From: "LKB" <internet.addict@home.com>
Date: Thu, 10 May 2001 19:23:54 -0400
Subject: The Project by Lynn K. Ballantine
Source: direct

Title:  The Project
Author:  Lynn K. Ballantine
Rating:  PG
Classification:  Story/Humour/Romance
Spoilers:  none
Keywords:  KatieM, LKB
Summary:  Scully meets her match.


Wednesday, February 12th, 11:00 a.m.

Three people sat at the table.  An old man, affectionately referred to
as the Old Man to most who associated with him, a much younger man who
clearly deferred to the Old Man, and a very young woman who seemed
quite nervous.  After a few minutes of the usual acknowledgments, the
Old Man came right to the point.

"Have you chosen a subject?" 

"Yes, sir, we have."  Franklin flipped through the pages in his hand. 
"We have looked at six different subjects quite extensively and have
narrowed it down to this one." He settled on a page and began to read
from it. 

"Dana Katherine Scully.  American.  Age 33.  Never married.  No
children.  Doesn't date.  Seems she's had only two serious
relationships since.... well, since puberty.  Both ended without any
real commitment on her part.  She is an FBI agent."  He paused,
looking up at the man across the table.  "You know what that means,
right?" 

The Old Man scowled at him.  "As they say in the vernacular..... 
DUH!!" Waving his hand for Franklin to continue, he added, "and in
case you don't know what that means, it means "Of course I know what
that means, you numbskull!"  Now carry on, please." 

Franklin smiled a little, knowing the Old Man was not nearly as gruff
as he tried to appear.  He continued his recitation.  "She lives and
works in Washington, D.C.  She is also a doctor.  Her specialty is
pathology but she is apparently a very good surgeon, too." 

"Sounds like a very smart lady" the Old Man commented. 

"Oh, she is, sir.  Very smart.  And beautiful, if I may say so." 

"Are you sure you can handle her?" 

"Yes sir, quite sure.  Should I continue?" 

"By all means" the Old Man said with a wave of his hand. 

"There is nothing at all to suggest she is anything but totally
above-board.  She has an impeccable reputation.  She is very dedicated
to her work and is apparently very good at it, although I have to
admit, we were a little confused as to the actual purpose of her work. 
She is also fiercely dedicated to one..."  Franklin had to look down
at the paper in his hand to recall the name, "...Fox William Mulder." 

"That's a person?" 

"Yes sir, her partner." 

"Bizarre name.  Who names a kid Fox these days?"  Again, he waved,
"Sorry, please continue." 

"Dana Scully is pure of heart, a truly good person.  She is a devoted
daughter, an honest and reliable employee, a loyal friend, a very
empathetic confidante.  She inspires trust in the people who know her
and it is well deserved.  She is extremely bright and very beautiful." 

"Yes, so you've said.  So why have you chosen her?" 

"Sir, this woman is so repressed it would break your heart." 

"No doubt, son, no doubt" the Old Man said, a little sadly. 

"Sir, even in her dreams, this woman does nothing untoward, nothing
vulgar.  She simply does not allow herself to become romantically
involved.  With anyone.  Ever." 

"You're not trying to tell me she's a virgin, are you?" 

Franklin raised his eyebrows.  "Sir.  May I respectfully remind you
that this is 1997. She's 33 years old.  She isn't a nun, after all." 

"And him?  What about him?" 

"He is a genius of the first order.  I doubt there are many who are
more intelligent than he.  He is, however, socially very backward. 
His only friends seem to be other social outcasts.  He is blunt in the
extreme.  He is arrogant and self-absorbed.  He can be very charming
when it suits his purpose but it is not his nature.  He takes pride in
his reputation as a weirdo.  He cultivates it, in fact.  His peers
often refer to him as 'Spooky'.  He is a determined loner who
generally prefers his own company to that of almost anyone else.  Not
very many people like him." 

"He sounds like a lost cause."  The Old Man was frowning again. 

"Sir, this man has one glaring weakness.  Dana Scully.  He would walk
through fire for her.  Which, in his case, is the ultimate sacrifice,
since he is pyrophobic.  There is absolutely nothing he wouldn't do
for her.  His devotion goes beyond any normal understanding of love. 
The man is obsessed." 

"He would give up his independence, his solitude, for this woman?" 

"In a heartbeat, sir." 

"And you believe you can bring her around?" 

"I believe we can, sir.  I really do." 

The Old Man turned to the young woman sitting beside Franklin. 
"Felicity, what are your thoughts on this?  Do you think this woman is
the best choice of subject?" 

Felicity squirmed a little in her seat.  "Sir, this is my first
project and I have to defer to Franklin, here.  I kind of liked a guy
named Holman Hardt, but Franklin thinks this Dana Scully is a better
choice." 

"And you are prepared to go into this wholeheartedly, based on
Franklin's assessment?" 

"Yes, sir.  I like her.  She's a nice lady and I think she deserves
more out of life. He wouldn't be my first choice, but she picked him. 
He is cute, though." 

"Then it is decided.  Dana Scully is your subject for this project. 
Good luck to you both.  Franklin, please keep in mind that this is
Felicity's first project.  She will need your guidance.  I expect a
report in three days." 

As they left the meeting, Felicity turned to Franklin and said "It
sounds like you want her for yourself." 

"Don't be ridiculous, Felicity, you know that's not possible." 

"You talk about her like you love her." 

"I do, Felicity.  I love them all.  I couldn't do this if I didn't." 
She was young.  She would come to understand. 


Thursday, February 13th, 7:30 p.m. 

Mulder wandered around the store, looking for just the right gift. 
Truth be told, he just liked looking around the store.  He wasn't in
any hurry to choose something.  He was debating a pair of baby-doll
pyjamas that had so little fabric it could hardly qualify as clothing
when a man he hadn't seen there before held up a white satin and pink
lace camisole in his direction. 

"How about this?" he said, companionably.  Almost as if they were
there together, Mulder thought.  At Mulder's startled look, the man
extended his hand. "Sorry.  I'm Frank."  Yes you are, Mulder thought. 

Out loud, he said, "Fox", and reached to shake the man's hand.  What
the hell, any guy who shops in Victoria's Secret couldn't be all bad. 
As they shook hands, Mulder felt a peculiar warmth flood his body.  It
made him uncomfortable.  He almost wiped his hand on his pants. 

"This may not be the best place to get a Valentine's gift" Frank
whispered conspiratorially. 

"Why not?" Mulder whispered back.  It seemed to him to be the perfect
place to get any kind of gift at all. 

"Flowers, chocolate, jewelry, fine wine, a Caribbean Cruise, these
things say 'I love you.  Lingerie doesn't day 'I love you'.  Lingerie
says 'I want to jump you'.  Think about it a minute." 

Mulder looked thoughtful for about 6 seconds.  "Lingerie it is!" he
said with a grin. 
 
Frank held the camisole toward him again with a questioning look. 
"Nah, too tame."  Mulder responded.  They wandered around the store in
quiet conversation for a few minutes before Mulder picked up a black
lace ......something, with red satin ribbons adorning it.  He nodded
toward Frank.  "This is good." 

"It's Valentine's Day, Fox."  Frank had said, "women want something
sweet and romantic, not something from horn-dog city." 

"Not this woman."  Mulder had replied with confidence.  "If it was
sweet and romantic, she wouldn't believe it was from me."  That would
be just too close to the truth for comfort, he added to himself. 

Completing his purchase, he asked the clerk to wrap it while he looked
around the store.  He didn't notice that Frank followed the clerk to
the back room. 
 He didn't see him pick up a red silk rose on the way.  He did see
Frank again as he left the store, parcel carefully wrapped and bagged. 

"See ya later, guy" Frank called cheerfully as the door closed behind
him.  Mulder waved without looking back.  Nice guy, but there was
something weird about him. 

The clerk watched Mulder leave the store.  She had watched him as he
chose the black teddy, had seen him talking as though there were
someone beside him.  Why were all the cute ones so strange?  He had
then asked her to wrap the gift. She went to the back room to wrap it
while he chose a card to include.  She had it boxed and ready to wrap
before she remembered to go back and get the card.  Returning, she
finished wrapping the box in red foil, attached the card, then wrapped
it again in brown shipping paper, as he had asked.  She sure hoped it
was for someone he knew very well.  Most women she knew would find a
gift like that pretty offensive coming from anyone they weren't really
close to.  So many men just don't get it.  Oh well, his problem.  She
wouldn't be surprised if he was back tomorrow, returning it.


Friday, February 14th, 8:00 p.m. 

Friday at last! It had been another in a too-long series of late
nights. 
 She was so looking forward to a weekend off.  Feeling both hungry and
tired, Scully debated the merits of stopping somewhere for dinner
before going home to relax.  She didn't feel like cooking and having
to clean up.  Knowing she would end up with yet another sandwich,
eating out seemed like a good idea.  On an impulse, she parked in
front of Barry's Bar and Grill.  She had never been inside the place
but Mulder had frequently brought take-out from Barry's and she found
the food surprisingly good. 

Her perspective changed as soon as she opened the door.  The bar was
noisy and smoky and she quickly decided that take-out would be a much
better idea. 
 She stepped up to the bar and ordered, impulsively deciding to have a
beer while she waited. 

Two impulses in less than an hour.  "Be careful, Scully" she muttered
under her breath "people will begin to think you're spontaneous." 
Surveying the room, she spied a familiar face just as the bartender
placed a bottle and a glass on the bar before her.  Paying for her
dinner and the beer, she picked up the bottle.  With a shrug, she left
the glass behind and walked over to the table where he sat alone,
oblivious to the noise and activity around him. 

"Mind if I join you?"  she asked quietly as she sat down across from
him.  "You look a little down.  Anything I can do to help?"  A loaded
question, she knew, but he was too much a gentleman to give the
obvious answer. 

"Agent Scully!" he exclaimed, his face brightening.  "No, I'm not
down, just contemplating." 

He had clearly had too much to drink and was trying not to show it. 
Sipping her beer, she saw the naked emotion on his face.  Knowing it
would never be reciprocated, she felt guilty enough to want to be
gentle with him.  "Couldn't you call me Dana?" she said with a smile. 

"Only if you agree to call me Melvin" was his immediate reply. 

After a few minutes of conversation, the bartender signaled her that
her food was ready.  Reluctant to leave him here alone, she was about
to suggest that she take him home when he spoke again. 

"Dana, Dana, Dana.  Did you know you have a beautiful name, Dana?  A
beautiful name for a most beautiful woman."  He signaled for the
waitress with his empty bottle. 

Involuntarily flattered and a little amused at his obvious efforts to
appear sober, she quietly responded "You're drunk", tempering what
might have been taken as criticism with a smile.

 "Not true, I have had but three beers" he declared.  The waitress,
standing behind him, shook her head, holding up six fingers to Scully. 
With the standard barroom sign language, she asked if they wanted
another.  Scully shook her head and the waitress slipped away, smiling
at the sight of the unlikely pair.  This beautiful, elegant, smartly-
dressed woman was clearly fond of this scruffy-looking little man.  Go
figure. 

Looking down, tracing lines in the condensation left behind by his
bottle, he seemed to be deep in thought.  Without looking up, he
quietly spoke to her. "Dana, why haven't we ever had sex?"  He looked
up, straight into her eyes.  He appeared to be expecting an answer. 

Caught off guard by the bluntness of the question and the clear
infatuation in the look, she nevertheless felt compelled to humour him
a little.  "Because it wouldn't be right to indulge our fantasy just
for the sake of temporary gratification when the cost might be not
only loss of the fantasy but loss of the reality of friendship as
well." 

"Huh?" 

"Not to mention for the sake of your health." 

"My health?" 

"Mulder would kill you." 

"Too true." 

"Some fantasies were never meant to come true, Melvin." 

"Sadly, also true." 

"We'll just let this one remain our fantasy, okay?"  Scully stood and
reached for his hand. 

With a child-like smile, he reached for her. "You fantasize about me,
too?" 

"What woman wouldn't?"  She smiled beatifically as she took his hand. 
He was grateful for this simple touch. 

"Come on, Melvin, I'll take you home and put you to bed."  A big grin
crossed his face, only to dissolve with her next words.  "I said put,
not take." 

"You are an angel of mercy, a goddess, and a veritable fount of truths
today." 

"Shut up, Frohike." 

"Yes Ma'am" 

Leaving her half-finished beer on the table, Scully picked up the bag
with her dinner and led Frohike out the door.  A group of people
passed them, laughing and talking.  One voice stood out from the
others and seemed to come from directly behind her.  "He's not the
one."  Thinking that someone had addressed her, Scully looked over her
shoulder but no one in the group seemed to be looking at her as they
moved on.  With a shrug, she opened the passenger door and helped
Frohike fall into the seat.  Moving around the car, she unlocked her
door and settled behind the wheel.  Buckling her own seat belt and
his, she headed in the direction of his apartment. 

Having manhandled Frohike into his apartment, she took him at his word
that he could take it from there.  Confident that he was safe from
harm at least, she returned to her car.  Pausing in the doorway, she
briefly considered stopping in at Mulder's on the way home.  He was
only a few blocks away.  She walked toward her car, parked half-way
down the block, followed by a small group of theater-goers, discussing
the relative merits of the movie they had just seen.  "Go ahead, go
see him."  A voice said immediately to her left. "He probably hasn't
had dinner yet.  You could share."  Scully looked to her left.  She
had stopped at her car and the group was just drawing abreast of her.
Funny, that voice had sounded closer.  It had also sounded familiar. 
The comment she had overheard reminded her that she had her dinner in
the car, probably cold by now.  She headed home. 


Friday, February 14th, 9:30 p.m. 

Mulder had left the office with some trepidation.  Two whole days
without work, without Scully, seemed like half a lifetime.  He
couldn't remember the last time they had actually taken a whole
weekend off.  Scully had told him, in no uncertain terms, that she did
not want to be bothered this weekend.  Her pointed "I'll see you
Monday" was perfectly clear, even to him.  He was going out tonight,
had arranged to meet Langly at The Club.  He couldn't imagine what he
would do with the rest of the weekend.  Man, he needed a hobby. 
Langly and Frohike had had a bit of a falling out and he had been
elected to hold Langly's hand.  He briefly wondered who was holding
Frohike's hand.  Never mind a hobby, he needed a life! 

