From: "Keleka Keleka" Date: Wed, 16 May 2001 22:18:59 -0500 Subject: New: "Truth or Consequences" 1/2 MS/UST Source: xff Reply To: keleka@eudoramail.com Truth & Consequences 1/2 By Keleka & Shoshana Email: keleka@keleka.net & shoshana1013@excite.com Distribution: Gossamer ok. Anywhere else, please ask. Rating: PG Spoiler Warning: Two Fathers/One Son Content Statement: MS/UST Classification: SA Summary: What *should* have happened after "Two Fathers/One Son." Archives: Sure! Please tell us where so we can visit. Disclaimer: If we owned this cash cow, do you really think we'd be writing fanfic? We'd be writing the scripts and CC would sitting at home bitching about the direction the show has taken. Feedback: It's welcome in our houses! Author's Note: Huge steaming piles of thanks to Fabulous Monster for her usual All-Star beta job, and to Trajan, for some sage advice. The rest of our fanfic can be found at: http://www.keleka.net/keleka/ and http://members.tripod.com/shoshana1013/ Truth & Consequences by Keleka & Shoshana "Dammit!" Frohike slammed down his coffee mug. That idiot, Langly, had forgotten to program the Mr. Coffee before he went to bed. It was 8:00 a.m. and there was no coffee. He shuffled over to the bank of VCRs and squinted until he found the right one. He removed the tape and slid in another one. He had to jab twice at 'record' before he managed to hit it. Frohike carried the tape over to his desk and popped it into the VCR connected to his computer. While it rewound, he put on a pot of coffee and hovered over it until there was enough for a cup. With his mug full, he returned to his computer and hit 'fast forward.' Sipping his coffee, he felt his senses slowly awaken. He watched the figures dance across his monitor, occasionally slowing the tape to listen to the conversation. He grunted what could have been a 'good morning' to Byers when the younger man stumbled out of his bedroom half awake, his hair sticking up at odd angles like a punk rocker. "Anything interesting?" Byers asked after filling his own mug with coffee and coming to stand behind Frohike. "Just an empty office for the most part," Frohike said. "They don't talk much even when they're both there." Byers nodded and made his way to his own computer to do his morning email ritual. He was just about finished when Frohike's voice startled him. "Holy shit!" "What? What is it?" Byers asked, hopping up from his computer and racing across the room to stare at Frohike's monitor. Frohike hit the 'reverse' button and backed the VCR up several minutes. "Watch this," Frohike said and jabbed the 'play' button. Byers stared in disbelief as the drama unfolded in front of him. "You'd better call Agent Scully," Byers said when it ended. * Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder should have been in good spirits. Their suspension had been lifted the night before and they were finally getting out of the bullpen and away from A.D. Kersh. They were getting the X-Files back, but at what cost? They had barely spoken this morning as they began emptying their desks and filling the two boxes they had scrounged. Others in the bullpen whispered about how things didn't seem right between 'Mr. and Mrs. Spooky.' Mulder threw a handful of pencils in the box and closed the lid. He looked over at his partner's desk, and wondered where she'd gone. She had gotten a phone call shortly after 8:00 a.m. and left immediately without saying a word to him. He wondered how much longer the word 'partner' would accurately describe their relationship. He wondered how much longer they would have a relationship of any kind. It had been nearly a week since Mulder and Scully had been suspended from the FBI, thanks to Jeffrey Spender; three days since the conflagration at the El Rico Airbase; less than a day since they'd been reassigned to the X-Files; and--in Mulder's eyes--an eternity since Dana Scully had been anything more than merely cool and professional in the few conversations she had with him. Mulder looked at his watch. He'd been told by the agent investigating Jeffrey Spender's murder that he and Scully could have their basement office back by the end of the day. The discovery last night of Spender's body on the floor of the X-Files office was the talk of the building this morning. Ordinarily, Mulder would be stunned that an FBI Agent, even Jeffrey Spender, could be murdered in the Hoover Building with apparent impunity. But he had been expecting this. Not *this* exactly, but somehow he had known that Spender would pay the price for the return of the X-Files to Mulder and Scully. 'Mulder and Scully,' he thought to himself. He hoped there still was a 'Mulder and Scully.' Despite his defense of Diana Fowley, he wanted Scully and only Scully as his partner on the X-Files. But he wasn't sure Scully wanted him anymore. He lifted his box and was about to leave when his cell phone chirped. Please let it be Scully, he thought as he answered. "Mulder, its me." Praise Allah. And she didn't sound too pissed at him either. "Hi, Scully. Where are you? Do you want me to pack up your things?" He could hear some sounds in the background and realized it was John Byers arguing with Langly. What the hell was she doing with the Gunmen? He heard Scully tell them to shut up. "Scully?" "Mulder, I think you'd better come over here. Right now." "Scully, I--" "Get over here, Mulder." She hung up. * * * Half an hour later, Mulder arrived at the armed fortress that was home to Frohike, Langly, and Byers. 