From: lilxphile@aol.com (Em Laurence)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: NEW: "Slip of the Tongue" 1\2
Date: 28 Nov 1995 15:10:17 -0500


For the few people out there who actually know and care who I am, here's
more from me... enjoy it (I hope I hope)

"Slip of the Tongue"
By Em Laurence
<LilXPhile@aol.com>

11-9-95

(Part 1 of 2)


Mulder and Scully belong to CC and his crew, and I'm just
borrowing them for a little while. You can sue me if you want,
but you'll only get $2.54, two X-Files posters, a Bart Simpson
doll, and a small bloodthirsty kitten. I'm not purposefully
snitching anything. The Chief, Bernard Hamilton, and any other
characters not mentioned are the property of me, so don't use
'em without permission. Also, if you really want to post this to
a newsgroup or send it around to people outside the EMXC, Please
Ask Me First! If you ask, I swear I'll say yes. If you don't
ask, I'll tell  SciNut and you'll get in big trouble, plus
you'll be breaking the law. And we don't want to do that, do we?
 (Oh, I remember the days when disclaimers were simple...) There
is nothing offensive in this story, except for a few mild four
letter words, and some things that are technically and
scientifically impossible - but hey, this is the X-Files. Other
than that, this is basically good clean family fun. E-mail me
with all comments, please. Friendly fire, flames, whatever, just
tell me what you thought. Please, pretty please?



Part 1

"Read this."

A thin manila folder fell onto Scully's desk, nearly spilling
its contents and her coffee everywhere. She rescued both the mug
and the folder from the end of the desk before one or the other
slipped off and added to the mess that was already there. "You
did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Did what?" His face was a model of faked innocence.

"Tried to- oh, forget it. It's not worth arguing over." She
turned her attention to the folder. "What kind of weird thing
are we chasing this week?"

"We're not, unless you count a slightly deranged killer who
stabbed seven people with kitchen knives during full moons as a
'weird thing'."

She frowned. "If this were any other department, Mulder, I would
consider that weird, but not here. Except, maybe, for the full
moon aspect-"

"I checked into it, Scully. Only five of the murders were
actually during full moons. Which means we're stuck with a
stupid white bread case, designed to keep us away from the good
stuff and 'out of trouble'." He grimaced. "I tried to get out of
it, but no such luck. Apparently, Skinner wants to keep us on
the beaten path for a while." He softened. "Considering what's
happened recently, he may have the right idea."

Scully's eyes hardened. "Mulder, if this is about Melissa-"

"I didn't ask Skinner for an easy case, Scully. Believe me, I
would much rather be working on a nice, normal x-file, whatever
that is. But for now we're stuck with this. If we're real good,
maybe we can have a fun case next time." In reality, despite the
fact that he honestly wanted to work on a real x-file, he was
glad that they were starting off with a simple one. It would
give both of them a chance to get back into the swing of things.

"Okay, Mulder, I believe you. But don't you even think about
going off on a case without me, or I'll tie you to your chair."

"Got it." Mulder watched her as she returned her attention to
her laptop. She was trying her hardest to behave as if
everything was completely normal, but he could see the very
faint circles beneath her eyes and the slightly paler color of
her skin. He was worried about her.

He had gone with her to Melissa's funeral. Having grown up in a
family so devoid of love, he was surprised, as he always was, by
the warmth and caring the Scullys had for each other. No one had
blamed Dana for Melissa's death; instead, her mother and
brothers had been especially gentle. She had managed to keep her
composure until the very end, when she had cried so quietly that
he hadn't noticed her tears until he saw the damp spot on the
sleeve of her coat.

Now, just barely a week later, she seemed to be nearly back to
normal. Mulder knew it shouldn't surprise him; she'd proved,
more than once, her amazing ability to recover from anything
thrown at her. Still, he wondered if her sister's death was the
last straw. That maybe, just maybe, it would push her over the
edge.

"....Mulder? Mulder, are you even listening to me?"

He shook himself away from his thoughts. "Sorry, I was
daydreaming. What were you saying?"

She shook her head at him. "I was asking you when we leave
for..." she flipped through the pages in the file folder. "East
Mumford, Missouri." 

"Oh... um, I believe our flight leaves at nine fifty tomorrow
morning."