Unlocking his apartment door, he wondered if Scully was home yet.  She
had left before him but she had further to go.  He had dropped her
Valentine's Day gift off at the FedEx office on his way in to work. 
He wondered if she had got it yet. She had seemed a little irritated
with him when she left and he hoped she wouldn't be offended by it. 
She knew him well enough by now to not take offense.  He hoped.  Maybe
he should have listened to that guy, Frank, and got her something
besides lingerie. Maybe he should give her a call. 

He had to meet Langly at 10:30 and he needed to find something
relatively clean to wear.  No way was he going to The Club wearing a
suit.  Might as well wear a neon sign.  He picked up the phone and
dialed the number that came automatically to his fingers.  Langly
would wait a few minutes.  Her answering machine picked up.  He left a
brief message without mentioning the gift, then decided against
calling her cell phone. He would call her tomorrow.  In the meantime,
he'd better get a move on. 
 If he was late, Langly was likely to think he'd been kidnapped. 


Friday, February 14th, 10:10 p.m. 

Arriving at her apartment, Scully found she barely had enough energy
to gather her things.  Draping her coat over her arm, she picked up
her briefcase in one hand and the bag containing her dinner in the
other.  When she arrived at her door, there was a note from the
building manager.  A parcel had arrived for her and he had accepted it
for her.  She could pick it up at his apartment any time.  With a
groan, she decided it could wait until morning.  Another groan, this
time one of immense relief, as she kicked off her shoes. Old habits
being what they are, exhaustion did not preclude picking them up and
carrying them to the bedroom.  With admirable efficiency of movement,
she shed her clothes, put them away and donned her bathrobe.  Back in
the kitchen, she put her dinner in the microwave to heat and checked
her phone messages while she waited. 

"Hi Dana, it's Mom.  Happy Valentine's Day.  If you get in before
9:00, give me a call.  If you don't, I'll call you tomorrow.  Love
you."  She had completely forgotten Valentine's Day.  She should have
sent her Mom a card. 

"Hey Scully.  Guess you're not home yet.  I'm going ...um...out, so I
guess I'll try calling you tomorrow.  Oh yeah, happy Valentine's Day." 
Obviously, he had forgotten, too, or he would have said something
earlier today. 

"Hi, Miss Scully?  It's Gary, the super?  It's just about 10:00.  I
left a note on your door but, just in case it fell off or something, I
have a parcel for you.  It was delivered today while you were out, so
I signed for it.  I hope that was okay.  Anyway, I'll be up until
about midnight, so if you get in before then, give me a call and I'll
bring it up." Scully looked at her watch.  It was 10:25.  She called
Gary. 

By the time her dinner was finished heating, Gary was at her door.  He
handed her the parcel and quickly departed.  Sitting at the table, she
opened the attached card while she ate.  It was a lovely card with a
drawing of a woman's hands holding a valentine heart.  "My heart is in
your hands".  It was blank inside except for Mulder's scrawled words
"Betcha thought I forgot."  No signature.  Who else could it be?  A
weary smile formed on her lips as she reached for the box.  Now she
felt guilty for having forgotten.  He could have reminded her.  The
box contained a single beribboned silk rose, nestled in pink tissue
paper.  She left it in the box, putting off looking further until she
had put away the remains of her dinner and cleaned the table.  She
poured herself a glass of juice and stood at the table, looking down
at the rose.  It was beautiful.  A very strange gesture for Mulder. 
His gifts to her in the past had always been something funny or
perverse or, at the very least, something practical.  It made her a
little uncomfortable to receive something that seemed so sweet and
romantic.  From Mulder.  She removed the rose and carefully parted the
tissue paper. 

  A sudden laugh burst out of her.  Now, this was the Mulder she knew
and.... liked. Folded tidily into a heart-shape was a black lace
teddy, with red ribbons threaded through the edges.  Tiny red bows in
strategic places completed the look.  She was still smiling when she
put it in the back of her sock drawer.  "Who knows?"  she said to
herself, "I might even wear it one day." 


Friday, February 14th, 10:25 p.m. 

Langly was pacing near the front door when Mulder arrived.  He looked
so miserable that Mulder was beginning to regret having agreed to meet
him at all. This was not going to be a good night. 

"Hey, man, where've you been?" 

Mulder consulted his watch.  "Chill, Langly, it's not even 10:30, I'm
not even late." 

As they neared the door, a familiar voice sounded directly beside him. 
"Fox!  Fox Mulder!  Fancy meeting you here."  It was Frank. 

Mulder had not seen him standing there and didn't remember telling him
his last name.  It creeped him out a little.  "Jeez" he muttered, "and
they call me spooky."  Out loud, he said "Hey Frank, how's it going? 
You going in here?"  This might be a break after all.  Maybe Frank
would be better company than Langly seemed to be. 

"Yeah, sure, why not?"  The three of them went inside, paid the cover
charge and found a table near the back.  Within minutes they each had
a beer in front of them and were watching the act currently on stage. 
The dancer was tall and slim, with platinum hair falling to her waist,
which she used to great advantage.  Langly was awestruck but Mulder
found himself strangely indifferent. 

They conversed casually between acts.  Small talk that held no real
significance for any of them and wouldn't even be remembered tomorrow. 
Conversation was suspended when the next act appeared.  She was a
petite woman with short red hair. 
 Watching her, Mulder had very unwholesome thoughts about another
short redhead.  Thoughts that even he would have been ashamed to admit
to.  Frank's hand suddenly appeared on his arm. Mulder felt that same
warmth he had felt when he shook the man's hand. What was with this
guy, anyway?  The redhead had finished and was leaving the stage. 
Mulder was feeling restless and just wanted to go home and be alone. 
Definitely not his normal reaction. 

"I'm going to call it a night." Frank was saying, "You guys want to go
get a coffee somewhere?" 

Mulder looked over at Langly, who shrugged.  "Sure, why not?" Mulder
also shrugged.  They had been there just one hour, definitely a record
for him.  He didn't remember a time when he hadn't closed the place. 

On the sidewalk outside the door, Langly stood with his hands in his
pockets, looking down.  "I think I'm just going to go home.  I've got
some stuff I want to do tonight.  I'll see you guys later."  With
that, he walked away. 

"Hey, you okay, man?"  Mulder called quietly when he was just a few
steps away. 

Langly gave him a rueful smile over his shoulder.  "Yeah, I'm okay. 
Thanks."  With a small wave, he continued toward his apartment around
the corner. 

Sitting in the coffee shop, Frank looked at Mulder thoughtfully.  "So,
tell me about your lady friend."  Mulder looked down at his arm. 
Again with the hand. 
 This guy was a real toucher.  Oh well, at least it was only his arm
he was touching. He started to tell Frank about Scully and was
surprised to find himself being more honest than he had ever been,
even to himself.  He didn't know why and guessed it didn't matter, he
just knew that if felt pretty good to tell someone how he felt.  As he
talked, he was vaguely aware that he was articulating things he hadn't
even known that he felt.  What a repressed S.O.B. you are, he told
himself.  He should be telling Scully these things. 

"Why haven't you ever told her how you feel?" Frank asked quietly. 

"I don't know.  I guess I should.  Maybe I will."  After a pause, he
said "Listen, Frank.  I appreciate this, I really do.  I've enjoyed
your company but I'm going to go home now.  It was good to meet you." 
And it was.  He didn't quite know why but he felt that this peculiar
man had made a difference.  Although he hadn't given Frank his address
or phone number, as he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that
they would meet again.  It was 11:45.  Too late to call Scully
tonight.  He'd call in the morning.  Maybe she'd meet him for lunch
tomorrow. 


Friday, February 14th, 11:30 p.m. 

She was so tired she was afraid she would fall asleep in the tub if
she took a bath, so she settled for a quick shower.  Wrapped once
again in her robe, she checked to make sure the door was locked, even
though she knew she had locked it. Turning off lights as she went, she
finally settled into her bed at 11:55.  Reaching for the bedside lamp,
she thought she heard a whispered voice "Sweet dreams, pretty one." 
Her bed felt very warm and comfortable.  Soothing.  Like the arms of a
lover.  She fell asleep before she had time to examine the analogy. 

Scully dreamed.  She saw herself doing things that she had never done,
even in her dreams.  With Mulder, with other men, sometimes more than
one, other women.  Even in her sleep the images made her squirm
uncomfortably.  As she moved, she pushed her pillow off the edge of
the bed.  The sudden movement woke her up.  The dream was just
beginning to fade and she remembered only enough to be vaguely
embarrassed and slightly uncomfortable.  She got out of bed.  A quick
trip to the bathroom and she went back to bed and was asleep almost
immediately.  In the few seconds between awake and asleep, she thought
she heard part of a whispered conversation. 

"Just stand back and leave this to me."  A man's voice. 

"How am I supposed to learn if you never let me do it?"  A woman's
plaintive whine. 

"She's not ready for you yet.  Give her time." 

"But....."  Scully drifted off. 

Her dream was of Mulder.  Memories of all the times he had held her,
touched her, comforted her.  She began to envision making love to him
in her bed, in his bed, in the shower, on the kitchen floor, in the
office, in an elevator..........she began to squirm again, the images
making her uncomfortable.  Suddenly, it was Frohike in her arms.  She
awoke with a start. 

Several times over the next few hours, Scully dreamed and awoke. 
Bizarre dreams, mostly featuring the black lace teddy that was
currently buried in her sock drawer.  More than once she contemplated
taking a sleeping pill but decided against it.  She didn't have to get
up early tomorrow and had no plans to go anywhere.  She could sleep
all day, if she wanted to.  Eventually, she drifted into a restful
sleep.  The man standing over her smiled and shook his head.  This one
was going to require a more direct approach. 


Saturday, February 15th, 7:00 a.m. 

Mulder was dragged from the depths of sleep.  His dreams had seemed so
real that he looked to the other side of the bed, almost expecting to
see Scully there.  No such luck.  With a sigh and a stretch, he
propelled himself out of bed. 

Coming out of the bathroom, he was tempted to fall back into bed and
try to go back to his oh-so-pleasant dreams.  Nah, too much to hope
for.  He decided to forego shaving and showering until after he'd had
coffee.  Scooping last night's jeans and t-shirt off the floor, he was
dressed in minutes. 

It was a beautiful clear morning and he could smell fresh baking in
the air as he headed to the deli on the next block.  The bell tinkled
as he opened the door and the smell surrounded him.  He was instantly
hungry. 

The young man at the counter looked up at the sound of the bell. 
"Hey, Mr M.  How goes the battle?" 

"Still the same, Andrew.  Losing, but still fighting." 

"Well, hang in there, you'll start winning one day."  And today just
might be the day, thought Mulder, thinking about the conversation he
hoped to have with Scully. 

"What's it going to be today?  I got fresh kaisers, pitas, danishes,
bagels, donuts, and the coffee's on."  Mulder was a regular customer
in the deli, morning and night, almost every day. 

"Just give me a couple of bagels and a couple of danishes."  Mulder
didn't even have to specify, Andrew knew exactly what he liked.  With
a flourish, he placed the bag and a large coffee on the counter in
less than 3 minutes.  Ringing in the purchase, including the newspaper
he knew Mulder would pick up on his way out the door, he handed over
the change. 

"You have a good day, Mr M." 

"That would be a nice change, Andrew."  Mulder picked up the newspaper
and headed back home, accompanied by the pleasant smell of baked goods
all the way.  There was no one on the street and very little traffic. 
It startled him when a hand fell on his shoulder.  He hadn't heard
anyone approaching.  Had to be Frank.  No doubt about it, the guy was
spooky. 

"Hi, Fox.  Nice morning, isn't it?" 

"Hey, Frank.  I didn't know you lived around here." 

"I don't, I'm just running some errands, wanted to get an early
start." Looking intently at Mulder for a few seconds, he asked "Did
your friend like her gift?"  His hand was still on Mulder's shoulder. 

"I don't know, I haven't talked to her yet."  Mulder knew he should be
bothered by Frank's sudden appearances and his touching but,
surprisingly, was not. Why did he feel like this man he had just met
was an old friend?  Nodding toward his building, he asked "Want to
come up for breakfast?  I have bagels and danish." 

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm meeting someone."  After a short pause,
he continued "You are going to call her today, aren't you?  You have a
lot to say to her.  I hope you haven't changed your mind."  A renewed
resolve came over Mulder.  He would call her today. 

Opening the door of his building, a thought occurred to him and he
turned to invite Frank to join him for dinner.  There was no one
there.  Weird.  Definitely weird.  He briefly wondered if Frank was
just a figment of his bored imagination.  As the door closed behind
him, he chuckled at the thought of a 36-year-old man having an
imaginary friend. 

It was too early to call Scully.  She would never forgive him if he
woke her up on her first day off in a month.  He would call later. 
Turning on the television, he tuned to CNN and watched history unfold
while he ate his breakfast. 

He looked at his watch.  8:30.  Still too early to call.  He sat down
to read the paper.  He heard Frank's voice in his head "You're not
going to cop out, are you?" 

"I'm not copping out, I'm just choosing my time."  he answered aloud. 


Saturday, February 15th, 8:15 a.m. 

Scully awoke slowly.  The dreams that had plagued her sleep had
stopped at some point and she had spent the rest of the night in
peaceful slumber.  The sun coming through the open curtain promised
her a beautiful day.  Saturday, glorious Saturday.  Two days stretched
out before her.  The weather man had promised two days of sunshine,
blue skies, and unseasonably warm temperatures.  Two days of no work,
no office, no Mulder. Well, no work and no office, anyway.  Two days
without Mulder seemed too much to hope for.  She looked at the clock,
wondering if he was up yet.  Maybe he would like to go to breakfast. 

"For heaven's sake"  she chastised herself, "can't you even get
through the morning without him?  You're getting to be as bad as he
is!" 

Forced by her bladder to get out of bed, she headed for the bathroom. 
As she stepped onto the cool tile, she thought she heard a voice
whisper "Call him, Dana.  You know you want to."  A vestige of one of
her dreams, no doubt.  Strange what imagination will do. 

In the middle of brushing her teeth, Scully heard the phone ringing. 
Probably Mulder.  She didn't want to talk to him.  She let the machine
pick up.  Finished in the bathroom, she returned to her bedroom,
briefly contemplated changing the sheets and settled for making the
bed instead.  She dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt with a Superman
logo, a Christmas gift from Mulder.  Nine a.m. and she was ready to
face the day. 

