From: "Jo-Ann Lassiter" <J.LASSITER@easternbk.com>
Date: Thu, 22 May 2003 16:34:18 -0400
Subject: She Loves Me Not II by Jo-Ann Lassiter
Source: direct

This story is based on characters created by 
Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen
Productions. Characters used without 
permission. No infringement intended. 

TITLE: She Loves Me Not II ...Where It Hurts 
AUTHOR:  Jo-Ann Lassiter
EMAIL ADDRESS:  70302.3654@compuserve.com 
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:  Post anywhere. 
Thanks.
SPOILER WARNING:  None
RATING: PG-13 
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
KEY WORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance
SUMMARY: Scully has told Mulder that she 
loves him. Yet, when her actions contradict 
her words, doubts are raised in Mulder's 
mind.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: There is the bare bones of an 
X-File here... just enough to advance the 
*real* story, which is the romance between 
M&S. Please don't look for any lengthy 
explanations of the "monster" because there 
won't be any. What there will be, however, is 
lots and lots of characterization. I hope you 
enjoy it!
THANKS: To Martha and Rachel for their help, 
and especially to Gerry for putting up with 
numerous read-throughs and not complaining 
(much).

She Loves Me Not II ...Where It Hurts
by Jo-Ann Lassiter
Jolassi555@cs.com

Twin Forks Lodge
Outside of Denver, Colorado
Thursday
6:04 a.m.

"Hello?"

Even though she spoke softly and was halfway 
across the room, Mulder came wide awake as 
soon as he heard Scully's voice. He noted 
that she'd changed into her pajamas after 
all, and was struggling to get into her robe 
while balancing the telephone receiver 
between her ear and her shoulder.

"What's the address?" She glanced over at 
him, pulling the robe closed and cinching the 
belt.

"What's--" His raspy attempt at a question 
was cut off abruptly by Scully's upraised 
finger. 

"Perkins," she mouthed. "Yes. Both of us," 
she said into the phone. Another glance at 
him. "I don't know; I haven't had time to ask 
him, but I'm sure he'll want to come along, 
regardless." She smiled at him, then her face 
reddened and she turned away, walking as far 
away from him as she could possibly get and 
still remain in the same room. "Of course, I 
did," he heard her say. "I was tired, that's 
all."

Mulder blinked. Did Scully just lie about why 
she'd ended her date with Andrew Perkins so 
early?

"Look, can we discuss this later?" She 
listened a few seconds and then she 
disconnected. Her back still to him, she 
sighed deeply, then turned around. "That was 
Andrew Perkins."

Mulder nodded. "So you said."

She stared into his eyes for a second. 
"There's been another death."

He couldn't say he was surprised. "Same as 
the others?"

She nodded. "He wants us there as soon as 
possible."

Mulder bounded out of bed. "Well, then let's-
-" The rest of the thought was lost as the 
room spun sickeningly around him; he sat down 
quickly on the bed. "Shit," he muttered.

He felt Scully at his side a second later. 
"Mulder?"

"I'm okay," he said, his voice sounding like 
it was coming through a tunnel from the other 
end of the universe. "Got up too fast," he 
panted, fighting not to faint.

"Come on. Head between your knees." The 
fuzziness wasn't clearing, so he didn't 
resist when Scully pushed down on the back of 
his neck.

After an interminable amount of time, he felt 
the dizziness abate, and his senses woke to 
the fact that Scully was holding on to him 
with one hand while rubbing his back with the 
other. "Hey," he said, nudging her lightly.

She let go immediately, and he sat up. 
"Feeling better?" she asked.

Truth to tell, he wasn't feeling much of an 
improvement over last night, but he knew her 
question was directly related to the light-
headedness, and that was thankfully gone. 
"Yeah." He started to take a deep breath, but 
had it cut short when he felt a stabbing pain 
in his chest. 

Scully didn't miss it. "What's wrong?"

He decided he'd better come clean. "I'm a 
little congested. Can't inhale too deeply."

She nodded. "Do you feel well enough to go to 
the crime scene?"

He didn't, really, but the case intrigued 
him, and this would be his first glimpse at a 
fresh corpse; as gruesome as it sounded, he 
always worked better from firsthand evidence 
rather than from the secondhand findings of a 
report. "I'm fine, Scully." At her look of 
skepticism, he gave a sheepish smile. "I may 
beg off a little early, but I'm okay."

She touched the back of her hand to his 
forehead. "You still feel warm, Mulder. Maybe 
you should stay here."

He wasn't sure how to take that. Hadn't she 
just told Perkins that he'd want to see the 
scene, no matter how he felt? Was she really 
concerned for his health, or did she just 
want to talk to Perkins without her partner 
in the way? Was she trying to spare Perkins' 
feelings? Or his?

Starting to feel ill from the idea that 
Scully might be having second thoughts about 
her feelings for him, Mulder stood up--a lot 
slower than before--and walked toward the 
bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower." He 
paused at the door and turned around to face 
her. "I'll meet you back here in... twenty 
minutes?"

At her reluctant nod of assent, he broke eye 
contact and fled behind the safety of the 
bathroom door. 

What was wrong with him? He trusted Scully 
with his work, with his friendship... hell, 
he trusted her with his life.

Why couldn't he trust her with his heart?

*****

Crime Scene
Robinson Playground
Thursday
6:50 a.m.

Scully offered to drive, and Mulder took her 
up on it. He'd taken a new brand of cold 
capsule and discovered that he was in the 
three percent to whom "no drowsiness" did not 
apply. He felt his lids drooping lower and 
lower with each passing mile.

The car stopped, and he forced his eyes open. 
He popped the lock and exited the car before 
Scully got a chance to grill him; the cold 
air was invigorating, and he felt the 
lethargy dissipating. He waited for Scully to 
come around to his side of the car, and then 
they walked to the taped-off area together.

When Mulder dared a glance at Scully, he 
learned that he needn't have worried about 
her taking him to task about his cold; her 
mind was a million miles away.

Smiling a bit at how antsy she looked to get 
her hands on the body, he followed her gaze, 
stopping dead when his eyes settled on the 
true source of her anxiety. Andrew Perkins 
smiled in delight, stepping forward to take 
Scully's hands in his.

Mulder's chest felt tight as he watched 
Scully return Perkins' smile; her hands 
grasped his with the familiarity of an old 
friend. Or lover.

He was aware that he was staring, yet he 
couldn't make himself look away. Only when 
Perkins' gaze left Scully's to eye him warily 
was he able to turn away and search for 
something else upon which to focus his 
attention.

"How do you manage to look so lovely at this 
ungodly hour, Dana?" he heard Perkins ask his 
partner.

Her answering laugh didn't sound at all 
uncomfortable as he'd expected--and hoped. He 
closed his eyes and tried to block out the 
warmth he heard in that laugh. "Six years 
working with Mulder," she said. "Being 
dragged off to crime scenes at all hours. 
I've got the routine down to a science." 

"Maybe it's time for a change," Perkins said, 
softly. "Have you thought about what I asked 
you?"

Mulder's breath caught in his throat. What 
could Perkins have asked her that would 
engender a change in her life? Marriage? 
Promotion? ...Transfer? He hurried away, over 
to the corpse; he didn't want to hear her 
answer.

As he stood over the body, he could hardly 
believe that it held absolutely no interest 
to him. The only thought echoing through his 
brain was that Scully might leave him. That 
Scully might actually be considering leaving 
him.

Kneeling by the corpse, automatically pulling 
on a pair of latex gloves, Mulder tried to 
shut out the buzz of conversation around him, 
and especially that of Scully and Perkins. As 
he prodded and poked and pushed on the body, 
his mind gradually focused its attention on 
the crime, on the fact that only hours 
before, this corpse had been a beautiful, 
vibrant, young woman.

How could he be thinking of his love life 
when there was a woman dead here, for 
Christ's sake? This was a human being lying 
dead in front of him, her throat ripped to 
shreds, and all he could think about was how 
comfortable, how natural Scully looked with 
Andrew Perkins? How they were still talking 
and laughing and touching...

Mulder stood up abruptly, peeling off the 
gloves and dropping them on the ground. He 
walked briskly toward some bushes at the far 
end of the playground, then stood by them and 
stared at the baseball field beyond. 

That took him back. Little League. Winning 
the championship that last summer before 
Samantha was taken. She'd been so proud of 
him, her big brother, making the game-winning 
catch.

Five months later, she was gone. Would Scully 
soon be gone, too?

A hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he 
jerked under the touch. "Scully?"

"No, sir, it's me. Brad Jonas." The eager 
young agent had taken to calling him sir, and 
nothing Mulder said could dissuade him. "I 
saw you out here away from the others," he 
said. "Did you find something?" Mulder could 
tell he was trying to contain his excitement.

Mulder sighed. God, he remembered himself at 
that age, peppering the senior agents with 
questions. When had he become one of the old 
timers? "No," he finally answered. "I just 
wanted someplace quiet to do a little 
thinking."

Mulder watched as the wind went out of 
Jonas's sails. "Oh. Then you want to be 
alone?" The agent's tone left no doubt in 
Mulder's mind that that was the last thing he 
wanted confirmed.

"I'd appreciate it, yes," Mulder said. He 
hated to brush off the youngster, but he was 
in no mood to play mentor.

"Oh," Jonas said again. "Okay. I'll tell 
Agent Scully."

"What?" Mulder's head snapped around. "Why 
are you going to tell Agent Scully?"

Jonas looked a little hopeful. "Oh, she was 
wondering what you were doing."

"Did she ask you to find out?"

Jonas gave him a curious look, then shook his 
head. "Uh... she wasn't actually talking to 
me. She was talking to ASAC Perkins." Jonas 
brightened. "He seems to really like your 
partner, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," Mulder mumbled.

"And it looks like she goes for him, too."

Mulder squared off against the agent. "Why do 
you say that?"

"Because..." Sweat broke out on Jonas's 
forehead, and he looked behind him nervously. 
"Maybe I was mistaken. I just thought..."

Realizing that he was intimidating the young 
agent, Mulder backed off, purposely relaxing 
his body to a non-threatening pose. "I'm 
sorry, Brad." He forced a smile. "Scully's my 
partner. I don't want to see her hurt."

Some of the tension left Jonas's shoulders, 
and a glimmer of understanding entered his 
eyes. If he only knew, Mulder thought glumly. 
The young agent nodded, smiling tentatively. 
"I don't think you have anything to worry 
about there, sir."

"Oh?" Mulder asked, as casually as he could 
with his heart rate tripled and his fists 
clenched tightly in his pockets. 

Visibly more at ease now, Jonas glanced back 
at the crime scene; Mulder followed the man's 
gaze, then wished like hell that he hadn't. 
Scully was kneeling by the body, Perkins 
beside her, hand on her back, while she 
examined the corpse. He asked her a question, 
and she gave him her response around a smile. 
Mulder looked away quickly.

"Perkins lost his wife two years ago, sir. 
Cancer." 

Mulder winced inwardly, and felt the old, 
familiar pang in his gut, the one he got 
every time he thought about how close he had 
come to losing Scully. He wondered if the 
pain he was feeling at this moment was for 
then--or for now?

"He hasn't looked at another woman since 
then," Jonas continued. He smiled shyly. 
"Until your partner." Something in Mulder's 
demeanor caused the young agent to swallow 
hard. "He was very faithful to his wife, I 
heard. Right to the end." Jonas was getting 
nervous again, his gaze darting from Mulder 
to the crime scene and back again. "I... I 
should leave you alone now, sir," Jonas said, 
backing away. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

"No, no... It's all right, Brad. I'm feeling 
a little under the weather." He gave a weak 
smile. "I'm not the most social person under 
the best of circumstances..." He sighed.

Jonas took a cautious step forward. "I've 
heard a lot about you, Agent Mulder." The man 
paused, his body language clearly signaling 
discomfort.

"Most of it not good, I'd imagine."

The young agent scraped the ground with the 
side of his shoe. "Some of it," he said, 
keeping a close eye on his foot. "A lot of 
it, actually."

Despite himself, Mulder was curious. "Then 
why..." He trailed off. No matter how he put 
it, he was sure it would sound egotistical.

"Because I like to make up my own mind," 
Jonas answered, his tone no longer that of 
the adoring student, but one of conviction.

Mulder smiled resignedly and nodded his head. 
"Well, have I impressed the hell out of you 
so far?"

Jonas stared at him for a moment, then nodded 
slowly. "Yes, sir. You sure have, Agent 
Mulder."

It was Mulder's turn to stare. "For God's 
sake, why?"

The young agent's expression softened. "You 
turned this whole case around. In less than a 
day you gave them a whole new perspective 
from which to pursue it."

"You may not have noticed, Agent Jonas, but 
they weren't exactly receptive to my theory."