The next afternoon, a tiny twin engine pane landed safely on the
runway of the airfield in East Mumford. Mulder and Scully were
the only passengers aboard. The local police department had a
car waiting for them, and without too much difficulty they found
their way to the only hotel in town. To their surprise it was
actually a rather nice hotel. Their rooms were on the second
floor, and after hauling their bags up the narrow flight of
stairs- there was no elevator- and into their respective rooms,
Mulder joined Scully in her room.

"Well, that was an interesting trip," Scully said, falling back
onto her pillow. 

It was an understatement. Their flight out of DC had been late
in taking off, and they hadn't left until almost 11 am. By the
time they had arrived at the next airport to catch  the
connecting flight, it had left, and they had waited an hour and
a half for another plane. According to Mulder's watch, it was
about four in the afternoon. 

"So, what exactly are we doing here?" Scully asked.

"It's pretty basic. Seven people have been stabbed to death with
a kitchen knife in the last month, five of them during the full
moon like I said before. No apparent pattern in the victims; so
far they've all been of different races and ages. First victim
was three and a half weeks ago, found in his garage. Last victim
was just over a week ago, found in the kitchen of her apartment.
As far as I know there are no suspects. Pretty dull, huh?"

Before Scully could answer, there was a knock on the door.
Mulder opened it to a heavyset, smiling man in a brown uniform.
"Y'all must be the folks from the FBI," he said, extending a
hand to Mulder. "I'm Chief Daniel Willis. Nice to meet you
folks. We're hoping you can help us catch the guy who's been
killing off our people." The Chief had a pleasant drawl that
made both Mulder and Scully instantly comfortable.

"Nice to meet you, Chief," Mulder said, shaking Willis' hand. He
moved to let Willis into the room. "Now, what do you folks know
about this guy so far?" he asked, sitting down in an armchair by
the door. He listened while Mulder rattled off the facts from
the folder, nodding in appreciation. "That's some memory you've
got, son. I would have forgotten half of that right away." 

Scully looked amused. "We all love you for your mind, Mulder,"
she whispered.

"What's wrong with the rest of me?" he shot back, giving her a
pathetic puppy dog look.

"So," Willis said. "We've got a possible suspect down at the
jail right now. Accordin' to the reports that were made, this
guy was at three of the crime scenes, maybe more. You can c'mon
down and talk to him now, or you can wait until morning. He sure
as hell ain't going anywhere," Willis said, finishing with a
deep laugh that shook the walls.

Mulder glanced over at his partner. "Up to you, Scully." 

"We might as well get it done tonight," she said. "Unless you'd
rather not."

He tuned back to Willis. "I guess we'll go now."

"Great!" The chief stood up and headed for the door. "Y'all can
just follow me to the jail. Guy's name is Bernard Hamilton. And
let me tell you, he ain't a pretty sight. Fancies himself to be
a real ladies man, but... well, you better see for yourself."



Bernard Hamilton stared at the pair of agents with a malicious
grin. "Whaddaya mean you think I killed some guys? I didn't kill
nobody. I ain't never killed nobody in my life, and that's a
damn long time!"

The rank odor Hamilton emitted was beginning to affect Mulder
adversely. He had been grilling Hamilton for two and a half
hours, with only a short break so they could eat, and they were
getting nowhere. "Look, we've got a bunch of people that will
swear on whatever you put in front of them that they saw you
leaving at least three of the crime scenes. You still want to
tell me you didn't touch any of the victims?"

Hamilton smiled wider, revealing yellow rotten teeth. "I didn't
say I didn't touch 'em. I just said I didn't kill 'em. There's a
big difference."

Scully spoke up. "So you're saying you were in contact with some
of the victims."

"Say, you're a pretty little number," the man drawled, leaning
close. "You available?"

With great effort, she held back her anger and annoyance. "Not
in this lifetime," she muttered. Then, louder, "You didn't
answer my question--"

The suspect cut her off. "All right then, I can take no for an
answer. You got a sister, maybe?"

Mulder felt his chest tighten. <Oh, shit.> He looked over to
Scully to see her reaction. 

Her face had paled, her eyes had widened, but only for an
instant before she regained her composure and her professional
mask, devoid of emotion.

"Mulder, I think we have all we need for now, don't you?" she
asked him, without making eye contact.