On her way to the kitchen, she noticed the message light blinking and
remembered the phone call.  A short detour into the living room and
her mother's cheerful voice filled the room. 

"Hi Dana, it's Mom."  As if she wouldn't know the voice.  "I thought
maybe we could have dinner tonight.  My treat.  Call me and let me
know.  I have to go out at 10:00 this morning but I'll be back by
1:00.  Love you." 

Scully picked up the phone and dialed her mother's number.  Maggie
Scully answered on the second ring. 

"Hi Mom, it's me." 

"Hi, Honey, I'm glad you called."  Maggie sounded happy. 

"What's up, Mom?" 

"Oh nothing, I was just thinking about you.  I just haven't seen you
in a while.  I have nothing planned for tonight and I hoped you were
free for supper." 

Dana chuckled.  "Strangely enough, I'm free all weekend.  I needed a
break and I have absolutely refused to do any work at all.  I'm not
even going to do my laundry." 

Maggie was pleasantly surprised that Dana was actually taking some
time for herself.  It was about time.  "Heaven's Dana, you won't know
what to do with yourself!" 

"Sure I will.  I'm going to read a trashy novel, watch a dumb movie
and have a nap. By then, I should be ready to go for dinner." 

She could hear the smile in her mother's voice.  "Dana, you probably
don't even own a trashy novel." 

"Well, no, probably not but there's a bookstore around the corner." 

After a few minutes of conversation Maggie suddenly remembered that
she had an appointment.  "I'm going to have to go, dear.  Is there
anywhere in particular you want to go for dinner?  Do you want me to
make reservations?" 

"I don't care where we go.  Anywhere I can wear jeans to will suit me
just fine." 

"Okay, why don't I just come over and we can wait until then to
decide. We'll just see what we feel like.  Is six okay for you?" 

"Sure, Mom, six will be fine.  I'll see you then.  Love you." 

Dana hung up the phone with a smile.  This was going to be a great
day.  She decided she would take a walk to the bookstore and pick up
breakfast on the way back. Picking up her keys, she headed out to do
just that. 

It was a nice day for a walk and Scully took her time, arriving back
home, book and breakfast in hand, after 11:00.  The answering machine
was flashing. Munching on her bagel, she put down her coffee to press
the button. 

"Scully, it's me.  It's 10:05 a.m.  You can't still be sleeping, so
you must be out. Call me."  She had specifically told him not to
bother her this weekend. 

"Scully, it's me again.  It's 10:25.  I thought maybe we could have
lunch.  Call me."  Damn, the man was irritating.  Couldn't he just let
her have a day to herself? 

"Scully, it's almost 11:00.  I'm going out to grab a coffee.  I'll be
back in half an hour.  Call me." 

Scully looked at her watch with a shrug.  She was annoyed enough to
decide not to call him back.  She really didn't want to talk to him
this morning.  She had been aggravated with him most of the day
yesterday and hearing his voice on the answering machine brought it
back to mind.  She found herself peeved all over again.  A fleeting
memory of her dreams flashed through her mind.  With no conscious
recollection of the reason, she felt a little uncomfortable.  She
refused to acknowledge the fact that this memory made her as unwilling
to talk to him as did yesterday's pique. The fact that he had featured
prominently in those dreams had more effect on her than she was
willing to examine. 

She retrieved her book from the kitchen and settled on the couch,
coffee, bagel, book and phone near to hand.  She had no doubt Mulder
would call again. The man was pathetic.

The phone rang.  11:34.  She considered not answering it but knew he
would just keep calling.  He was nothing if not persistent. 


Saturday, February 15th, 11:30 a.m. 

Mulder returned from the deli once again.  He sat on the couch with
his coffee and stared at the phone.  His resolve was wavering.  This
was a dumb idea. He didn't think he could go through with it even if
she did call.  Even if she agreed to have lunch with him.  This was a
dumb idea.  If Scully wanted to talk about this stuff, she would have
brought it up.  Or not, if she thought he didn't want to talk about
it. 

"Don't lose your nerve now, Fox," he heard Frank's voice in his head,
"you know it's time." 

"I thought it was time we talked about something other than work."  He
practiced what he would say.  "I thought we could sit down and talk
about our relationship and where it's going, where we want it to go." 
That sounded so lame, even to him.  Any sentence with the word
'relationship' in it was enough to make any man cringe.  Man, he was
as nervous as a kid asking for his first date.  Maybe he'd just ask
her to go to lunch and then take it from there.  He picked up the
phone.  His heart lurched when she answered.  It was pounding so hard
in his ears he barely heard what she said. 

"Mabel's whorehouse" she answered sardonically. 

"Hey Scully." 

"Hey Mulder." 

"How's your day off going?  Do you miss me yet?" 

"It's a wonderful day so far, Mulder, and no, I don't." 

"Well, I miss you." 

"You'll get over it." 

"Wanna have lunch?" 

"I just had breakfast." 

"Wanna go for a walk?" 

"I just came back from a walk." 

"Come on, Scully, what else have you got to do?" 

With a sigh, she responded "I have a book to read and laundry to do. 
I'm going to wash my hair, do my nails, change my sheets, do my
grocery shopping, clean out my closets, vacuum my carpet, clean my
refrigerator, wash my windows and spend the rest of the day relaxing. 
And I'm meeting my mother for dinner.  What are you doing?" 

"I'm going to change my socks and, if I have time, I may take a nap." 

She knew what she was supposed to say next but this was getting on her
nerves and she refused to go along.  "Mulder, I really don't want to
go out anywhere and I don't want company.  I just want to have a day
to myself.  If you're that bored, why don't you clean your apartment
not that it needs it or anything." 

"I just thought maybe we could talk for a while, that's all."  He
spoke quietly, all levity gone from his voice.  Scully refused to feel
guilty for that. She found herself becoming unreasonably agitated. 
Mulder was whining now and it irritated her beyond all reason. 

"Talk about what, Mulder what is it that can't wait until Monday?" 
She didn't really intend to sound so snippy, she just wanted to be
left alone. 

His answer startled her.  "About us, Scully.  You and me." 

She didn't want to go there.  She most definitely did not want to go
there.  Or anywhere near there.  Pretending to not know what he meant,
she replied, "There's nothing to talk about, Mulder.  You can't stand
being away from work and you're bored. I, on the other hand, am
thrilled to be away from work and I have lots to do and I just want to
be left alone to do it."  She was becoming angry now, and didn't
realize that she was raising her voice. 

There was silence on the other end for several seconds.  Then, in a
quiet voice, "I don't hate being away from work, Scully.  I hate being
away from you.  I just thought it was time we talked about something
that isn't work.  I thought that we could sit down and talk about ....
I don't know .... stuff."  He had copped out, he knew, but after
drumming up enough nerve to broach the subject, he really didn't want
to have this conversation over the phone.  Scully's
less-than-enthusiastic response made it seem like a really dumb idea
after all. 

"Jesus, Mulder" she sounded angry now "what do you want from me?" 

"Just the truth, Scully." 

"Well, here's the truth, Mulder.  I am taking the weekend off, I don't
want to think about work, I don't want to do anything or go anywhere. 
I don't want to see you or hear from you until Monday morning.  Now,
is there anything else you wanted?" 

"Nothing, I guess.  Sorry I bothered you."  A response designed solely
to make her feel guilty.  It made her angry instead. 

"Fuck you, Mulder" she said quietly.  Then louder, "just leave me
alone, can you do that?"  Without waiting for a response, she hung up
the phone.  That's the problem with cordless phones, she thought to
herself.  You can't even have the satisfaction of slamming the
receiver down. 

Her words had startled him.  Hurt him more than he wanted to admit,
even to himself.  Stupid, stupid, stupid!  He paced around his
apartment.  He should have just left her alone.  He knew she had been
looking forward to a quiet weekend alone she'd only told him about
fifty times.  He was tempted to call her back and apologize but had no
sooner had the thought than he dismissed it.  That would only make
things worse.  He would apologize to her on Monday.  Obviously, he had
his answer.  Their 'relationship' was just a figment of his
imagination.  What an idiot he was.  She wasn't interested in a
'relationship'. 

"Don't be so sure of that, guy."  Frank's voice was once again in his
head.  Who the hell was this guy anyway?  "Maybe she's just scared. 
Maybe she just doesn't know how to make it happen." 

"Oh, shut up!"  Mulder shouted to no one.  He threw himself on the
couch and pulled a pillow over his head.  As if that could smother the
voice in his head. 

Scully found herself restless and unable to sit quietly like she had
planned to do. Well, if she couldn't relax, she might as well
accomplish something. She headed for the bedroom to change the sheets
after all.  Damn him, he had a real knack for ruining her day.  And
she hadn't even thanked him for the gift. 

Four hours later, her apartment vacuumed, fridge and oven cleaned,
closets tidy and fresh linen on the bed and in the bathroom, she
decided to try to relax until her mother got there.  She was still
restless but now she was tired.  A shower and a nap seemed like it
might do the trick. 

Standing in the shower, she found she could no longer avoid thinking
about the conversation she'd had with Mulder.  Who was she kidding,
that wasn't a conversation, it was a fight.  She hadn't really minded
him calling.  She did miss him a little, if she were to be honest with
herself.  She just didn't want to talk about .... what he wanted to
talk about.  She couldn't even say it to herself.  She didn't want to
admit she was afraid to examine her feelings.  It made her
uncomfortable to think about their relationship, she certainly didn't
want to talk about it. Not to him.  That was a can of worms best left
unopened.  She had hurt him.  She felt badly about it and considered
calling him to apologize.  As soon as she had the thought, she
dismissed it.  It could only make things worse.  Better to leave
things alone.  She would apologize on Monday. 

Stepping out of the shower, she was surprised to find it was almost
5:00.  A nap was out of the question now, her mother would be here in
an hour.  Her mother was never late.  What on earth had made Mulder
bring up the subject of 'us', anyway?  He had never been one to
express his feelings something she was guilty of, herself. 
 So what?  It had worked for them so far, why did he have to do that? 
She hoped he wasn't too miserable. She had to stop thinking about this
before she made herself crazy.  Her mother would know there was
something wrong and would want to know all about it.  She didn't want
to talk about it she didn't even want to think about it any more.  She
needed a distraction.  She picked up her book and read the first page
three times. 

By the time her mother knocked on her door, Scully was calm and
relaxed. 
 She opened the door with a cheerful smile, genuinely glad to see her
mother. 
 They quickly decided on a restaurant and within a short time were on
their way. 

Maggie noticed that Dana was quiet but knew that if she asked, would
get the standard Dana response, "I'm fine".  From the minute she
opened the door, it was obvious that she was disturbed about something
but there was no benefit in pressing her.  She would talk about it if
she wanted to.  Dana was rather sullen through dinner and was probably
completely unaware of how much time she spent staring off into
nothingness, tuning out the world. 

Having taken just one car to the restaurant, they went back to Dana's
apartment together.  Chatting quietly, they entered the apartment. 
Dana unhooked her holster and put it, with her keys, on the table,
just as she always did, distracted enough to not notice her mother's
slight cringe at the blatant reminder that her daughter carried a gun,
even to go to dinner with her mother.  She would normally have put it
in the bedroom, out of sight, in deference to Maggie. 

 "Dana, if you don't have any other plans, maybe we could sit for a
while?"  Maggie didn't want to leave knowing that Dana was troubled
about something. 

"Sure, Mom."  Dana was a little puzzled at her mother's tone.  "Do you
want a coffee or a glass of wine or something?" 

"Wine would be nice, thank you." 

Sitting at the table, without looking up from her wine glass, Maggie
said quietly, "Do you want to talk about it, Dana?" 

Dana couldn't stop her voice from quivering, just a little, "Talk
about what?" 

Now Maggie looked up at her, pausing before saying "Whatever's been
bothering you all evening." 

Dana had thought she had kept her distress fairly well hidden.  She
should have known that she couldn't fool the woman who had seen her
through every victory, every defeat, every heartache, all her life. 
"Oh Mom!"  She wailed, the tears uncontrollable.  "I had a fight with
Mulder this morning.  I was so mean to him!  I feel terrible and I
don't know what I should do!" 

Flinging herself out of the chair, she paced around, hugging herself,
struggling to control the tears.  Maggie waited patiently, knowing
that Dana would, as always, gain control.  They both knew that Dana
would eventually talk, knowing that her mother would never judge her,
would always be on her side. 

When her tears subsided, Dana continued to pace.  She told Maggie the
whole story of the phone call and her reaction to it.  Even to her own
ears she sounded like a shrew. She felt ashamed that she had said what
she did to him.  At the same time, she was still perplexed about his
reasoning. 

"Mom, I don't know what he wants from me!"  Her frustration was
evident. 

Maggie stood and hugged her daughter, smiling.  She stepped back and
held Dana by the shoulders.  "He wants you to say that you love him." 

Startled and a little chagrined that it seemed so obvious to her
mother, Dana just looked at her.  She was embarrassed that Maggie was
amused.  "I can't!"  she blurted out.  Then, much more quietly "I
don't" 

"Liar!"  A voice said quietly in her ear.  Dana started. 

"Did you hear something?" she asked her mother. 

"No, what did you hear?" 

"Oh nothing, I guess."  She had heard it, perfectly clearly, but how
do you explain hearing a voice when the only other person in the room
had not spoken? 

"Dana, Fox cares very much for you.  I know that you care for him,
too. So does he.  He just wants to hear it from you, that's all." 

"Mom, I do care for him.  He's my best friend sometimes I think he's
my only friend.  I don't want to hurt him but I'm not going to tell
him that I love him when I don't." 

"Liar, liar, pants on fire" sang the same voice from behind her. 
Scully spun around to see no one there. 

"Dana?"  Her mother's tone was clearly worried. 

"Sorry, Mom, I thought I heard something again probably just the TV
next door." 

"Dana, you're tired.  I'm going to go now, and I want you to get some
sleep.  I'll call you tomorrow.  Don't worry about it, dear, Fox will
get over it."  He always does, she added to herself. 

Closing the door behind Maggie, Scully rested her forehead against the
cool surface. Regardless of what she had told her mother, she knew she
had heard the voice.  It was the same voice she had dismissed last
night, she was sure of it. Apparently it hadn't been someone else's
conversation she had overheard.  She had been tired then and she was
tired now but, somehow, that didn't seem to be explanation enough.
Maybe it was, though.  Maybe a good night's sleep was all she needed. 
 
