From: Isahunter@aol.com
Date: Sun, 31 Jan 1999 13:35:33 EST
Subject: Will You Still Love Me II: Never Tear Us Apart


TITLE:  Will You Still Love Me? II: Never Tear Us Apart (1/5)
AUTHORS:  Diadem and Isahunter
RATING:  NC17
CATEGORY:  S, MSR
SPOILERS:  (Anasazi, The Blessing Way, Emily) up to Triangle, S6
ARCHIVE:  Yes, with names and all headers attached
FEEDBACK:  Diadem@cwcom.net / Isahunter@aol.com
DISCLAIMER:  These characters do not belong to us, they are the property of
Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen, and Fox.  Starlight Express, and the song "Only
He," are property of The Really Useful Group and Polydor Ltd.  No infringement
intended.  No money will be earned from this story.
SUMMARY:  How far are you willing to go, and how much will you have to
sacrifice, just to learn the truth?

NOTES:  This is a sequel to "Will You Still Love Me?" and it is necessary to
have read that story first.  It is available on our web site, eXpositions:
http://www.aliens.mcmail.com/isadiadem/

For BoriJ, world's best editor, encourager, and divine angel.  Gracias!!

       (NC17!  If you are under age, read no further!)
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

	She was angry.  A short, angry, redheaded whirlwind, not in the least impeded
by her strapped up shoulder and sling, was glaring at him from across the
room.
	"Scully, you've had a tough day.  Maybe you should get some sleep."  Mulder
sank onto the sofa, and rubbed his eyes.  He really didn't want to discuss the
matter any further.
	"Oh no!  You're not getting away with it that easily, mister!"  She was on
the move again, this time moving round to her armchair.  "You wanted to talk
about this, and talk about it we will!  And preferably before work tomorrow!"
	He should have seen that one coming.  "Scully," he tried reasoning with her,
"you were shot in the shoulder yesterday morning.  You only just got home.
You are taking some time off."
	"I am not!"  Why couldn't she just sit still?  "Mulder, we investigate people
who blow things up with manure, for Christ's sake!  I hardly think I'm going
to be over-exerting myself!"
	"You know full well that's not what I mean."  He rubbed his eyes again: he
sure was tired, and he hadn't even been hospitalized.  He felt a hand gently
covering his fist.
	"I know."  She seemed to have run out of steam, as she dropped onto the sofa
beside him.  "And I know you're just looking out for me.  But that wasn't what
we were discussing anyway."  She was right.  She took a hold of his chin, and
tugged until he was looking at her.  "I know you don't like the idea, Mulder,
but I think it's the best way.  Besides, it was your idea in the first place."
	"Doesn't mean I have to like it now."  He put his arm around her, being
careful not to jar her shoulder.  "I'm sure there must be another way."
	"Well, as soon as you think of this amazing plan, be sure to let me know,
OK?"  She ruffled his hair affectionately, but then became serious again.  "To
be perfectly honest, Mulder, I don't like the idea much either..."
	"Then leave it.  We'll think of something else.  Something you are happy
with."
	"That's not what I was saying."  She stood, and wandered over to the window,
staring out at the city lights.  Mulder vaguely wondered about the chances of
convincing her to take one of the sedatives she'd been given at the hospital,
in case she couldn't sleep.  The chances were pretty slim, he concluded, after
carefully regarding the woman who stood before him.  He couldn't help but
smile a little at the thought.
	"What I'm saying," she continued, "is that I really think, short of tying
Spender down and fixing electrodes to his head, this is the only way.  And
anyway..."
	She was interrupted by the ringing of her telephone.  "Probably my Mom," she
told him as she crossed the room to answer it.  As she picked it up, however,
it was evident it was not Mrs. Scully on the other end of the line.  Her eyes
went wide as she silenced him with a wave of her hand.
	"Oh, hi!"  'Spender,' she mouthed at him.  His own eyes widened in response.
"Yeah, I'm fine now...Oh, I'm sorry...You didn't have to call...Yeah...Well,
of course it aches a little, but the bullet went straight through...Tomorrow,
I hope...Oh no, you don't need to, Mulder's here...Just keeping me
company...Oh...Well, yes, that would be lovely...Eight o'clock?...OK, see you
tomorrow."  She waited for a moment, grimaced, and then hung up the receiver.
She took a couple of seconds, collecting herself, before she turned back to
Mulder.
	He had that look in his eyes, telling her she was in trouble.  So she spoke
before he had a chance.  "That was Spender."
	"No kidding."
	"He was just checking to see how I was."
	"You were shot in the shoulder."
	"Well, jeez Mulder, thanks for reminding me."  She returned to staring out of
the window.  She was silent for a few seconds.  "Still no change in Diana."
	"What did you just arrange with him, Scully?"  There was anger, hurt, and
jealousy in his voice.
	"He's taking me out for a drink tomorrow."  As if he hadn't guessed it was
something of the like.  "Mulder, we discussed this.  If we want any
information on Diana, and on Spender, we need to do something about it as soon
as possible."  She moved over to the couch, and sat down again, curling up by
his side, as best as her injury would allow.  "It's the best way, Mulder, you
have to trust me on this one.  I know how badly Diana hurt you, but at least
you know I won't be hurt by Spender running off without me."
	Mulder sighed, and resumed his earlier position with his arm around her good
shoulder.  "It's not that I'm worried about," he told her, squeezing her
gently.  "What worries me is that he might run off with you."
	"I could kick his ass any day!"  She grinned up at him.  "But seriously
Mulder, it would still be you I come home to at the end of the day, most days,
at least."  She leaned in and kissed him lightly.
	He returned the kiss, but his expression was still serious.  "I just worry
about you, you know?  And especially with that shoulder..."
	"Remember when I shot you?"  He nodded.  "Did that stop you from doing
anything at all?"
	"Driving was pretty tough."
	"Then I promise I won't drive!  Trust me, Mulder."  Those words: she knew he
couldn't say no.
	"I know, I know, it's the only way."  He looked pained.  "But I won't be able
to drop round as much, and we certainly can't do anything at work.  I was
kinda looking forward to that."
	"Mulder!"  She punched him in the chest as she stood up.  "I'm glad you
agree, though.  And now, I think I'm going to listen to your advice, for once,
and get some sleep."
	"In that case, I'd better be going."  Mulder stood, and reached for his coat
which he had slung over the back of the couch.  "Are you sure you'll be OK?"
	"I'm sure."  She walked him to the door, but before she opened it, she turned
and looked into his eyes.  "The next few weeks are going to be difficult, but
I need you to remember I do love you."  There were tears blurring her vision,
but she didn't let them fall.  Mulder pulled her into a warm embrace.  Make
the most of it while you can, the little voice in his head told him.
	"Be careful, OK?" he whispered into her hair.  "Just make sure you remember I
love you, too."  Damn, now his eyes were filling up.  "At least I don't have
to remember to call you Dana for a while."  He pulled away, smoothing her hair
as he did so.
	"Mulder, you haven't called me Dana since we got home from the hospital."
She turned and opened the door, surreptitiously wiping her eyes as she did so.
He placed his hand on her arm, silently letting her know that everything would
be all right.
	"See you in the morning."  And with that, he was gone.

	"How's you shoulder?"
	"Mulder, for the twentieth time, I'm fine."
	He grumbled silently to himself, wanting to drag her over his own shoulder
and carry her home, where she belonged.  Monday morning had come far too soon.
Standing in the elevator, seconds away from their crowded office, he was more
jittery than a man facing a firing squad.  He should've refused to pick her up
for work...but she probably would have just called a cab.  Then he really
would've had a guilty conscience.  But even now, he couldn't help but think
this was all his fault.  She never would've been shot if he hadn't been such
an idiot.
	She caught him staring at her and narrowed her eyes.  She nodded towards the
closed steel doors, silently reminding him they were about to be joined by
dozens of Federal Agents...and not one of them was supposed to know just what
their relationship was.  They were supposed to be mere partners.  If they
played it safe, and kept up a deliberate front, no one would guess they were
really lovers.
	Oh, who the hell were they kidding?  Half the Bureau already guessed they
were sleeping together, long before they actually had.  They didn't call her
Mrs. Spooky for nothing.
	The little number over the doors lit up, announcing that they'd reached their
destination.  In the brief two seconds before the doors opened, Scully stood
on tip-toe and kissed him on the mouth.  God, how he wanted to grab her and
beg for more.  But, with much reluctance, he let her slip away.  She stepped
out into the hallway, passing a group of agents waiting for the elevator, and
gave him a little smirk over her shoulder.
	Damn.  This was going to kill him.
	He didn't have to try very hard to look irritated, but he still didn't know
if he could pull this off.  Arguing with Scully over science and rationality
was one thing, but fighting with her in front of a room full of agents--over
Diana--was quite another.  Even if the fight was staged for Spender's benefit.
	Following her into the office, his hands fisted at his sides, he stopped just
short of her desk.  She had sat down, facing him, looking more than just a
little bit vulnerable with her sling covering her torso.  She glared up at
him, playing her part perfectly.  A little too well, for his tastes.
	"I'm not through talking to you," he said, through clenched teeth, just loud
enough for other nearby agents to hear.
	"Well, I'm through talking to you.  God, Mulder, you never listen to reason.
You're like a brick wall."
	He could feel the gaze of several eyes upon him.  He knew they were clearly
wondering what had happened to Agent Scully's arm.  But if he knew anything
from the six years he'd worked with this woman, it was that no one paid
attention to their arguments for long.  They bickered so often in the past
that it was like normal conversation.  Sexual tension.  And he knew he had to
up the stakes...to let them know, this time, the anger was real.
	"A brick wall?"  He leaned right over the desk, and pushed his face to within
an inch of hers.  Bad idea.  All he wanted to do was...Enough!  You're mad at
her, remember?  "A brick wall?" he repeated, backing off a little.  "Well I'd
rather be a brick wall than corrugated iron!"
	"What is that supposed to mean?"  Her teeth were gritted, and she stood up
slowly.  Fellow agents shrank back, correctly guessing an injured Scully could
be lethal.
	"I mean, at least I can see things other than those right in front of my
nose!" he sneered.  God, she was sexy when she was angry.
	"Yeah?"  Her voice rose a tone: he knew she had come up with a good retort.
"Then what about Diana?"
	"Don't you dare talk about Diana!"
	"Mulder, she shot me!"
	A ripple of murmurs ran round the office.  Good one, Scully.  Now to hit her
hard.  "So?"
	"Mulder."  She choked.  He never would have imagined she could be this good.
"She tried to shoot you.  You need to accept she's not the woman you knew!"
	"She thought you were someone else."
	"She had a gun to your head!"
	"It was nowhere near my head!"
	"Mulder, listen to yourself!  You need to accept this, but you're just too
stubborn to do it!"
	He leaned in close again.  "There is nothing to accept!  And if you can't
accept that, well then--"  He gagged as his collar was dragged backwards.
	"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"  The voice was angry, but it
still held its characteristic whine.  Spender.  "How could you do that to
her?"
	Mulder whirled round, fully intent on letting his fist finally make contact
with the weasel's jaw, but stopped short when he caught sight of Scully.  She
was small, and with tears running down her face she looked so vulnerable it
shook him to his heart.  The same heart that nearly broke as he hissed his
final words: "Let her fight her own battles, you interfering bastard!"
	With that he strode out of the office, leaving behind the soul-wrenching
gasps of his lover and best friend.