"Yeah, I think we're set," he concurred, and he could sense her
relief. At this point, he didn't care much what happened to the
guy. With a brief "thank you" to Chief Willis, the two left the
room.

There was no conversation on the way out of the building. Only
when they were in the car and driving did Scully speak. "I think
that's the guy, do you?" She wasn't interested in an answer, he
knew. It was a distraction to keep him from asking her about
what was really on his mind.

It didn't work. "You okay?"

"Sure." Still no eye contact. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"Give it up, Scully." He wasn't willing to play games. "He asked
a bad question and it threw you. It happens. Working with me
this long, you should know that."

"It didn't bother me." Her tone was flat, a monotone. He
wouldn't have described it as human. And she still refused to
look at him. Why did she hide everything from him? He was almost
angry.

"Like hell it didn't," he said, and stopped the car. "Will you
quit being so stubborn and just accept it? For God's sake, it
was just a little tiny thing. I would hate to see what happens
if someone walked up to you and--"

"Stop it," she said, in barely more than a whisper. "Why are you
making such a big deal out of it? It was one little thing, and
you pounce on it as if... for God's sake, Mulder, will you stop
being so damn protective and leave me alone sometimes? I don't
need you to watch over me!" She turned away, to stare out the
window.

"Scully, why do you feel like you have to hide everything from
me? You never let me now how you feel, you never tell me when
you're hurt or sick or afraid, you never tell me... damnit,
Scully, you never tell me anything! If you're having a problem
with something, just say it! You don't have to be this
completely independent person." he stopped to catch a breath. "I
am so tired of worrying about you, and blaming myself for
everything that happens to you, and then having you push me out
of the way. If you're not willing to communicate with me-"

"For god's sake, Mulder, it's not like you never keep any
secrets!" Her voice was low but strong. "How many times have you
run off to some middle of nowhere spot where I can't find you
and not told me a thing about it? I spend days wondering whether
or not I'll see you alive again! I'm not the only one who
doesn't communicate! And *I* don't spend all my time hovering
over you like you're some kind of fragile flower, even when I am
worried about you!" She was as mad as he was.

"Scully, I spent three months just last year trying to figure
out what the hell had happened to you, and by the time I had you
back, you were as good as dead. After that I think I've got the
right to be a little protective." He stared her in the eye.
"Look, partners are supposed to support each other and
communicate. If you're not willing to do that, I don't want you
around."

Scully's jaw dropped. "What?"



End of Part 1

===========================================================================

From: lilxphile@aol.com (Em Laurence)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: NEW: "Slip of the Tongue" 2\2
Date: 28 Nov 1995 15:10:55 -0500


And here's part 2...

"Slip of the Tongue"
by Em Laurence
<LilXPhile@aol.com>

11-9-95

(Part 2 of 2)

I'm too lazy to type out disclaimers and all that stuff again,
so I'll just say that all disclaimers and information that was
written on Part 1 of this story applies to Part 2 as well. And I
better get e-mail with comments, or else!! -Em



Mulder stared coldly at his partner. "You heard what I said."

"You're serious about this?" Part of her almost hoped he was,
although it was very much outweighed by the part of her that
hoped he was kidding.

"Yes." He wasn't really sure he *was* serious, but he said it
anyway. 

"Then I guess this is our last case together." It wasn't the
response Mulder had expected. Breaking his steady gaze out the
windshield, he stole a quick glance at Scully. She was staring
into space, but her eyes were set and her face hard. There was
no sign that she, too, wasn't sure of her actions.

He was beginning to regret what he had done.



The next morning found Mulder and Scully at the police station
with the Chief. During the night, Hamilton had confessed to the
murders, and they needed to wrap things up before heading back
to Washington.

Mulder was exhausted. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night
before, and was having trouble keeping his eyes open, much less
fill out the endless amount of forms that came with every case.
No matter how much coffee he drank, he still found it difficult
to stay awake. Scully didn't seem to be any better off than he
was. She was looking terribly pale, and he guessed she was
suffering from lack of sleep as well. 

"Would you hand me the fingerprint analysis information, Agent
Scully," Mulder asked her. It was the way all their conversation
had been throughout the morning; stiff and formal. Without
comment she handed him the small stack of papers, never once
looking up from her computer screen.

"If you don't mind me sayin' it, you two seem awfully quiet
today," the Chief said, his booming voice echoing throughout the
room.