She briefly debated the wisdom of taking a sleeping pill.  Remembering
the restless dreams she'd had the night before, she decided that she
could justify using a little help to sleep tonight.  That decided, she
lifted her head off of the door and turned toward the living room. 
She stopped dead in her tracks.  There was a man standing in her
living room. 

He was standing, relaxed, with his hands in his pockets, looking at
her with a small smile.  Instinct and training combined to cause her
to instantly take mental note of his appearance -- for identification
later?  He was perhaps 30, average height, slight build, straight dark
hair and the most incredibly blue eyes she had ever seen.  He was
casually but expensively dressed and seemed perfectly at ease standing
there being examined. Scully's eyes flicked toward the table where she
had left her weapon. She knew it would take her no more than 5 seconds
to have it pointed at him. 

Even with some small part of her mind telling her it was a waste of
time, she went for the gun.  Pointing it directly at his chest, she
demanded "Who are you?  What do you want?  How did you get in here? " 

He withdrew his hands from his pockets and held them up over his head,
the universal sign for surrender.  The fact that he was still smiling
and seemed in no way intimidated unnerved her a little.  His voice
unnerved her more.  It was the same voice.  "Relax, Dana.  You can't
shoot me anyway, so you might as well put the gun away." 

Nothing in her voice or manner betrayed the uncertainty she felt. 
"Give me one good reason why I can't shoot you."  The gun in her hands
never wavered. 

Dropping his hands back to his pockets, he shrugged.  His words
chilled her.  "Because I don't exist, except in your mind, your
heart."  His demeanor was calm and pleasant, quite charming in fact. 
He had made no threatening moves and seemed in no way aggressive but
she found herself beginning to fear him.  "Before you start putting
bullet holes in your walls, try it throw something at me." 

His smile was so ingenuous, so sincere, like he really believed what
he was saying. Was it possible?  He seemed so tangible, was it
possible this was her imagination?  The voice was the same one she had
heard when she saw no one.  Now she could see him but was he really
there? 

Without warning, she scooped her keys off the table with her left hand
and threw them, only to see them land on the floor behind where he had
been.  She heard a chuckle to her right. 

"Good one, Dana.  If I was really here, you'd have got me for sure." 

Her hands trembling only slightly, Scully replaced her gun in its
holster on the table. Moving slowly and deliberately, she felt as
though she were under water. 
 Her mind grasping at straws, she thought that she might be dreaming. 
She had already gone to bed and this was nothing but a dream.  The
couch seemed a mile away. She sat heavily in a chair at the table. 

Her head in her hands, without looking up, she said "If you aren't
really here, then I can't really see you.  If you are my imagination,
then I can imagine you going away." She looked up.  He was gone.  She
spun around in the chair, searching the room.  He was nowhere to be
seen. 

"Hallucination"  she said aloud to herself.  "I'm having
hallucinations now."  Shaking her head, she had to smile. "And I'm
talking to myself.  I need a vacation." 

She stood up then, and began to tidy up, turning lights off as she
went. 
 More than ever, she felt that a sleeping pill was not uncalled for. 
She went to the kitchen and took the bottle down from the cupboard. 
From the adjacent cupboard, she got a glass, feeling as though she
were moving in slow motion.  One more step brought her to the fridge. 
She poured orange juice into her glass.  Picking up the glass in one
hand, she swung the fridge door closed with the other.  He was
standing behind it.  The glass shattered when it hit the tile,
splashing juice on her feet and legs. 

"Jesus!"  she shouted, "Stop doing that!" without fully realizing she
was talking to him as if he were really there.  "Now look what you
made me do!"  She looked at him, her anger slowly melting as he looked
back with wide-eyed innocence. Gorgeous, wide-eyed innocence.  With a
sigh, she turned away from him to clean up the mess. Standing up, she
hoped he had disappeared again.  All she wanted was to go to bed and
forget that this horrible day had even happened.  He was still there. 

"Listen, Dana..."  he began.  She walked away.  He followed.  "I can
explain this to you......"  She reached the bathroom and closed the
door behind her, more than half expecting to see him there ahead of
her.  She could hear him outside the door and tried not to wonder why
her hallucination would grant her the privacy of going to the bathroom
alone.  "I'm really not here to hurt you.  I'm not trying to upset
you. If you let me explain, I promise you it won't bother you so
much."  The plaintive note in his voice was beginning to get to her. 
"Please, Dana, just let me talk to you.  I only want to help you." 

With that, she tore open the bathroom door and confronted him.  "Help
me!?"  she shouted.  "How?  By scaring me half to death?  How,
exactly, does that help me?"  Her eyes flashed in anger and he
actually took a step back from her, raising his hands as if to protect
himself.  The action startled her.  If this was an hallucination, how
could he possibly be afraid of her?  And why did it seem so damned
real?  She suddenly felt very tired. 

"I'm going to bed.  You do what you like as if I could stop you."  Her
voice was resigned.  She was pretty sure this was not over. 
 
Scully dropped her clothes in a heap at the foot of the bed. 
Tomorrow. She'd put them away tomorrow.  She reached for her pyjamas,
no longer wondering about his presence or absence.  She refused to
think about him.  Maybe he would go away.  She was feeling chilly and,
foregoing the satin pyjamas she had in her hand, she decided to wear a
sweat suit to bed.  The pyjamas were added to the pile on the floor. 
Tomorrow. She reached for her alarm to set it for morning.  Oh God,
was it only 9 o'clock? 

Hoping, but not expecting, that this peculiar man with the compelling
eyes would not come back, she slipped under the covers.  Reaching for
the light, she was not surprised, this time, to find him sitting in
the chair across the room. "God help me" she muttered.  She sighed,
knowing that she was not destined to escape this until she had let it
run its course.  Like a virus, she thought. 

"Okay," she said to him, sitting up, "explain." 

Crossing his legs delicately, he linked his fingers around his knee. 
"What do you want to know?" 

Exasperation got the better of her. Hallucination or not, he was as
frustrating as every other man.  With an impatient growl, she threw a
pillow at him.  He dodged and it landed beside him on the floor. 

She leaned back against the headboard and took a deep breath.  With
exaggerated patience, she said slowly, "I want to know who you are.  I
want to know why you are here.  I want to know why I can't get rid of
you.  I want to know why you think driving me insane is going to help
me in some way.  I want to know what it is, exactly, that I need help
with."  As an afterthought struck her, she said, genuinely curious
now, "And I want to know why you didn't follow me into the bathroom
and where you were while I was getting dressed." 

"That last one is easy" he said with a grin. 

 Oh God, he has dimples! 

"We aren't allowed to watch you do anything private
or.......intimate." 

"We?  There are more of you?" 

"Dana, let me explain......" 

"Oh, by all means, please do!"  She crossed her arms over her middle. 
If she was going to go insane, she might just as well get it over
with. 

"It's simple, really.  I'm Cupid, and I'm here to help you get in
touch with your romantic self.  The self you have been repressing for
years, I might add." 

Boy, when she imagined something, she didn't waste time on the small
stuff!  Go right for the totally ridiculous. 

Seeing the skepticism on her face, he saw that this was not going to
be easy.  "My mortal name is Franklin.  I took over the position of
Cupid a few years ago from my father." 

"Okay, wait a minute, if you're Cupid, why do you have a 'mortal
name'?  If I remember my literary history, you're immortal.  Your
father is immortal. 
 Your mother is immortal.  Your father and mother are brother and
sister, am I right?" 

Franklin sighed.  This was really not going to be easy.  "Centuries
ago, we gave up our immortality because, well, frankly, we like to
procreate.  Eros and Aphrodite were, in fact brother and sister a fact
we try to play down as much as possible.  It is a little embarrassing,
after all.  Eros is still immortal, as is Aries, his brother --
although, admittedly, we could have done without his particular
talent.  The rest of us live a mortal existence.  We live and die like
everyone else.  The essence of the original Cupid is passed on from
one generation to the next.  Until it was passed to me, I was just a
guy like any other guy." 

Not quite like any other guy, Scully thought to herself, only vaguely
aware that she was becoming a little mesmerized by his voice and his
eyes.  His incredibly blue eyes. And dimples. 

"The essence of Aphrodite is also passed down from one generation to
the next. The current Aphrodite is Felicity.  She's some kind of
cousin of mine."  Raising his hands in supplication, he said with a
shrug, "After 3000 years, who can keep track?" 

Scully shook her head, this was getting more and more bizarre all the
time.  What the heck, she might as well hear the rest of it. 
Hopefully, when he finished, he would go away and leave her alone. 

"You are our project.  We have watched you for a while.  You are so
repressed it's pathetic.  You are beautiful, intelligent, healthy,
vibrant......did I say beautiful?"  Scully nodded.  "You have
repressed all of your romantic inclinations for so long, it's obvious
you need help to find them again." 

Franklin jumped to his feet.  He seemed to be shouting but his voice
didn't get any louder.  "You are wasting yourself, Dana.  You are in
the prime of your life.  You could have so much more why do you reject
it?" 

"I haven't rejected it I'm perfectly content with my life the way it
is." 

"Liar."  He said nothing more, just looked at her, waiting. 

It was a full minute before she spoke.  "So, now what?  Are you
supposed to become the love of my life?  Carry me off into the sunset
to live happily ever after?" Watching his mouth while he talked,
seeing his dimples form and disappear with its movement, she could
almost see that happening. 

His sudden laughter surprised her.  "For such a smart person, you are
really quite dense, aren't you?" 

"What then?" she asked defensively.  Oh my God, look at me, she
thought, I'm arguing with an hallucination!  I really need a vacation! 

"You have the love of your life right under your pretty little
aristocratic nose, and you steadfastly refuse to allow yourself to
admit how you feel about him!  This man you love could bring you so
much joy, if you would let him." 

Scully had had enough of this conversation.  Feeling just a little
sly, she quietly asked "so, you're not allowed to watch me do anything
private?" 

Not understanding where this was going, Franklin said "That's right." 

"So, you're not allowed to see me naked, or what?" 

Franklin was beginning to understand but he was compelled to answer
honestly. "That's right." 

"Good!" Scully exclaimed.  "Good night, then."  With that, she stood
and took off her shirt.  Franklin was gone.  Just to be sure, she took
off her pants, too.  Feeling very smug, she walked naked to the
kitchen and took the sleeping pill she had forgotten in the wake of
his reappearance.  Returning to her bed, she crawled under the
blankets.  As she drifted off, her last conscious thought was that she
would have to get used to sitting around naked.  Maybe she'd take that
vacation at a nudist colony.  She fell asleep with a smile. 


Sunday, February 16th, 7:00 a.m. 

Scully awoke with a start.  Her head ached and her throat was dry. 
She felt like she had been drinking last night.  Last night.  Memory
came flooding back. Had all of that really happened?  She looked under
the covers at herself, discovering that she was, in fact, totally
naked.  It had happened. 

Despite her assertion the night before, there wasn't any way she was
going to sit around her apartment without clothes.  Hallucination
bedamned.  Today was going to be a better day.  If it wasn't, she was
never going to take a weekend off again!  She flung the covers aside
with resolve and reached for her robe before heading for the bathroom. 

Scully peeked out the bathroom door before stepping out.  "This is
ridiculous!" she scolded herself aloud, "this is your home, for God's
sake!  Get a grip!" 
 She strode to her bedroom and proceeded to get dressed.  She put away
the clothes she had piled on the floor and made the bed.  Feeling a
little more in control, she headed for the kitchen, intending to make
coffee.  Franklin was sitting at the table. 

She was not going to let him ruin her day.  She stood, hands on her
hips and glared at him.  "Get lost."  The venom in her voice was not
lost on him.  He chose to ignore it. 

"Why don't you call him, Dana?" 

"Why don't you mind your own business?"  She turned her back and
reached for the coffee cannister. 

"This is my business.  I'm Cupid.  This is what I do." 

"What, harass people into insanity?" 

"Sarcasm isn't going to get rid of me.  Call him." 

"Call who?" 

"You know who." 

"No, I don't, why don't you tell me?" 

"I can't." 

"Why not?" 

"I'm not allowed to name him.  You have to do that." 

"Oh, another rule?" 

Franklin sighed.  "Yes, another rule.  Even we have to go by the
rules, you know." 

Still with her back to him, she said.  "Yeah?  Well, here's a rule for
you.  I don't allow uninvited guests in my home.  Get. Out." 

Silence behind her.  She turned slowly and looked toward the table. 
He was still there.  She looked directly at him.  That was a mistake. 
She found herself getting lost in those gorgeous, innocent, incredibly
blue eyes. 

Tearing her eyes away from his, she pleaded, "Please, just leave me
alone.  I just want to be left alone." 

He was not to be discouraged.  "No, you don't, not in your heart." 

"Why can't you take no for an answer?"  The coffee was ready and she
poured herself a cup, surprised at the steadiness of her hands.  Her
perverse demon made her hold the cup out to him, offering him a cup. 
He shook his head.  Why wasn't she surprised that an hallucination
wouldn't want a coffee?  She sat at the table, across from him. 

"Why can't you just admit that you love him?" 

"I don't love him." 

"Liar."  Again, he waited. 

With a deep breath, Scully launched into what seemed like a perfectly
sane explanation.  "Look.  He's my partner and he's my friend.  I care
very much for him, but I don't love him.  Not like you mean.  Even if
I did, it would be inconceivable to do anything about it.  We work
together.  We spend every day together.  If we had to spend any more
time together, we would come to hate each other.  If I had to spend
any more time with him I'd be crazier than I must already be.  He's
obsessive, he's a slob, he's just plain weird!  We are too different. 
We like different things, we want different things, we have different
lives.  Even if I wanted to, it couldn't possibly work!" 

Unperturbed, Franklin looked at her for a moment, head tilted slightly
to one side.  "That is what your rational, reasonable, sensible self
would have you believe" he said with an infuriating smile.  "But,
Dana, love isn't rational, it isn't reasonable and it doesn't make
sense.  It just is!  Give your brilliant scientific mind a rest, Dana
Scully.  Listen to your heart for once." 