'Armed' might not be the right word. He doubted the boys even owned a gun. But their building was equipped with enough electronic surveillance equipment to make the place seem like an armed camp. It took Byers half a minute to unlock all the locks on the door and admit Mulder. Once inside, he saw Scully standing a few feet behind Frohike who was sitting at his computer console. She and Frohike were embroiled in a heated discussion that ended abruptly when they noticed him enter. "Scully?" Mulder said. "What is it? What's wrong?" Scully didn't answer. Instead, she moved away from Frohike's desk and went to stand against the wall, crossing her arms in front of her defensively. Frohike stood and took Mulder by the arm, pulling him to the computer. Langly and Byers quickly joined him and Mulder found himself surrounded. Frohike nudged Mulder into the chair. "Shut up and watch this, Mulder," Frohike said and then took the chair beside him. Mulder didn't appreciate being ordered about by the Gunmen and started to lash out, but one look at Byers's face silenced him. Something serious was going down. He turned to look at the monitor on Frohike's desk and watched as the little man jabbed at the play button on the VCR. After a moment, the monitor came to life. It was the basement office. The X-Files office. He could see Jeffrey Spender's nameplate on the desk, and the corner of the desk Diana Fowley had claimed. A body moved into the picture. Spender? No, not Jeffrey Spender. Mulder watched in disbelief as C.G.B. Spender moved to take the chair behind his son's desk--Mulder's desk! Frohike reached for the VCR and hit the 'fast forward' button. "Have to fast forward it a few minutes," he said to no one in particular. He jabbed the play button when Agent Jeffrey Spender entered the office. Mulder watched Jeffrey Spender and Cancerman exchange words, the younger Spender ordering his father to leave. He heard Cancerman confirm something he'd long suspected, that he and Mulder's father had been good friends, but that Bill Mulder had betrayed him in the end. He held his breath as the elder Spender aimed a gun at his son and calmly shot him. Mulder stood quietly, his eyes glued to the computer monitor. He watched Cancerman leave the X-Files office. He could see the blood beginning to pool around Jeffrey Spender's body as his life drained away. The room was deathly silent. "How..." Mulder began, his voice croaking. "How did you get this?" he asked softly. He looked at Byers, realization slowly crossing his features. "How did you get this, Byers?" he demanded. Byers dropped his eyes, unable to meet Mulder's glare. Mulder could feel his anger growing into a raging fire. He grabbed Frohike's shirt and yanked him out of his chair. "How long have you sons of bitches been bugging our office?" he yelled, shaking Frohike like a rag doll. Frohike dropped his hands to his sides and made no moves to defend himself. "Mulder!" Scully yelled, stepping forward to push her small frame between Mulder and Frohike. "Let him go." Mulder ignored her, his fist still clenched tightly around Frohike's shirt collar. "I thought they were our friends and they've been spying on us." He glared at Byers. "How long, Byers? Did you bug our apartments too?" "They weren't spying on *us*, Mulder," Scully said softly. "They were spying on Diana Fowley." Mulder froze. He stopped shaking Frohike, but he didn't relax his grip. He looked at Scully in disbelief. "I asked them to," Scully said finally. "If you're going to be ngry, be angry with me, not the Gunmen." She pushed her way out from between Mulder and Frohike and walked across the room to the front door. She turned for a moment to lock eyes with Mulder. He stared at her, speechless, as she unlocked the door and let herself out. * Scully stormed into her apartment, slamming the front door behind her. Her neighbor's chihuahua erupted into a cacophony of high-pitched barking. Scully stood in the middle of her living room, her posture rigid, her fists firmly clenched, listening to the little dog sound the alarm. Where the hell had the miserable little mutt been the night Duane Berry lurked outside her window? Finally, the dog quieted. While the sound had been annoying, it was also distracting, and Scully immediately missed it as unwelcome thoughts flooded her mind. She crossed the room to her computer and stabbed at the power button. The computer whirred and clicked to life as she went to her room to change into sweat pants and a t-shirt. Damn that man, she thought as she opened her word processor. For six years, Mulder had drilled it into her head not to trust anyone but him. The irony was not lost on her that her distrust of Diana Fowley was now