Jonas blew out an angry breath, and it 
surprised Mulder enough for him to back up a 
step. "Do you want to know how petty they 
are?" Jonas asked. "They gave you the brush-
off when you told them about it, didn't 
they?" Mulder nodded. "After you left, 
though, they began kicking it around, and 
guess what? It blew everything they had 
thought up to that point out of the water. 
They're proceeding on *your* theory now."

Mulder blinked. Scully had been there, yet 
she'd made no mention of it to him. Even if 
she thought his "demon from hell running 
amok" hypothesis ridiculous, she might have 
told him that the others were at least 
considering it.

"Was Agent Scully aware of this?"

Jonas shrugged. "I don't know. I was out 
getting dinner for everyone. By the time I 
got back, the discussion was in full swing." 
He met Mulder's eyes. "Your partner and 
Perkins were gone," he added softly.

Mulder stiffened at the thought of Scully and 
Perkins together. He gritted his teeth and 
took a deep breath; he was reminded quite 
painfully of why he shouldn't do that.

"Agent Mulder, are you all right? Should I 
get Agent Scully?"

"No!" Mulder said. Then, a little calmer. 
"I'm okay. It's just a chest cold." The last 
thing he wanted was to be a nuisance to 
Scully when she was still trying to make up 
her mind as to which suitor she preferred. 
Her assurances last night contradicted her 
actions today, and as much as it hurt, he had 
to give her the space she needed to work 
things out.

"Are you sure? You're really not looking too 
well."

Mulder forced a smile. "I'm really not 
feeling too well, but I'm okay. Really."

Jonas nodded, not taking his eyes off Mulder; 
he looked like he was studying him for the 
big test.

"You were telling me about the other 
agents..." Mulder said, getting back onto the 
original subject. "They've changed tack?"

"Yes, sir." 

"They're ascribing to the theory that we're 
not dealing with a person, but with some sort 
of demon?" Mulder asked, incredulous.

"Well... not exactly. But they no longer 
think it's the work of a serial killer, or 
even a human being. They think it's some sort 
of animal."

Mulder met Jonas's eyes. "An animal who rapes 
its victims, leaving an unidentifiable 
substance in place of semen?"

Jonas hunched his shoulders. "I'm the new 
guy, Agent Mulder. They don't ask my opinion 
much."

Mulder blew out a breath; all this worry 
about Scully had him coming down hard on the 
young agent. "I know." He gave Jonas the 
barest hint of a smile. "Sorry."

Jonas shook it off. "There's nothing to 
apologize for, sir. I think... I think if I 
were in your position, I'd be a little upset, 
too." With that, the agent threw a 
significant gaze in the direction of Scully--
and Perkins. 

Glancing only long enough to determine the 
direction of Jonas's interest, Mulder's eyes 
met the young agent's again. Jonas knew. 
Christ, they hadn't even slept together yet, 
and Mulder was radiating an aura of 'Hands 
off! She's mine!' "Brad, if you don't 
mind..."

Jonas got it immediately. "Yes, sir. I'm 
sorry to have bothered you." And he walked 
away.

Mulder was upset with himself. He'd been 
careless. He'd allowed his feelings for his 
partner to interfere with his job. And he'd 
practically cried on the green agent's 
shoulder. Did it get any more pathetic than 
that?

He shivered and pulled his coat tighter, 
fastening the top button and turning up his 
collar. Damn, it was cold out here. One of 
those fuzzy hats with the ear flaps was 
sounding pretty appealing right about now.

Teeth chattering in time to the pounding in 
his head, he walked back toward the crime 
scene, veering away from it when he saw 
Perkins still velcroed to Scully. As he 
headed for the car, he wished he had driven 
so he'd be the possessor of the car keys. He 
would kill to have warm air blasting at his 
frozen body.

Huddled in the passenger seat, his eyes on 
two particular FBI agents, a picture of 
Perkins 
in bed with his partner came to mind. It 
struck him that this could very possibly come 
to be. Then it struck him that perhaps it 
already had. Scully had known Perkins since 
her college days. Had they been more than 
friends? Were they becoming so again?

As he watched, Scully broke out of the pack 
of agents, making her way to the car. She 
looked peeved, and Mulder couldn't blame her. 
He'd been anti-social again, leaving her to 
make nice with the other agents.

His fears evaporated, however, when she 
smiled at him; maybe things weren't as bleak 
as he was imagining them.

She got in the car and turned toward him. 
"Find anything out there?"

He shook his head. "You?"

"I'll know more after the autopsy, but she 
was definitely raped. And although it looks 
like the crime was committed right there, 
there are no tracks except hers."

Mulder nodded. He hadn't expected there would 
be any.

"You know what this is, don't you, Mulder?"

"I have an idea, but I need to do some more 
research."

She nodded, then inserted the key and started 
the car. She pulled onto the road, and they 
drove in silence for a few minutes.

"Do you want to get something to eat before 
the autopsy?" Mulder asked.

When she didn't answer, Mulder looked at her. 
"Er... I can't," she finally answered. "I 
told Andy I'd have breakfast with him."

Mulder's hands suddenly fascinated the hell 
out of him as he stared at them in his lap. 
"Oh."

She reached over and covered his hands with 
her free hand. "I'd much rather go with you. 
You know that, don't you?"

He didn't look up. "Sure," he said in a small 
voice.

"I couldn't get out of it. We were surrounded 
by his men, and the way he put it... I just 
couldn't say no without embarrassing him."

"It's all right," he said, in a quiet voice.

"Mulder, I'm so sorry." Her hand squeezed 
his. "Why don't you come with us?"

He gave a sardonic grin. "I'm not much of a 
third wheel, Scully."

He wanted to ask her why, if she loved him, 
she was going on another date with Perkins. 
And why was Perkins still pursuing her? 
Obviously, he needed it spelled out for him, 
and Scully wasn't doing that. Why wasn't she?

He turned toward the window and watched the 
rain begin to fall.

*****

Denver Regional Office
Thursday
1:50 p.m.

While the Denver agents pursued their line of 
investigation, Mulder doggedly worked at his. 
When Mulder had asked for an agent to assist 
him, the ASAC offered up Brad Jonas, his most 
inexperienced agent and, from Mulder's 
observations, resident outcast. Mulder 
accepted the offer gladly. Not fitting in 
with the rest of those dolts was a point in 
Jonas's favor.

Since he had had no breakfast companion, 
Mulder had decided to skip it and get right 
to work. They'd put him in a disused 
conference room in the cold, deserted 
basement (of course), and after five and a 
half hours, it looked like he'd been there 
for weeks. Street maps, charts, crime scene 
photos, and lists covered every available bit 
of wall space.

Mulder was almost certain he knew what they 
were dealing with. Proving it would be 
another matter. Getting Perkins to give it 
some credence, yet another. 

He glanced up from the table where he was 
compiling his notes. Scully should have been 
done with the autopsy by now. "Say, Brad, 
have we gotten a copy of the autopsy results 
on the latest victim?"

"Right here." Jonas picked up a folder and 
walked it over to him.

Confused, Mulder leafed through the file. 
"How long ago was this delivered?"

"Agent Scully brought it by about an hour 
ago."

"Agent Scully was here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where did she go?"

Jonas hesitated; when he looked up, his face 
was a mask of sympathy. "She went to lunch."

"Lunch?" He wondered what time it was.

"Uh, yes, sir. She'd just begun to read 
through your other notes..." Jonas indicated 
a file folder at the other end of the table. 
"...when the ASAC came and got her. He said 
to tell you not to expect her for awhile."

Mulder tried very hard not to react, but he 
felt like someone had slapped him across the 
face. 

Someone.

Scully.

He nodded stiffly, lowering his head to at 
least give the pretense of reading the 
report. Halfway through the first paragraph, 
he noticed how excruciatingly full his 
bladder was; Mulder thought he'd better do 
something about it. Closing the report, he 
tossed it onto the table and stood up. 

The entire room winked out, then winked back 
in, then wavered somewhere in between. He 
gripped the edge of the table tightly, hoping 
that Jonas hadn't noticed his drunken sailor 
imitation. 

"Agent Mulder?" 

Mulder licked his lips and answered as 
strongly as he could. "Yeah?"

"Are... all... ight...? 

It wasn't getting any better, and Mulder had 
to get out of here. "Yeah." He swallowed. 
"Fine." His eyes latched onto the door, and 
he made his legs move toward it. "Be right 
back," he muttered.

He saw Jonas glance at the empty coffee cups 
scattered throughout the room. They were all 
Mulder's. "Oh. Right."

Once safely on the other side of the door, 
Mulder realized he had no idea where the 
men's room was. Jesus. No wonder he felt like 
he was about to burst. Five hours of drinking 
coffee without a bathroom break. 

The corridor darkened, and Mulder was 
guessing that it wasn't due to a power 
failure. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Where the hell was 
that men's room?

A movement off to his left caught his 
attention, and through his clouded vision he 
saw what looked like a woman coming his way. 
Not wondering nor caring why anyone in their 
right mind would be down here, he addressed 
her. "Excuse me," he said, and she stopped. 
"Could you tell me where the men's room is?" 
He prayed he didn't look as frantic as he 
felt.

"Mulder, are you all right?" she asked, 
instead of answering his question.

"Scully?" He squinted down at her, trying to 
make out her features.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

Mulder was beyond caring about decorum. "I 
need a men's room, Scully."

She took hold of his arm. "Mulder, you need 
to sit down. You look like you're about to 
faint."

He broke out of her grip, almost stumbling 
against her in the process. "Scully, do you 
or do you not know where the men's room is?"

"Mulder. Come. Sit." She tried to pull him 
toward the room he'd just left.

Stopping just short of stomping his foot on 
the floor, Mulder grabbed her by the 
shoulders. "Men's room. Now."

She looked shocked for a moment, then snapped 
out of it. "I have no idea." She looked 
around at the yellowed walls, the dusty 
floors. "Are you sure there's one down here?"

Mulder's mouth dropped open, and he stared at 
her. He hadn't considered that.

Gazing at him in sympathy, Scully patted his 
arm. "Wait here. I'll look around."

Biting his lip, Mulder nodded. "Hurry, 
please."

Nodding, she trotted down the deserted 
hallway, pausing in front of a door about 
thirty feet down. After checking to the end 
of the corridor, she went back to the door. 
She pushed it open and peered inside, then 
walked swiftly back to him. "No men's room in 
sight, but there's a ladies room, and it 
looks like it's kept up." 

He nodded shakily. "Is anyone in there?" 

She shook her head. "I don't think it's used 
too often."

"All right, then." He started toward it, then 
gasped as the floor seemed to give way.

Scully's hand gripping his elbow brought him 
back to reality. "Are you dizzy, Mulder?"

"Yeah," he said, breathless. 

"Do you want me to come in with you?"

That was the last thing he wanted, but 
unfortunately it was what he needed. "Um... 
yeah."

He allowed her to escort him to the door and 
walk him inside, but he balked as they 
entered a stall. "I'll be all right by 
myself," he said, very quietly.

"Are you sure?" she asked. 

He laughed giddily. "No."

She smiled at him. "Do you mind if I wait 
back there?" Her eyes flicked to the row of 
sinks.

He wasn't happy with the idea, but he could 
live with it. And he couldn't afford to get 
into an argument over it. "Okay."

She backed out, and he locked the door. 
Fumbling with his zipper, he finally managed 
to free himself, sighing in relief as the 
pain began to ease. 

Once his mind was able to focus on something 
other than his all-encompassing need, Mulder 
began to feel self-conscious. Well. Hadn't he 
presented the picture of every woman's dream. 
Scully must be simply itching to jump into 
bed with a man who can't even remember to go 
to the bathroom on his own--and who had to be 
babysat when he did.

Suddenly, though, he was glad for her 
presence. He managed one weak, "Scully..." 
before the room blinked out.

*****

Denver Field Office Basement
Ladies Room
Thursday
2:05 p.m.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mulder 
heard the click of a door being unlocked 
right before it opened and he tumbled out. 
He'd always assumed those "safety locks" on 
the outside of bathroom stalls were for 
parents to rescue trapped children, not for 
FBI agents to recover inept partners. Well, 
this ought to have clinched it: Scully was 
sure to choose him in the Mulder/Perkins 
race. 

He moaned at the feel of her hands digging 
into his armpits. Maybe he should just 
concede defeat and put himself--and her--out 
of this misery.

"Mulder? Are you awake?"

His 'yes, I am,' sounded like, "Mnrph" to his 
ears.

"It's okay. Lie still. I'm going to get a wet 
paper towel for your head."

He moaned again and tried to roll onto his 
side. His head was pounding, and the cold, 
hard tile was cranking up the tempo to 
unbearable heights.

"Mulder, lie still." Scully's voice came from 
across the room.