Scully sat at the table, her head in her hands.  She didn't care for
the direction her thoughts were taking.  Franklin stood behind her. 
He put his hands gently on her shoulders.  A feeling of warmth flooded
her.  Tears fell, unheeded, on the table.  She was afraid now, afraid
for her sanity, afraid of what she was feeling.  If she was supposed
to be in love, why did she feel such abject misery?  Mulder.  Things
like this had never happened to her before she met Mulder.  She would
call him.  He would know what to do. She allowed herself a small smile
at the thought that he had been crazy for so long, it was old hat to
him.  She got up and went to the phone. 

Mulder sounded a little groggy when he answered.  She looked at the
clock, chagrined to see it wasn't even 8:00 yet.  "Hi Mulder, it's me. 
I'm sorry to wake you."  After yesterday, she would be surprised if he
didn't hang up on her. 

"Hey Scully, no, that's okay, I should be up anyway."  Mulder was
thankful that she wasn't holding a grudge from yesterday.  He was even
more thankful that she couldn't see him.  After wallowing in self-pity
most of the day, he had spent the evening drinking himself into a
stupor, collapsing on the couch sometime early this morning.  He
hadn't showered or shaved or changed his clothes since Friday.  If he
hadn't been so hung over, he would have been ashamed of himself. 

"Mulder?  Are you still there?" 

Struggling to sit up, he attempted a cheerful tone, "Yeah, I'm here. 
Is everything okay?"  The small quiver in her voice penetrated the fog
surrounding his brain and he was awake now. 

"Actually, no.  I mean, I'm okay, but I.....could you come over?  I
really need to talk to you."  She couldn't keep the tears out of her
voice.  She knew he would be worried now.  "I wanted to talk about
..... yesterday."  A sudden recollection of their fight gave her a
handy excuse for sounding upset. 

"Scully?  Do you have coffee?" 

"Yes, Mulder, I just made a pot."  She smiled now, picturing him hung
over, unshaven, fully clothed, sitting on the couch, blanket half on
the floor, surrounded by empty beer bottles.  The TV was probably
still on. 

"I'll be there in an hour." 

"I'll make you breakfast when you get here." 

"Never mind, I'll stop at the deli on my way over.  I'll get bagels." 

Scully hung up the phone with a smile.  She felt better just knowing
he was coming.  Her knight in shining armour, rushing to her rescue. 
Again. 

Mulder hung up the phone.  In spite of the pounding in his head, he
managed to hurry.  He picked the blanket up and tossed it back on the
couch, stepped over to turn the TV off, picked up as many beer bottles
as he could carry at one time and took them to the kitchen.  Rushing
to his bedroom, he stripped off his clothes and hurried into the
bathroom.  He turned on the shower and stepped in before the water
warmed up.  The cold hit him like a slap in the face, completing the
job of waking him up.  To save time, he shaved and brushed his teeth
standing in the shower.  Stepping out of the shower, he saw that there
was no towel handy.  With a muttered curse, he walked, dripping, to
the bedroom.  Drying himself with his bathrobe, he grabbed clean
shorts and socks from the drawer.  Damn, no clean jeans.  He yanked a
pair from the laundry basket.  These would do.  At least he had a
clean sweatshirt.  Sort of clean, anyway.  He retrieved his shoes from
under the couch, picked up his cell phone.  Dead.  Damn, forgot to
charge it again.  He plugged it in and left it on the desk, snatched
his jacket off the chair and he was ready to go. 

By 8:20, he was out the door, keys in hand, heading for the car.  He
remembered to stop at the deli.  At 8:45 he pulled up to the front of
Scully's building.  It was 8:49 when he knocked on her door.  One
minute short of an hour.  When you're good, you're good. 

Scully paced around her apartment, very deliberately ignoring
Franklin. She picked up the book she hadn't been able to read
yesterday.  Five minutes later, she put it down again.  Franklin kept
talking to her and she continued to ignore him. 

"Dana, I know you can hear me.  It doesn't matter if you answer me or
not."  She didn't answer.  "You called him, Dana, that's the important
thing." 

Scully walked to the door, looked through the viewer at the empty
hall. She walked back to the living room, looked out the window to the
street below.  It seemed like ages since Mulder had said he would be
an hour.  She resisted the temptation to call his cell phone.  He
probably didn't have it with him anyway.  He probably forgot to charge
it. 

"Dana, doesn't the fact that you are so upset and nervous about this
tell you anything?"  Franklin was almost pleading now.  "What is your
heart telling you?  You can hardly wait for him to get here.  You're
upset and he is who you want to hold your hand.  Listen to your heart,
Dana!  You love him.  You want him.  Tell him that." 

She couldn't stand it any more.  "Stop prattling!"  she hissed at him. 
"Just leave me alone!  If you won't go away, then, for Heaven's sake
SHUT UP!"  Franklin walked toward the couch as Scully turned back
toward the door.  There was a knock. 

Scully opened the door so quickly he was sure she had been standing
right behind it.  He stepped inside and put the bag of bagels down on
the table. Scully was still standing by the door.  She looked so
forlorn, he instinctively wrapped her in his arms and held her.  Her
arms slipped around his waist, her head resting on his chest.  Neither
of them said a word until she pulled away.  He let his hands slide
down her arms and grip her hands.  She squeezed both of his hands and
looked up at him with a small smile. 

"Hi" 

"Hi, yourself." 

"Thanks for coming."  Scully, quite inexplicably, felt nervous.  She
stepped away from him and went to pour coffee.  Anything to keep her
hands and mind occupied while she regained her composure.  Franklin
was sitting on the couch, watching the exchange with obvious interest. 
She vowed to herself that she was going to ignore him, no matter what. 
So far, he was remaining inconspicuous but, despite herself, she was
very aware of his presence.  She felt a little like she was being
judged on her performance.  It did nothing to relieve her anxiety. 

Mulder came up behind her, slipped his arms around her waist and held
her loosely. His embrace gave her the strength she needed.  "Relax,
Scully.  Whatever it is, I promise I'll make it go away."  Returning
the coffee pot to it's place, she twisted in the circle of his arms to
face him.  Once again, her arms went around him and she leaned into
him, using his strength to bolster her own.  It was his turn to break
the embrace. Planting a small kiss on the top of her head, he reached
for his coffee.  Franklin was not on the couch.  Her world began to
right itself. 

Busying themselves with toasting and buttering and heating and
spreading and, in Scully's case, wiping up crumbs and smears of cream
cheese, they felt no need to speak. The occasional brushing of their
hands brought a smile to both of their faces.  Scully carried both
plates to the living room while Mulder followed carrying both coffee
cups.  She must be really upset to let him eat in her living room. 

They started eating in comfortable silence.  Conversation began when
Scully saw Mulder brush crumbs off the coffee table.  Looking
pointedly toward where they had landed on the carpet, she said "You're
not at home, Mulder."

He looked sheepishly back at her.  "Sorry." 

"Mulder, I'm so sorry about yesterday.  I just..."  Mulder didn't let
her finish. 

"Scully, forget it.  I was wrong and I'm sorry.  You had every right
to be pissed off at me.  I shouldn't have pressured you." 

"But, Mulder, what I said to you was...."  Mulder interrupted her
again. 

"What you said was no more than I deserved.  You told me you wanted a
weekend alone and I shouldn't have called you." 

"Mulder, stop interrupting me." 

"Sorry." 

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you and I'm sorry that I swore at you. 
There, that's all I was trying to say." 

"I accept your apology if you will accept mine."  Mulder smiled at
her. 

"Deal" she smiled back, "If you help me clean this up." 

"There's always a catch" Mulder grumbled good-naturedly. 

Scully stood with her cup in her hand.  Reaching out for his, she
asked "Do you want more coffee?"  He handed her the cup with a nod and
began his assigned task. Walking away, without looking back, she said
"Don't brush the crumbs on the floor, Mulder."  She took two more
steps and stopped dead.  Franklin was sitting at the table, chin
resting on his hands, watching her. 

Mulder, following her, almost ran into her.  Stepping around her to
look into her face, he said quietly "Scully, are you okay?" 

His voice broke the spell.  "Yes, I'm fine, why?" she said as calmly
as she could, continuing on to the kitchen. 

"You see how he cares for you?"  asked Franklin.  "You see how well
you go together?  That's because you were meant to be together." 

Scully summoned all of her resolve and ignored him.  Mulder did not
miss the small tremble in her hands as she poured the coffee. 

"Scully" He put his hand over hers and took the pot from her,
returning it to it's place.  He put his hands on her shoulders and
gently turned her to face him.  "Talk to me, Scully."  He ducked his
head enough to look into her downturned face. She smiled up at him as
he brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face, stiffening
imperceptibly at Franklin's whisper. 

"And you don't think that's love?" 

Taking their coffee into the living room, They sat.  This was Scully's
show and he'd just let her call the shots. 

Determined to tell Mulder of her strange experience with Franklin,
Scully didn't quite know how to begin.  How does one explain to a
trusted friend that one is seeing and hearing things that aren't
there, without looking foolish or completely mad?  She stood up and
walked across the room, turned and walked back.  Taking a deep breath,
she stopped with her hands on the back of the chair, looking over to
where he was sitting on the couch.  Out of the corner of her eye, she
saw a movement.  All of her determination to ignore her hallucination
went out the window when she turned her head to see a second person
standing with Franklin.  Her mouth fell open.  Before she could react
otherwise, an attractive young woman stepped toward her with a smile. 

"I'm Felicity, I'm with him", cocking a thumb over her shoulder at
Franklin.  She kept walking. 

Scully watched, dumbstruck, as Felicity walked right up to her and
disappeared. She felt an odd sensation of being enveloped in something
warm.  The woman had walked right into her and yet there had been no
impact. 

Mulder waited for Scully to tell him what she called him over for.  He
waited while she paced, knowing she would get around to it in time. 
As he watched, she turned and looked at... nothing. Where he saw
nothing, she clearly saw something. Something that alarmed her.  Her
eyes widened, her jaw dropped and her face blanched. When she looked
back at him, her eyes seemed to be more green than blue.  Her
expression was that of a hungry cat stalking its prey.  Mulder was
almost afraid of her. 

Scully was overcome by something it took her a few seconds to
identify.... PASSION....  raw, flaming, unbridled passion.... 
LUST....  pure, unadulterated, unquenchable, unlimited lust....  a
pheromone frenzy.... a hot, powerful need, pushing rational thought
aside.  Pulsating with uncontrollable desire, she had an overwhelming
urge to rip his clothes off....  wild, demanding animal lust....  a
desperate need to mate.... she longed to sink her teeth into his
flesh, ravage his body, to have wanton, abandoned sex....  right
here....  right now....  she wanted --- no, needed to consume him, to
absorb him, to be consumed by him....  she yearned, ached to touch
him, kiss him, have him inside her, to become part of his body.... 
The struggle to resist nauseated her....  she had to have him.... 
now.  She took a step toward him. 

Franklin reached out and took her wrist, pulled gently.  Felicity
stepped away from her.  Suddenly Scully found herself alone in her
body.  The feeling was gone.  It had only lasted a couple of minutes
but she felt as if it had been a lifetime. Inexplicably feeling cold
and a little empty, still nauseated and unexpectedly dizzy, she looked
at Mulder.  The expression on his face told her that her 'spell' had
not gone unnoticed. 

"Scully?  Scully, are you alright?", reaching out to her, coming
toward her. 

"Mulder" she said quietly, almost whispering, "I think I'm losing my
mind."  She fainted. 

Mulder caught her as she fell, eased her to the floor, kneeled beside
her, cradling her head.  Scully opened her eyes and saw his worried
expression.  She struggled to sit up but he stopped her.  "Just stay
there a minute until you feel better."  With a wry smile, she reached
up and rested her hand on his cheek. 

"I feel better."  Sitting up, she swooned a little.  "Help me up" 

Easing her onto the couch he had just vacated, Mulder hovered for a
moment before asking if he could get her anything.  "Would you mind
making some tea?" she asked.  Anything to keep him busy for a few
minutes.  Hallucination or not, she had to talk to Franklin.  She
looked up to see him talking earnestly with Felicity. The part of the
conversation she heard did nothing to diminish her distress. 

"....too much for her all at once."  Franklin was saying. 

"How was I supposed to know?  I'm new at this."  Felicity was pouting. 

"I know, dear, but you will have to learn to turn it down a bit." 
Glancing quickly at Scully, he added "Quite a bit, I'm afraid.  She's
pretty new at this, too." 

"Franklin!"  Scully hissed.  Mulder popped his head around the corner. 

"You okay, Scully?" 

This was not going to work.  Busy or not, he could still hear her
talking to no one.  "I'm feeling better, Mulder.  I'm going to go....
change my clothes.  I'll be right back."  When Mulder had disappeared
again, she made a vicious jab at Franklin and then pointed toward the
bedroom.  The message was perfectly clear and he followed her. 

Inside the bedroom, she closed the door and spun around to face him. 
"What the hell was that?  What did she do to me?" 

Franklin's tone was apologetic.  "That's Felicity, she is..... 
um.....working on your libidinous self."  With a hint of reprimand, he
added "which, I might add, has also been sadly neglected all these
years." 

Scully gaped at him, trying to grasp what he was saying.  No good. 
She shook her head.  "What, exactly, are you saying?" 

"I'm saying, Dana Dear, that my job here is to make you feel love. 
Felicity's job is to make you feel...." he paused, actually blushing a
little, "...horny." 

"Oh.  My.  God."  Scully sank to the bed, her face in her hands.  She
finally started to believe.  This was not her imagination.  This was
happening.  Either that, or she was stark, raving mad. 

"Franklin, you can't do this."  She reminded herself that Mulder was
not far away and lowered her voice to a whisper.  "This isn't right." 
Searching for the right words, she made the mistake of looking into
his eyes.  Losing herself in their depths.  It took some effort to
look away.  "This is like...like rape by proxy!" 

"Dana..."  Franklin was hurt. "...it's not like that...." 

"It is!  It is exactly like that!"  She heard her voice begin to rise
again. 

"Scully?  Everything okay?"  Mulder.  "Tea's ready."  He was concerned
and she didn't dare leave him waiting much longer. 

"I'm fine, Mulder I'll be out in a minute."  She had told him she was
going to change her clothes.  She had to change. 

"You stay right here!"  she whispered to Franklin.  "I'm going to
change
  just turn your back and Stay.  Here." 