driving a stake through the heart of their partnership. Until the call came from Frohike that morning, she had hoped she could salvage their relationship, put the past week behind them, and move on. But there was no way she could bury that tape and throw away what could be their only chance to arrest and convict C.G.B. Spender. Nevertheless, the decision to show it to Mulder had been one of the hardest she'd ever made. Scully stared at the stark white screen and the blinking black cursor. She could feel tears beginning to fill her eyes and she bit her lower lip, fighting to maintain control. Her fingers began to move on the keyboard and slowly the letter to Assistant Director Skinner began to take shape. She blinked back tears as she watched the blurry letters appear on the monitor. 'I respectfully request an immediate transfer from the X- Files Division to another assignment more appropriate to my skills, abilities, and interests.' Her fingers froze. She knew she had to say more, that Skinner would want--no, Skinner would demand--an explanation. The sharp knock on the door jarred her from her thoughts. She knew it was Mulder, and she knew what would happen if she let him in. She squeezed her eyes shut and sat quietly, praying he wouldn't use his key to let himself in. Her prayer was not answered. "Scully?" She refused to turn around, not wanting Mulder to see her reddened eyes. "Goddammit, Scully. Look at me!" Scully took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She opened her eyes and wiped at them quickly. She stood and turned around slowly, ready to absorb the full force of Mulder's anger. Mulder stood just a few feet from her, his arms held stiffly at his sides, his fists clenched. His eyes were dark with rage. "How dare you spy on Diana," Mulder demanded when Scully met his eyes. "I was just trying to protect you, Mulder. You couldn't--" "Were you spying on me, too? Is my apartment bugged? My phone? How damned far would you go?" He stepped closer, looming over her like a predator. Scully could feel the anger radiating from him. "I was just trying to protect your interests." "My interests? Or your own?" he spat at her. "What do you mean by that?" she answered, genuinely confused. "I think you know what I mean, but you won't admit it." He stared at her straight on, challenging her to understand. She knew her befuddled look just made him angrier, if that were even possible. His eyes narrowed to mere slits and he licked his lips in anticipation, as though ready to swoop down like an eagle on its prey. Scully glared at Mulder, slowly becoming aware of where the conversation was headed, of what nasty insinuation he was about to pose. Her ire grew every second he remained silent, waiting for her response, any response. She decided to strike first and ask questions later. "Admit what, Mulder? That I wanted to catch you naked with some bimbo? Or Diana perhaps?" "It would make sense. It would make all this make some sense. Otherwise, I don't know why in hell my partner of many years would choose to bug my office. Yeah, I think you did it because you're jealous, Scully," he said, sneering. "That's the only explanation I can come up with. Because bugging the office and not telling me about it is a betrayal, a violation of the trust I've come to expect between us." "How could I have told you? You still trust her! You can't see her for what she is. I couldn't tell you I was bugging the office or you would have told her. I couldn't tell you until I had proof!" she shouted back at him. She didn't bother to address his accusation of jealousy. Maybe once upon a time that would have been a factor in her actions, but not now, she told herself. She wasn't that petty. She had done the right thing, it was what she believed, what she knew in her heart. "Yeah, well where's your proof? You may have nailed Cancerman, but you've got nothing on Diana and you never will." "Mulder..." Scully struggled to find the words that would make him see what was right before his eyes. "You were waiting. Waiting to see me go to her." He crossed his arms defensively over his chest and leaned to one side. His lips pulled away from his teeth as he sneered at her logic. "Maybe you and the boys got your kicks every Saturday night, waiting for 'monster boy' to go over to the dark side." Scully shook her head in disbelief, frustrated that he wasn't listening to a word she said! Why couldn't he see it her way? "You--you are the one that sees this in me. I am not an adolescent, Mulder. I wouldn't invade your privacy. And I wasn't reviewing the tapes at all. The guys did it for me. I told them I was interested only in Fowley and Spender's activities. I didn't expect to see you in the basement because it wasn't our office anymore! Or *your* office, as you choose to say," she added bitterly. He drew away from her, walked over to the window, turned, and settled his long body against the sill. His fists clenched around the woodwork. His head dropped to his chest for several moments, then he lifted his eyes and glowered darkly at her flushed face. "That was not said maliciously. I