She'd seen the mermaid, I saw the amazement cross her beautiful face before she turned to me. "Wait!" the mermaid said sharply, the kindness gone from her voice. It complained in my ears like a brisk wind over the mouth of a rocky cavern. I took another few steps forward. "Scully?" my voice was froggy and uncertain in my ears. There was a small, frustrated exclamation and a splash from behind me. I swirled, running blindly towards the lake. I didn't even feel it when the icy water touched me. continued in part 5.... From: the chicken Perchance 5/6 --------------------------------------------- disclaimed etc. in part 1 "Mulder! What the hell are you doing?" I was vaguely aware of the splashings she made as she raced into the water after me. Her surprisingly strong arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me back. It was then that I seemed to come back to myself. "This isn't exactly the situation I'd envisioned when I imagined you with your arms around me." She smiled, more in relief than anything else. "Oh, so you've imagined it?" "I plead the fifth," I replied. Suddenly I begun to shiver uncontrollably, I was wet up to my lower thighs. Scully was shaking too. "C'mon, Mulder. We can talk about that," she jerked a thumb toward the lake, "in the morning." She put an arm around me and guided me back in the direction of the cabins. Behind us, the January air ruffled the surface of the lake and twisted through the trees with a murmur like the sound of the ocean in a very small shell. **** Between the tow truck, the rental agency and calling Kersh, we didn't get to discuss Mulder's aquatic escapade until we were on the plane on our way back to D.C. and (I fervently hoped) normalcy. "Mulder?" I asked tentatively. He looked like he was about to fall asleep and we needed to talk. "Hmmm?" "I think I knew that woman." "What woman?" "The...er, mermaid for want of a better word." "You know many mermaids, Scully?" "No, I mean, when I saw her, she was a woman." "You know many gray women?" Dammit but he was being difficult. "No, she was normal in all respects." "Where did you see her?" he asked seeming more interested. "That's what I've been trying to remember while you were arguing with triple A." "I told you, Scully, it's not arguing. You've gotta hassle those guys or they won't give you the best price." "Po-tay-to. Po-ta-to." "So did you remember or what?" he asked, smirking at me. "I think so. She was in court the same day as I was. Sitting in front of you actually. She dropped her pad and pencil." I could see that Mulder was struggling to remember. "But you don't know her name?" "How could I? She did have the pad and pencil so I think it's likely that she's a reporter so all we have to do is call the local papers and see who they had covering the hearing. Simple." "Simple," Mulder agreed. I gestured to the Sky Phone. "Be my guest," I said graciously. continued in part 6.... From: the chicken Perchance 6/6 --------------------------------------------- disclaimed in part 1 Anne opened the door without checking to see who it was. At first she thought her wildest fantasies had been fulfilled because Mr. Perfect was standing there. "Anne Ocellus?" he asked, his silky voice caressing the words. "Yes?" she asked breathlessly. He was looking hard at her in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable. "C...can I help you?" "Special Agent Fox Mulder." "Special Agent Dana Scully," the redhead said, stepping around the door and into Anne's apartment. Anne thought viciously. "We were hoping you could clear up a little problem for us," Mulder said. "You see, a couple nights ago, Agent Mulder was...um...*attacked* by a...a...." "Mermaid," Mulder finished. Anne caught herself before her eyes widened and gave her away. "A mermaid?" she asked incredulously. "What does that have to do with me?" "The mermaid looked exactly like you," Scully said, regarding Anne with a dangerous clarity. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was home in my apartment two nights ago." "Can anyone verify that?" Scully asked sharply. "Yes, my neighbor, Mrs. Jacobson. We had a cup of coffee together and talked for a while. I ordered pizza from the place down on the corner around 7:30. I called my office to check for messages and talked to my editor." "Oh." Scully's face fell. "Well thank you very much, Ms. Ocellus. Sorry for disturbing you." "Not at all," Anne replied, seeing them to the door. "I hope you find your mermaid, Agent Mulder," she said softly so that only he would hear. "I don't need a mermaid. I've got an angel," he replied just as softly before following Scully toward the elevator. Anne watched him go. She glanced at her watch. 6:30. Too early to go to bed but soon she would. This thing, whatever it was, this ability was too interesting *not* to be explored. **** "I thought for sure it was her," Scully said, her voice tense and frustrated. "It *was* her, Scully," Mulder insisted. "Mulder, she has an excellent alibi. I think it's pretty clear she wasn't lying." "I don't know how but it *was*." He touched a lock of her hair tenderly. "You were right." Scully sighed. "About what? I don't even understand it myself. Maybe if we could find the woman...." "Same old Scully," Mulder said fondly. The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors slid open. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Always the skeptic." He held his hands up disarmingly. "Not that that's a bad thing...necessarily. Keeps me honest." "That's the way I like you," she replied evenly. He was momentarily shocked into inaction by the frank unexpectedness of her words. "Say, Scully," he said, trotting after her through the lobby to catch up. "Hmmm?" she asked, turning to face him. "What do you think of earthbound angels?" It hadn't been *exactly* what he'd meant to say. "Do you know many?" she said, a wicked glint in her eye that he'd never quite seen before. "Only one in fact. I'll tell you all about her on the way home," he promised, putting his arm lightly around her waist. THE END