	"Oh, Dana."  Oh God, could things not get any worse.  Scully sniffled once
again, for effect, and turned to face Spender.  The female agent who had
rushed to her aid as soon as Mulder had left placed a hand on her arm, and
looked at her, questioningly.  Scully nodded, and the agent moved away, urging
the rest of the onlookers to do the same.
	Seeing the crowd begin to dissipate, Spender crouched by her chair and took
her hand in his.  It was cold and clammy, and Scully had to physically
restrain herself from flinching.  She couldn't look at him: she had a feeling
she might start to giggle, for some absurd reason.
	"He had no right to say those things."  Oh dear Lord, he was rubbing her hand
with his thumb.  She was going to be sick.  "What really happened, Dana?"
	How insensitive could he get?  "In the warehouse?"
	"Yeah.  You don't have to tell me, but it sure sent Mulder weird."
	"Mulder was weird already," she reminded him.  "I don't mind telling you."
She stopped for a moment, and hoped to God it looked like she was collecting
herself.  In reality, she was trying to remember as best she could the details
of the story she and Mulder had concocted the night before.
	"Mulder called me and said he'd received a call, asking us to go to the
warehouse.  They said it was about the Cheyenne case we'd been working on."
	"The terrorists from Wyoming?"
	"Yeah.  Well, I had reason to believe it might be their next bombing target,
but after consideration...I knew there was something wrong.  I tried to call
Mulder, to warn him, but he'd already left..."
	Spender suddenly dropped her hand.  "What did you try to warn him about?"
	"Diana."  She gave him a puzzled look.  "I knew there was something not right
about her, but I couldn't tell what it was."
	"Did you tell anyone else about this?"  He was sounding desperate, but trying
to hide it.  Good, she was making him squirm!
	"Of course not."  Damn.  That could have been fun.  "But I need to know who
she was working for."
	"What happened when you got to the warehouse?"  Oh, subtle, Spender.  Great
secret agent you'd make, she thought.
	"Oh, um,"  She rubbed her eyes.  "Well, I arrived in time to hear Diana
making some kind of confession.  I thought that once he'd heard it from her,
he'd believe, but he still wouldn't.  That man can be so stubborn..."
	"Dana?"  He took her hand again, but this time his grip was tighter.  "I know
this is difficult, but I need to know.  What happened?"
	"She thought I had some kind of relationship with Mulder: she shot me out of
jealousy.  So I returned fire.  Mulder just...he still wouldn't believe me.
He just left me there on the floor.  He went to Diana, and left me..."
	"Shhh, it's OK."  He pulled her into an embrace that was anything but warm.
She shuddered before she could stop herself, and pulled away.
	"Thanks.  Look, I'm sorry about all this.  I know you got annoyed when I
asked you questions about Diana, but, well, now you know why I did."
	"Yes.  I'm sorry too."  He looked at his watch.  "Are you going to be OK?"
	"Yeah, I'm fine.  You go.  I'm sorry I kept you."  It can be hard, she
reflected, to keep sarcasm on a firm tether.
	"OK."  He rose, and started to leave, followed by the stares of the other
agents in the office.  He stopped short, however, when he saw Mulder standing
a few feet away.  He placed his hand on her shoulder.  "Are you sure you'll be
OK?"
	She merely nodded, staring at Mulder, silently communicating her apology,
only to see his reflected a thousand times deeper.  It was enough to bring
fresh tears to her eyes.
	"Well, OK."  She barely heard Spender's response as he left, shooting an evil
glare in Mulder's direction.  She felt her breath catch as he came nearer.
	"I needed a file."  He didn't stop, but moved round behind her chair, bending
down to reach her lower desk drawer.  "Well done!" he whispered, as he pulled
open the drawer.  "Have you ever considered Hollywood as a career?"
	"Yeah, right!" she answered.  "A short redhead trying to make a break into
acting?  I don't think so."
	"You know I didn't mean any of that, right?"  She shivered again as he
touched her lightly on the leg, but this time it was a delightful shiver.
	"Of course," she replied, covering his hand with her own.  "I'm just sorry
you ended up as the bad guy."
	"Makes a change from being the spooky guy," he quipped as he slid the drawer
shut.  He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze before straightening up and stalking
towards his own desk, his mask firmly back in place.

	God, he felt guilty.  Even though Scully knew he hadn't meant it, he couldn't
believe some of the things he'd said.  Although he was quite enjoying his
stint as the baddie of the FBI: he kept having to fight the urge to stand up
and shout "Oh no it isn't!" or something equally pantomime-esque.
Unfortunately that was just a shortcut to psychiatric evaluation, and he could
do without that particular problem right now.
	All afternoon he had been sneaking glances at his partner, and had made as
many trips to her desk drawer as was humanly possible.  She had calmed down a
lot, and although her eyes were still a little red, she had been smiling when
she came back from her lunch with her mother.  It was good to know no
permanent damage had been done.
	Resigned, he tore his eyes away from her and back to his computer.  He had
only managed to type a line or so before the monitor blipped, alerting him to
a new message in his mail folder.  Logging on, he checked the message.

<Sp. def. NOT OK.  V. twitchy when I asked Q's.>

<S.>

Glancing back at her, he saw that she was studiously typing, seemingly
oblivious to him.  Hitting the "reply" icon, he responded.

<Need to talk.  Tonight?>

<M.>

He hit "send" and pulled up "Solitaire" to pass the time until he got another
message.  He did not have to wait long.

<No.  Date with Sp.  I'll phone.>

<S.>

Not hesitating, he replied.

<You'd better.>

<M.>

He waited, but instead of another message, he heard the blip from Scully's
laptop that signaled her signing off.  Sighing, he closed down his own
program, and picked up another file that could be argued into Scully's desk
drawer.  Rumors were going to start flying, he speculated: Fox Mulder has a
tidy desk!  Come and see!  Heading for her desk, he saw Scully slip her
computer into her bag and stand up.
	"I'm going home, Mulder."  She declared, in a voice that could in no way be
considered too loud, but was definitely within the hearing range of the rest
of the office.  The background noise level considerably lessened.
	"Have you finished the expense reports?" he asked, although he was pretty
certain there were no expense reports to finish.
	"I'll finish up tomorrow.  I'm tired, Mulder."
	"Tomorrow?"
	"I'm going, Mulder."  She headed for the hallway, leaving Mulder surrounded
by disapproving faces.  The files could wait until tomorrow, he decided, and
set about shutting down his computer.