say it out of habit," he explained, gritting his teeth. "You should have told me, Scully. Especially after all that's happened." A sharp bitter laugh came from her side of the room. "All that's happened? It's happened despite my efforts to warn you. Why should I have told you after El Rico? You were so receptive to my point of view before that inferno! Why should I have revealed the one thing that could solve this, could tell us who was behind it all! Proof positive, Mulder! All I wanted was proof positive of Cancerman's activities. And I got it. Big time." She turned away from him in disgust, knowing where their discussion was going. It would end in a stalemate: he was determined to see it his way; she wasn't ready to budge an inch. If he'd been less caustic in his allegations, less raw in his appraisal of her motives, maybe she would have met him at some point in the middle. As it stood, he'd violated everything sacrosanct in their partnership by accusing her of being mean and small, motivated by the all powerful god of envy instead of logic and reason. Suddenly, he was behind her, not touching, but standing very close. She could feel his hot breath on her neck as he enunciated each word slowly and clearly. "I'm not going to press you on your motives at this time, Scully. I have my own view of why you bugged the X-Files office without telling me, without trusting me with that important knowledge. Partners don't hide developments from each other, especially when they affect the outcome of an investigation. This was deceitful of you, Scully. I don't know how I'll be able to trust you again." Scully's shoulders tightened with anger; her nails dug at the palms of her hands as she counted to ten. She would not be the one to explode. She would not try to reason with him now. There was only one way to end this unfortunate crossfire. "Just get out, Mulder. Just take the damned tape and do what you have to do with it," Scully spat. "I'm out of this. I'm out of the X-Files." She turned abruptly and stormed off to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her and setting off the chihuahua next door again. Scully was barely in the sanctity of her bedroom when Mulder burst in after her. "Don't run away from me when I'm talking to you," Mulder snapped. She spun to glare at him. "Get out, Mulder! Get out of my life!" "You're on the X-Files until Skinner says otherwise, and I'm not taking this to him without you. I'll let *you* explainwhy and how you were bugging another agent's office. I'm not taking the rap for that one." They glared at each other for a full minute before Scully broke eye contact. "All right, dammit," she said. "But I'm gone as soon as this is over." "Fine." "Fine." * Sometimes Walter Skinner wondered how different his life might be if he had never left the Marine Corps. He'd be about a year from retirement by now, after thirty years of service. He'd probably have a wife and maybe even kids. He wouldn't have these damned nanobots running around in his blood stream. And most important to him right now, he wouldn't be sitting in a car with Mulder and Scully waiting to execute a dawn raid on a hotel room in Knoxville, Tennessee. Mulder and Scully had been returned to the X-Files and Skinner's supervision less than seventy-two hours ago, and they were already giving him migraines. The day after Jeffrey Spender's death, they'd summoned him to meet them outside the Hoover Building and shown him a video tape that had sent his world spinning. When Skinner asked how they had obtained the tape, Mulder sat in sullen silence and Scully offered a mumbled response. Skinner recognized a golden opportunity when it saw it and decided to worry about the tape's source later. He immediately launched a nation-wide manhunt for the man he now knew as C.G.B. Spender. Agents at the Knoxville airport had spotted him this morning and kept him under observation until Skinner and his team could get here. Now they were waiting for a SWAT team from the Knoxville Police Department to arrive. It was probably overkill--he'd never known Cancerman to carry a weapon--but he wasn't taking any chances. Skinner chanced a glance at Scully who was sharing the front seat of the sedan with him. He regarded her with curiosity, noting the fear and anger knotted inside her. She was in her 'prim and proper' mode, sitting stiffly with head held high, eyes locked forward, and hands folded tightly in her lap. After six years of supervising Scully, Skinner knew this look very well. It was the look that told him there was trouble between his two best agents. A soft cracking noise was the only sound coming from the back seat of the sedan as Fox Mulder ate sunflower seeds. Skinner could describe Mulder's look without turning. It would be the apathetic, insolent little boy look that Mulder always affected when there was trouble between him and his partner. Skinner looked in his rear view mirror. Agents Katz and Daman, the two agents officially assigned to investigate the murder, waited patiently in another car. Just then a black van pulled up across the street, directly in front