"Floor hurts," he mumbled, "my head." 
Reaching up, he wrapped his arms so that they 
covered his ears.

Feeling someone tugging at his arms, he 
realized that Scully was trying to tell him 
something. "Mulder, your head's not on the 
floor anymore. You can let go now. I need you 
to lie on your back so I can check your eyes. 
Can you do that?"

"Uh, huh," he said, releasing his hold and 
moving onto his back; he was surprised to 
find himself half off the floor, on Scully's 
lap.

"Good." He felt her hands on his cheeks. "Do 
you know what happened?" she asked.

Opening his eyes, he looked up her. "I passed 
out?" 

"Do you know why?"

He reached up to cradle his head. "My own 
stupid fault."

"What do you mean?" she asked gently.

"I forgot. Took the cold pills on an empty 
stomach." He grimaced. "I guess coffee 
doesn't count."

She shook her head. "No. It doesn't." Her 
hand had been caressing his face, and now it 
stopped. "You didn't eat? All day?"

He shook his head slowly. "Wasn't hungry."

"Do you think you can eat something now? We 
can go get some lunch."

"I thought you ate already," he said, looking 
away. "With Perkins."

She maneuvered his face so that he had to 
meet her eyes. "It wasn't *only* Perkins. I 
went to lunch with all the agents."

He was confused. "Why would Jonas think--"

"Because Andy can't take a hint." She 
scowled. "He's really starting to piss me 
off, acting like I'm his property--"

"Are you?"

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "What do you 
mean by that?"

He closed his eyes. "Earlier today, he told 
you... I heard him telling you that maybe it 
was time for a change." Opening his eyes, he 
sought out hers. "What did he ask you, 
Scully?"

When she couldn't meet his eyes, he felt his 
throat constrict. "After this case, he's 
being promoted to SAC of the Indianapolis 
Office. He asked me to be his ASAC."

Mulder wanted to throw up. How could he ask 
her to give that up? What could he offer her 
in comparison? Abduction, paranoia and death. 
Every girl's dream.

"I told him 'no.'"

Mulder's head jerked up. "What?"

"I told him I had a job I loved, and a 
partner..." She brushed her hand through his 
hair lightly. "A partner I'm not prepared to 
leave." She kissed his forehead. "Ever."

"But, I... Today I saw... You looked so 
comfortable with him, Scully." He looked 
away. "And he looked very comfortable with 
you."

"He's a friend," she said, softly. "I'm 
comfortable with that, and so was he..." She 
trailed off.

"Until his wife died," Mulder finished.

Scully blew out a breath. "After all he's 
been through, I don't want to hurt him." She 
moved a little closer to him and caressed his 
face. "But I'm hurting you." Her face was a 
picture of remorse. "And while I like him, 
Mulder, it's you I love."

Mulder felt like a jerk. How could he have 
doubted her? Why did he *still* doubt her? 
Why was some small part of him still scared 
of losing her? "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm 
dealing with this the best I can." He looked 
at her imploringly. "I find it difficult to 
be objective where you're concerned. I find 
it difficult watching you with him, thinking 
of the two of you together..." He shuddered. 
"My imagination runs wild, and you know how 
scary that can be." He gave a weak grin.

She returned his smile. "Scary," she agreed. 
"And dangerous." She hugged him. "And very 
understandable."

"I just want this case to be over so we can 
go home," he whispered. "I want to be where 
I'm the one to touch you, the one to laugh 
with you, the one you smile for."

Puzzlement and then comprehension played over 
her face. She let out a soft breath and 
closed her eyes; when she opened them, her 
eyes were bright with tears. "I haven't been 
there for you much lately, have I?"

He looked away. "It's okay."

"You're lying through your teeth, Mulder."

"Yeah," he said, very softly. Gazing up, he 
met her eyes. "But it really is okay. You've 
got to work this thing out with Perkins." He 
shivered. "And I've got to get off this 
floor. I'm freezing."

He started to raise himself, then remembered 
where he'd been and what he'd been doing when 
he'd passed out. He looked down at his pants-
-his *no-longer-unzipped* pants--then he 
looked up. Scully followed his line of sight, 
then met his eyes.

She smiled, then kissed his cheek. "Just a 
small service I was happy to provide."

He knew he should have been mortified that 
Scully had had to "tuck" him in, but he found 
himself immensely turned on. Whether it was 
the thought of the action itself or her 
comment on the subject, he couldn't tell. 

He only knew that however cold the floor 
might have felt earlier, as of this moment it 
wasn't cold enough.

*****

The Blue Danube Diner
Thursday
3:04 p.m.

"Ahh... That sure hit the spot." Mulder 
pushed the bowl of what was formerly 
vegetable soup to the center of the table. 
Picking up his half-eaten cheeseburger, he 
took a good-sized bite.

"Well, there's certainly nothing wrong with 
your appetite," Scully remarked from the seat 
beside him.

Mulder felt his face heating up. If he hadn't 
been acting the martyr, he wouldn't have 
ended up on the bathroom floor, and Scully 
wouldn't have had to have played nursemaid to 
him; it was *not* the role he envisioned her 
portraying with him. He swallowed, then 
turned to face her. "Scully, I'm sorry about 
earlier. If I hadn't been feeling so sorry 
for myself--"

"Let me clue you in on something, Mulder," 
she interrupted. "I was perfectly aware of 
what my being with Andy was doing to you. I 
felt powerless to stop it, but that doesn't 
mean I didn't know how it would affect you. 
So you had every right to feel sorry for 
yourself." She gazed into his eyes with the 
saddest look he'd ever seen. "I did."

He had no response to that, so he was 
grateful when Brad Jonas rejoined them in the 
booth. After his little escapade in the 
ladies room, Mulder had stopped into the "war 
room" to retrieve his jacket and invited 
Jonas to have lunch with him and Scully. 
Jonas had accepted gratefully, and the three 
had trekked across the street to the Blue 
Danube Diner at Jonas's recommendation.

While Jonas had relaxed somewhat around 
Mulder, he got the impression that the young 
man wasn't entirely at ease. Mulder genuinely 
liked this agent who showed so much promise 
and so had been on his best behavior. It just 
didn't seem to be working, though.

So here he sat, Scully on one side telling 
him that she felt sorry for him, and Jonas 
across from him, looking for all the world 
like he expected Mulder to lean across the 
table and swat him like the pesky insect he 
was. 

Mulder sighed. This was turning into the 
lunch from hell. Scully was sulking beside 
him, Jonas was sulking in front of him, and 
Mulder was just sulking. His cheeseburger 
lost its appeal, and he pushed it away.

"So, how's the investigation coming?" 
Scully's question was addressed to both Jonas 
and himself.

The young agent had been studying his 
sandwich, but he looked up expectantly at 
Scully's question. Mulder decided to let him 
field it. Catching Jonas's eye, he nodded 
that Jonas should go ahead and fill Scully 
in.

"Well, we've drawn up a chart," Jonas began, 
" and we're getting close to establishing a 
pattern." He glanced at Mulder. "Agent Mulder 
thinks that by this time tomorrow, we'll be 
able to make a pretty good guess as to when 
he'll strike next. Possibly even who."

"A few 'who's,' actually," Mulder supplied. 
"We think we've identified the types of 
people it's going after..." Mulder ignored 
Scully's sigh and Jonas's restless shifting 
at the 'it.' "...so we may be able to narrow 
it down to a couple of dozen possibles."

"That's great," Scully said, and she sounded 
very pleased, "but you're still proceeding on 
the basis that we're dealing with some sort 
of monster?"

"Demon," Mulder corrected.

"Okay. Demon. Do you still think it's not a 
human committing these murders?"

He knew where she was going. "It's not an 
animal, either, Scully. There is purpose and 
there is motive behind these attacks."

"Couldn't it just be an animal attacking 
whenever it gets hungry?"

Mulder shook his head. "These people weren't 
eaten. They were brutally ravaged, but it was 
in no way out of a physical hunger." He 
stressed the word, 'physical.'

"What about a rabid animal, then?"

Mulder nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose that's 
a possibility. It would have to be a large 
animal, and with the mountains so close 
by..." He shrugged. "I have the feeling that 
it's something else, though. Something... 
sinister."

Scully raised an eyebrow. 

Mulder smiled, then shuddered. "There's 
something evil about this perp, and the 
closer I get to figuring what it is, the more 
it creeps me out. I feel that as I'm getting 
closer to him, he's getting closer to me."

That worried look came over Scully's face, 
the one she always got when she thought he 
was starting to identify too closely with the 
killer. In all honesty, he couldn't say it 
was unwarranted in this case.

"It's why you're so good at it." Brad Jonas's 
quiet proclamation broke into the silent 
conversation Mulder and Scully were holding. 
"Your ability to put yourself in their shoes, 
to see things from their viewpoint." He 
looked across at Mulder, and Mulder felt 
embarrassed--and gratified--by the open 
admiration in the other man's eyes.

Mulder nodded. "As they say: it's a gift and 
a curse."

"Either way, it exacts a high price," Scully 
added quietly.

Mulder lowered his gaze to the table. The 
cost *would* be high, but with Scully by his 
side he could weather the worst of it and 
come out relatively unscathed.

The big question remained, however: With 
Perkins actively pursuing her, and her 
unwillingness to just dump the man, *would* 
she be there for him?

*****

Twin Forks Lodge
Aurora, Colorado
Outside of Denver
Thursday
7:39 p.m.

Mrs. Agerson smiled across the dining room 
table at Mulder. He returned the smile, but 
his heart wasn't in it.

She frowned in puzzlement. "I do wish your 
young lady could have joined us."

Mulder sighed. So did he. "She had to go to 
dinner with our boss," he said, trying to 
make it sound very unlike the personal 
affront he felt it as.

"And what about you? You didn't have to go? 
Or are you still not feeling well?" Her face 
took on a cast of motherly concern.

"No, no, I'm fine," he said quickly. If she 
knew he wasn't feeling too hot, she'd comfort 
him to death, and Mulder just wanted to be 
left alone in his anger and misery.

He still didn't understand how Scully could 
do that to him. After all her words, all her 
promises to the contrary, there she was on 
another date with Andrew Perkins, and here he 
was. Alone. 

Again.

He was beginning to feel like a spouse who 
was being abused, yet kept making excuses for 
his abuser, even to the point of feeling that 
he was somehow to blame for and deserving of, 
that abuse. But Scully wasn't abusing him; 
she was merely torturing him. 

"Leave the boy alone, Martha." Mr. Agerson's 
deep rumble of a voice made Mulder jump. "I'm 
sorry, Mr. Mulder," he said, and Mulder 
noticed that Agerson had softened his voice 
to a more conversational level. "But you're 
about the same age as our son, and she misses 
him."

Mulder was almost afraid to ask. "Where's 
your son now, sir?"

"He lives in Virginia." One corner of Mr. 
Agerson's mouth quirked in a smile. "He works 
for the FBI in Washington."

Mulder stared at him a moment, then blinked, 
searching his memory. He came up blank. "I 
don't think I've ever met him."

Mrs. Agerson shook her head. "No, you 
probably wouldn't. He works in Forensic 
Science."

"He's a pathologist?" Mulder asked, 
surprised.

"Why, yes!" Mrs. Agerson was beaming. "He 
doesn't actually work in Washington, but at 
that Quarry place."

"Quantico?" Mulder asked.

"Quantico! Yes! That's it. He works at 
Quantico."

Mulder ran through the repertoire of 
pathologists currently employed at Quantico; 
he still couldn't come up with a match. "I 
thought I knew all the pathologists out 
there. What's your son's name?"

"Jim." At Mulder's blank look, she blushed. 
"Oh, how silly of me. His name is Jim Vernon. 
I was married to his father only a year when 
he was killed. Ted..." She motioned to her 
husband. "...is the only father he's ever 
known."

A picture of a tall, slim, dark-haired man 
appeared in Mulder's mind. He couldn't 
prevent a smile; Mrs. Agerson's fussing over 
him made a lot more sense now.

"I see you know who he is," Mr. Agerson said 
with a smile.

Mulder nodded. "He works with my partner 
sometimes." At Mrs. Agerson's look of 
bafflement, Mulder explained. "She's a 
pathologist, too."

The woman looked more bewildered than ever. 
"I thought she was a field agent."

"She is. She's both."

Mrs. Agerson looked thoughtful. "What's your 
partner's name again?"

"Dana Scully."

She clapped her hands in delight. "Of course! 
And you're her partner! Then you must be--" 
She stopped short and covered her mouth. "Oh, 
my."

Mulder looked down at his shoes. He liked 
these people, and they seemed to like him--
until Mrs. Agerson made the connection that 
Fox Mulder and "Spooky" Mulder were one and 
the same. With Scully off God knew where, 
he'd appreciated the companionship of the 
older couple. Well, the honeymoon had to end 
sometime; he stood up. "Um... thank you for 
supper, Mrs. Agerson." He nodded to the older 
man. "Mr. Agerson." Turning away, he headed 
for the doorway.