	If someone had told Scully she'd be going on a second date with Spender, let
alone a first, she would've laughed in their face.  Unfortunately, it didn't
seem so funny anymore.
	The bar was small and dingy, although the atmosphere was warm and welcoming,
and Scully was glad she hadn't dressed herself up too much.  The black jeans,
electric blue blouse and ankle boots seemed to blend in perfectly with her
surroundings.
	Next to her, Spender shrugged his coat off, and then turned to help her with
her own.  As his hand brushed her shoulder, she winced, and then quickly wiped
the expression off her face as she realized it wasn't her injured shoulder
he'd touched.  "Sorry," he muttered as he disappeared with their coats.
	Left on her own, Scully wandered over to the bar, and ordered a diet Coke.
Unsure as to what to order for Spender, she managed to hoist herself onto a
bar stool to wait for him.
	It was a strange place, she mused, as she looked around the room.  Although
one probably would've designated it a meeting place for Hell's Angels and the
like, on account of the lack of light and abundance of smoke and alcohol, it
appeared, on closer inspection, to be dedicated to Broadway shows.  Framed
prints adorned the walls, and although she was no fan of musicals, Scully
thought she could pick out scenes from "West Side Story," "Cats" and "A Chorus
Line."  Behind the bar, in between the rows of bottles, there was what
appeared to be a signed photograph of Leonard Bernstein, a couple of guitars,
and a pair of roller-skates.  She could hear the strains of the title song to
"Fame" from the adjoining room.
	Returning her gaze to the bar, she picked up her Coke and took a swallow.
She could've done with something stronger, given the circumstances, but she
wasn't allowed alcohol with the medication she'd been given at the hospital.
Resigned to the fact that she'd have to rely on caffeine and sugar to get her
through the evening, she glanced towards the door.
	She had only a second to wait before it opened.  Instead of admitting Spender
to the bar, though, it was Mulder who drifted through the entrance.  After
glancing at her, affirming she was all right, he took a seat at the opposite
end of the bar, and was soon nursing a pint of lager.  She knew from
experience it would be his only drink of the evening.
	But what was he doing here?  Although touched by his concern, it irritated
her that he evidently didn't think she could look after herself.  They had no
evidence Spender was working for the Consortium, although she had a strong
suspicion that if Diana had been involved, he must've known something.  Mulder
was somewhat more certain about Spender's shadowy connections, but was
reluctantly waiting until they had hard evidence.  He was only looking out for
her, and although it was sweet of him, Scully wished that sometimes he
wouldn't.
	"Fame" faded away, and was replaced by another song, one that Scully didn't
recognize, as Spender finally pushed his way through the door.  Smiling, he
took the stool next to hers.
	"So, what do you think?"  He gestured vaguely to their surroundings.
	"I don't think I've ever been anywhere like this," she answered truthfully.
"I love Broadway, though."  To hell with the truth.  She took another sip of
her Coke.
	 "Oh, I'm sorry!"  He gestured to the Coke.  "I never thought.  You should
have said...we could have gone somewhere else..."
	"It's fine, Jeffrey," she interrupted him.  "I don't usually drink much
anyway."  Chance would be a fine thing.
	"Well, if you're sure."  He turned suddenly to the bartender, and Scully held
her breath, waiting for the moment he would spot Mulder.  Fortunately, he
didn't, and she relaxed as he turned back to face her.  When he didn't say
anything, she seized her chance.
	"So, I hear you solved the Maslow case."  Start small, work up to the big
stuff.
	"Yeah."  He accepted the pint glass the bartender offered him.  "It was
tough, but we caught the bad guys in the end!"  She smiled at his attempted
joke.  "But let's not talk about work.  I'd much rather talk about you."
	"Not much to say, to be honest."  She placed her Coke back on the bar.  "The
truth is, work is just about all I've done these last six years or so."  And
my father died, my sister was shot, and my baby girl was killed, she added,
silently.  Three generations.  One quest.
	"What about Mulder?" he asked, trying to make it sound like an innocent
question.
	"What about Mulder?"  Two can play at that game.
	"Surely you must have done stuff with him."
	She sighed.  "Spender, I told you just a couple of days ago there's nothing
going on between me and Mulder.  I was telling the truth."  Well, I was then.
"We are partners, and good friends.  You have to be when you've been partners
for six years."  She winced as Spender's face hardened at her mention of
partners.  "I'm sorry."  She placed her hand over his, glancing over his
shoulder at Mulder as she did so.  He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and went
back to his drink.  "Has there been any change?"
	He shook his head.  "I was there this afternoon.  I could only stay with her
a minute, though."
	"Is that what the nurses told you?" she asked, sympathetic. "Because if you
tell them you're FBI..."
	"No.  Some other people arrived."
	"Who?"  His face closed even further on hearing her simple question.  "Did
you recognize them?"
	"No."  He bowed his head for a second, before raising it again.  "Look,
enough of that.  I wanted you to have fun tonight.  Do you want to dance?"
	So that was where the music was coming from.  She glanced at Mulder again,
but he had turned his attention to the small black and white television
mounted above the bar.  "Sure."  She hopped down from the bar stool, and
swallowed the last of her Coke.  "Let's go."

	The music changed again as they stepped onto the dance floor.  She'd hoped
for a quicker song, one that wouldn't require her to be quite so close to him,
but the faster she gained his trust, the sooner she could get back to Mulder.
	She rested her hands on his shoulders, carefully avoiding any contact with
her own, and started to sway with the music.  But although she didn't know the
song, she soon found herself caught up in the words.
	"Look at me, a woman,
	Calm and in control
	No silly girl whose head's always turning.
	Nobody would guess that
	Deep inside my soul,
	A brand new flame is burning."

She felt as though someone had managed to write down her exact feelings on her
relationship with Mulder.  She felt Spender lean closer to her, and he began
to whisper something, but she quieted him as the chorus began.
	"Only he
	Has the power to move me,
	And together we'd make
	The whole world move in sympathy.
	You and me we'd be sublime.
	Only he
	Has the power to move me,
	Take me, hold me, mold me,
	Change me and improve me,
	Only he has the power to move me."

It was perfect.  It WAS Mulder.  How could anyone else have captured her
feelings so perfectly?
	"All the nights I've wasted
	Dreaming of the time
	When I discovered the one to guide me.
	Searching the horizons,
	Didn't realize
	That all the time he was beside me."

As the chorus began again, Scully wondered at the female voice.  She sounded
so genuine, she had to sympathize with whatever it was she had gone through.
	"Only he could stay with me that long,
	Stand by me when everything's going wrong."

She started as she saw Mulder standing in the doorway, watching them.  At
first she was angry with him: why couldn't he just leave her alone?
	"What if he couldn't wait
	Have I left it too late?"

Have I? she asked herself.  As she looked towards Mulder once again, any anger
she may have felt vanished.  He wore an expression of such pain and sorrow on
his face, she almost left Spender's arms and went running into Mulder's, but
she knew she mustn't do that.  Instead, she blew him a silent kiss, as Spender
whirled her around, wrenching Mulder from her sight.
	"Can he feel, will he never guess?
	That next time I'm gonna answer yes.
	Does he know, if he comes back today,
	This time I'm gonna make him stay?
	He, only he, only he has the power to move me."

The music faded away, and the couples on the dance floor broke away from each
other, only to cheer enthusiastically when it was replaced by the opening
chords of "Timewarp."  Scully, however, did not move back to Spender.
Instead, she wandered back into the bar, subconsciously searching for her
partner.
	"Dana?"  The voice was concerned, and Scully suddenly came out of her trance-
like state, realizing for the first time she'd left the dance floor without a
word.
	"Oh, I, er, I'm sorry," she stammered.  "It's just my shoulder."
	"Of course."  He led her to a table, and sat her down.  "You wait there, I'll
go fetch the coats."
	"Oh no, you don't have to..."  She trailed off, as she realized that Spender
had already gone.  Way to go, Dana.  Ruin two dates in a row, why don't you?
Well, it's not as if I don't have a good excuse, she reasoned, as Spender
returned.
	"I'm sorry.  I didn't want to ruin your evening."
	"It wasn't ruined."  He pulled his coat on, after helping her into her own.
"I shouldn't have asked you so soon after...well, you know."
	"Oh, no.  This was exactly what I needed.  Better than another night at home
with Mulder, anyway!"  It got the smile she'd been aiming for, but it had to
be worth a couple of Hail Mary's at least.  "I am sorry, though.  You're going
to be getting sick of me spoiling your evenings."
	"Never."  He held the door open for her, and she stepped out of the bar into
the chilly night air.

END (1/5)

WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME? II: NEVER TEAR US APART (2/5)
Isahunter@aol.com

	Scully sighed with relief as her apartment door swung shut behind her.  She
didn't think Spender would've tried to follow her, but her hasty 'Goodnight'
followed closely by her almost slamming the door in his face might've gotten
him a little concerned.
	She sighed again as she threw the dead-bolt and wandered into the living
room.  The truth was, she'd had enough.  They had made small talk all the way
back to her apartment, mostly, despite Spender's earlier objections, about
work.  For some reason he kept patting her knee: she wasn't sure why exactly,
but it sure as hell annoyed her.  At least this time he hadn't asked to kiss
her goodnight: she had the feeling she may have exploded at the suggestion.
	Kicking off her shoes, she threw herself on to her couch, and reached for the
telephone.  The flashing light indicated she had six messages.  She punched
the button, and sat back to listen.
	"<Beep> Hi Scully, it's me.  Just to remind you to call.  Bye.  <Beep> Are
you home yet?  No, evidently not.  <Beep> Scully, pick up.  Please.  Oh...
<Beep> Me again.  Where are you?  <Beep> That little weasel better not be
trying anything...  <Beep> Scully?  I love you.  <Beep>"
	The machine clicked as the tape turned itself off.  Smiling to herself, she
hit the speed dial.  He picked up after the first ring.  "Scully?"
	"No, this is the little gray man who stole your partner for the whole twenty
minutes she was being driven home."
	"No need for sarcasm.  I was worried."  His voice dropped, and she could hear
the sound of his car's engine as he drove.
	"I know," she soothed him.  "But I think six messages in the space of ten
minutes is a little excessive, don't you?"
	"Five."
	"Five what?"
	"Five minutes.  I went to your place first, but then decided it probably
wasn't the best place for me to be."
	Too right.  "I'm glad you decided to go back, Mulder."
	"Oh, thanks!"
	"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."  Her own voice had dropped
now.  She didn't know why, but she didn't want to talk too loud.  Probably
because of the irrational feeling she had that Spender was still lurking
outside.
	"I know."  He paused, but she didn't speak, knowing that he had something
else to say.  "What did you find out?"
	She took a deep breath.  "Not much."  In fact, he hadn't said much the whole
evening.  "No change in Diana."
	"Good.  At least she can't cause any trouble at the moment.  But he must have
said something?"
	"He said he didn't want to talk about work, and can you blame him?  For God's
sake, Mulder, what was I supposed to do, shine a light in his eyes and hold a
gun to his head?"  She knew she was being unreasonable, but she was on a roll.
	"No.  I understand."  His voice was soft, undemanding.  "I just hate for you
to be doing all this for nothing."
	"It's not for nothing.  It's for us."
	"Yeah."  He was silent for a moment.  "I'd better let you get some sleep.
Early start tomorrow."
	She sighed, and then started.
	"Scully, are you OK?"  Once again, his concern came shining through.
	"I'm fine.  I just remembered something Spender said."
	"Shoot.  But not literally please.  I tried that once, and didn't like it."
	"Very funny."  She smiled, though.  Trust Mulder to inject humor into any
situation.  "He told me he could only see Diana for a couple of minutes,
because some other people arrived."
	"Who?"
	"He said he didn't know."
	"Did you believe him?"
	"No.  Is there any way we can check the security tapes?"
	"You can do anything with an FBI ID!"
	"You've already done everything with an FBI ID, Mulder," she teased.  "But
can we get a look at those tapes?"
	"Very funny, Agent Scully.  But yeah, we'll check them tomorrow, OK?"
	"OK."
	"And now, I meant what I said about you getting some sleep.  Goodnight
Scully."
	"'Night, Mulder," she replied softly, as she heard the click at the other end
of the line.  With some effort, she pulled herself off the couch, replaced the
telephone in its stand, and padded through to her bedroom.
	She flipped the light switch, and was startled by the reflected glare coming
from her pillow.  On closer inspection, it turned out there was a CD case
there, the front obscured by a garish pink Post-it note.  She picked it up.
	"They were selling them at the bar.  You seemed to like the song: track 24."
	She peeled off the Post-it, to reveal the cover of "Starlight Express."
Turning it over, she scanned down the list of songs.  21, 22, 23...Only He.
That was it?  She had been moved nearly to tears by a song sung by a train?
Shaking her head as she laid the CD on her bedside table, Scully started to
get ready for bed.