As she went to the dresser to find something, anything, else to wear,
she said to his back, "Franklin, you are trying to make me do
something I don't want to do.  You are trying to get me to have sex
when I don't want to what does that sound like to you?" 

Damn why did he have to choose someone so damned intelligent?  And
stubborn. So many dull, malleable people to choose from and he had to
choose this beautiful, stubborn, bright, beautiful......spitfire. 
This was just not going to work.  This definitely called for a new
plan. 

Dressed now in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Scully called to him
quietly. "Franklin?" 

Turning around to face her, Franklin stepped up to her and stopped
just short of touching her.  Looking deep into her eyes, he said
"Dana, you're right. I'm not giving up on you but I won't push you
right now.  I'll be back, though.  Count on it.  You are too special
to go through life refusing to love and be loved."  With that, he
disappeared.  Just like that.  Into thin air. 

Scully blinked and reached out her hand to where he had been, not
quite able to believe what she had seen and not seen.  Mulder knocked
on the bedroom door then. 

"Scully, can I come in?"  He was clearly worried now.  She opened the
door, putting a bright smile on her face that wouldn't have fooled a
blind man.  She put one hand on his arm and reached up to touch his
face with the other.  Her phony smile was not working.  She replaced
it with another, less bright but more real. 

"Mulder, it's sweet of you to worry, but I'm fine.  Really."  Taking
his hand, she led him back to the living room.  To the tea and,
hopefully, sanity. 

Mulder waited long enough for her to pour her tea and sit back on the
couch, before speaking.  He didn't want to upset her further but was
seriously concerned for her mental health.  He had heard her talking
in the bedroom.  He talked to himself out loud all the time but Scully
didn't.  He had seen her have some kind of episode.  He had heard her
say she thought she was losing her mind.  He was beginning to believe
her. With some effort he managed to sound calm and spoke quietly. 

"Scully, what's going on here?" 

Scully sat quietly, staring down into her tea.  Mulder moved to sit on
the coffee table in front of her.  Gently, he took her cup from her
hands and put it on the other end of the table.  His hand cupped her
chin and raised her head.  She didn't resist but she didn't look at
him. 

"Scully, look at me."  She looked into his eyes.  The tears started
then, trickling down her cheeks.  Instinctively, Mulder drew her into
his arms.  He shifted once again and sat beside her on the couch,
still holding her, stroking her back. 

They sat like that for what seemed a long time before she pulled away,
attempting to compose herself.  He took her face gently in both of his
hands, compelling her to look at him.  "It's okay, Scully.  Whatever
it is, we'll deal with it. There's nothing you can't tell me."  He
kissed her forehead, moving his thumbs across her cheeks.  He ducked
his head to look directly into her eyes.  "Talk to me, Dana." 

The tenderness of his touch, the gentleness of his voice brought the
tears to her eyes again.  "I have been seeing this man and I don't
know if he's real or if I'm losing my mind.  Tonight there was a
woman, too, and she walked into me and I felt ....."  She couldn't
continue, couldn't tell him what she had felt.  Heaving a great sigh,
she pulled away from him and stood.  Pacing around the room, the words
tumbled out of her faster than she could control them. 

Mulder listened and tried to piece together the story.  She started in
the middle and worked outward, it seemed.  She wasn't making much
sense.  When the torrent stopped, just minutes after it had begun,
Scully stopped pacing.  She sat down beside him and took his hand in
both of hers.  Starting again, she told him of her first encounter
with Franklin.  When he didn't scoff, she carried on and told him the
rest, without once looking at him. Realizing she was stroking his
hand, she released it to fold her hands in her lap, without pausing in
her narrative.  Mulder didn't move, didn't speak.  He couldn't help
the small smile that touched his lips at the image of Scully walking
around her apartment naked. So un-Scully-like.

Finishing her tale with a tearful sigh, Scully looked up at Mulder. 
"I'm scared, Mulder, I don't know why this is happening to me.  I
don't know what to do." 

Mulder, unlike Scully, had very little trouble believing Franklin and
Felicity were real and that their purpose was clear.  Their project
was definitely in his best interest and he silently wished them total
success.  In the meantime, he had a very distressed woman here and she
needed him.  He intended to ease her mind, whatever it took.  He so
rarely saw Scully vulnerable, it touched his heart.  He wanted nothing
more than to comfort her. Well, if he were to be truly honest with
himself, he wanted a lot more but that could wait. Would have to wait. 
Keep waiting, he amended. 

Mulder leaned back into the couch cushions, pulling Scully with him. 
Her instinctive resistance lasted only a few seconds before she gave
in to the need to be comforted.  She tucked her feet under her and
pushed herself closer, to lay her head on his chest.  One arm snaked
around his back and the other over his middle.  He stroked her hair,
his other hand resting on her upper arm.  Her shuddering sigh was the
only indication she was still struggling for control. 

He had let her talk without interrupting, had not commented after she
stopped. She didn't seem to expect or want any comment.  Later, they
would discuss it further. For the time being, his main interest was in
making her comfortable. She needed time to regain the composure she
had lost.  He would give her all the time she needed. 

The small whimper that escaped her nearly broke his heart.  He reached
behind her and picked up a throw pillow.  Placing it on his lap, he
gently eased her down until her head was on the pillow, one hand under
it, resting on his thigh.  He put his hand over hers, his other hand
caressing her back.  He put his head back, relaxing fully into the
couch.  He could stay like this forever if he had to. 

Mulder lifted his head to look at the clock.  He was surprised to see
that it was past noon.  He was not surprised to see that Scully had
almost dozed off. She had exhausted herself and he was content to let
her sleep.  She felt his movement and started to rouse herself.  He
stroked her hair, soothing her.  "Sssshhhh......it's okay, honey" he
whispered, "just sleep now, we'll talk later." 

They stayed like that for an hour.  Scully's breathing had become slow
and even. Only the occasional sigh betrayed the stress she was still
under. Mulder marveled at the effect Scully had on him.  Under any
other circumstances he could think of, he would never have been able
to sit in one position for this long, or even for a few minutes.  It
occurred to him that he would normally be restless and anxious to get
up and do something, yet he was comfortable and content to sit here
just like this, Scully asleep on his lap, hugging his leg.  She was
the only person on the face of the earth who could make him feel this
way.  To be utterly truthful, she was the only thing in his life worth
living for.  He guessed this was what love must be like. 

His ruminations were interrupted by Scully.  "Mulder" she said, the
sound muffled by the pillow. 

He leaned over her.  "Yes, Scully?" 

She struggled to untangle herself, losing the pillow on the floor in
the process.  She rolled back to look up at him with a smile, her head
still on his thigh. 
 "I have to go to the bathroom." 

He helped her sit up from her awkward position and gave her a boost to
her feet, standing up with her.  She turned to face him, looked into
his face for a moment.  She rose to her toes and gently touched her
lips to his before turning to walk away.  Without looking back, still
walking, she said "Oh, and Mulder?" 

Still awed by the brief taste of her lips, he mumbled some sort of
acknowledgment. 

"Don't ever call me that again, okay?" 

He barely remembered having called her 'honey', although what had
possessed him to do so was anyone's guess.  He grinned at her
retreating figure.  His Scully was back. 

Scully closed the bathroom door.  What had come over her?  She was
just making trouble for herself.  She felt herself smiling.  It was
nice, though. Coming out of the bathroom she felt more like herself. 
She realized she was hungry. After 1:00, no wonder. She must have
slept for quite a while.  As she approached the kitchen, she could
hear Mulder moving around.  Was he whistling?  She half expected to
see Franklin sitting at the table but he was nowhere to be seen.  She
stopped in the doorway.  Mulder was standing at the stove, stirring
something in a pot on the burner. 

"Are you hungry?  I made some soup."  Scully stepped close behind him,
slipped her arms around him and gave him a hug.  His free hand covered
both of hers where they met in the middle. 

"Thank you, Mulder." 

"No trouble, I really just opened a can." 

"I don't mean the soup" she said as she walked to the table.  Sitting
down, she rested her arms on the table.  "I mean..." 

Mulder was standing beside her.  "I know what you mean."  He stroked
her hair once and bent to kiss the top of her head.  "Don't even think
about it. It was my pleasure."  He leaned over to look into her face. 
"I mean that."  He was rewarded by a dazzling smile.  An all-too-rare
occurrence in his opinion. 

Mulder carried two bowls of soup to the table.  A second trip produced
a plate of crackers and two glasses of milk.  "A good source of
calcium" he responded to her questioning look.  He was rewarded by
another smile, less dazzling but no less sincere. 

Scully watched as Mulder crushed enough crackers into his soup to turn
it into a disgusting sodden mass.  "Why don't you just eat pudding?" 

"Hmmm...." Mulder looked thoughtful.  "Chicken noodle pudding.  You
may have something there, Scully." 

They ate in relative silence until Mulder put down his spoon and said
"Do you want to talk about it now?" 

Without looking up, Scully answered "Eat your pudding, Mulder." 

Lunch finished, Mulder silently cleaned up while Scully sat at the
table, lost in thought.  Mulder started when he noticed she seemed to
be staring at empty space. Stepping quickly to her side, he carefully
placed his hand on her shoulder.  She didn't react.  He pulled a chair
closer and sat, his hand never leaving her shoulder, his eyes never
leaving her face. 

"Is he back?"  He spoke very quietly, not wanting to startle her.  She
was startled anyway. 

"What?"  She flinched from his touch in the second before she came
back to the here and now.  Realizing it was him, she lifted her hand
to touch his where it still rested on her shoulder.  "No, I ... no,
he's not here....."  Mulder thought she sounded a little like she
missed him.  "I was just..." remembering Frohike's explanation,
"....contemplating." 

Mulder smiled and gave her shoulder a hug before standing. 
"Contemplating what? A life of canned soup and bagels and crumbs on
the carpet?"  He was standing at the sink, his back to her but she
could hear the smile in his voice. 

"As a matter of fact, yes." 

He turned slowly to face her, leaning back, hands gripping the edge of
the counter. Scully was looking directly at him, head tilted to one
side.  She was not smiling.  Just contemplating.  He was reluctant to
ask.  He didn't think he really wanted to know.  The silence went on
for a long time.  Too long.  The words slipped out of his mouth,
despite his best efforts to bite them off.  "And....what did you
conclude?" 

"That I have been right all along" with a sigh, "There isn't any way
it would work." 

Mulder felt an odd sense of relief mingled with the disappointment he
instantly felt. He would walk through fire for this woman.  He loved
her, there was no doubt about that now, but the thought of living with
her, day and night, was just about the scariest thing he could
imagine.  The consequences of inflicting his peculiarities on her day
after day was more than he wanted to think about.  He sighed. 

"You're right.  It wouldn't work."  This was getting too deep for him. 
With no small effort, he pushed himself back into his normal persona,
even knowing it was a defense mechanism.  "Man cannot live by bagels
and canned soup alone." 

Her answering smile cracked the tension that had built up and it
dissolved around them.  She rose from her chair to help him finish
tidying up, surprised and just a little impressed to see him rinse out
the dishcloth and hang it over the tap.  He saw where she was looking. 
With a grin he poked her gently in the ribs.  "Even I learn
eventually." 

She poked him back.  "Let's take a walk, Mulder." 

Retrieving his coat from the back of the chair, he fetched hers from
the hall closet while she went to put her shoes on.  Reaching for it,
he couldn't help noticing that everything was neatly hung, shoes and
boots lined up neatly below. Wasn't there supposed to be a pile of
stuff on the floor?  Isn't that what closets were for to hide stuff
you didn't want to put away?  And what kind of place was a closet to
keep shoes that rightfully belonged in the bathroom, under the couch,
or on a chair?  If all of your shoes are in a closet, what the heck do
you use for a paperweight?  Pulling her coat off its hanger, he
noticed that all of the hangers were hung the same way, all of the
clothes facing the same way.  A perverse little demon made him put the
hanger back on the rod backwards.  Scully came out of the bedroom just
then.  Taking her coat from him with a mumbled thank you, she reached
into the closet and turned the hanger around, without even noticing
that she was doing it.  She was right, it could never work.  He
sighed. 

"Ready to go?"  she was looking at him with a puzzled look.  He
shrugged it off and held out his arm for her to take his elbow. 

On the sidewalk, Scully reached out and took Mulder's hand.  They
walked in companionable silence.  For once, the weather man had been
exactly right.  It was a beautiful day.  Clear and sunny and warm.  As
they walked block after block, going nowhere in particular, they
chatted about inconsequential things.  A boy rode past on a bicycle,
long scarf waving in the breeze he created and they talked about the
dangers of riding a bike with a scarf on.  A young woman walked by
wearing a t-shirt and they talked about the weather.  Stopping to give
a dollar to a man lying in a doorway, they talked about homelessness. 
They walked past a church and talked about the need for religion in a
person's life.  It was a nice, relaxing walk and they were happy just
to be together.  They didn't talk about Franklin.  They didn't talk
about the fact that, even on a Sunday, on a day off , taking a casual
walk around the neighbourhood, they both carried weapons. 

Arriving back at Scully's apartment, Scully hung her coat back in the
closet, watching as Mulder draped his over a chair.  It definitely
wouldn't work.  Mulder turned to her, hands on his hips.  He knew that
he should leave and let her enjoy the rest of her day off but she
seemed to be comfortable with him there and she wasn't asking him to
leave.  As he watched her, Scully tried to smother a yawn. 

"Why don't I make us some tea, and then you can have a nap?" 

Scully looked up at the clock, surprised to see that it was 4:30. 
There wasn't much point in having a nap now, she wouldn't be able to
sleep tonight. "Better yet," she said, "why don't we have a beer and
see if there's anything on TV?" 

Mulder smiled.  She wasn't going to ask him to leave.  "I'll get the
remote, you get the beer." 

Scully walked into the living room, two bottles in hand, to find
Mulder lounging on the couch, one foot on the coffee table, his other
leg propped on the back of the couch, switching channels at the speed
of sound.  She opened her mouth to reprimand him and thought better of
it.  At least he didn't have his shoes on, she thought, just as she
kicked one of his shoes under the chair.  With a shrug, she handed him
his beer and planted herself on the couch against his upright leg. 
She squirmed around to get comfortable, ending up reclining against
his chest, the hand holding the remote control draped over her
shoulder.  Three full minutes of channel to channel to channel was as
much as she could stand.  With an evil grin, she snatched the remote
from his hand and quickly switched the channel to 'The Wonderful World
of Disney'.  Not because she wanted to watch it particularly but just
because she knew he didn't.  She tossed the remote out of reach onto
the chair. 