"Mr. Mulder?"

He stopped walking, but didn't face the 
woman. "Yes?"

"My son is very impressed with your partner. 
And with you."

Mulder nodded. "Jim's a good man, too," he 
said, quietly.

A chair scraped the floor behind him, and a 
second later he felt Mrs. Agerson's hand on 
his arm. "I've made you uncomfortable. I'm 
sorry."

Mulder forced a smile. "No... you didn't," he 
lied. "I... I'm tired, and you were right. I 
don't feel well. I'm going to go up to bed," 
he said softly, starting away again.

"Mr. Mulder." Mr. Agerson was back to the 
booming voice. Mulder's feet responded to the 
voice of authority and stuck to the floor.

He turned around to face the man. "Yes, sir?"

Mr. Agerson stuck out his hand.

Cautiously, Mulder took the offered hand; 
Agerson pumped it until Mulder thought his 
arm would snap out of its socket. "I'm proud 
to know you, Mr. Mulder," the man said, 
finally releasing him.

Resisting the urge to rub the ache out of his 
shoulder, Mulder squinted in confusion. 
"Sir?"

"Despite the impression we may have given 
you, my son speaks very highly of you. I 
would even go so far as to say that you amaze 
him, and let me tell you, that's quite an 
achievement."

Mulder felt himself blushing. Until now, he'd 
never given Jim Vernon a second thought. That 
the man should gush over him to his 
parents... Mulder was at a loss. "I..." He 
couldn't think of a thing to say.

Mrs. Agerson shooed her husband away, taking 
Mulder's arm. "Come on," she said gently. "I 
think you need a nice soft bed. It looks like 
even super profilers aren't exempt from 
getting sick."

"I'm all right," Mulder protested, as she led 
him through the house. "It's just a cold."

"A cold can be as bad as the flu if you're 
not used to this altitude," she told him, and 
he believed her. He felt rotten, yet he 
wasn't altogether certain it was due to the 
cold. Where was Scully? She'd made a promise, 
then she broke it and left him, sick and 
alone. 

Would she do that if she loved him? Would she 
leave a man she loved to go out with a man 
she didn't love?

No, Mulder concluded with a heavy heart. 

She wouldn't.

*****

Twin Forks Lodge
Aurora, Colorado
Friday
2:47 a.m.

Mulder rolled out of bed and tottered in the 
direction of the bathroom. Man, he felt 
really out of it. Maybe taking green stuff 
*and* aspirin wasn't too smart. He had to 
douse his face with cold water before he felt 
confident enough to be able to use the toilet 
with any degree of accuracy.

After he finished, his eye caught the other 
door, which lead to Scully's room. 
Offhandedly, he realized that he'd forgotten 
to lock it. Jesus, wouldn't his face have 
been red if Scully had decided to pop in 
while he was relieving himself? 

And then he felt that tightness in his chest. 
Was she even here? Very tempted to open the 
door and assure himself that she'd at least 
come back, he swallowed hard and pivoted 
away, afraid of how he might react if her bed 
was empty.

Turning the faucet on, he washed his hands, 
then left the cold water running. Opening the 
medicine cabinet, he shook out two aspirin 
tablets, swallowing them with a few mouthfuls 
of the water. "Ow," he moaned, as the second 
tablet made its way down his throat. Great, 
he, thought. Sore throat. What would be next?

As he shuffled back to bed, he wondered how 
late he could show up for work and still be 
on time. He really wished he could afford the 
luxury of calling in sick. Could Jonas 
shoulder the load without Mulder's help? 
Maybe working together, he and Scully would 
be able to--

Mulder stopped walking and closed his eyes.

Oh, God, how was he going to survive without 
her? 

"Mulder?"

Mulder's eyes snapped open, and he looked 
around wildly. Was he hallucinating? The room 
was empty.

"Mulder?" her sleepy voice called again, and 
this time he located her. In his bed. "What's 
wrong? Are you okay?"

"What... What are you doing here? I 
thought..." His head swiveled in the 
direction of her door, then returned to her 
pajama-clad body. His eyes narrowed. "Why are 
you here? Why aren't you with 'Andy?'" He 
heard the nasty ring to his voice, but he 
wasn't too concerned with her feelings at the 
moment.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You were 
asleep when I got back," she said quietly. 
"Mrs. Agerson said you'd gone to bed early, 
that you weren't feeling well." Her eyes 
clouded over with concern and sorrow. "I 
tried not to wake you, but I didn't have to 
worry. You were out like a light." She 
smiled. 

"You didn't answer my question," he said 
flatly.

"Mulder, I know what it looks like, but--"

"You don't want to hurt him." Mulder had 
heard his fill of that particular excuse. How 
many more times would he hear it? How many 
more times would he let her use it? If she 
wanted Perkins, she could have him. Mulder 
was through being jerked around.

Standing was becoming too much of a chore, 
and he made his way to the bed on shaky legs. 
Scully reached for him as he neared the bed; 
he shook out of her grasp. "Save it for your 
boyfriend," he spat. 

"That's not fair, Mulder," she said in a low 
voice. 

"Not fair?" His voice matched hers in quiet 
intensity. "What's not fair is coming back 
here by myself. What's not fair is making a 
promise you had no intention of keeping. 
What's not fair is you going out with someone 
when you're supposed to love me! Now, what 
are you doing in my bed?" he shouted as loud 
as his scratchy throat would allow.

"What's wrong with your voice?" she asked, 
and he wondered if she'd heard anything he'd 
just said.

He closed his eyes in frustration, and bit 
his trembling lip. Jesus, what the hell was 
happening to them?

"I told Andy to leave me alone."

He opened his eyes and looked at her in 
surprise. "I'm listening."

"I told him I wasn't interested in him, that 
I would no longer be available for breakfast, 
lunch, dinner, or anything else. I told him 
that I loved my partner."

Mulder was still too numb to respond. He'd 
steeled himself to the fact that Scully would 
be gone from his life, and it was hard to 
fathom her words to the contrary. Yet he'd 
heard them before, hadn't he? Too many times. 
He stared into her eyes, so full of love for 
him, and he felt nothing.

"I feel like shit. I'm going back to sleep. 
You can stay, or you can leave. I don't much 
care either way." He lay down, his back to 
her, and pulled the covers up to his neck. 

"Mulder, please listen..." He heard the tears 
in her voice. The only effect they had was to 
make him annoyed.

He shifted until he was facing her. "I *have* 
listened. I've listened and I've listened and 
I've listened. You go out with him, you say 
you're sorry. You go out with him again, and 
again you're sorry. You go out with him, 
you're sorry, you go out with him, you're 
sorry. Well, I'm sick of it. The next time 
you go out with him, don't bother coming 
back."

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "There 
won't be a next time."

At that moment, he felt something toward her 
he never in his life thought he'd feel: he 
hated her. "I've heard that before," he 
hissed, letting what he felt creep into his 
eyes. "Scully, why don't you just get out of 
here? I'm tired and I'm sick and I've had 
enough of your bullshit."

Her eyes filled with tears, spilling over 
onto her cheeks. "You're right. You're 
absolutely right. I never should have let it 
go on this long. I should have told him that 
first night."

He propped himself up on one elbow, gaining 
strength with his anger. "Do you know why you 
didn't? Do you want to know why you didn't?" 
He didn't pause long enough to give her the 
opportunity to answer. "Because you liked it. 
You liked that he was paying you all that 
attention, and you liked knowing that it was 
making me crazy. You liked stringing me 
along, twisting that knife again and again, 
just to see how I'd react. You liked the fact 
that I loved you, that I'd do anything, even 
let you date another man, rather than lose 
you. Well, guess what, Scully? You lost me."

A look of utter despair came over her face, 
and he knew that however much he might 
despise her, however much she hurt him, there 
was no denying that he loved her and always 
would. He reached over and pulled her against 
his chest. "God help me, but I love you, 
Scully. No matter how much I loathe you at 
this moment, I do love you." As suddenly as 
he had drawn her to him, he let her go. "Now, 
please, just get the hell out of here."

She turned to go, then stopped. "Mulder?" He 
read fear, and he read hope, in her eyes.

He shook his head. "I don't know," he 
answered honestly, uncertain whether their 
relationship could be saved. He felt 
battered, and he felt used, and she was the 
one who made him feel that way. Suddenly 
drained of all strength, he lay back down and 
let his eyes close. He really felt like crap.

God, how he wanted Scully lying beside him, 
comforting him. Yet, he was certain that her 
touch would only burn him. She'd been burning 
him the entire trip.

"Mulder?" Her hand on his brow didn't scorch 
him; in fact, it felt cool and welcome. 

"Leave me alone, Scully," he mumbled, his 
resolve waning along with his health.

"You're sick, Mulder." Her hand caressed his 
cheek, wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"It's only a cold." His voice was reduced to 
a whisper. God, her hand felt so good. "Leave 
me alone, Scully." He was practically begging 
her not to go.

"Have you taken anything?" she asked, and he 
heard the switch to doctor-mode. 

"Couple aspirin just now. Cold medicine last 
night."

Her hand settled on his forehead. "You feel 
like you have a fever. Anything else? Nausea, 
dizziness, sore throat?"

"No." He heard the hoarseness in his voice, 
and he knew she heard it, too. In some 
strange way, he felt that by refusing her 
help he was hurting her, and that felt good. 

Yet it didn't, really.

He wanted her lying beside him, holding him 
in his misery, whispering comforting nonsense 
in his ear... He wanted her to love him. 

He wanted to believe that she loved him; he 
wanted it so badly that he didn't stop 
himself from moaning her name, from reveling 
in the feel of her arms when they encircled 
him. No protest was lodged when she settled 
beside him and pulled him to her breast. The 
thought never entered his mind not to snuggle 
into her warmth. And it never occurred to him 
to refuse her lips when they descended upon 
his. 

Was he setting himself up for more heartache? 
Would she be the one to finally break his 
heart beyond repair? 

He fell asleep convinced that his mind never 
even entertained these thoughts.

*****

Denver Field Office Basement
Friday
1:53 p.m.

As Mulder sneezed for what must have been the 
thirtieth time in the last ten minutes, he 
thought that perhaps Scully's flat-out 
forbidding him to accompany her and Jonas to 
interview witnesses wasn't such a bad idea 
after all. He reached for another tissue and 
was dismayed to find that the box was empty.

Another sneeze was building, and through 
watering eyes Mulder sought out the leftover 
napkins from their earlier trip to 
McDonald's. He found them just as the sneeze 
let go. When the rough surface of the napkin 
rubbed against the tender skin of his nose, 
Mulder gasped; it was like blowing his nose 
with sandpaper. 

Ladies room, he thought. Toilet paper. 
Women's restrooms must have soft toilet 
tissue. Right?

He felt a little unsteady when he stood, but 
he pushed it down until he felt as well as he 
had a right to feel with such a miserable 
cold. Walking to the door, he stretched, 
trying to work out a few of the kinks he'd 
gotten from sitting for so long. His hand 
closed on the doorknob, and he was shocked 
when the door was pushed inward, narrowly 
missing his head. 

Perkins stood before him, looking as 
surprised as Mulder felt. "Agent Mulder! My 
god, I'm sorry. Are you all right? Did I hit 
you?"

Mulder shook his head. He wasn't sure if he 
was more surprised by Perkins' presence or by 
the fact that the man seemed genuinely 
concerned that he'd almost beaned him. The 
two men stared at each other for a second, 
then Mulder said, "Dana's not here."

The ASAC nodded. "I know. She and Jonas 
checked in with me before leaving." Perkins 
looked down at the floor before meeting 
Mulder's gaze again. "I, uh, actually wanted 
to talk to you." 

The itch in Mulder's nose was threatening 
again; the last thing he wanted to be doing 
was facing down a rival while sneezing like a 
fool. He cleared his throat, trying to chase 
away the sneeze. "Now's really not a good 
time. I was just heading out."

"Oh." Perkins sounded so disappointed that 
Mulder relented. He felt certain he'd regret 
it, but the man looked like he'd lost his 
best friend. 

And then Mulder realized that maybe he had. 
"I guess it can wait," he said quietly, 
gesturing the ASAC in. 

Perkins looked so grateful that Mulder almost 
felt guilty for taking Scully away from him. 
As the ASAC made his way to a chair, Mulder 
grabbed the pile of napkins and set them on 
the table by the chair farthest from where 
the man was settling in. Perkins gave him a 
curious gaze.

"Nothing personal," Mulder said, sitting. "I 
have a cold and..." The sneeze he'd been  
holding back exploded out of him.