	Scully fought the urge to yawn, wincing at the bright morning sunlight
filtering through Assistant Director Kersh's office window.  Mulder sat beside
her, like a recalcitrant little boy, barely listening to the A.D.'s lecture
about office protocol.  It seemed Spender wasn't the only one to notice their
little tiff the day before.  No doubt Spender had been the one to gleefully
report the incident to Kersh, in the hope he could get Mulder censured.
	"I trust that in the future you will keep your disagreements out of the
office.  We're team players here, agents."
	Scully shared a look with Mulder, before nodding.  "Yes, Sir."  With obvious
reluctance, and a bitter edge to his voice, her partner did the same.
	"With that in mind, I'd like a full report of the warehouse incident with
Special Agent Fowley on my desk by tomorrow evening.  Is that clear?"
	Damn.  Another not-so-enthusiastic round of 'yes sirs' followed.
	"Good."  Kersh pushed his chair back and sighed heavily.  He pinched the
bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses out of the way in the process.  "I
have something for you to get started on.  I trust you will not deviate from
these cases this time."
	He looked pointedly at Mulder.
	Scully had to suppress a smile at the exasperation on Mulder's face.  With
his teeth gritted, he muttered, "Of course not, Sir."
	The Assistant Director stood and picked up a large stack of folders from the
top of his file cabinet.  Tossing them down in front of the agents, with an
audible thud, he smirked.  "You can get started by going through these
acquisition forms.  Double check everything.  Then I trust you'll follow up on
anything out of the ordinary."
	Scully didn't have to look at Mulder to know what he was thinking.  She could
feel the anger rolling in waves off his body.  Once again they were getting
stuck with the crap job while Spender had his greedy little hands all over the
X-files.  And he was no doubt doing a shoddy job.
	Standing up, Scully reached for the pile of folders when Mulder pushed her
hand aside and took them for her.  She glanced sheepishly at her bound arm.
Sometimes she forgot her own limitations.
	"May we be excused, Sir?"
	Kersh sat back down and nodded in satisfaction.  "Of course.  You have work
to do."
	She followed Mulder's long strides out of the office.  They'd barely reached
the hallway before he exploded.
	"Do you believe that?  That asshole was laughing at us!"
	"Mulder, calm down."
	"No, I won't calm down, and you know why?  It'll take us weeks to finish all
of this paperwork, because I know damn well I'll keep falling asleep in the
process.  We're stuck doing this boring, brainless work while that little worm
botches every single case we should be working on.  If the X-files were cause
for laughter before, just think what a mockery they'll be when he's finished
with them..."
	He wasn't through there, and he continued to rant as they walked down the
hallway.  Even though everything he said was true, and she was just as worried
about the X-files as he was, Scully couldn't help but grin.  God, he was cute
when he was mad.
	"'And I trust you won't deviate from these cases'," Mulder quipped in a
falsetto voice, before once again reclaiming his scowl.  "I'll show him
deviation.  If he thinks he's seen it before, he hasn't seen anything yet."
	His angry tirade was gaining the attention of the other agents in the
hallway, and she knew she had to do something before they were censured once
again.  But before she could open her mouth, someone else put a stop to
Mulder's griping.
	"You just don't know when to stop, do you, Agent Mulder?"
	Mulder turned and glared at Spender, probably suppressing the urge to punch
him despite the stack of folders in his hands.
	Oddly, his voice was almost normal when he said, "Why don't you mind your own
business, Spudner."
	Scully almost laughed at the new nickname, but quickly subdued the urge by
clearing her throat.
	"It seems like I'm the only one who sticks up for your partner these days,"
Spender continued.  "I'm just sick and tired of watching you dump on her.  She
has enough pressure being your baby-sitter, she doesn't need to take crap from
you, too."
	"Jeffrey!"  Scully was almost certain Mulder was going to hit him this time.
	She was wrong.
	"Bite me, Spender."  Hefting his stack of folders, Mulder stalked towards the
office.
	Turning her stunned gaze on Spender, Scully frowned.  "I can't believe you
said that."
	"It's about time someone slapped him with the truth."
	She was about to give him an earful when she remembered she was supposed to
be 'fighting' with Mulder.  Gritting her teeth, she nodded.  "I guess it is.
But you're not the one who has to work with him.  Now, he'll be in a foul mood
for the rest of the day."
	"Isn't he always?"
	She worked up a fake smile.  "Actually, yes."
	He glanced at his watch, before returning her smile.  "Do you have time for a
cup of coffee?"
	No!  Nononononononono!  She almost cringed.  "Um...sure."
	Damn it.
	He grinned like a Cheshire cat, taking her arm and leading her to the lounge.
She hoped he didn't notice the longing glances she cast at the office door,
over her shoulder.