"Wench!"  was Mulder's only comment.  His now empty hand grasped her
upper arm and he kissed her temple before settling back to watch
something involving too-cute kids and too-perfect parents.  He was
happy.  The small part of him that wasn't scared to death wondered if
maybe it could, just maybe, work out after all. 

Disney ended.  Mulder was too comfortable, snuggled up with Scully's
body touching his in all the right places, to get up and change the
channel. A Made For TV movie came on next.  Scully turned her head to
look up at Mulder, thinking he must be asleep.  She had to smile at
the power she had over him right this minute.  She couldn't imagine
him willingly watching a movie about a teenage girl agonizing over
whether or not to report her friend for drinking.  She was too
comfortable, snuggled here with Mulder, to offer to get up and get him
the remote.  This would be a nice way to spend her evenings. Don't go
there, Dana. 

"Mulder, we should start thinking about dinner." 

"I've been thinking about dinner since this stupid movie started." 

"And what did you decide?" 

"Let's order Pizza." 

"Can you reach the phone from there?" 

"No." 

Scully groaned.  "So we have to actually move?" 

"I'm afraid so, Scully." 

She didn't want to move just yet.  "Let's eat later." 

Mulder stirred enough to disturb her.  "No good, Scully.  I can't take
another minute of this movie.  We have to change the channel.  I have
to go to the bathroom anyway.  Besides that, I'm starving." 

Scully lifted herself off him and got to her feet.  As soon as her
weight was off his leg, he realized that his leg had fallen asleep. 
Struggling to his feet, he limped off in the direction of the
bathroom.  "Don't leave the seat up!" she called after him. 

"Yes, Dear" came the reply.  He kind of liked the sound of that. 

Scully shook her head in resignation.  She hated pet names.  She
remembered a time that someone she was arresting called her "Red". 
She had cuffed his ear.  Dana Scully, master of self-control, had
smacked someone for calling her a nickname.  She picked up the phone
and dialed a number from memory.  By the time Mulder returned from the
bathroom, she had ordered the pizza. 

Mulder dropped back onto the couch, this time with the remote firmly
in his hand. Scully resisted the urge to snuggle up to him again.  She
would only have to move again when the pizza came. 

When the pizza was gone and the kitchen once again tidied, Mulder
reluctantly suggested that it was time he left.  Scully needed to get
a good night's sleep.  He had no illusions that he would have the
same. 

Scully watched him walk to the door, suddenly anxious about being left
alone.  As he opened the door, she called to him quietly, intending to
ask him to spend the night on her couch. 

"Mulder?" 

He stopped, still holding the door open, turned to look at her.  She
looked so small and alone, he longed to offer to stay the night. 
"Yes?" was all he said. 

The words she reached for were not there.  Instead, she said "Thanks. 
For everything.  I really appreciate you being here." 

"No problem, Scully.  That's what friends are for, isn't it?" 

Scully smiled.  "Good night, Mulder." 

"Good night, Scully." 

Scully turned off the TV and the lights.  She would have a long bath
and go to bed early.  If she took a sleeping pill early enough, she
wouldn't run the risk of sleeping in. It was just 8:30.  That gave her
at least an hour before it would be too late to take it. 

While her bath was running, she retrieved her book from the coffee
table drawer, collected the pill bottle from the kitchen cupboard and
poured a glass of juice.  Dropping it all off in the bathroom on the
way, she continued on to her bedroom and changed into her robe and
slippers.  Her bath was ready and she sank down into it with a feeling
of tremendous relief, bordering on euphoria. 

They hadn't really talked about it at all.  Knowing Mulder as she did,
she knew that it must have been difficult for him to restrain himself. 
She knew, too, that they would talk about it eventually.  It was
inevitable. 

Knowing that Franklin would not disturb her while she was in the tub,
she felt safe. She would have to sleep naked again if she was going to
feel safe all night.  Odd that she would think of it as safe.  He had
not, at any time, posed any threat. In fact, everything in his manner
suggested that he cared for her, although she couldn't imagine why or
how it was possible.  She realized, then, that she was thinking of
Franklin as if he were real. It seemed that she had, in spite of
herself, come to believe that he was.  Her rational mind rejected it
but some part of her, she knew, had accepted it.  He was real and
well- intentioned.  Misguided, but he meant well.  She felt herself
becoming tense again.  She had to stop thinking about this.  Her faith
was being rocked to the foundation and she really would go mad if she
thought about it any more.  She picked up her book one more time.  A
romance novel might not have been the best choice of reading material
at that particular time. 

Scully slept soundly.  No disturbing dreams, no apparitions, nothing
to keep her from sleeping the entire night.  She woke in the morning
feeling rested and relaxed. 


Monday, February 17th, 8:00 a.m. 

Scully walked into the office to find that Mulder had just arrived. 
Two steaming cups of coffee were on the desk.  "Good morning, Mulder." 
She turned to hang her coat and turned back to find Mulder looking at
her expectantly. 

"Good morning, Scully.  How did you sleep?" 

"Very well, thank you."  Noticing that he seemed bleary-eyed, she felt
compelled to add "And you?" knowing he would not likely tell her if he
had slept badly. 

"Like a baby" he said with a grin, "I woke up every two hours to eat." 

Refraining from commenting on that, Scully nodded at the folder in
front of him on the desk.  "What have we got today?" 

"Pretty typical stuff.  Ghostbuster special.  Haunted house and all
that.  Couple found a body in their basement.  They figure it's about
100 years old. It's on its way here even as we speak.  I need you to
do an autopsy." 

"And then what?" she said, sipping her coffee.  "Mulder, you're not
giving me much information here.  That's not like you." 

"And then, my dear Agent Scully, you are taking the rest of the day
off." 

"No way." 

"Yes, way.  I have already cleared it with Skinner.  Scully, I can
handle this case by myself in my sleep.  You are officially on
vacation, just as soon as you give me the autopsy results." 

"Mulder, I don't want to go on vacation."  Wasn't it just a few days
ago she told herself that was exactly what she needed? 

"Scully, why do you have to be so stubborn?  You need a vacation, you
said so yourself.  This case is bogus.  I can have it wrapped up by
Wednesday, Thursday at the latest.  You know I'll call you if I need
your help on it.  Take some time for yourself.  I promise I won't
bother you at all." 

Scully looked down at her hands, once again feeling a little ashamed
of the way she had treated Mulder on Saturday.  Resigned to having the
next two days off, she nevertheless didn't feel the need to be alone
for two days.  "You wouldn't be bothering me if you called" she said
quietly. 

"Are you sure?" he said, just as quietly. 

She looked up then.  Seemingly of its own accord, her hand came to
rest on his arm.  "I'm sure." 

Mulder stepped back, clearing his throat.  Down, boy.  "Here's what I
have on this body.  A couple named Crandall were doing some
renovations in their basement.  They dug up a couple of bones.  They
called the police who brought in a team and excavated the basement. 
The Crandalls are pretty happy to have the work done for them, by the
way.  Anyway, one body was found, looks really old.  The Crandalls
believe it is the body of the ghost who has been haunting them since
they moved there 12 years ago.  Simple, you do an autopsy, get me a
cause of death, I solve the mystery, justice is done, ghost goes away. 
Everybody's happy and the Crandalls can go back to renovating their
basement.  Simple." 

The phone rang then.  Mulder answered it and, after less than a
minute, turned to Scully and said "You're up.  Let's rock." 


Monday, February 17th, 9:00 a.m. 

Eros was angry.  It had been centuries since he had been truly angry. 
Franklin and Felicity were very nervous in his presence.  They had
been called before the Old Man two days before their scheduled
meeting.  It was unheard of.  It was more than a little intimidating. 
They waited silently for him to speak. 

"You assured me that you could handle her, Franklin." 

"I'm sorry, sir.  She has been more difficult than I anticipated." 

"You are supposed to make these people feel loved, not terrified!" 
Franklin looked contrite.  He knew better than to speak before the Old
Man finished. "Your job is to make your subject feel all 'warm and
fuzzy', not to make them question their sanity." 

"I still have time, I can go to her again...."  Eros interrupted him. 

"You will not go to her again."  Seeing the devastated look on
Franklin's face, he regretted his severity.  With a shake of his
shaggy head, he amended, "Not without a better plan of action in
place." 

Felicity had not spoken yet.  She knew her turn was coming.  Eros
turned his piercing gaze on her.  "You, Felicity, were told on more
than one occasion that Franklin was to guide you on this project.  You
took things into your own hands and look what happened!" 

Felicity looked down at the table, thoroughly ashamed.  "I'm sorry. 
I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make her afraid." she whispered. 

"In the future, miss, you will listen more closely and do as you are
told!"  Felicity nodded and Franklin became his target.  His tone
became more gentle. His point had been made. 

"Franklin, you have underestimated this woman.  You are right that she
deserves to get more out of her life.  You are right that loving and
being loved could provide that.  However, you don't seem to understand
her as well as you thought you did.  You may have taken on more than
you can handle this time.  You should consider staying out of her life
now." 

"Sir, may I say something?"  All of Franklin's cockiness had
disappeared at the start of this meeting.  He really did not want to
give up on this yet.  He did not want to fail. 

"Go ahead." 

"She did call him.  She did spend the day with him.  And she enjoyed
it. 
 They didn't exactly declare their love or anything, but they did show
some affection."  Franklin tried to get the pleading tone out of his
voice.  "They really do love each other, they have just spent so much
time repressing it that it has become difficult for them to pierce the
armour they have built up around themselves."  Franklin was a little
impressed with his metaphor. He hoped the Old Man was impressed with
his sincerity.  "I know that we did not handle this one right, and for
that I take full responsibility.  But sir, I implore you, give us
another chance.  I promise that we will be more circumspect.  I know
that we can reach this woman.  We just need a little more time." 

"And a better plan" Eros added.  His anger had dissipated and he was
prepared to help them develop a new approach.  Centuries of experience
told him that this one was a challenge that would probably not be
fully met, that this particular subject was much stronger of will than
Franklin and Felicity were prepared for.  Perhaps this experience
would be good for them. 

"I want both of you to keep something in mind.  The ultimate goal here
is to improve the subject's life.  We do not, under any circumstances,
want to frighten or hurt anyone.  Nor do we want to allow them to hurt
each other.  Our purpose here is to make the world a better place, not
to create chaos.  That thankless task I will leave to my brother." 

"Yes, Sir" they both chimed. 

Eros continued as if they hadn't spoken.  "If, at any point during the
project, you discover (or, more importantly, if I discover) that the
subject's life would not be improved by entering into a romantic
relationship, you are to cease and desist immediately.  Is that clear
to you?" 

"Yes Sir" they both chimed again. 

"Good, then what do you have in mind to solve this problem?" 

Franklin cleared his throat.  What he was about to ask had no
precedent and he was afraid to incur the Old Man's wrath again.  "Sir,
I know that we have only one week to complete our project but I beg
you to consider making an exception in this case." 

"What sort of exception?"  Eros, knowing what he was about to ask, was
glad to see Franklin being more realistic about his abilities. 

"We would like an extra week.  Felicity is new and this may have been
too difficult a subject to ask her to start with."  Looking fondly at
Felicity, Franklin continued, "I think she could use a little more
time on this one."  The Old Man didn't interrupt him, so he took a
deep breath and went on.  "I knew that this would be a difficult one
and I, mistakenly, I now realize, tried to move too fast.  I would
like to take this one more slowly.  An extra week would give me time
to slow it down and would give Felicity time to get the hang of this. 
It would take the pressure off and we could avoid making the same
mistake again." He paused, in case the Old Man had a comment,
continuing when none was forthcoming. "Just one more thing, sir.  This
woman's work is sometimes dangerous. If she becomes unnerved or
distressed while working, it could create real peril for her.  And for
her partner.  I believe it would be unsafe to approach her at all
while she is working.  That seriously limits the time available to us,
since she works a lot.  The extra time I'm asking for would just make
up for the times we don't dare be with her." 

Eros looked thoughtful and Franklin held his breath, waiting for a
response.  He didn't dare look over at Felicity, whose hand had crept
into his under the table.  He could feel her trepidation and her
support.  To their immense relief, the Old Man smiled. 

"You are absolutely right.  I'm glad you have the sense to realize
your limitations and that you know enough to not put the subject in
any danger.  You may have your week.  If you have not succeeded in
that time, you must admit defeat." 

Knowing the consequences of being defeated, Franklin was determined
not to let it happen.  He really liked this whole Cupid gig.  He'd
hate to have to give it up. 

As if he could read Franklin's mind, Eros made a statement that no one
would have ever expected to hear from him.  "I will grant you this. 
You have taken on a very difficult subject.  Very worthy of your
efforts but very difficult.  Therefore, if you do not succeed this
time, I will not insist you give up your status.  I admire your
courage and your dedication.  I will not punish you if, in this case,
you have met your match." 

A great sigh of relief escaped Franklin.  "Thank you so much, sir. 
That is very generous of you.  I promise I won't let you down." 

"No, I'm sure you won't, son."  After a brief pause, Eros asked "What
is your plan from this point?" 

"I'd like to approach her again, at a time when she is relaxed and
more receptive. She is familiar with me now and I don't think it would
frighten her again.  She knows that I mean her no harm and I think she
would be willing to listen to me." 

"And what do you plan to tell her?" 

"With your permission, sir, I'd like to tell her all about the
project. She is an intelligent woman and, while it may be hard for her
to believe, she will understand." 

"What would that accomplish?" 

"I think if she understands exactly what we're doing and why, she will
be less resistant to my.....influence.  I believe that she thinks we
are trying to create feelings in her that don't exist.  I hope to make
her realize that we can only help her recognize the feelings she
already has.  I hope that, by understanding that, she will begin to
accept those feelings." 

Eros was impressed with Franklin's assessment of the subject.  "Very
well, then. Permission granted.  Keep me informed of your progress." 
They all knew that reports were not really necessary, that Eros saw
everything they did.  Only Eros knew that having to submit reports
made them pay more attention to what they were doing. 

As Franklin and Felicity arose to leave, the Old Man had one more
thing to say.  "I want you to wait a couple of days before you
approach her again.  Give her time to regain her balance." 