"Bless you. And I appreciate the gesture." 
Perkins waited while Mulder blew his nose. 
"Nothing personal, either, but you look 
awful." Mulder heard real sympathy in the 
man's tone.

Mulder gave him a watery smile. "I don't feel 
too bad, actually. It's just this damned... 
Ah-choo! ...sneezing." 

Perkins glanced around the room; Mulder 
noticed his eyes alighting on the empty 
tissue box. Then they flitted back to 
Mulder's face. "That looks sore," he said, 
gesturing to Mulder's nose. "What you need 
are those tissues with the lotion in them. I 
have a box at my desk; I'll bring them down 
later."

Mulder waved him off. "That's not necessary, 
sir." Wondering why he felt the sudden need 
to address the man as sir, Mulder continued. 
"I'll just run out and buy a box." 

Perkins smiled sadly. "No offense, Agent 
Mulder, but you don't look like you'd make it 
five feet, let alone up the stairs and out 
onto the street."

Mulder glanced at the door. "Is it still 
raining?" He shivered, still feeling the cold 
drizzle from the short walk to his and 
Scully's rental that morning. After Scully 
and Jonas left, he'd cranked the thermostat 
up to 80, but the temperature had remained at 
an unwavering 65.

Perkins nodded. "And windy as all hell. You'd 
be soaked to the skin before you got out the 
door."

Mulder sighed. He'd just have to hope that 
the ladies room would come through for him. 
"So what'd you want to talk to me about?" As 
if he couldn't guess.

"I'm sure you already know, Agent Mulder." 
The ASAC's tone hardened into one which 
Mulder was more familiar with and, oddly, was 
more comfortable with. So much for 
pleasantries.

"I have an idea," he said, and this was the 
truth. Although Scully had given him the gist 
of her conversation with Perkins, he couldn't 
be sure she'd actually said the words, "I 
love my partner," to Perkins, and Mulder sure 
as hell wasn't about to reveal anything. Let 
*Perkins* be the one to make any disclosures.

"I'm sure you've heard that once this case is 
finished, I'll be taking over the 
Indianapolis office."

Mulder stiffened. "I heard."

"Did you know that I asked Dana to be my 
ASAC?"

Mulder's stomach was starting to do 
backflips. "I knew."

"It's a wonderful opportunity for her, Agent 
Mulder."

Mulder nodded; his eyes hardened. "And you."

Perkins visibly bristled. "That's not why I 
asked her."

A sigh. "I know. Scully's an excellent agent 
and a natural leader, not to mention one of 
the top pathologists in the country. She'd be 
an asset to any office."

"Which is why I want her to be my ASAC."

Mulder was growing tired of this game. "But 
it's not the only reason."

Perkins seemed surprised that Mulder had come 
to this conclusion; the man shifted 
uncomfortably.

Mulder had had enough of Perkins' pussy-
footing. "She's my partner; we're staying at 
the same B&B, for god's sake. Did you think I 
didn't notice she's been gone more than she's 
been with me? Did you think I didn't know 
where she was and who she was with? Did you 
think I didn't miss her?" he ended softly.

The ASAC smiled uneasily. "I guess I hoped 
you hadn't." The man looked up guiltily. 
"Until last night, I didn't know you and Dana 
were, uh..." 

Mulder waited; let Perkins reach his own 
conclusions.

"Frankly, I was surprised. You just don't 
seem like the type of man she'd go for." He 
sighed. "Let's face it, Mulder, you don't 
come across as particularly lovable." 

Mulder flinched; the truth always hurt--him, 
at least.

Perkins face suddenly took on a look of 
horror. "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-
-" 

"It's all right," Mulder said quietly. I know 
exactly how I come across."

Perkins appeared to be looking at him in a 
new light. "You do, don't you? Is it 
intentional?"

"To some extent," Mulder admitted. He had to 
admire the straight-forward approach of the 
man; no wonder he'd made SAC at such a 
relatively young age. "Mostly, though, it's 
this single-minded tendency Scully keeps 
telling me I have, of concentrating so hard 
on the case that I forget about everything 
else. Like manners."

Perkins nodded. "You can be rather... abrupt. 
With young Jonas, in particular."

Mulder stared at the ASAC. He'd thought that 
he and Jonas were getting on quite well. "He 
said that?" 

A smile flitted across Perkins face as he 
shook his head. "The boy admires you. Despite 
all warnings to the contrary, he was dying to 
work with you. Go a little easy on him, will 
you?"

Mulder felt like he'd just pistol-whipped a 
puppy. "I thought I was."

Perkins shrugged. "Well, you could have 
fooled me. When they came to my office, he 
looked like he'd just received the tongue-
lashing of his life."

Mulder felt the blood drain from his face. 
He'd been upset at being excluded from the 
interviews, but... Had he taken any of his 
frustration out on the other agent? He 
honestly couldn't remember. "Shit," he 
muttered.

A soft laugh punctuated his self-
recrimination. "You should see the look on 
your face."

Immediately, Mulder wiped the slate clean. He 
stared, expressionless, at the ASAC.

"Forget it, Mulder. It's too late." Perkins 
was smiling and shaking his head.

Mulder stared, absolutely in the dark.

"Your cover. It's been blown."

Mulder leaned forward. "What?"

"You have feelings. You have emotions." He 
looked pointedly at Mulder. "Like the rest of 
us."

Mulder felt his face heating up.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Agent Mulder. 
You love, and you're loved." The ASAC stared 
at him,  an expression of defeat in his eyes, 
and swallowed hard. "Dana loves you, and she 
says you love her. Don't fuck it up."

What was going on here? Instead of attacking 
him, Perkins was acting like he was his older 
brother. Was he just setting Mulder up for a 
fall? Could he actually be this sincere, 
this... guileless? Jesus, no wonder Scully 
found it so hard to refuse him. Mulder felt 
horrible just because Scully loved him and 
not Perkins; he felt like he was denying the 
man his last chance at true happiness. 

"Can I ask you a question?" Mulder said.

"Shoot." Perkins smiled, and Mulder felt like 
he'd scored a touchdown.

"I know you and Scully have known each other 
a long time. Were you and she... uh... Did 
you and she..." Perkins face fell; Mulder 
felt like a heel for putting out the light in 
the other man's eyes.

"No," the ASAC said softly, shaking his head, 
looking down at the tabletop. "Not for lack 
of trying on my part, though. She just wasn't 
interested." He lifted his head and met 
Mulder's eyes. "Not dissimilar to now." He 
smiled resignedly, then sighed. "I came here 
to tell you how much better off she'd be with 
me. I came here convinced you were an 
arrogant, self-involved jerk, but you're not 
half-bad, Mulder. When your guard is down, 
you're actually a decent human being." 

Perkins stood up. "It's funny. I've known you 
for about five minutes. I've heard all the 
'Spooky' Mulder stories, formed an opinion of 
you based on those stories--not a favorable 
one, I might add--yet I find myself liking 
you. I find myself thinking that maybe Dana 
isn't making so hideous a mistake after all."

Mulder wasn't sure if he was the windshield 
or the bug. Not so hideous a mistake? Was 
that what everyone would think when they saw 
the two of them together? That while he was 
the luckiest guy on Earth, Scully's lot in 
life was that she had made 'not so hideous a 
mistake?'

"Mulder. Mulder!" He looked up dully, then 
was thoroughly shaken by the distress he saw 
on Perkins' face. "For God's sake, I was 
kidding. I never said that to her, and I 
never thought it. I was only trying to 
lighten the mood." He smiled grimly. "I guess 
it didn't work."

Still reeling from the direction his thoughts 
had taken, Mulder stuttered, "No... No, I 
guess it didn't."

"Jesus, I'm sorry. If I thought for a minute 
you'd take it seriously..." He regarded 
Mulder thoughtfully. "If you were half the 
arrogant bastard everyone thinks you are, 
that would have washed over you like so much 
sea water." His voice softened. "Take it in 
the spirit in which it was intended, okay?"

Mulder couldn't stop thinking about it. "I 
can't," he said quietly. "There's too much 
truth in it."

Instead of agreeing with him, the ASAC sat 
back down. "My wife and I were married by a 
Justice of the Peace in his office. We didn't 
tell anyone because we didn't know one person 
who didn't think it would be the biggest 
mistake of my life."

Mulder blinked his eyes in surprise; now 
there was a switch.

Perkins caught the blink, and he nodded. 
"It's true. She was an ex-convict, and I was 
a federal agent. Not exactly a match made in 
heaven. The comments came hot and heavy: she 
was using me; she'd corrupt me; she'd drag me 
down to the mud with her. Not one person saw 
the flip side."

When Perkins' gaze met his, Mulder nodded, 
understanding where Perkins was going.

"We were married only a year when she was 
diagnosed with an inoperable tumor, but she 
was the sweetest, most wonderful woman I've 
ever known..." Perkins eyes filled with 
water, and his voice broke. "...and, God, I 
miss her."

Mulder looked away, giving the man a few 
seconds to compose himself. Silently, he 
pushed a napkin to the ASAC. 

Perkins took the napkin, smiling sheepishly 
at Mulder; he wiped his eyes, then blew his 
nose. "What I'm trying to say, Agent Mulder, 
is that although everyone thought that *I* 
was making a 'hideous mistake,' the truth is 
that I was the happiest I'd ever been in my 
life. Carol was the best thing that ever 
happened to me. I can't tell you what a 
pleasure it was proving all those people--
well-meaning, though they might have been--
wrong." Perkins shook his head and gave a 
short laugh. "I can't believe I'm telling you 
this."

"It sounds like you've needed to tell someone 
for a long time," Mulder said quietly.

The ASAC stared at him for a moment, then 
nodded. "I don't think I've ever talked about 
Carol since her death."

"Was there anyone you *could* talk to?"

"Not really," Perkins admitted.

"Not even Dana?" Mulder asked.

Perkins gave him a grin. "The last thing you 
want to be doing on a date is talk about your 
dead wife. It's not exactly conducive to any 
future romance."

Mulder smiled. "No, I don't suppose it would 
be."

The ASAC stood again. "Well, the point's moot 
now, anyway. I had my second chance, and I 
still wasn't what she wanted." He stuck out 
his hand. "Best of luck, Mulder. To both of 
you."

Taking the man's hand, Mulder smiled warmly. 
"Thank you." They let go, and Perkins started 
away. "Uh... sir?"

Perkins turned around, a question on his 
face.

"If you ever want to talk to someone..."

"I will," Perkins said softly. "Thanks."

After the ASAC left, Mulder stared at the 
door a minute, then snatched up a napkin. 
"Achoo!" He stood up, wiping his nose as 
gently as he could.

Ladies room. Soft toilet paper. He walked 
swiftly out the door.

*****

Denver Field Office Basement
Friday
4:30 p.m.

"Mulder!" The door hit the wall with a bang 
as Scully stormed in, startling him. He had 
been studying a fax he'd received half an 
hour ago, his chair tilted back, and when it 
slammed forward his teeth jolted up into his 
eyeballs. He stared at his partner in shock 
as waves of pain reverberated through his 
head.

"What did you say to him? What did you do?" 
Her face was livid.

Mulder blinked in confusion; he felt like 
he'd just had his brains scrambled. "What? 
Who?"

Scully stabbed him with a look that would 
have made him come clean if he knew what she 
was talking about. "Andy."

His temples were throbbing; Mulder squinted 
in puzzlement. "What about him?" he moaned.

"What happened between the two of you? What 
did you say to him?" She was torn between 
anger and fear now, and Mulder couldn't 
imagine what he'd done to the man.

"I... Nothing. Why? What's the matter? Is he 
all right?" Jesus, had the man had a heart 
attack? Stroke? Had Mulder been the cause?

"I don't know. I was too embarrassed to see 
him after what Lowther said." Scully looked 
very upset, and Mulder was her main target.

He pressed a hand to his aching forehead. "I 
don't know what you're talking about, 
Scully," he mumbled.

She planted herself directly in front of him. 
"Did you talk to him today?"

He bristled at her accusatory tone. "Yes. 
*He* came down here."

Instead of accepting that Mulder was not the 
instigator of whatever happened, Scully 
turned on him and hissed, "You just had to do 
it, didn't you?"

Mulder was too taken aback by the venom in 
her voice to utter anything but a garbled, 
"What?"

"You had to show him up. You had to skewer 
him with those rapier-sharp barbs of yours, 
didn't you? Dammit, Mulder, Andy's still 
going through a rough time. His wife died--"

"I know," Mulder cut her off. "We talked 
about her."

"You..." Scully was rendered almost 
speechless. "...what?"

"He misses her," Mulder said quietly. "After 
two years, he's still mourning for her."

"You didn't get into an argument with him? 
You didn't..." She bit her lip.

"Hurt him?" Mulder shook his head. "I 
couldn't do that to him." He waited until her 
eyes met his. "I understand now, Scully," he 
said very quietly. At her baffled look, he 
explained. "Why you had trouble telling him 
'no.' Why you kept going out with him."