	Only twenty minutes later, but what seemed like hours, or years, Scully
headed back to the office.  Blessedly alone.  Thank God.  If she had to listen
to one more minute of Spender's whiny voice, she might've shot herself to end
her misery.  Or maybe she just would've shot him.  God knew no one would miss
him.
	Nearing the office door, she was startled out of her reverie when Mulder
stepped through the doorway and practically rammed into her.  He stopped
short, staring at her with odd eyes, before propelling her back down the
hallway.
	"Where's Spender?" he asked, his voice low and harsh.
	"He went out on a case.  Why?"
	He grabbed her good arm, towing her behind him.
	"Mulder, what are you doing?" she hissed.
	He pushed open the door to the men's bathroom, and she could literally feel
her eyes bulging.
	"Mulder!"
	He peeked his head inside, and when it appeared all was clear, he dragged her
into the rest room behind him.  Despite the fact it was a men's bathroom, it
was actually quite clean.  No doubt because it was a government facility.
That only made her all the more determined to get the hell out of there.
Tugging her arm, she tried a futile attempt to release herself from his grip.
He turned and looked at her, his eyes wild, seconds before descending on her
mouth like a hawk on its unsuspecting prey.  Her moan was muffled, accentuated
by the gasp she let out as her back hit the wall.  When he finally pushed away
from her, his arms braced at either side of her head, he was grinning.
	"I've wanted to do that all day."
	"I should slap you.  We agreed we weren't going to do this here."
	"Scully, you wound me.  I try to throw a little romance into our lives, and
this is the thanks I get?"
	"Romance?  Mulder, we're in the men's room."
	"And..."
	"And I'm out of here."  She ducked under his arm, but wasn't fast enough.
She had no more chance than a fleeing suspect against his speed and strength.
He caught her easily, pulling her back against him with very little effort.
With her back to his chest, he met her gaze in the mirror and whispered low
against her ear.
	"It could be fun."
	"And someone could walk in, and we could lose our jobs."
	"No one has to know."
	"And how do you plan to accomplish that?"  She took one glance at the nearby
stalls and groaned.  "Mulder--no."
	"Come on, Scully.  Where's your sense of adventure?"  He placed a lingering
kiss to her ear, flicking the rim with the tip of his tongue.  "Surely you've
done something like this before."
	"I've never known anyone depraved enough to ask...until now."
	She could see his reflection grinning at her.  "Aren't you the least bit
curious?  Or aroused?"
	Damn him, he knew she was.  Even she could see that much clearly written all
over her face, from the flush coloring her cheeks to the lazy droop of her
eyelids.  He traced his finger down the side of her throat, causing her to
arch her neck.  And his damnable grin widened.
	"Don't you ever get--hungry, in the middle of the day?  You know, just need
something to *fill you up* until the next meal?"
	She bit her lip.  God, he was sexy when he looked at her like that.
	"I can help you, Scully.  I know just what you need."
	"Oh?"  Her voice was becoming incredibly shaky.  The fact that she could feel
him, rigidly hard against her back, wasn't helping matters at all.  "What do I
need?"
	"Something quick, appetizing...something that practically begs you to put it
in your mouth."
	She giggled this time.  She couldn't help it.  "That covers a lot of things,
Mulder.  Can't you be more specific?"
	"Come in here, and I'll show you."
	"Don't you know not to offer candy to little girls?"
	She could tell by the subtle flaring of his nostrils that their little
conversation was having just as much effect on him as it was on her.  His eyes
had gone so dark, she was having trouble discerning just what color they were.
"C'mon, little girl.  Maybe you can teach me a thing or two."
	Glancing at the door once more, she bit her lip.  Unwilling to let her change
her mind, Mulder grabbed her hand and pulled her into the stall with him.
God, there was no room to move.  Sandwiched into the tiny space, with his huge
body, she felt every bit the little girl he'd joked about.  She had to squeeze
herself against the wall before he could even close the door.  And when he
flipped the lock and turned to stare at her, she could feel her heart
pounding.
	He grabbed her by the waist, kissing her hard and deep.  Frenzied.  Fumbling
with his jacket, he reached to put it over the peg on the door.  Instead, it
dropped to the floor unheeded.  He loosened his tie, never taking his mouth
off her.  She gripped his arm, feeling the solid bulk of muscle bunching under
her touch.  He stopped at last when his fingers encountered her braced arm.
Slowly, careful not to jar her shoulder, he removed her sling from over her
head and hung it on the hook.
	When his lips moved down to her throat, she threw her head back to give him
greater access.  His hands made quick work of the buttons on her blouse, but
luckily he wasn't so far gone that he tore anything.  When his fingers brushed
the satin slip underneath, he pulled back to look at her.
	"Christ, I've been wondering about this all day.  I knew you weren't wearing
a bra."
	She felt a great flush creep up her face.  "Was it that obvious?"
	"It was to me...of course, I spend a lot of hours staring at your ti--"
	"Mulder, if you say that word--"
	"Breasts."
	He ran his knuckles over her hardened nipples, watching her shudder in
delight.  She grew even more restless, pressing hard against his hands, as he
added his thumbs to the foray.  Against his throat, she whispered, "All day
long, whenever I moved, I could feel my slip sliding against me.  I kept
imagining it was you, stroking me."
	His answering growl was cut off when she pressed her lips to his once more.
Without breaking the kiss, he shifted her, pressing her up against the flimsy
dividing wall, sliding his body past hers, until her back was to the door.
Reaching back, he flipped down the lid on the toilet seat.  Finally pulling
away from her lips, he sat down, his legs spread wide, and pulled her between
his thighs.  Sliding his palms up the outside of her skirt, gripping her ass,
he placed a brief kiss to both of her satin-covered nipples.
	As she threaded her fingers through his hair, he met her eyes with his
sensual gaze.  "You have no idea what it's like, sitting in that desk right
next to yours, all the while thinking about doing this."
	"I know exactly what that's like."
	"You do?"  He looked genuinely shocked.  "You think about fucking me?"
	"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes."
	"Why, Scully...you hussy."
	She couldn't help but grin.
	"What do you think about?" he asked, his hot breath hovering just inches over
her breast.
	"I, um..."  She watched him open his mouth and pull her nipple inside, his
hot saliva wetting the satin fabric and his tongue sliding in torturously slow
circles.  "I--oh, God, I think about--mmm, I think about this."
	His teeth nipped at her, his lips clamping down hard as he added the
slightest amount of suction.  He lifted his eyebrows, his eyes widening a bit,
as if to tell her to continue.
	Her hand gripped his hair hard.  "I think about h-ha-having sex in A.D.
Kersh's o-office..."
	He stopped his torment altogether and pulled back to look at her.  "Really?"
	Grabbing the back of his head, pushing him closer once more, she said, "Yeah,
all the time."
	Switching to the other side, leaving a wet circle on the front of her slip,
he resumed his suckling...for a moment.  "With Kersh, or with me?"
	"Well, you know what a stud the Assistant Director is...well, let me tell
you, you don't know the half of it--"
	"Hey!"
	She grinned.  "That's what you get for stopping."
	Arching an eyebrow, he clamped his mouth over her left breast and sucked so
hard that her knees buckled.  If he hadn't had his hands on her, she would've
fallen in a heap on the floor.
	"Ahhhh!"
	Gripping his shoulders, wincing at the painful stiffness in her left arm, she
struggled to regain her equilibrium.  He didn't help matters a bit when his
hand slid down to the hem of her skirt.  Without slowing his actions for a
moment, he let his fingers shift under the edge of her slip and glide up the
silky expanse of her thigh.  It was a decidedly erotic vision seeing his dark
hand sliding over her black silk-encased leg.  Her pin-striped skirt and lace-
edged slip bunched, pushing higher and higher up her legs with every second.
And she knew the instant when he figured out she wasn't wearing her usual
control-top pantyhose.  His fingers encountered the lace-topped edge of her
stockings, and he pulled away from her nipple with a little suctioned pop.
	"Stockings?"  The word came out of his mouth on little more than a breath.
"You're wearing stockings?"
	"Yeah," she said.  "And they weren't easy to pull on with a lame arm,
either."
	Never straying from her gaze for a moment, he let his fingers follow the lace
to where it secured with a silky garter.  She was wearing a garter belt...but
as his fingers slid up the inside of her thigh, and encountered nothing but
melting flesh, it soon became apparent that was ALL she was wearing.
	"Jesus, Scully," he said, suddenly panting heavily.  "You're going to give me
a heart attack."
	He wasn't the only one.  He still hadn't moved his hand--unless you counted
the fact that he was definitely moving his fingers.  Skimming back and forth,
over and around, and...oh, God, yessss...in and out.  With an evil grin, he
pushed one long finger inside of her.  She had to bite her lip to keep from
screaming.  If just this much could bring her this close to the edge, what
would she do when he was finally inside of her himself?
	She sucked in a pained breath, digging her fingernails into his dress shirt.
"I--ummm, I knew th-that, uh, oooh right there...I knew Sp-Spender would l-
love these stockings."
	His eyes took on a diabolical gleam.  "That wasn't fair, Dana.  I was going
to be nice to you, but now--"
	He abruptly lowered his head, hiding her view of what he was doing.  Yet, in
the next second, when she felt the hot slide of his tongue over her clitoris,
she couldn't stop the shriek that escaped her mouth.
	"Mulder!"
	He grinned up at her.  "And I trust you'll remember that name."
	"I-I will, I promise--I just hope Spender doesn't mind."
	His eyes narrowed and she dissolved into giggles.  Giggles that quickly
changed to gasps as he repeated the movement, accentuating the abuse by
shoving another of his fingers inside of her.  Oh, damn, divine torture.  She
couldn't help the involuntary shifting of her hips.  And just as quickly as
he'd begun, he stopped, pulling his hand away and popping his fingers into his
mouth...leaving her wanting more.  That was the greatest torture of all.
	She could clearly see the impressive bulge threatening to burst right out of
his pants.  He wanted her.  So what was he waiting for?
	"Please, Mulder."
	"Please, what?"
	"Do it?"
	"What?"
	Oh, don't make me say it, she thought.
	"I don't know what you want."
	"Damn you."  She reached for his zipper, causing him to hiss through his
clenched teeth.  Yanking open the fly of his slacks, she reached in and
caressed him hard through the cotton of his boxer-briefs.  He moaned, his hips
lifting off the toilet seat to intensify the pressure.  She stroked him, her
hand sliding up and down the impressive ridge of his cock, before stopping
abruptly and stepping away.
	"Unnnhh--Scully, that's not fair!"
	"What?"
	"This isn't funny."
	"I don't know what you want, Mulder."
	Narrowing his eyes, he reached into the side opening of his shorts and freed
his straining erection.  "Take a wild guess."
	She swallowed heavily.  Were her hands really shaking as badly as they seemed
to be?  As she reached out to touch him, he flinched, groaning deep in his
throat.  Growing bolder, she wrapped her fingers around him and used her thumb
to smooth the pearl of liquid at the tip over and around the swollen head.
When she looked up, his eyes were closed.
	"Don't stop there.  You're just getting to the good part."
	"I thought the whole thing was the good part."
	The grin that split his face was devastating.  "Keep talkin', woman, and
you'll find yourself flat on your back on the men's room floor."
	Sliding her hands up his thighs, she started to lower herself to her knees,
when he abruptly opened his eyes.  Guessing her intentions, he reached for
her, faster than lightning, pulling her back to her feet.  "Not this time.  I
don't think I could last that long."
	He pushed her skirt up around her hips, guiding her over his knees until she
straddled his thighs.  With his hands on her hips, he watched her slip her
hands between them, opening her damp folds and guiding his cock inside.  She
bit her lip, startled at the intensely hot and smooth glide of his thrust; he
threw his head back and groaned, amazed at the wet tightness of her grip.
	His voice strained, he whispered, "How's your shoulder?"
	"Fine--mmm, just fine--"
	Settling down onto his lap, her feet barely gripping the tiled floor, she
began to move.  Tilting her hips, sliding him in and out, her hands grasping
his shoulders, his hands assisting her movements.  It was not long before it
felt as if he were dragging her to him.  Pulling her down hard on top of him.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, deep rumbles bubbled out of his throat.  Moving
in unison, slamming hard against each other.  Little whimpers fell from her
lips like the dirtiest of words.  Urging him on, pulling him closer.
Thrusting, harder and harder, faster, deeper, oh, God, yesssss--
	Holy shit, was that the door?!
	Her startled gaze flew to his, and his expression almost made her choke.
With every ounce of his soul, he was begging her not to stop.  Hell, she
couldn't have stopped if she tried.
	Even over the frenzy of her movements, she could hear the sound of
someoneopening his fly.  The sound of urine flowing.  Oh, God.  She looked
back at Mulder, and knew any second he was about to start laughing.  She
covered his mouth with her hand--which only served to turn him on even more.
His eyes were wide, sparkling with humor, and she felt herself begin to lose
control.  Burying her face against his neck, she started to giggle
uncontrollably.  And that was the exact moment when he started thrusting hard
into her from below.
	Gripping her tight, holding her still for every massive jolt, driving into
her with the force of a runaway train.  And when his hand pressed hard against
her clit, rubbing the swollen nerve-center in time with his motions, she flew
apart in his arms.  Muffling her cries against his shoulder, praying to God
that man at the urinal had no idea what was going on.  Seconds later, with one
last hard thrust, Mulder groaned--loudly.
	"Hey, buddy...are you OK in there?"
	Scully nearly shrieked with laughter.  She was biting her lip so hard she
almost drew blood.  Mulder's chest shook below her, jostling her on his lap.
	His voice was unmistakably unsteady when he answered, "Yeah, I'm...fine."
	Please, God, don't let him look under the stall, she thought frantically.
	"O-kay," the man said, slowly, before finally leaving.  Without ever washing
his hands, she noticed.  The second the door closed behind him, they both
dissolved in delirious giggles.
	Slipping off of his lap, her face flushed with embarrassment, Scully smoothed
down her skirt and re-buttoned her blouse.  She made a quick reach for her
sling, pulling it over her head and unlocking the door before he could grab
her.  He stood abruptly, still fumbling with his pants.
	"Where're you going?"
	"I'm going to the ladies room to clean up before we head to the hospital."
	His voice took on a whine that reminded her of Spender.  "You still want to
do that today?"
	"Mulder, we have to check those security tapes.  What--did you think we were
going to stay in here all day?"
	"Well, now that you mention it--"
	"You're amazing."
	He grinned.  "Thanks.  You weren't so bad yourself."
	Rolling her eyes, she stepped out of the stall and started towards the main
door...stopping abruptly when that door started to open.  She could hear
Mulder quickly closing the stall door behind her, blocking all view of who was
inside.  Her face burned even hotter when the other man entered the rest room
and looked at her in shock.
	"Uh...sorry," she mumbled, hurrying past him.  "I wasn't paying attention to
which rest room I entered."
	She made a hasty exit, barely reaching the ladies room before surrendering to
another fit of laughter.