"Yes, well, this is our final case as a team, and -" 

The Chief jumped in before Mulder had a chance to finish.
"Really? I'm mighty surprised by that. Why they'd break up a
couple o' good young agents like the two o' you is beyond me.
But I guess with them there Bureau politics and all..." He
stopped when he realized that neither of the agents were paying
attention, and returned to his filing.

Mulder finished the last of the report forms and slid half of
them neatly into a manila envelope. The other forms were stapled
and tucked into his briefcase. "That should take care of
everything. It's been a pleasure working with you, sir," he
said, handing the Chief the envelope. He turned to Scully. "I'll
be waiting in the car." He left the building.

Scully sighed and folded up the laptop, sticking it back inside
its bag. "Thank you for your cooperation, sir," she said,
shaking the Chiefs hand. 

"No problem, ma'am," he responded. Then, leaning down so he was
closer to her height, he said rather conspiratorially, "I
wouldn't let that partner of yours get away if I were you. He
seems like a pretty decent guy, and there ain't too many of them
floatin' around."

Don't I know it, she thought as she gathered her things and left.

The plane flight back to Washington was awful. There were few
other people on the small plane, and no one said a word. It was
completely silent for the duration of the trip. Since there was
so much space they had opted not to sit next to each other.
Instead they were on opposite sides of the narrow aisle. As they
neared the airport, the plane hit a very nasty section of
turbulence, and from what Mulder could see, Scully was about
ready to be sick. He wasn't feeling all that wonderful himself.
It was a good thing they had skipped lunch. The rough flight
continued for what seemed like ages, and he began to feel sorry
for his partner. Her face was almost green.

When it seemed as if the plane was about to crash, they broke
through the clouds and settled down. Mulder leaned back in his
seat and looked over to Scully. She was also leaning back, but
her eyes were closed and her face was still a bright green.

The plane touched down on the airstrip and pulled up to a gate.
Most of the passengers took their time getting off, Mulder
included, but Scully wasted no time in leaving. When Mulder
entered the terminal, he saw her coming out of the women's room
with a somewhat more healthy color to her skin.

They collected their few bags and found the car in the massive
parking garage without incident.  Mulder did not start the car
right away. "You okay?" he asked her.

"Yes," she spat out.

"You're lying. See, this is what I mean. You could be lying on
the floor bleeding from a gunshot wound and you'd still say you
were okay. It wouldn't kill you to tell the truth, would it?" he
insisted. He hated to be angry with her when she was so
obviously uncomfortable, but he needed to prove his point.

"You want the truth?" she cried. "Fine. At this exact moment I
feel like someone has driven a train through my head, I'm
freezing cold, and if this car so much as runs over a pebble in
the road I will probably be sick and *you* will be the *first*
thing I throw up on. Is that what you want to know?"

"YES!" he yelled, then lowered his voice when several other
people in the garage looked at the car. "I just want you to tell
me when something's wrong, okay?"

"Fine, if you promise not to worry so much." She was beginning
to calm down.

"I can't promise that." He touched her hand. "But I can promise
to be a little less protective."

"A *little*?" She tried to glare, but it came out as a sort of
half scowl. "That's not good enough."

"Okay, fine, I won't be protective at all. In fact, if you're
walking across the street and a car is about to hit you, I don't
think I'll even jump out in the road to try and save you. Is
that what you're asking for?"

"Not quite, but you get the idea." For the first time in far too
long, he saw her smile. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, but drive slow, or my breakfast will be on your suit and
I'm not paying for dry cleaning," she warned.

In answer, he grabbed her coat from her shoulders and put it
over his front. Then he rummaged around in the glove compartment
until he found a plastic bag. "Here," he said, handing it to her.

"You really think I'd do that to you?" she asked him.

"After what I put you through last night? Definitely." Mulder
started the car. "And please, if you do get sick, don't get
anything on the seats, because I just cleaned them."



He pulled up to her apartment twenty minutes later. "Want me to
get your bags, or do you consider that a violation of the
agreement?"

"No, you can carry stuff for me. That's slavery, not
protection," she said, and managed a weak smile despite her
stomach turning somersaults inside her.

He gathered her bags and swung them over his shoulder, and
together they went inside. The apartment was chilly, after a few
days of being closed up. Scully shivered, and pulled her coat,
which Mulder had returned to her, more tightly around her.