"You... do?" 

Mulder nodded. "He's a nice guy. A decent 
man. If I wasn't a male, and I wasn't in love 
with you, I think I might go out with him," 
he said with a grin. Then he remembered how 
distraught she was when she came in. "What 
happened? He was fine when he left."

"Lowther said he went to talk to you. They 
were all anticipating his giving you a good 
dressing-down, for what, I don't know." She 
gave him her 'inquisitor' look. "Have you 
done anything that would warrant that?"

He shook his head, shrugging in bewilderment. 
"Not that I know of."

"Anyway, Lowther said that when he came back 
his eyes were red and puffy, like he'd been 
crying." Scully's eyes were beginning to 
water. "Mulder, Andy's a really sensitive 
guy. Are you sure you didn't say anything..."

"I swear, Scully." He held up a hand in 
appeasement. "We just talked. He told me 
about his wife..." Mulder's eyes met hers as 
it dawned on him. "He... At one point, he 
broke down. But it was only for a moment. He 
was okay when he left."

"Then you didn't..."

"Jesus, no. It'd be like drowning a kitten." 
Mulder looked down at the floor. "He still up 
there?"

Scully nodded.

"Do they all think that whatever happened is 
because of me?"

She nodded.

"Do you?"

It took a second, but very slowly she shook 
her head. 

"You're not sure, though, are you?"

She closed the distance between them and 
cupped his face in her hand. "Yes. I am."  

Shutting his eyes, he breathed out a sigh of 
relief. "Thank you," he said very softly.

Her lips touched his lightly. "I'm sorry I 
jumped to conclusions."

He opened his eyes and looked at her face, so 
close to his; his eyes darted to the 
otherwise empty room. "Where's Jonas?"

She tilted her head back. "Upstairs. I think 
he tumbled to the notion that I wanted to 
talk to you alone."

"Smart kid," Mulder said. He gave Scully 
another light kiss, then pushed her away 
gently. "This is the only thing I don't want 
to give you, Scully: my cold."

"How are you feeling?" She felt his face and 
forehead with her hand. 

He shrugged. "Kinda crummy." Then he smiled, 
feeling a little foolish for admitting that 
he wasn't feeling too terrific. "Like I have 
a cold." 

"How's the profile coming? Did you make any 
more headway?"

He held up the fax he'd been reading when 
Scully came in. "Just this." He sighed. "If 
we ever catch the perp, it'll come in handy, 
but right now I can't make head nor tails out 
of it."

"Feeling too miserable to concentrate?" Her 
eyes took in the half-used roll of toilet 
tissue and the overflowing wastebasket, then 
focused in on his nose.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Hey, Scully, before we 
go back to the B&B, can we stop and buy some 
*soft* tissues?" He glared at the toilet 
tissue. "That sandpaper isn't much better 
than napkins. I thought ladies rooms had the 
soft stuff."

She laughed. "You would." One finger very 
lovingly lingered just above the sore skin of 
his nose. "Why don't I go now? Save what 
precious skin you have left."

He smiled uncertainly. "If you wouldn't 
mind." 

"I wouldn't have asked if I did." She grabbed 
up her purse from where she'd thrown it on 
the table and started for the door. 

Partway there, he stopped her. "Scully."

She turned around to face him, waiting.

"What about you? Any luck today?"

She frowned. "Nothing we didn't already know. 
Mostly they were upset that we were still 
bothering them." Her countenance brightened. 
"Good choice in Jonas, though. He has good 
instincts."

Mulder broke the eye contact. "Uh, yeah."

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Scully 
moving back toward him. "What's wrong?"

He looked up at her, then moved his gaze 
away. "Did I... Earlier, when we were 
discussing my non-involvement in the 
interviews, was I... Did I say anything to 
Jonas? Was I..." He sighed. "Did I say 
anything that might be construed as 'not 
nice?'"

One of Scully's eyebrows raised in an 
expression Mulder knew only too well. It was 
her 'You don't know?' face. "You mean, did 
you accuse him of trying to take over the 
investigation? Did you call him an 
incompetent, overzealous, simple-minded ass-
kisser? Did you tell him to keep his filthy 
hands off me or you'd pound him into the 
pavement?" She gazed at him questioningly. 
"Something like that?"

He stared at her. Jesus, he'd said all that? 
He recalled being upset with Scully, but... 
He narrowed his eyes. He'd never had those 
thoughts; he'd never said those things.

She smiled wickedly. "Gotcha."

Shaking his head, he grinned. "So what did I 
say then?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. You ranted and raved, 
but only at me, and nothing I hadn't heard 
before. It might have been a little too much 
for virgin ears, though." She looked 
thoughtful for a moment. "Come to think of 
it, he didn't say much until we were at the 
first house."

Mulder sighed. Why did he have to be such an 
asshole?

"Scully, can we go back to the B&B now? I 
must have sneezed the entire time you were 
gone, and my head feels like there's a steel 
drum band inside."

Her finger hovered in front of his nose. "No 
wonder you look like Rudolph, the red-nosed 
reindeer."

"And I feel like I've been pulling a sleigh 
all night." Looking at her through half-
closed eyes, he remarked, "Bet you're just 
dying to jump into bed with me, aren't you?"

"Actually, Mulder..." Her expression became 
sultry, and her eyes looked almost... smoky. 
Then the seductress vanished, and she sighed. 
"I'd love nothing more, but you're sick."

"I have a cold," he reminded her. "But you're 
right. You shouldn't even be this close to 
all these germs."

She moved in closer, her breath tickling his 
nose. "I'm willing to take the risk." Leaning 
in, she kissed the tip of it.

He smiled, then his eyes began watering and 
he felt an all-too-familiar tingle. He barely 
turned his head in time before, "Huh-choo!"  
Pushing her away, he made a grab for the roll 
of tissue. "Oh, no, not again," he moaned. 
"Huh-choo! Scully, I want to go home now."

Just then, the door burst open, and an angry 
Eugene Lowther stalked in, two more agents in 
his wake. "Spooky, you son of a bitch! What 
the hell did you do to him?"

Mulder's eyes widened at the threatening 
picture the agents presented before him. 
Lowther was a *big* man, and the other two 
were no lightweights, either. "I didn't do 
anything to him."

"Yeah? Well, he just went home. Said he was 
sick, but I know it was because of his 'talk' 
with you." Lowther grabbed hold of Mulder's 
shirt, practically pulling him out of his 
chair. "What the hell did you say to him?"

"Nothing. Whatever happened to him happened 
after he left here." 

This time the agent did pull him out of his 
chair. Instinctively, Mulder's arms chopped 
upward, trying to break the other man's hold. 
It was like trying to fell an oak tree with a 
butter knife. Mulder's nose suddenly 
twitched, and he almost smiled. Lowther might 
be big, but he was almost paranoid in his 
fear of germs. Mulder sneezed on him.

"What the fuck..." Lowther shoved Mulder away 
from him so fast, the agent flew the 
remaining six feet across the room, hitting 
the wall with a teeth-shattering "thu-whap!" 
Mulder's head connected solidly with the 
hardwood, and he landed in a heap on the 
floor, panting heavily. 

"Leave him the fuck alone, you barbarians! 
They were talking about Andy's wife, and Andy 
got a little emotional. Mulder didn't do 
anything!" Scully was kneeling beside him, 
her hands checking him for injury, her arms 
covering him protectively.

"No offense, Agent Scully, but you're his 
partner," a new voice Mulder recognized as 
belonging to Grant Hartigan piped up. Off-
handedly, Mulder wondered if Lowther had run 
to the ladies room to wash off his germs.

"You're damned right I am!" Her grip on him 
tightened, which was fortunate since he felt 
that nothing was going to prevent him from 
fainting dead away any second. "And I'm 
Andy's friend. And I'm telling you that 
Mulder didn't do anything to him."

"He'd better not have." Even though he wasn't 
looking, Mulder could see Hartigan's finger 
jabbing the air.

"Get out of here." Her tone was low and 
dangerous. "Get the fuck out of here before I 
have you all up on charges."

They must have retreated a lot more quietly 
than they came in, because all Mulder heard 
was the soft click of the door. Scully 
cradled his head in her arms, he mumbled, "My 
hero," and the world disappeared.

*****
Rental car
6:00 p.m.

Mulder was sitting in the passenger seat of 
the car, shivering, waiting for Scully to 
come out of the pharmacy, when his cel phone 
chirped.

"Yeah, Mulder," he rasped, cursing Denver's 
damned mile-high altitude that was robbing 
him of his voice again.

"Agent Mulder? Is that you?" Jonas's voice 
came over.

"Yeah, it's me." He tried to sound better 
than he felt. "What's up?"

"We got him!" 

"What?" Mulder sat up straighter in his seat. 
"When? How?"

"From the list we came up with yesterday. 
They staked out the individuals you 
identified as 'most likely,' and the guy 
showed at one of them."

"Guy? It was a man?" Could he have been so 
far off the mark? 

The line went silent, and Mulder wondered if 
they'd been disconnected. 

"Jonas?"

"You were right about that, too," the young 
agent finally said. "What they caught is no 
man. Nor animal." Mulder heard a voice in the 
background, just barely clear enough to hear. 
"Tell him to get down here ASAP."

"Agent Mulder, they want--"

"I heard." He honked the horn for Scully. 
"Where?"

"Police headquarters. You know where it is?"

Mulder didn't, so Jonas gave him directions. 
"Okay, got it. Where's the perp now? What's 
its condition?"

"It's in a cell, unconscious. They 
tranquilized him at the scene." Jonas gave a 
bitter laugh. "Even though they followed your 
profile of the victims, they still proceeded 
under the assumption that they were dealing 
with an animal."

Mulder shook his head at their 'logic.' 
"Well, in this case, I'd say it was 
fortunate. Brad, under no circumstance should 
they let that thing regain consciousness. Do 
you understand?"

"I'll try." The young agent sounded 
uncertain.

"Brad, if that thing wakes up and finds 
itself trapped, it'll go berserk. And it'll 
take everyone in that station with it. Now, I 
don't care what you have to do, but keep it 
sedated!"

"I will."

"Good man. Okay, I've got to get Scully. I'll 
see you in a few minutes." Mulder clicked off 
and called Scully's cel.

She answered on the third ring. "Scully."

"They caught it, Scully. We've gotta go."

"I'm at checkout now. I'll be there in two." 
She clicked off, and a minute and a half 
later, she was trotting toward the car. 
Handing the bag to Mulder, she buckled in and 
started the car. She looked over at him. 
"Where to?"

"Police HQ." He rattled off the directions, 
and she drove off.

As they neared their destination, Mulder's 
cold began to reassert itself. "Oh, give me a 
break, will you?" he moaned, searching 
through Scully's purchases. Pulling out a box 
of aloe-coated tissues, he smiled at his 
partner. "Bless you, Sc... Ah-choo! 
...Scully."

They stopped at a red light. "Right back at 
you, G-Man." 

His nose was running, his eyes were watering, 
yet she was looking at him like he was the 
most desirable man on the face of the planet. 
If he didn't believe that she loved him, he 
was the biggest fool in history.

Ripping the lid off the box, he quickly blew 
his nose, hardly feeling the raw, burning 
pain anymore. When he met her gaze, he held 
nothing back in his. All he was, all he felt 
for her, he let shine in his eyes.

Right back at *you,* G-Woman.

*****

Police Headquarters
6:22 p.m.

Mulder wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere 
and die. Once he'd begun sneezing, he'd found 
that he couldn't stop. Not only was his nose 
sore, his head pounding, and his throat raw, 
he was as embarrassed as hell. It was one 
thing to sneeze a thousand times in solitude-
-quite another to put on a performance for 
the woman he loved.

At every stop sign and every red light, she'd 
gaze at him sympathetically or ask if he was 
all right. He'd long ago given up responding 
to her queries.

Now, as the car came to a halt, he felt her 
hand on his back. "We're here," she said 
softly.

Unable to speak, he nodded his head and 
sneezed.

"Do you want to wait here?" she asked.

He shook his head and tried to clear his 
throat without its feeling like he'd 
swallowed a razor blade. "N... Ah-choo! No." 
Tucking the half-empty box of tissues under 
his arm, he opened the door and stepped out. 
Surprisingly enough, the rain and the chill 
in the air cleared away the horrid tickle 
that had plagued him the entire ride. He blew 
his nose and gulped in the fresh air. 

When  he recovered enough to wonder why he 
wasn't getting wet, he looked up to find 
Scully holding an umbrella over his head. She 
was standing in the downpour.

He pulled her under with him, but she tried 
to push away. "I'm getting you all wet," she 
protested.