of the entrance to the Omni Hotel. Six officers in black SWAT team uniforms exited from the rear. "Let's go, people," Skinner said, opening the sedan door. He swept into the hotel lobby, Mulder, Scully, Katz, and Daman a step behind, followed by the six SWAT team members. It took only a moment to flash his badge and arrest warrant at the front desk to get a key card to Cancerman's room. They rode silently to the sixteenth floor and moved quietly down the hall to take up positions outside Cancerman's one bedroom suite. The SWAT team leader looked to Skinner for approval before swiping the keycard through the lock and bursting into the room. The SWAT team fanned out quickly into the two-room suite. Skinner and the other FBI agents swept in behind them, weapons drawn. Cancerman was sitting quietly in a lazyboy recliner, smoking a cigarette, looking very old and vulnerable in his silk pajamas. Though Skinner noticed a momentary look of surprise, the old man quickly replaced it with a smirk. "Mr. Skinner," he said in his sickening singsong voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" "Get up," Skinner barked. When Cancerman didn't move, Skinner stepped forward, knocking the cigarette out of his mouth. "I said get up." He signaled Katz and Daman, who moved forward and rousted Cancerman out of his chair. They pushed him against the wall, pulled his hands behind him, and slapped on the handcuffs. "C.G.B. Spender," Agent Katz said in his thick Brooklyn accent, "you're under arrest for the murder of Special Agent Jeffrey Spender." He spun the older man around and began reciting the Miranda warning from memory. Spender lifted his head and looked at Skinner, a smile dancing on his lips. "Sir! I've got another one in here," one of the SWAT team members called out from the bedroom. "Don't let the bastard out of your sight," Skinner said tersely to Agent Katz as he pushed past him to the other room, Mulder and Scully following closely behind. In the bedroom, the SWAT team member stood rigidly, his rifle aimed into the closet. Skinner yanked the closet door all the way open, gun drawn and raised, expecting to see one of Cancerman's goons, maybe even Krycek. That would be sweet. What he saw nearly knocked the wind out of him. "Diana?" Mulder broke the stunned silence. Diana Fowley-- clothed only in a skimpy white negligee--cowered in the back corner of the closet behind a suit bag. Mulder turned slowly, surveying the unmade bed, the suitcases sitting side-by-side on the porter, and the dirty ashtray on the night stand. By the time he turned back to Diana, his mask of indifference had shattered. Scully looked impatiently at Mulder, then at Skinner. When neither of them moved, she stepped forward and pulled Fowley out of the closet and spun her to face the closet door. "You're under arrest," Scully said in a harsh, raw voice. "You have the right to remain silent." Although Scully's words were directed toward Fowley, Skinner could sense their impact on Mulder. 'I told you so,' she said with her tone and her body language. 'I told you so.' Skinner grabbed Mulder's arm and pulled him into the other room and then into the hallway. When he let go, Mulder slumped against the wall. "Something wrong, Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked gently. Mulder shook his head but kept his eyes locked on his shoes. Skinner suspected that Mulder's faith in Diana was at the core of the current chill between Mulder and Scully. He grew impatient waiting for Mulder to talk. "She betrayed you, Mulder. She betrayed all of us." Mulder pulled himself upright. He looked sullenly at Skinner for a moment. "I'll wait in the car," he said and walked away. Skinner didn't have time to deal with Mulder's problems right now. He finally had Cancerman right where he wanted him: under arrest and with rock solid evidence. He'd never been this close to bringing the man down before and he wanted it so bad he could taste it. For too many years, he had toiled as a double agent for the Consortium, a mere pawn in an unwinnable game. No more. The Consortium was in shambles and C.G.B. Spender was more vulnerable than he'd ever been. But he couldn't be reckless. He had to accumulate the evidence, nail down a motive, and build a case that couldn't be brushed aside by a prosecutor on the Consortium's payroll. He had to do it....for Jeffrey Spender, for Mulder and Scully, and for himself. * *end part 1/2* Truth & Consequences by Keleka & Shoshana See part 1/1 for headers * "I want to talk to Fox," Diana Fowley said, her voice sounding tinny through the observation room speakers. She looked pointedly toward the one-way window, making Skinner wince inwardly. He cast a sideways glance at Mulder who showed no signs of having heard Fowley's plaintive plea to see him. "I don't care what you want," Scully said from her position by the door. "We're talking about what *I* want right now, and I want you to tell me everything you know about the murder of Jeffrey Spender." Skinner wondered whether he had been wise to let Scully interrogate Fowley. There was obviously something else going on