END (2/5)

WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME? II: NEVER TEAR US APART (3/5)
Isahunter@aol.com

	Sitting in the passenger's seat of the sedan, watching the scenery fly by as
they rolled down the road, Scully glimpsed the reflection of her grin in the
window.  She'd have to remember to wipe that satisfied smirk off her face
before they returned to the Hoover building.  It wouldn't do for everyone to
see her jubilant expression when she was supposed to be angry at her partner.
	Glancing over at Mulder, watching his long legs move as he accelerated down
the street, she had to bite her lip.  How many years had she wanted him?  How
many times had she dreamt of a clandestine love affair, of the romance and
intrigue of it all?  It was dangerous and risky, could very well get them
fired...or killed, if the wrong people found out.  But she wouldn't have
changed a second.  No matter what lay ahead, this time she had with him was
more precious than words could say.
	He turned to look at her, giving her a little grin that told her he knew
exactly what she was thinking.  It didn't surprise her.  He always seemed to
know, whether she wanted him to or not.
	He slipped his hand over her knee.  "I was thinking--"
	"Uh-oh."
	"Funny.  When this is all over, we should go away for the weekend.  Take a
little break from all this."
	"To where?"
	"Well, I was going to leave the details up to you."
	"I see.  You want me to do all the planning, so you don't have to worry about
it."
	"Something like that."
	"Mulder, it's a wonder you were able to stay alive all those years, without
me to do your work for you."
	"Hey...I resent that."
	"But you don't deny it."
	"Well, not really."
	Her grin returned, full-force.
	Minutes later he pulled the car to a stop in the hospital parking garage.
She stepped out of the car, not bothering to wait for him to open the door.
Just because they were lovers now didn't mean things had changed.  They were
still equals in this partnership, and she wasn't about to let him baby
her...even if she did have an injured shoulder.
	She didn't mind, however, his hand resting on the small of her back as they
made their way to the intensive care unit.
	"Did I ever tell you I hate hospitals?" he murmured, as they reached the
nurse's station.
	"Considering that we both practically own stock in the area hospitals, I'm
not surprised."  Turning to the nurse before them, she flipped out her badge
and saw Mulder do the same.  "My name is Special Agent Dana Scully, and this
is my partner Agent Mulder.  We're with the FBI...we'd like to talk to you
about taking a look at your surveillance tapes for Monday afternoon."
	The nurse, a young blond who was having a hard time taking her eyes off
Mulder, turned to Scully with a blank look.  "I think you'll have to go
downstairs and talk to security about that sort of thing, ma'am."
	She abruptly returned her gaze to Mulder, causing Scully to grit her teeth.
He merely smirked at her.
	He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the counter, shamelessly flirting.
"You'll have to excuse my partner.  You see, we were told the recent
surveillance videos would be available for us to view here...you could arrange
that for us, couldn't you?"
	The nurse blushed.  "Well--don't you need some sort of court order or
something?"
	"We aren't interested in invading the privacy of your patients, Nurse--" he
looked at her name tag, "Howard.  We'd just like to see the tapes from the
corridor outside rooms 425 through room 432.  It won't take but a second.  And
I can promise I'll take full responsibility with your supervisor."
	Scully was having a hard time keeping from gagging.  Tapping her heel on the
floor, she watched the nurse hastily disappear into a back room and return
with a marked videotape.  Mulder's smug grin was nearly enough to make her
smile herself.
	Shaking her head, she stepped around the desk and stood before the monitor.
Nurse Howard popped the cassette into its slot and showed her how to move
through the tape.  Scully could feel Mulder's gaze over her shoulder as she
scanned through hours of visitors coming and going.  When she finally saw
Spender entering Diana's room, she slowed the tape.  She heard Mulder snort in
disgust at the flowers in Spender's hand.
	Mulder stepped away from the nurse's station, wandering towards Diana's
hospital room.  Scully could see him, out of the corner of her eye, peering
through the glass separating them.  She had to bite her lip and concentrate
just to focus on the tape before her.  She had no idea what he was going
through, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.  But she couldn't help but
feel saddened at his loss.  Despite what she'd done, Mulder had loved that
woman.  And she betrayed him.  It hurt Scully nearly as badly to know just how
hard it was for him to trust her, because of what Diana had done.
	Tearing her gaze away from his reflection in the glass, she looked down at
the tape and spotted what she'd been dreading to see...but what she'd always
known to be true.  Walking down that fuzzy corridor, on a tape that wavered
from being taped over so many times, was the Cigarette Smoking Man.
	Striding into Diana's hospital room as if he owned the place.
	"Mulder, I think you'd better take a look at this."
	When she looked up to meet his gaze, her partner was nowhere to be
found...until she noticed his dark shadow hovering like a mourner on the other
side of Diana's bed.

	He hadn't meant to leave Scully.  He hadn't realized he had, until he found
himself staring down at the features of his former wife.  He didn't want to be
there: it was a kind of morbid curiosity that had drawn him towards her.
	Raising his head, he saw Scully start and turn respectfully away, waiting for
him, allowing him to take the time he needed.
	That was so like Scully, he reflected.  Always letting him do things in his
own time, whether it was to rush through, or work methodically for days, she
would always be there to pick up the pieces, or straighten him out.
	With Diana it had been so different.  They'd been almost ten years younger,
both so much more naive, and when he had chosen to rush, she rushed with him.
When he had selected the slower approach, she had left him to it, not
encouraged him, or even been there to offer a cup of coffee and a smile.
	He glanced down once more at the comatose body in the bed before him.  She
was pale and lifeless, and brought back horrific memories of all the times he
had seen his partner in the same condition.  At those times, he had sat beside
her, whispering when she was asleep or unconscious, talking softly when she
was awake, always holding her hand, not able to let her slip away.  And
somehow she had always held on.  They both had.
	But staring at Diana, he could not bring himself to take her hand.  It was
irrational, and he hated himself for it: she had been his wife, for God's
sake.  Had been.  Past tense.  That chapter of his life was over.  There was a
part of him that ached to give some kind of sympathy, some kind of support, to
the woman before him, but he simply could not make any movement in her
direction.  Diana was the past.  The woman across the hall was his future.
	He sighed, and thrust his hands into his pockets.  There would be no
whispered words of trust and love this time.  Once more, he gazed through the
two windows to where Scully was sitting on one of the desks in the nurse's
station, just in time to catch her looking at her watch.  She was still pretty
tired from her own stay in the hospital, and Mulder realized she was where his
responsibilities now lay, not with the lifeless form of an ex-partner.
	He made for the door, stopping briefly at the foot of the bed.  He didn't
really know what to say, didn't even know if she could hear him, although he
firmly believed Scully had been able to during each of the far too many times
she had been in a frighteningly similar position.
	"I'm sorry."  He knew he didn't mean it.  "How could you have done that to
her?"  The memories of their confrontation in the warehouse would haunt him
forever.  "How could you do that to me?  Why, Diana?  Who put you up to this?
Was it Them?"
	He stared at her for a moment, although he certainly didn't expect an answer.
But, wait...had her eyelids fluttered?  He stared for a further minute, but
nothing happened.  He knew he should alert a doctor or a nurse, but it could
very well have been a product of a very tired and over-stressed imagination.
Shooting one last look in her direction, he reached for the door handle.
	Scully was waiting for him in the hallway, and she hugged him, as best she
could.  "No change?"
	He smiled down at her, and then glanced over his shoulder towards Diana's
room.  "No.  No change."  He pulled away from her embrace, and linked his arm
with hers, leading her away.