"Will you be okay? You don't look so good," he said.

"You're doing it again," she warned him.

He sat down on the arm of her couch, raised his right hand and
set the other one down on his briefcase. "I, Fox William Mulder,
promise that from now on I will be a model of self control and
will not try and be my partner's mommy." He pushed the briefcase
over to her. "Your turn."

"No way. I'm not going to make a fool of myself-"

"C'mon, I did it. You have to do it now too."

"Fine..." she sat on the couch and imitated his position. "I,
Dana Katherine Scully-"

"You have to use your whole name," he said.

"I did."

"No you didn't. Say Dr. Dana Katherine Scully," he ordered.

"Fine. I, Dr. Dana Katherine Scully, promise not to lie to my
partner when I have a problem. Is that what you want?" 

"Yes. Now stay right where you are." He disappeared into her
kitchen, only to reappear a moment later with a strange look on
his face. "I changed my mind. Come here a minute, will you?"

Curious, she followed him to the refrigerator. He pointed to
something inside. "What the hell is that, and do you agree that
it looks like a UFO?"

She glanced in, and saw a formerly frozen pizza, dripping with
moldy cheese, that really should have been removed a long time
ago, or at least in the freezer. It was definitely in the shape
of a UFO, and would have been funny if her stomach had not
reminded her that it was rather unhappy. She mumbled a brief
"excuse me" and made a dash for the bathroom.

When she emerged fifteen minutes later, feeling somewhat better,
Mulder was waiting for her in the living room. "Better?"

"Yeah," she said, gratefully taking the cup of tea he offered.
They sat in silence for a moment.

"I would have missed you," he said. "God, we were so close to
ending it all... What would you have done if we had actually
gone through with it?"

"Well..." she mused. "I don't know. Maybe gone back to Quantico.
I really have no idea. I know I'd regret leaving. What about
you?"

"I wouldn't have gone anywhere," he said. "I would have stuck
with the x-files, and then realized how badly I'd screwed things
up after a couple cases working alone and gone crawling back to
you." He stared into space. "The whole argument was stupid. I
should have known better than to worry when nothing was wrong-"

"Mulder, something *was* wrong." She was staring down at her
hands. "That guy really got to me. I know it was just a little
thing, but... when he asked if I had a sister, the first thought
that went through my mind was 'yes, but she wouldn't want you.'
And then I realized, no, I don't have a sister. That was so
awful, that moment. I was afraid I was going to start crying."

"But you didn't," he said. "That's what's important. And I doubt
anyone else in the room but me even knew anything was wrong."

"And then I got mad at you for it." She smiled ruefully. "See,
everything isn't your fault."

"Score one for Mulder." He gave himself a pat on the back.
"Think you can survive the night alone?"

"Sure," she said. "Unless, of course, I accidentally slip on the
kitchen floor while going to get a glass of milk and hit my head
against the edge of the counter, which would instantly crack
open my skull and probably cause me to die of blood loss and
brain damage before anyone even found out anything was wrong. By
the time you got here, I would be dead, and two-thirds of my
blood along with a small portion of my brain would be spilled
out on the kitchen floor for all to see." She stood. "You know,
I could really use something to drink."

"That's not funny," he whined, dragging her back down to the
couch. "Now I'll be sitting up all night worrying. Damnit,
Scully, you're gonna give me gray hairs."

She grinned. "Funny, that's what my *mother* tells me..."

End



Really, the fact that I'm a relationshipper has nothing to do
with the fact that I didn't split them up... I swear... :D

Thank you especially to MacSpooky for every bit of help she gave
me. Also thanks to GeneveaveC, to information dirt-roaders Jill
and Rynnie who came up with the bad jokes, and to Britskye and
Gylford for continually keeping me in good humor. I appreciate
it... 

What are you waiting for? Send Me E-Mail Right Now!
                                  Em Laurence (Mmm... sacre-licious!)
 EMXCer, Member of No Such Agency, Founding Member of XAngst Anonymous,
and                                          Queen of the Melissketeers 
 ***        --X-Phile Extraordinaire - the name says it all - Lil
XPhile@aol.com--        ***
***                     ***Melissketeers Join Together - Denial Is
Good!***                      ***