between the two women: something more than a cop questioning a suspect; something feral. C.G.B. Spender was cooling his heels in the interrogation room across the hall. It hadn't taken Skinner long to break through the man's facade of confidence and disdain. Skinner had relished the fear that filled Spender's eyes when he showed him the video tape of his son's murder. It reminded Skinner of when he told Spender about Albert Hosteen and the dozens of other Navajo men who had memorized the contents of the digital tape Spender had been so desperate to possess and suppress. Though the fearful look was fleeting, Skinner knew he had cracked the old man's armor. "Where have you been since your *partner* was murdered in cold blood, Agent Fowley?" Scully's harsh words brought Skinner's mind back to the here and now. Scully had moved to the table. She leaned into Fowley's space, her palms flat on the table. They locked eyes; Scully smirked when Fowley flinched. Scully waited, the silence increasing the tension in the room. "I want to talk to Fox," Diana said, firmly. "I won't talk to you." Skinner turned to Mulder who was watching the drama unfold in the interrogation room as though in a haze. "Maybe you should talk to her, Mulder," he said gently. Mulder looked at his shoes for a moment and then turned for the door. "I'm going back to D.C." he said. "You don't need me here." * Scully took a late flight back to D.C. after finishing her interrogation of Diana Fowley. Skinner had arranged for Spender and Fowley to be housed overnight at the Knox County Detention Center and was staying behind to oversee their transport back to D.C. personally. Scully tried to sleep on the plane, but couldn't. Her thoughts were on Mulder and the pain she had seen in his eyes when she pulled Diana Fowley out of that closet. But there was more than pain in his eyes: there was humiliation, shame, and self-loathing. He had been duped again, his trust misplaced, and his sense of self-worth assaulted by a woman he had once loved. Though Scully would never understand how a man as perceptive and intuitive as Mulder could be so gullible, she felt his distress to her core. Once home, Scully collapsed into bed, tossing and turning for hours before falling into a fitful sleep. Spender and Fowley inhabited her dreams, leading her through a maze to one dead end after another as she searched for Mulder. Sometimes she saw him within reach, but then lost him. It was almost a relief when the telephone jarred her awake. "This is Skinner," said the disembodied voice on the phone. Scully was disoriented, still haunted by the specter of Spender and Fowley. "Yeah, yeah," she said after a moment, pulling herself up to sit against the headboard. "What is it, sir?" She could hear Skinner take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sir?" "They're gone," Skinner said. There was a cold edge of defeat in his voice. "Gone? Who?" "Spender and Fowley. They disappeared from the Detention Center overnight. The tape is missing too, taken from the Police Chief's vault." "What? How?" she asked, a wave of panic causing her to stumble over her words. Not again, not now, she thought. "No one saw anything." Skinner's tone of voice told her what she needed to know: someone sure as hell had to have seen something and Skinner wouldn't rest until he got to the bottom of it. "The security camera tapes were wiped clean." "Does Mulder know?" Scully asked, her heart squeezing in anguish as she realized the implications of what Skinner had said. "Yes. I called him first." Scully closed her eyes, feeling utterly miserable. This double betrayal, first by Diana and then by the justice system, might be more than her partner's fragile psyche could handle right now. "How'd he take it?" she asked, speaking barely above a whisper. "I think you'd better get over there, Scully," Skinner said, softly. "I think you'd better get over there right now." * The knock on the door barely registered with Mulder. He had been sitting on his leather sofa staring at the wall for over an hour, ever since Skinner's call. His brain was running in an endless loop, searching for anything that could rebut the obvious conclusion that Diana was in collusion with the smoking bastard. 'Collusion' was hardly the word for it. It was bad enough that Diana was on Cancerman's payroll. Or that she had lied to Mulder for years. Or that she had betrayed his trust in a way no one had ever done before. But on top of everything else, she was *sleeping* with Cancerman, letting him touch her with his nicotine-stained fingers, and kiss her with his foul lips. He had seen the evidence himself. The thought of it nauseated him. The knock was more persistent now but Mulder ignored it. He knew it was Scully. And he knew that she would do the same thing he had done at her apartment: she would let herself in with her key, and then, their relationship would finally, irrevocably be over. And without Scully...his life might as well be over too. He'd been *so* wrong about Diana. He'd put himself and Scully in jeopardy for over a year, since Diana had returned to