"Yes sir" Franklin answered for both of them.  Hand-in-hand, they left
the room. 

Alone again, Eros looked down at Dana Scully.  A most unique woman.  A
most worthy subject.  Perhaps he would personally lend a hand in this
particular project.  Few mortals interested him to this degree. 


Monday, February 17th, 11:30 a.m. 

Exiting the morgue, Scully was a little surprised to find Mulder
sitting on a chair in the hall. 

"Mulder, what are you doing?  I thought you were going to be there for
the autopsy." 

"I had some other stuff I had to get done.  What did you find?" 

"Male, Caucasian, mid-forties most likely.  From the condition of the
body, my guess is that it's been under that floor for at least fifty
to sixty years. The tests won't be back for 24 hours.  I told them to
fax the results directly to you.  By this time tomorrow you'll know
better how long it's been there.  I can tell you that he was dead
several hours before he was put there.  Maybe days.  I can also tell
you that there were no rats under there with him.  Scully always felt
just a little smug telling Mulder things he didn't know.  So often it
was the other way around.  "No teeth marks on the bones." 

They began walking back to their office.  "How did he die?" was
Mulder's only question. 

"His throat was cut.  Most probably with a carving knife but it may
have been a hunting knife.  Definitely a knife though, not an axe or
hatchet.  A sharp knife, not serrated.  There was only one slash and
it did the job.  He was very likely unconscious at the time.  There
was a pre-mortem fracture on the back of his skull." 

"Anything else?" 

They arrived at their office.  Opening the door and walking in ahead
of him, Scully said, over her shoulder "The complete results should be
here within a couple of hours.  I asked Larry to get them typed up
right away and bring them over to you as soon as they're done."  With
a smirk, she added "For you, Larry will put everything else aside." At
Mulder's raised eyebrows, she added "He thinks the X-files are cool.
He thinks you're awesome." 

"Oh goody, a fan!" 

Scully reached for her coat.  "You're on your own now, Mulder.  It
seems I am on vacation." 

"Don't you want to know what I found while you were in there playing
with your bones?" 

"That's your thing, Mulder, not mine" she said sweetly, smiling up at
him.  Mulder pouted.  "Okay, what did you find?" 

Mulder looked, unnecessarily, at the notes he had made.  Her innuendo
had just sunk in and he couldn't bring himself to look at her for a
moment.  "Up to 1935 a man named Carlton Darby lived in that house. 
In 1935, he disappeared.  A man claiming to be his brother, Elton,
told everyone who asked that Carlton had gone away and had asked him,
Elton, to take care of his house while he was gone." 

In spite of herself, Scully was interested.  "And no one questioned
that?  No one wondered when Carlton didn't come back?" 

"The country was in the throes of a depression.  No one cared about
much of anything except keeping their family fed.  It seems no one
liked Carlton, anyway.  Elton was a good neighbour and made some
friends.  I think the neighbours were probably glad of the change." 

"So, that's probably Carlton in there on my table.  Elton killed him
and buried him in the basement and lived happily ever after.  Case
closed.  The brother did it." 

Mulder had his Cheshire Cat look on his face.  "Carlton Darby didn't
have a brother." 

What an exasperating man he was.  She refused to bite.  "Mulder, you
told me I have to take a vacation.  Well, it starts now.  I'll be
happy to read your report when the case is finished."  Over the course
of the morning, a couple of days off had become more and more
appealing.  She was looking forward to spending some time alone.  The
weekend had been painfully short.  She immediately closed her mind to
that thought. This past weekend was something she definitely wanted to
forget about.  Well, part of it, anyway. 

Taking the single step needed to reach him, she took his hand in hers. 
"Feel free to call me if.... if there's anything I can help with." 

Oh, you could help all right, Mulder thought.  Aloud, he said "It's
under control, Scully.  Go home, relax.  Enjoy."  She released his
hand and picked up her briefcase.  As she turned to leave the room, he
couldn't keep the words from coming out of his mouth. "Call me if..."
biting off his next words, he managed to say, instead, "....if you
need some company... or anything."  They both knew what he had started
to say. Why couldn't they ever just be open with each other? 

"I will" Scully said quietly.  Lord, why did they always beat around
the bush with each other?  Couldn't they ever just say what they
meant?  She left the room, left the building, pulled out of the
parking lot.  She was three blocks away before she allowed herself to
think. 

Arriving home, Scully entered her apartment cautiously.  She seemed to
be alone. Now that she had her time and her apartment to herself, she
didn't quite know what to do.  Maybe she would finish that trashy
novel she started.  Maybe she would do some shopping.  Maybe this,
maybe that.  She sighed.  She really needed a life.  First things
first.  She would have lunch.  Rummaging through the fridge, she
settled on a bowl of cottage cheese and a peach.  She knew Mulder
would have scoffed at her choice but she was too restless to take the
time to make a salad.  She would have a real meal at dinner.  The
connecting thoughts of Mulder and dinner made her reach for the phone. 

"This is Mulder.  If you're selling something, I don't want it, don't
need it, can't use it.  If you want me to do something, I don't have
time.  If you want money, I don't have any.  Otherwise, leave a
message.  I'll call you back if I can figure out how to use this
machine." 

Scully barely contained a laugh.  Better than his usual.  She wouldn't
dare let him know she was amused, it would only encourage him.  "Nice,
Mulder, very professional. I know you're not home yet, but I thought
I'd call and let you know that I happen to be free for dinner if
you're interested.  You could bring me up to date on the case.  Give
me a call when you get home."  She hesitated to call him at work. 
She'd been gone from the office for less than an hour.  She really
didn't want Mulder to know how lost she was without him.  She'd call
him later, after she'd done something.  Now, what to do? 

Mulder stopped at his apartment on the way to lunch.  He remembered a
book that had information that might be helpful to him in wrapping up
this bogus case.  He was searching through the closet for it when the
phone rang.  It couldn't be anything important, anybody who knew him
would not expect him to be home.  He would let the machine pick up. 

"Nice, Mulder, very professional."  Scully.  Standing up quickly, he
rapped his head on the bar in the closet.  He reached for the phone
but the message ended and she hung up before he could get there.  He
looked at his watch.  It had been 55 minutes since she left the
office.  Mulder chuckled.  Busted.  She missed him as much as he
missed her. He'd have to remember to rub that in a little when the
time was right. He was about to call her back when he realized he had
to meet with the Crandalls in less than an hour.  He would call her
later. 


Monday, February 17th, 2:30 p.m. 

Franklin D. Rosenberg entered the hotel.  Part of him wished things
could be different, that she could be here with him but it was against
the rules. 
 She knew what was going on, of course, it would have been impossible
to keep it from her.  She understood why he had to be there.  He hoped
she would understand why he had to be there longer.  He approached the
clerk at the desk, explained that his business would keep him here
longer, probably another week.  She assured him that it was no
problem, entered the information into her computer and looked up at
him with a smile.  "All done.  I've booked your room until February
28th.  If you leave sooner, we'll just unbook it."  As he started to
walk away from the desk, she called out "Oh, Mr Rosenberg. 
 Will your assistant be staying, too?  Should I extend her booking to
the same date?" 

"I'm not sure I'll need her the whole time, but go ahead and book it,
I'll get back to you later, after I've talked to her about it." 

"No problem, consider it done."  The same bright smile.  Very
professional.  Very phony.  Very boring.  He should have picked her
for a subject.  He would have been home by now.  Oh well, Dana was
worth the extra effort. 

Entering his room, he picked up the phone.  It was 11:40 at home, she
would be just starting lunch.  Maybe he should wait.  He didn't want
to wait. 

Her cheerful hello made him tingle. 

"Hi sweetheart, I hope I'm not calling in the middle of anything." 

"Oh that's okay, honey, I was just about to start lunch.  The kids
will be home any minute."  The thought of his twin sons brought a
smile to his face. They had been the light of his life since their
birth five years ago.  Devon and Quentin were named after the subjects
of his first project, completed just days before they were born.  What
a project that was.... "Honey, are you there?" his wife's voice
interrupted his reverie. 

"Oh, yeah, sorry, just kind of lost in time here."  His voice became
apologetic. 

"How's the project going?"  Eros was not the only one to whom he
submitted regular reports. 

"Not so well, I'm afraid" he said sadly.  "I'll tell you all about it
when I get home. I know I promised it was only going to be a week but,
sweetheart, this one is really worth it.  The Old Man gave us an extra
week and I'm sure we can manage it by then.  I'm sorry." 

"Why did he give you extra time?  That's not like him, is it?" 

"This subject is....difficult.  But she's worth it, really." 

"That's okay, honey.  I'll miss you but I understand.  I love you. 
Call me, okay?" 

"I will, sweetheart.  Give the boys my love.  Take a little for
yourself, too." 

Franklin hung up the phone, glad that Eleanor understood, wishing
again that she could be here with him.  Washington was not an
attractive place in February.  He could hardly wait to get back to
Palm Springs.  He sat down with his laptop to take care of his
mortal-life business. 


Monday, February 17th, 4:00 p.m. 

Scully returned from the supermarket, laden with grocery bags. 
Certain that Mulder would, in fact, show up for dinner, she had
decided to surprise him with a home-cooked meal, instead of the
take-out they usually settled for.  Or, at least, she was usually
settling.  He seemed to prefer take-out.  He'd have to settle, this
time.  Settle for caesar salad, broiled chicken breast with bearnaise
sauce, brown rice and fresh carrots. Strawberry shortcake to top it
all off.  She was getting hungry already. 
 If he didn't call by 5:00, she would call him again. 

The stereo playing softly in the background, Scully set about getting
things ready. It had been a long time since she had really done any
cooking and she hoped she wouldn't blow it.  Everything ready to go,
it was still too early to start cooking.  At 4:45 she called Mulder's
office.  No answer.  She called his cell phone. 

"Mulder" he answered blandly.  His mood and tone of voice improved
considerably when he heard her standard greeting. 

"Mulder, it's me." 

"Hey, Scully, what's up?"  She didn't sound distressed.  He hoped this
was a repeat of the dinner invitation.  He had forgotten to call her
back. 

"I left a message on your machine at home but I guess you haven't been
home yet.  I wanted to know if you wanted to come over for dinner." 

"Scully, you read my mind.  I was just about to call you and see if
you wanted to go for Chinese."

"Actually, Mulder, I thought we could have dinner here.  I'm cooking." 

"Slaving over a hot stove all day, Scully?  Just for me?" 

"Not exactly, Mulder.  But I am making dinner if you think your system
can handle home-cooking."  She couldn't keep the smile out of her
voice. 

"I wouldn't miss it for the world.  I'm on my way." 

Scully hung up the phone with a smile.  There was a knock on the door. 
Opening it, she was not as surprised as she should have been to see
Mulder standing there.  He had a bottle of wine in one hand, his cell
phone in the other. 


Monday, February 17th, 8:00 p.m. 

Mulder had finished updating Scully on the case.  A brief discussion
of where they thought it would go and suddenly, they both found
themselves with nothing else to talk about.  Sitting on the couch,
facing her where she sat in the chair, Mulder looked at her for a long
moment before speaking. 

Quietly, he asked "Has he been back?" 

Scully looked directly at him, unperturbed.  "No" was all she said. 
She looked away from him. 

"Scully?  Don't you want to talk about it?" 

"I really don't, Mulder.  I've been really stressed out lately and
tired.  I'm sure that it was just my imagination.  I think you were
right, I just needed some time off."  The look on his face told her
what part of her had already suspected.  She was rationalizing. 
"Really, Mulder.  Let's just let it go.  I'm sure everything is fine
now." 

Mulder was pretty sure this was not the end of it but Scully obviously
wanted it to be.  He would be available when she needed to talk.  She
knew that.  He hoped.  Just in case... "Scully, you know I'm available
any time you want to talk..." 

"I know, Mulder" she said tenderly.  As annoying and frustrating as he
could be at times, she couldn't imagine a better friend. 

It was time to change the subject.  "So, did you like your Valentine's
present?"  He leered at her. 

Thinking of the rose, she answered, honestly "It was lovely, Mulder. 
I was very touched."  It was not the response he expected. 

"So why don't you model it for me?"  Then she remembered the other
part of the gift.  An unexpected laugh burst forth. 

"Not a chance, horn-dog!" 

The expression brought a sudden memory of Frank.  He vaguely wondered
why he hadn't seen him.......Frank.........Franklin.  Realization
struck like a hammer to his heart. 

"Scully, what did this Franklin look like?" 

"Mulder, I don't...."  He interrupted her. 

"Scully, listen to me.  I met a guy.  His name was Frank.  He was real
spooky."  She smiled at what it must take for Mulder to think of it as
spooky.  "He just kind of appeared out of nowhere.  I ran into him a
couple of times.  He was awfully interested in you." 

"In me??" 

"Well, in us, actually.  He was there when I was getting your present,
told me not to get that black ... thing.  He said it wasn't the right
gift for you." 

"It's called a teddy, Mulder and it isn't, really, but it is
definitely you." 

"What I'm thinking is that it may be the same guy.  What did Franklin
look like?" 

Scully really didn't want to go into it but, if Mulder had seen him
too, it really changed the perception of the situation.  "He's a
little shorter than you.  Dark hair, short, straight."  She remembered
the first time she had seen him.  Drifting into an almost trance-like
state, she recounted the details of his appearance.  "He's slim and
well-dressed and incredibly handsome.  High cheekbones, full lips,
square chin.  He has the most amazing eyes.  Blue as the
Mediterranean.  And dimples.  He has the cutest dimples." Suddenly,
she blushed, realizing how she must sound to him.  "Does that sound
like the same man?" 

"Not even close, Scully, but you sure did get a good look at him,
didn't you?"  Scully blushed again.  "The Guy I met is pretty ordinary
looking.  I can't say I noticed what colour his eyes were, but there
was nothing distinctive about them. He's short and a little stocky,
light brown hair and freckles.  A real Howdy Doody kind of guy, only a
little less goofy.  More like Opie all grown up." 

Neither of them knowing where to go from there, the conversation
stalled.  Mulder was the first to break the silence.  "I'd better
shove off.  Promise you'll call me if anything happens." 

"I will call you, Mulder." 

"Promise?" 

"I promise" she said, crossing her heart. 

With Mulder gone, the apartment seemed empty.  She moved to the couch
and turned on the TV.