	"Did you want to talk about it?"
	"Hmm?"  Mulder shifted his gaze from the road for a second, and stopped
chewing on his lip, but it wasn't long before he'd resumed both.
	"Diana.  Do you feel like talking about what happened?"
	Scully watched his brow furrow before he reached over and turned on the
radio, effectively cutting that conversation short before it even started.
Trent Reznor's voice surrounded her, when Mulder's should have.  Shaking her
head, she sighed heavily.
	"You could have just said 'no.'"
	His grip on the steering wheel loosened a bit.  "What did you find out from
the surveillance tape?"
	She felt like ignoring his question, just as he had hers, but she supposed he
had a right to privacy.  She just wished he wouldn't keep things from her.
Yeah, if wishes were horses...
	"It was just as we suspected."
	"So, Old Smoky was visiting Diana's hospital room?"
	"Yes."  She glanced at his hands again, noting his white-knuckled grip on the
steering wheel.  He didn't like having his suspicions confirmed.  Not in this
instance, anyway.  "Diana told you herself that she was involved with them.
Were you really surprised?"
	"Hell yes, I was surprised!  She lied to me, made me think all this time I
was the one who drove her away.  How do you think that made me feel?"
	Her silence made him turn and look at her.  She could only stare at him,
trying to hide the hurt expression on her face he caused when he lashed out at
her.  His angry countenance immediately softened, and he pressed his hand over
her knee.
	"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you."  He glanced back at the road once
more, eyeing the car in front of him.  "I just--When she left, I thought it
was because of something I'd done wrong.  I beat myself up for years
afterwards.  Good old Fox Mulder fucked up again."
	Scully placed her good hand over his, giving him a gentle squeeze and feeling
his fingers wrap around hers.
	She knew what he was saying, even if he didn't say it out loud.  Everyone
he'd ever loved had left him, and he'd blamed himself for it.  He'd gotten so
used to being abandoned that instead of waiting for those around him to leave,
he pushed them away, kept them at a distance, never letting anyone too close.
Until her.  She tightened her grip on his hand, silently thanking God that
she'd been able to sneak past the walls he'd been guarding while his back was
turned.  For all the damage Diana had done with her betrayal, it was a miracle
they'd gotten this far.
	"She used you, Mulder.  She took your trust and slapped you in the face with
it.  You have every right to be angry with her."
	He focused back on the road, moving into the left lane in preparation to turn
down the street where she lived.  "What she did to me isn't the issue here.
Hell, I could've forgiven her for betraying me, if that had been where it
ended.  But when she shot you, she made it personal."
	The sudden turn their conversation had taken gave her the chills.  Trying to
lighten the mood, she changed the subject.  Unfortunately, the first thing
that popped out of her mouth was about the last thing he needed to hear.  "I
know you won't be thrilled, but I consented to let Spender take me out to a
movie."
	He gave her a sideways glance, before shaking his head.  "And just when did
you agree to this?"
	"This morning, after talking to Kersh."  When he pulled his hand away, she
loosened her grip and let him go.  "I'm not exactly pleased with the idea,
either.  But I swear this is the last time.  If I don't learn what I need to
know about him tonight, we'll try something else.  I promise."
	"Cross your heart?"
	"And hope to die."
	Pulling up to the curb, he put the car in park and turned to look at her.
"What movie are you seeing?"
	"A Bug's Life."
	"Great.  I wanted to see that one."
	She rolled her eyes.  "You'll just have to wait 'til it comes out on video."
	"When will you be home?"
	"Early, I hope.  I'm not staying out with him any longer than I have to."
	"You're not going to let him feel you up in the back seats, are you?"
	"Only if he buys me popcorn."
	"Good girl.  Never give it away for free."
	She smirked at him, reaching for the door handle.  He stopped her with a hand
on her thigh, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her.  But he wouldn't
dare in broad daylight, in front of her building.  Quirking her eyebrow, she
waited.
	"Be careful."
	"I always am.  Especially with you."
	"I mean it, Scully.  And call me as soon as you walk in the door."
	She groaned.  "Yes, Ahab."
	She almost missed his frown as she closed the door.  Giggling softly to
herself, she walked to her apartment, resisting the urge to blow a kiss over
her shoulder.

	The office was dark, which wasn't particularly surprising at such a late
hour.  Any self-respecting agent would have left long ago.  But the reason he
was here at all was his suspicion that Agent Spender was anything but
respectable.
	Holding his breath, Mulder flicked the light switch.  No explosions or
sirens, just the light turning on, buzzing faintly.  He smiled, remembering
how it had irritated the hell out of him when he worked down here twelve or
thirteen hours a day.
	No time for nostalgia, he reminded himself as he took in the office.  There
were no "I Want To Believe" posters or newspaper cuttings now.  "Skinner,
3:00" was scrawled across a wipe board in red marker pen.  God, that brought
back memories.
	Creeping around to the other side of the desk, Mulder was faced with an
ailing plant and a picture of the President.  Personally Mulder preferred his
Flukeman snapshot.  Taking a moment to ponder this thought, he grinned in
spite of himself.  And why was he creeping anyway?  No one was likely to
discover him at this hour, and even if they did, he would somehow manage to
sweet-talk his way out of it.  He always had before.  Although the black
outfit he had changed into in honor of the occasion was only likely to
incriminate him further.
	Getting down to business, Mulder suddenly understood the purpose of a tidy
office: when people are trying to spy on you, it makes their job a whole lot
easier.  He made a mental note never to clear his desk again.
	The top drawer of the desk contained nothing but neatly ordered files:
nothing out of the ordinary, or at least, not as far as the X-files were
concerned.
	The next drawer contained a box of ball-point pens, half of them black and
half of them blue, a box of neatly sharpened pencils he had to resist the urge
to toss at the ceiling, an electric sharpener, and a small bag of paperclips.
	The third drawer was empty, except for a marble and a packet of breath mints.
No wonder no one could stand being near Spender.
	Mulder was on the verge of disbelief.  How could anyone possibly have such
boring desk drawers?  Even Scully kept interesting stuff in her desk: sweets,
usually used for bribery purposes, and occasionally a cool little medical toy
of some sort.  But the contents of these drawers was pathetic by anyone's
standards.
	Giving the desk up as a lost cause, Mulder turned his attention to the
remainder of the office.  The file cabinets were, of course, locked, which
could have been a fortunate turn of events.  If he had had access to the
files, he could well have spent the whole night in the office.
	The only other possibility seemed to be the three shelves on the opposite
wall.  The top two were occupied by neatly ordered books, and on closer
inspection Mulder found his suspicions confirmed.  They were arranged in
alphabetical order.  Wincing, he turned his attention to the third shelf,
which appeared to be the only area of the office where clutter was permitted.
	Files were the main cause of the mess.  They had evidently been stacked
neatly at one point, but had slid to one side, covering most of the shelf's
surface.  Apart from the files, there were one or two high tech gadgets which
Mulder would have needed Scully in order to identify, a wooden box, and a
couple of envelopes, and it was these that drew Mulder's attention.  The
stamps were Canadian, and the handwriting unfamiliar.  The letters had been
removed, but if he squinted, Mulder could just identify a Quebec postmark.
	Losing interest, he transferred his investigation to the wooden box.
Intricately carved, it looked as though it may have been Indian in origin.
Although it was pretty to look at, it appeared to serve no purpose, and when
Mulder carefully prized the lid open it revealed nothing but an unfinished
interior.
	Replacing the lid, Mulder returned the box to its former position on the
shelf, making sure he did not disturb any of the other items in the process.
Resigning himself to the fact that there was no evidence to be found here,
Mulder was about to leave the office, when a gleam of steel caught his eye
from under one of the folders on the shelf.
	Lifting the folders, Mulder slid the ashtray out from its hiding place.  As
he had suspected, the cigarette butt was there.  He wasn't surprised to find
that it bore the all too familiar "Morleys" legend.  He wasn't even surprised
to find it still slightly warm.
	Sliding the offending article back into place, Mulder flipped the light
switch and left the office.