the States. Ever since she had reappeared in his life, a series of catastrophes had happened in quick succession. His office and files had been destroyed by fire, Scully had been abducted a second time, the X-Files had been taken away from them, and they had been suspended from the Bureau. And now he knew that Diana had been privy to Cancerman's secret plans and machinations the whole time. If the plan had been to fracture Mulder and Scully's relationship, the Consortium had been moderately successfully. The trust between the two partners had seemed invincible until Diana misled him, using him like a master puppeteer. When it became obvious to her he was no longer interested in a sexual relationship, she'd devised other methods to capture his attention. He thought she was interested in his work, that she'd never lost interest in his work. Diana had shown such avid concern for Gibson Praise's welfare, for his talents as a gifted child, that Mulder had allowed her access to Gibson from the very beginning. By doing so, Mulder had unwittingly participated in the torture of the little boy, to his everlasting regret. He wasn't ready to face the music yet. He knew Scully wasn't here to rub it in. That wasn't her way. He knew she'd be supportive and understanding. But when all was said and done, she would leave him, and leave the X-Files, just as they'd agreed three days ago. Mulder heard the key turning in the lock and the door snick open. A beam of bright light from the hallway pierced into the darkness of his apartment, illuminating him. He turned his head away, waiting for the door to close, waiting for the darkness to return. "Mulder?" He didn't respond. He didn't trust his voice--or his emotions--not to crack. "Mulder?" Scully was closer now, standing at the end of the sofa. "Are you here to say 'I told you so'?" "Is that what you want to hear, so you can push me away, too?" she said, angered that he would think her so petty. "No," he said hoarsely. "But I seldom get what I want." "Tell me what you want," Scully said softly, moving cautiously closer as though feeling her way through a minefield. Mulder shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "It doesn't matter what I want," he said, avoiding eye contact. A cloak of sadness settled over him. Scully sat beside him, close, but not touching. "Tell me what you want," she repeated gently. "I just want the truth," he said, in a defeated voice. "We know the truth, Mulder. Cancerman murdered his son in cold blood." Mulder rose and paced to the front door. He stood there for a moment, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. Finally, he turned around to face Scully. "It's not enough. I want more. I want justice." Mulder knew Scully would understand. He remembered her turmoil when her sister's killer was murdered in jail awaiting trial. She would understand that justice must be seen to be done. "I want justice for Jeffrey Spender, for my sister, for you, and everyone else that son of a bitch has hurt," he said, moving slowly back to the sofa and sitting on the opposite end from Scully. "I'm sorry, Mulder," she said gently. "I know--" "I was angry at you, Scully," he interrupted. "Angry at you for bugging the office. For spying on Diana. I felt betrayed. I couldn't understand why you didn't trust my judgment about Diana." Scully nodded. "And I couldn't understand why you wouldn't trust mine." Mulder blinked, feeling some of his anger evaporate. He hadn't considered that by clinging to his faith in Diana he had been signaling to Scully that he might not trust her. He remained silent as he attempted to sort out his feelings. "You didn't leave me any alternative, Mulder," Scully continued. "You wouldn't listen...you weren't being objective. I couldn't just stand by and watch her manipulate you." Mulder chewed on his lower lip as a frigid silence hung between them. Finally, he knew what he had to do. "I should have listened to you about Diana," he mumbled. He hesitated and looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to Scully. "I should have known." She extended her hand, reaching across the space between them. Mulder looked solemnly at her hand, knowing that she was attempting to bridge the gap symbolically. Even with her arm outstretched, she couldn't touch him from that distance unless he reached out to her too. He knew they were going to have to meet somewhere in the middle. "There's something else I want, Scully," he said, barely above a whisper. Scully relaxed her arm and let it fall to her side. He felt her watching him, waiting for him to continue. After a moment he raised his head, his face clouded with uneasiness. He could feel the tension between them beginning to melt. "I want you to stay with me, Scully. On the X-Files. I don't want to do this anymore if you're not with me." Though his voice sounded distant to him, he could see the effect of his words on Scully's face. Her eyes softened when he said the words she needed to hear. She smiled and answered him by reaching for him once again. This time he didn't hesitate before taking her hand. *end* part 2/2