He stepped back a couple of inches. "I don't 
want you to get sick, too, Scully. Stay under 
the umbrella, okay?" Taking the umbrella from 
her outstretched arm, he held it over both of 
them.

She rubbed his arm with her hand. "Okay." Her 
hand drifted up to his face. "Oh, Mulder, 
your poor nose."

He didn't need a mirror to know how red it 
was, or a psychic to tell him that as soon as 
they stepped into the light of the police 
station, all eyes would zero in on his nose 
like a homing beacon. "Attractive, isn't it?"

She tugged at his coat sleeve. "Come on. 
Let's get inside." 

He heard the quiver in her voice and nodded, 
then slid an arm around her shoulders, 
bringing her in closer. "It's a small 
umbrella." Smiling, he dared her to argue 
against that logic. 

As they walked slowly to the entrance, 
Scully's desire to make a run for the door 
was almost a palpable thing; Mulder 
appreciated the effort she was making to keep 
them to a snail's pace. Despite his 
assurances to the contrary, he wasn't feeling 
all that chipper. 

Upon entering the station, Mulder was 
relieved to note that nothing seemed out of 
the ordinary. He was closing the umbrella 
when a deep voice asked, "Help you folks?"

While Mulder fumbled for his badge with half-
frozen fingers, Scully produced hers. "Agents 
Scully and Mulder. FBI."

The desk sergeant's demeanor immediately 
became more respectful. "Oh, yes, ma'am. 
They're expecting you." He beckoned to a 
young policeman. "Officer Trainor will take 
you down."

She nodded to the man, and they fell into 
step behind their guide. 'Down,' thankfully, 
consisted of two corridors and one locked 
door, to which Trainor had the key. The 
officer turned the key and pushed open the 
door. "Thanks," Mulder said, stepping inside, 
scanning the cells, anxious for a look at 
their demon.

"Agent Mulder! Down here," a familiar voice 
called from the very end of the room. 
Glancing at Scully, ignoring her warning to 
take it easy, Mulder jogged past the other 
twenty cells. 

His breath caught in his throat at what was 
lying in shadow on the cot. Then his heart 
started beating excitedly when he realized 
that the overhead light was shining directly 
onto the demon, with no obstructions between 
it and the thing on the bed. Christ! No 
wonder it had been near impossible to catch. 
This demon *was* shadow.

When he was finally able to tear his eyes 
away, he sought out Scully. She was standing 
beside him, transfixed much the same as he 
had been. Her gaze broke away and fastened on 
him. 

"What is it?" she asked, in a not-quite-
steady voice.

Reaching into his suit coat pocket, he 
withdrew the fax from earlier. He scanned the 
assembled faces; besides Lowther, Hartigan, 
Jonas and two police officers, Perkins was 
there, looking quite recovered. Mulder nodded 
to him, and he returned the gesture. "It's 
called a 'Daran,'" he said, addressing 
himself to the group. "I was able to 
establish a correlation among the victims." 
He gave a rueful smile, knowing how the next 
information would sound; it was also one of 
the reasons he hadn't included it in his 
preliminary report. "It seems our victims had 
attended a science fiction convention here in 
town, and a group of them decided to do a 
little dabbling in the black arts."

"What?" Lowther spat out from his position 
next to Perkins, as far away from Mulder as 
he could get. "You're telling me that a bunch 
of geeks dressed up like Dr. Spock are 
responsible for this?" He indicated the 
unconscious demon.

Mulder was tempted to tell Lowther that even 
geeks knew a baby doctor from a green-blooded 
half-alien, and thus would only dress up as 
*Mister,* not *Doctor* Spock; he sighed 
instead. "I can't say who they were dressed 
like but, basically, yes, that's what 
happened."

"Then you're as flaky as them, Mulder. 
There's no way they could have--" 

"Then where do *you* think this came from?" 
Mulder asked.

"From a costume shop. Maybe it's another one 
of those 'Trekkies.' How the hell should I 
know?"

"Let's listen to Agent Mulder's explanation, 
shall we?" Perkins' voice was soft, but his 
gaze was hard; Lowther shut up. The ASAC 
turned to Mulder. "Go on."

"I was able to contact some of the people on 
our list..." Mulder nodded to Jonas. "...the 
one you used to catch the demon with. One of 
them remembered the book the spell came from. 
I was able to find an occult store which 
carried a copy, and I had them fax me the 
spell--the entire spell." He looked at 
Perkins. "I can send him back."

"Wait a minute. This thing's responsible for 
the deaths of five people. You can't just 
'send it back,'" Lowther protested. "It's got 
to stand trial."

Mulder couldn't believe his ears. "You want 
to put a demon on trial? A being from another 
dimension with powers we can't even begin to 
imagine? For Christ's sake, *look at it.* 
Nothing like this exists in nature. Do you 
actually think you can contain *a demon?*"

Lowther waved at the form lying on the cot. 
"We're containing it now," he said, smugly.

"Because it's unconscious. I'm surprised it's 
out at all." Mulder shook his head in 
amazement. 

Lowther snorted. "It ought to be, with six 
tranquilizer darts in it."

Mulder gaped, then nodded; he considered it 
lucky that the team had carried that many 
with them. After all, they were going on the 
assumption that it was a large cat or a rabid 
dog they were after. 

"Look, we don't want to be around when this 
thing wakes up." He appealed to Perkins. "We 
have to send it back *now.* You saw what 
happened to the victims when they couldn't 
send it back."

"It's in a cell. In cuffs," Hartigan pointed 
out.

Mulder was starting to get frustrated. "I'm 
telling you: We don't want to be around when 
it wakes up."

"Mulder..." Scully said in a hushed voice.

Mulder felt a chill run down his spine at the 
tone of her voice. He turned toward the cell.

It was awake.

*****

Police Headquarters
6:39 p.m.

"Nobody move! Stand perfectly still." Mulder 
walked slowly toward the iron bars, ignoring 
all occupants except for the one in the cell.

The demon was watching him warily. Suddenly, 
in one fluid motion, it rose, its arm 
extending out toward Mulder. The still-locked 
handcuffs clanked to the floor. "You."

Mulder shuddered; it felt as though the room 
temperature had plummeted 20 degrees in the 
two seconds since he and the creature had 
made eye contact. 

"You. Know." Its voice made the warm blood in 
his veins turn to ice water.

Mulder nodded; it was a struggle just to 
speak as he kept getting colder and colder. 
"Y-yes. I know how to send you back."

"You. Did not. Bring me." Christ almighty! 
The thing was absorbing his body heat!

"No." He broke out of the demon's gaze, 
gesturing to the others; with relief, he 
noted that as quickly as he'd gotten chilled, 
now that he was no longer looking at the 
demon, he was warming up. "No one here 
brought you."

"Return me. Now." 

Mulder nodded. Still avoiding the creature's 
gaze, he shook out the paper containing the 
counter-spell. Somewhere in the back of his 
mind, as he read from the fax, he noted that 
Lowther's protests had died away. Along with 
Mulder's voice. He rasped out the last few 
words, the lights blinked off, and when they 
blinked back on, the creature was gone.

"Holy shit," Hartigan whispered.

Indeed, Mulder thought, staring at the empty 
cell. He let out a shaky breath.

"Aw, fuck," Lowther remarked. "What the hell 
are we supposed to say happened to it? What 
the hell are we supposed to say 'it' was?"

From the tone of his voice, Mulder deduced 
that these questions were aimed at him. He 
turned around to face the agent. 

Lowther's eyebrows shot up through his 
forehead.

"What the hell happened to your nose?"

*****

Denver Field Office
ASAC Perkins' Office
9:27 p.m.

While Scully helped the agents concoct a 
plausible story, Mulder sat in a corner being 
miserable. His voice was totally gone, 
anyway, even in the event that his congested 
brain would permit him to formulate a 
coherent sentence. How did he come to end up 
in a cold office, on an uncomfortable chair, 
sneezing his head off, when he could be back 
at the B&B lying in a soft, warm bed, doped 
to the gills on green stuff?

He wished Scully had put up more of a fight.

Scully had, bless her, had the foresight to 
purchase not one, but two, boxes of tissues; 
alas, he was down to the last three in the 
second box. "Huh-choo!" The last two.

Mulder looked up for the first time in twenty 
minutes. Everyone was huddled around Perkins' 
desk, deep in discussion, the circle of their 
chairs effectively blocking him out. "Huh-
choo!" One. He hoped Perkins still had that 
box he spoke of earlier.

Dragging himself upright, he started to scan 
the room, then thought he'd wait until 
everything became stationary again; as he 
stood there swaying, he actually felt the 
color leeching from his face. A pair of hands 
gripped his arms, and when he looked up and 
found himself eyeball-to-eyeball with Gene 
Lowther, he felt his heart speed up.

"Take it easy, Mulder," the man said so 
comfortingly that Mulder had to wonder if he 
hadn't been transported back to that other 
dimension with the demon. Mulder could only 
stare in awe. "What do you need?" the other 
man asked. "I'll get it for you."

"Ti..." Mulder felt another sneeze coming. He 
shook his head, trying to get away. "Lowth... 
Let... I have to..." He ripped himself out of 
the big man's grip. "Huh-choo!" After he used 
the last tissue, he held up the empty box. 
"Tissues," he rasped. "The ASAC has a box..."

Lowther nodded, then when the big man settled 
him back into the chair before heading off,  
Mulder was sure he'd entered the Twilight 
Zone.

A few seconds later, a full box of tissues 
was placed on his lap. When he looked up to 
thank Lowther, he was surprised to find his 
partner instead. "How are you holding up?" 
she asked.

He regarded her through bleary eyes. "If I 
answer honestly, you're going to wish you 
never asked me." He sniffled, then took out a 
tissue and blew his nose. 

"We're just about done," she said gently. 
"Can you wait a few more minutes?"

It was exactly what she'd said an hour ago. 
"Sure," he said. "But we have to be out of 
here by the twenty-tissue warning."

She laughed and patted his head. "I promise." 
Then she was back in her chair, and he was 
forgotten once again. 

He hugged the tissue box to him; it was the 
only thing in the entire room offering him 
any comfort. Opening his mouth to sneeze, he 
felt the sensation fade away, and he breathed 
a sigh of relief. Maybe now he could become 
an active participant in the conference, if 
only from a distance.

Setting the box on the floor, he leaned 
forward, trying to catch snatches of 
conversation, but while their mouths were 
moving, no sound was reaching him. Great, he 
thought. Now he was mute *and* deaf. His ears 
were plugged up from blowing his nose so 
much. Sighing, he sat back in the chair--and 
was wracked with a shudder.

Damn, why hadn't he noticed how fucking 
freezing it was in there? He eyed his coat on 
the coat rack all the way across the room. 
Should he risk it? There was every 
possibility that his balance was off; just 
sitting down, he was feeling light-headed. He 
could embarrass himself by landing face-first 
on the floor, or he could ask for help.

"Hey, Scully?" Nothing came out except a 
harsh whisper. He tried again. "Scully!" The 
sound of rustling leaves. This was getting 
ridiculous. He clapped his hands. Five heads 
swiveled in his direction. 

"Did you need something, Agent Mulder?" 
Perkins asked.

"My coat," he rasped. "Could someone--"

'I'll get it." Jonas walked quickly to the 
coat rack and unhooked Mulder's nice, long, 
warm winter coat. Bringing it over to him, 
the agent handed it to him, a curious 
expression on his face. "Are you leaving?"

He shook his head--one short, choppy motion--
and spread it over himself like a blanket. 
"Cold," he whispered.

Jonas's face softened, and he nodded. Without 
saying a word, he tucked the coat more 
securely over Mulder's shoulders. 

"Thanks, Brad," Mulder's voice grated out. 

The agent's face was a mask of sympathy. 
"We'll be done in a few minutes."

Mulder closed his eyes and sighed, then 
opened them and regarded the young man. 
"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I know."

Jonas smiled uncertainly and returned to the 
assemblage. Mulder's eyes followed him 
halfway before they drooped closed. God, he 
really needed to sleep; maybe when he woke it 
would be time to leave.

He had just about drifted off when he felt a 
hand on his cheek. Smiling to himself, he 
whispered, "Scully."

"Come on, Mulder," she said, softly. "Let's 
get you out of here."

"What time is it?" he asked, his eyes still 
closed.

"Time for me to get you into bed."

His eyes fluttered open. She was gazing at 
him, a smile on her face, eyes full of love, 
and a promise on her lips, so he knew he must 
really be sick when all he could think about 
doing in bed with Scully was sleeping. He 
noted the still-occupied room and groaned. 
"It didn't work. It was *supposed* to work," 
he whined.

"What was?" she asked. 

"Falling asleep." At her confusion, he 
elaborated. "No sense of time passing. I go 
to sleep, I wake up, and it's time to go. 
Poof. No more waiting." He glanced at the 
faces behind her. "But they're still here. 
You're still here, and I'm still here." He 
looked up at her imploringly. "I don't want 
to be here anymore, Scully."

Her face crumpled in sorrow. "Oh, Mulder, I'm 
sorry, but you're the one who insisted on 
coming."

He nodded slowly. "I know, but right now all 
I want to do is get out of here and go to 
bed."

"That's just where I'm taking you," she said, 
smiling gently.

He squinted, trying to focus on her face. 
"Did you already tell me that, or was it 
wishful thinking on my part?"

She helped him to his feet, holding his coat 
so he could slide his arms into the sleeves. 
"A little of both, I think. Here, let me do 
that," she said removing his uncooperative 
fingers from where they were finding it 
impossible to accomplish the simple act of 
bringing button to button-hole.

He let his hands fall to his sides as she 
buttoned him up. "I feel like I'm in second 
grade," he mumbled.

Immediately, she stopped. "I'm sorry. I 
didn't--"

"I liked second grade," he said quietly, 
laying his hands over hers. 

She looked up at him then and gave him a 
smile which did so much more for making him 
feel warm than any material ever could. 
Finishing with his coat, she tugged at it 
gently. "Come on, little boy. Time for you to 
go to bed."

His smile a little fragile, he followed her 
out to a chorus of, "Hope you feel better," 
"Take care of that cold," "Get some sleep, 
Mulder," and "Good night. Take it easy."

Still a little taken aback by their concern, 
especially the change of hearts for Lowther 
and Hartigan, Mulder rasped a puzzled, 
"Thanks," and waved weakly. Once they were on 
the other side of the door, he asked, "What's 
going on, Scully?"

Her look of bewilderment gradually changed to 
enlightenment. "Andy had a little chat with 
them on the way over here."

Mulder felt himself blushing, imagining what 
Perkins could have said for Lowther and 
Hartigan to be acting so friendly toward 
someone they had tried very hard to pulverize 
only a few hours ago. "Oh," he finally said,

Scully pressed the 'down' button on the 
elevator, then gazed up at him; he blinked in 
confusion at the open admiration in her eyes. 
"You do damned good work, Mulder," she said 
softly.

The elevator came, and they got on. "It was a 
team thing, Scully," he said. "I came up with 
the list, but Jonas took the initiative and 
got them going on the stakeouts."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "It wasn't 
your idea?"

Mulder sighed. "Let's just say they weren't 
very receptive to it at the time, and I 
wasn't feeling too argumentative." He 
shrugged. "I guess Jonas was."

The elevator stopped, and the agents stepped 
out into the heated garage. Mulder didn't 
argue when Scully pointed at a bench and told 
him, "Sit." Lowering himself onto it wearily, 
he had to stop himself from stretching over 
its entire length; if he laid down, he might 
not be getting up.

He distracted himself by watching his 
partner's shapely derriere. For so long he'd 
yearned to run his hands over every inch of 
her curvaceous bottom, and now that the 
moment was at hand, his only thought was how 
quickly could she move that classy ass to the 
car? 

He let his eyes drift shut. Tomorrow. 
Tomorrow he'd be in the mood.

A horn's loud honk caused him to jerk awake, 
gasping and blinking, wondering what the hell 
happened to the car he was riding in. Finally 
getting his bearings when Scully waved from 
the car that she had pulled to a stop in 
front of him, Mulder pushed himself to his 
feet and staggered over. Yanking the handle, 
he opened the door and gratefully settled in. 
"Oh, man, I could sleep for a week."

"Do you want to stay an extra day, Mulder?" 
Scully asked. "I was going to book us a 
flight for tomorrow, but if you'd rather take 
another day..."

Another day sounded heavenly. Mulder tried to 
remember if Scully had any plans that he'd be 
spoiling by keeping them over the weekend. He 
recalled something about Sunday and her 
mother, but he wasn't sure if it was some big 
family event or something informal and up-in-
the-air. "Uh, no," he answered. Better to be 
safe than sorry. "Tomorrow's fine. I just 
need a little sleep, and I'll be good to go."

When Scully's demeanor brightened, he knew 
he'd made the right choice.

He just hoped he'd be able to live up to his 
part of the bargain.

*****
Twin Forks Lodge
Aurora, Colorado
Sunday
5:12 a.m.

When he woke it was still raining. The 
curtains were closed but he could hear the 
pounding the thin window glass was taking. 
Throwing off the blanket, he stood, grateful 
that Scully was asleep and unable to bear 
witness to the giant economy-sized hard-on he 
was sporting. He didn't know what he'd been 
dreaming about, but it must have been a doozy 
for him to wake up looking like this.

Scratching his bare chest, he made his way to 
the window, hitching up his boxers from where 
they'd slipped down a little, wincing as the 
lightweight material grazed his cock. He 
moved the curtain aside so he could see out, 
mildly surprised to find that it was still 
night; he yawned and stretched, then let the 
curtain fall shut again.

Returning to the bed, he smiled at the sight 
of a T-shirt and panties-clad Scully sprawled 
across the spot in which he'd been sleeping. 
"Missed me, did you?" he whispered, sliding 
in under her arms. 

"Mmm... yeah," she said, and he jumped, 
thoroughly convinced she'd been asleep.

As her arms coiled around him possessively, 
he was thrilled to find that sleeping was not 
the first thought that came to mind. As a 
matter of fact, sleeping didn't come to mind 
at all.

"Ooh, Mulder." Scully tightened her hold on 
him. "You're feeling better." She gave him a 
sultry smile, latched a hand onto his cock 
and squeezed. "You're feeling much better."

Ohhhh, yeah. He sure as hell was. That little 
pleasure sensation that centered in his groin 
quickly spread until he felt like his entire 
body was going to come. "Jesus, Scully," he 
gasped.

"Like that, do you?" she purred--and squeezed 
again.

"Ohh, God..." Mulder broke out of her hold, 
flopped onto his back, closed his eyes and 
melted into the mattress.

Warm breath teased his face. Opening his 
eyes, he found his partner nose-to-nose. 
"Like that a little *too* much, do you?"

Christ, she wasn't even touching him and he 
felt like he was going to explode. "Scully, 
you're about to make me embarrass myself," he 
rasped.

"Really?" she asked, and then he knew what an 
evil being he was partnered with when she 
slid her hand into his boxers, trapping his 
cock beneath it, flexing her fingers and 
kneading his flesh.

He lurched up onto his feet, in his haste 
nearly separating her arm from its socket.

"Ouch! Jesus, Mulder, what the hell are you 
doing?" She was glaring at him, massaging her 
upper arm.

He ignored her for a few moments, regaining 
some of his poise, then he looked at her 
accusingly. "You almost made me come."

She directed a skeptical eyebrow toward him. 
"Mulder, we haven't even done anything yet."

"No kidding," he panted, still having trouble 
convincing his recalcitrant member to behave.

"So, c'mon." She reached out a hand for him, 
and he jumped back out of reach. Her mouth 
dropped open, and he felt more embarrassed 
than he'd ever felt in his life. Christ, even 
as a teen he hadn't been this squirrely. What 
the hell was his problem?

"Can you give me a minute?" he asked, 
addressing his question to the floor.

"Of course," she replied, and when he heard 
no derision in her tone he looked up. The 
sight of his partner in his bed on hands and 
knees, scantily clad, hair wild, brought it 
all back to him.

He smiled nervously. "I was... I must have 
been... I was having this dream and..." Heat 
spread from his face down to his toes as he 
remembered how close he'd been.

"Of me?" Her voice was low and husky and so 
goddamned sexy that he wondered if it was 
possible to come just from hearing her talk. 
And as he concentrated on that occurrence 
*not* happening, he knew it was; he became a 
little peeved at her for taunting him like 
that.

"No, of Queen Elizabeth. I really get off on 
thoughts of her with a riding crop." He 
frowned. "Of course, of you. For no other 
woman would I look this ridiculous." He 
spread his arms and looked down at the 
erection tenting his shorts.

Scully followed his gaze, then her eyes 
roamed over the rest of his body. She smiled 
at him. "I love it when you're like this."

He squinted. "Horny? Excited? Embarrassed? On 
the edge?"

She breathed in and then breathed out a, 
"Yeah." She slithered off the bed and sidled 
up to him. "I want to make you lose control. 
I want to push you over that edge, Mulder."

He gritted his teeth as she rubbed herself 
against him like a cat petting itself. 
"Don't," he pleaded. "Not the first time." 
His knees were just starting to buckle when 
she ceased.

Her hands caressed his face. "Why, Mulder! 
You romantic devil, you."

His mind was functioning just enough to eke 
out a smile.

She let her fingers travel down his arms 
until she reached his hands. "Speechless, are 
you?" Dropping one hand, she took hold of the 
other and tugged him back to the bed. When he 
balked, she gave him a gentle smile. "Not 
until you're ready. I promise."

He stopped resisting and let her lead him 
back. When she sat down instead of climbing 
in, Mulder was relieved; he lowered himself 
beside her very carefully. "I feel pretty 
stupid," he said.

"Mulder?"

He turned his head to look at her. Her gaze 
was that of a starving man eyeing a T-bone 
steak.

"I'm having one hell of a time keeping my 
hands off you," she said. Her eyes were 
boring into his. "I do not lust after stupid 
men."

Whoa. Lust? The words 'lust' and 'Scully' had 
come up in the same sentence before, but 
certainly not in that context. Scully was 
lusting? For him?

If his penis could detach from his body, it 
would be doing cocksprings. As it was, he was 
kind of glad the little (well, not at the 
moment) guy wouldn't be going anywhere 
without him. Scully had plans for it, and 
while Mulder could only guess at what those 
plans entailed--just thinking about it in his 
condition was downright dangerous--he didn't 
want to miss a moment of it.

"Scully?" His voice was shaking.

"Yeah?" Hers was breathy.

"Do with me what you will."

*****

On the Road
Sunday
12:16 a.m.

Mulder sat hunched in the passenger seat of 
the rental car, wanting desperately to, but 
deathly afraid of glancing at, his partner. 
Those pixies who'd come during the night to 
turn on (how apropros) his 'horny' gene had 
neglected to install an 'off' valve, and now 
any time she looked at him sideways, that 
heretofore undernourished tyke between his 
legs threatened to experience a growth spurt 
of epic proportions.

Christ, you'd think after the morning they'd 
had that sex would be the furthest thing from 
his mind. Really. He was exhausted. Totally 
and thoroughly wiped. 

With one exception. 

He'd heard that you couldn't keep a good man 
down, but geez... 

A long, drawn-out and whole-heartedly 
seductive sigh from the seat beside him 
titillated his ears, and he shuddered. Daring 
a glimpse her way, he froze when he found her 
eyes upon him, lapping him all over. Her 
tongue flicked out, moistening her lips, and 
he swore he could feel the rough/silk texture 
over every piece of skin her gaze swept.

The car behind them honked its horn, 
signaling that the light had changed, and 
Scully abruptly broke off, giving the car the 
gas. The damage, however, had been done. 
Trying not to groan, Mulder folded in over 
himself, devoting his full attention to the 
passing scenery, wishing something more 
interesting than brown, flat land would 
appear to capture his interest--and divert 
his mind from where it inevitably kept 
straying.

It was all her fault. If she hadn't been 
so... Oh, God. So satisfying, so fulfilling, 
so thrilling, so damned *good*...  Jesus. He 
really had to get those thoughts out of his 
head, or he wouldn't feel safe unless he 
spent the entire plane ride in the toilet.

"Mulder?"

His head nearly hit the roof when he vaulted 
up out of his seat. He heard her trying--not 
very successfully--to hide her snicker.

"A little jumpy?"

Glaring at her, he deigned not to answer. 

Her mouth curled into a smile; she tilted her 
head toward his lap. "You have a little 
problem there."

He shuddered, remembering the way she was 
just looking at him. "Gee, I wonder why?"

"Um, look. We're almost at the airport. 
There's a McDonald's coming up about a mile 
down the road. Do you think you might have 
to... um..." She had the good grace to blush. 
"...use the men's room?"

Jesus, was nothing sacred? He hid his face in 
his hand and nodded. 

"We have forty minutes till our flight. Think 
you can be done in five?"

Another nod. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't 
fair that men should have to go through this 
embarrassment. A woman could become aroused 
and no one would be the wiser, yet let one 
stray inappropriate thought enter a man's 
mind, and the monster awakens, the creature 
stirs, the beast arises.

Of course, he had to admit that he'd had a 
tad more than one inappropriate thought 
during this ride. Damn his eidetic memory.

He may have had... ideas... of Scully before 
this morning, but they were just that: ideas. 
Now that he'd experienced the real thing... 

Fuck. 

Did they sell chastity belts for men?

The End

Feedback gratefully accepted by Jo-Ann at 
Jolassi555@cs.com



66