	How on earth did I get into this situation, Scully asked herself.
	Spender was sitting on her couch, in her home, his gaze moving around the
room as if taking silent inventory.  Looking like he was getting ready to move
right in.  She had to fight the urge to gag.  This had really gotten out of
hand.  Too much time had passed with too little learned, and she'd gotten so
desperate for information she'd resorted to desperate tactics.  Pretending to
date Spender was one thing, but inviting him in to her apartment--she had to
have lost her mind somewhere along the road.
	She silently tried to convince herself this was the best way to earn his
confidence and trust, but a very big part of her wasn't buying it.  Get him
out of here! her head shouted.  But she chose to ignore it.  This was only one
night out of her life.  They would just sit here, drink some iced tea, tell a
few stories, and then he would go home.  And she'd never have to see him
again.  Oh, God, she hoped.
	"So, Jeffrey," she called from the kitchen, "do you take sugar in your iced
tea?"
	"Do you have any artificial sweetener?"
	She rolled her eyes.  "No, sorry."
	"I'll just take it straight then."
	She stepped into the living room, carrying two tall glasses, and handed him
his drink before sitting down across from him.  He looked at her bound arm and
frowned, as if suddenly remembering her injury.
	"I'm sorry, I should have helped you with that."
	"It's all right.  These glasses aren't that heavy."  Settling back against
the couch, as far from him as she could get, she met his gaze.  "So..."
	"So--"
	"This is...nice, don't you think?  No distractions."
	"Yeah."
	That went well.  She took a drink of her tea, hoping his was every bit as
bitter as hers was sweet.  "Did you have a nice day at work?"
	"Same old stuff."
	"Oh?  Like what?"
	"I don't want to bore you--"
	"No, really, I want to know."
	"Well, in Diana's absence, I took over most of her duties.  It's been hard,
but I'm hanging in there."
	"So what exactly are Diana's duties?"
	He suddenly got this blank look on his face, like a mask falling over his
features.  "She, uh, you know...running traces and following up on leads."
	"But you make it sound like these are things she does by herself...surely
you're involved with her business?"
	She held her breath, hoping she didn't sound as blunt as she felt.  For a
moment he just held her gaze, a little wrinkle of concentration marring the
space between his eyes.
	"Diana does a lot of things on her own.  She's very independent that way.
But, yes, we are partners, and I'm very much involved in the work she does."
	Did he mean that the way she thought he did?  She could feel herself getting
sick to her stomach.  She wanted to tell him to get out, to never come near
her again.  But she was so close...
	"I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I always had this nagging
feeling Diana wasn't working with the right kind of people."
	This time, she didn't imagine the change in his demeanor.  "And just who are
you suggesting are the right kind of people?  Your Agent Mulder?"
	"No, I--I didn't mean that.  And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."
	"Correct me if I'm wrong, Dana, but we're FBI agents.  Don't we all work for
the same people?"
	She thought about A.D. Kersh, and the literal shit jobs he'd given them
lately, and she had to wonder.  Did they all work for the same people?  It
wouldn't surprise her.  She had once seen the Cigarette-Smoking Man in the
Assistant Director's office.  As if he owned the place.  Jesus, was anyone on
their side anymore?
	"Yeah, I guess maybe we do."
	"If I thought my own partner was doing something wrong, don't you think I'd
report it?"
	She nodded quietly, her mind in turmoil.  Spender and Diana reported directly
to Assistant Director Skinner...but she had no guarantee that Skinner was any
less involved with the Consortium than Kersh was.  How can you report
nefarious activities if your own superior had been the one to instigate them
in the first place?  Just how high did this deception reach?  To the Attorney
General?  The President?  The United Nations?
	Suddenly, she wasn't thirsty anymore.  She set her iced tea down on the
coffee table with a shaking hand, barely aware of the clatter as glass clinked
against glass.
	There were things she refused to believe in this world, lies and truths that
mingled into one frightening picture.  But there were some things she could no
longer deny.  Bees that carried frightening illnesses, men who would kill to
keep secrets, people with strange agendas who recruited once honest men into
their folds.  Whether or not this deception was to hide an alien virus, the
conclusion was evident.  These men were dangerous, all-powerful,
merciless...and she was pretty damned sure she was sitting with one of them in
her living room.
	She tried to smile, to assure him everything was all right, but she knew she
failed pathetically.  "I know you're a good man, Jeffrey.  You don't have to
prove it to me."
	He smiled, reaching across the couch to cover her hand with his, and she
couldn't help but flinch.  If he noticed, he didn't mention it.  "You can
trust me, Dana."
	About as far as she could throw him.
	"I--I just...thank you.  You know, I have this thing about trusting people--"
	"I know."
	"I've never really let anyone close to me."
	"Not even your partner?"
	Was it her imagination, or was he leaning closer?  "Well, it took a long time
for me to trust Mulder."
	"And he abused that trust.  He lied to you."
	Yes, definitely leaning closer.  "He--he tried to protect me."
	"I would never lie to you, Dana."
	Oh, God, was he trying to kiss her?  She pushed herself even harder into the
cushions at her back, ignoring the fresh stabbing of pain in her shoulder as
she desperately tried to evade him.  Yet he just kept descending...like a
nightmare.  Like those worms her brother used to chase her with as a kid.
Well, she'd gotten quite used to picking up worms herself and throwing them
right back...she was more than tempted to do the same thing now.
	Seconds before his mouth made contact with hers, she stopped him with a
finger to his lips.  Even that much contact made her ill.  "Jeffrey,
please--don't."
	He looked taken aback.  "Still too soon?"
	She nodded.
	With much reluctance, he settled back onto his own side of the couch and
sipped his tea.  Before she could even bother moving from her cringing
position, she was startled by loud banging on her door.  Grateful for the
distraction, she smoothed down her sweater and excused herself to the door.
She could feel Spender's gaze boring into her back, watching her flee.  She
was in such a hurry to get away from him, she didn't even bother to ask who
her visitor was.
	Flinging open the door, she caught only a blur of motion before she was swept
up into a strong pair of arms and kissed soundly on the mouth.  She was so
startled, she ceased to move.  The instant clarity of thought came to her, she
pushed away from her attacker.
	<Oh, God, Mulder, what have you done?>  She looked up into his face,
horrified at the situation.  She knew Spender had just seen everything.  Had
just seen her partner grab her and kiss her like a long-starved lover.  And
she knew she had to do something.  Had to do anything, just to throw him off
the trail.  <Forgive me, Mulder.>
	She slapped him.  Hard.  Right across the face.  Watching his whole head
shake with the intensity of the blow.  His hand came up to his face, and he
narrowed his eyes in confused accusation...before his gaze shifted.  And she
knew he finally saw Spender over her shoulder.
	"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mulder?" Spender asked, in outrage.
She could hear him starting forward, as if coming to her rescue.
	Moving quickly, she stopped him with a hand to his chest.  "I'll handle
this."  Whirling to face her lover, she begged him with her eyes to
understand.  "What's gotten into you, Mulder?"
	His gaze shifted from hers to Spender, and back again.  He stuttered for a
moment, and blinked as if to clear his head.  "I--I just came from seeing
Diana...I guess it was too much."
	"So--what?  You sought comfort from the nearest warm body?" Spender asked.
	"Yeah, I guess I did."
	Spender put a hand on her shoulder, making her wince, catching Mulder's
attention.  She hoped Spender couldn't see the ticking of his jaw.  Like an
unwanted bodyguard, Spender continued to defend her.  "You bastard.  Maybe you
should've just found yourself a prostitute instead of harassing helpless
victims."
	Helpless?  She was about to respond to that little remark, when Mulder
interrupted.  "I wasn't thinking.  You're right, I'm sorry."
	"You should be."
	Scully pried Spender's fingers from her shoulder and opened the door.
"Mulder, I think you just need to go home and get some rest.  It doesn't look
like you've slept in days."
	He nodded, his face an unreadable mask, but his eyes glittered with an anger
she could easily detect.  "Yeah.  I think I'll do that."
	"Maybe you should take the day off tomorrow."
	"No--no, I'll be fine.  You're right.  I just need to rest for a while."
	He stepped out into the hallway, visibly aware that Spender was still
watching, and slowly made his way down the hall and out of sight.  Scully
swallowed heavily as she closed the door and reluctantly turned to face
Spender.
	"I don't know what's gotten into him lately.  He's been so stressed out over
Diana's condition."
	"Somebody should make him take a vacation."
	She panicked.  That was just what she needed--Spender telling Kersh to
enforce Mulder's absence from the Bureau.  "Uh, no--I'm sure he's right.
He'll be better tomorrow."
	"How can you say that after what he did?  Who knows what he might've done if
I hadn't been here."
	She knew exactly what he would've done, and she had to bite her tongue to
keep from thinking about it.  "Contrary to what you said, Agent Spender," she
said, making her displeasure clear, "I am not helpless.  I know perfectly well
how to defend myself, and Agent Mulder knows that as well.  I've shot him
before, I could do it again."
	He had the grace to look sheepish.  "I'm sorry, you're right."
	She let out a shaky breath.  Her heart was pounding like mad in her chest.
God, did Spender believe the lie?  Was he really that gullible?
	Licking her lips, she pushed her free hand into her pocket.  "Sometimes I
think Mulder worries about Diana every bit as much as you do."
	He merely snorted.  "He has no business visiting her in the hospital.  The
farther away from her he is, the better."
	"I can see this is upsetting you.  Maybe we should talk about something else
for a while."  Taking his arm, she led him back to the couch.  It was time for
some major damage control.  She had to rebuild every shaky little connection
she made with this man, that Mulder had unknowingly damaged with his
unannounced visit.  Somehow, she had to convince Spender she was only
interested in him.  She just prayed Mulder understood--that he would wait for
her explanation.  It was her only hope.  "So, Jeffrey...where were we before
we were so rudely interrupted?"
	"Well--I was about to kiss you, and you turned me down."
	"Oh."  She chewed on her lip.  "Well--Did you happen to catch the Jets game
last night?"

END (3/5)

WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME? II: NEVER TEAR US APART (4/5)
Isahunter@aol.com

	Mulder sat in his car, freezing his ass off, gazing in the rear-view mirror
at the reddened palm print that marred his cheek.  Damn, it still stung.  She
packed quite a wallop.
	Settling once again into an all-too-familiar scowl, he stared at Scully's
apartment.  It had been at least a half hour since she kicked him out...yet
Spender was still there.  Warm and comfortable, probably taking up residence
once more on her couch.  Christ, when the bastard had put a possessive hand on
Scully's shoulder, it had taken every bit of will power to keep from ripping
him in half.  It would've been easy--he was a skinny little weasel, after all.
	Wrapping his leather jacket tighter about him, he shivered.  It was freezing,
but he wasn't about to go home.  Not while that bastard was still in there.
Leaning his head back against the seat, he sighed heavily, his breath leaving
him in an icy cloud.  He would wait.  He had to wait.  It wouldn't be much
longer now.
	He hoped.
	What seemed like hours later, he was muttering incoherently to himself.
Shivers wracked him constantly, a steady stream of quaking from his head to
his toes.  He knew he should get out and run around the block or something,
but--
	Sudden knocking on the passenger side window nearly made him jump out of his
skin.  He peered through the icy glass to see Scully standing there, and
quickly unlocked the door.  She hurried into the car, and slammed the door
behind her.
	"Mulder, what are you doing out here?" she asked, in frosty puffs.  "It's
freezing."
	"Where is he?"
	"Spender went home.  A long time ago.  I've been trying to call you, but you
weren't home and your cell phone isn't on."
	"Yeah, well...I got sick of waiting and didn't want to waste the battery."
	She grabbed his chin and tilted his face towards her, until she could see the
cheek she'd pummeled.  She frowned, but whether or not her hand print was
still there, he didn't know.
	Leaning forward, she touched her lips to his icy cheek with incredible
softness.  "I never should've done that."
	"I had it coming.  Next time I'll just remember Spender's advice and pick up
a hooker."
	"That's not funny."
	"Sorry.  I ran out of my sense of humor a couple hours ago."
	"C'mon.  I've got to get you inside, get you warmed up."  She reached for the
door handle, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.
	"I didn't mean to mess things up with Spender.  I thought he went home hours
ago."
	"He should have," she said, with a tight-lipped smile.  "Spender did seem
quite unnerved, but he settled down after a while.  I just had to sit through
another hour of his boring conversation."
	Mulder winced.  "God, now I really am sorry."
	"Let's go.  I'm starting to form icicles here."
	He slid out of the car and locked the doors, surprised when he couldn't feel
his fingers.  His toes tingled like they'd fallen asleep.  He practically
tripped over his own feet as he followed her into the apartment building.  She
looked back to see him still shuddering.
	"God, you're colder than I thought.  We need to hurry."
	By the time they reached her door, and she fit her key into the lock, her
worried gaze was passing over him with a decided frown.  Shutting the door
behind them, she tossed her keys on the table and reached for the edges of his
coat.
	"Take off your jacket," she said, already pulling it off his arms.  When it
fell loose from his hands, she laid it over the back of the couch.  "We should
get you into the shower, heat you up."
	"Scully, are you coming on to me?"
	"This isn't funny, Mulder.  Your hands and face are freezing.  After that
little stint in Antarctica, I would think you'd know better than to chance
hypothermia and frost bite."
	"You know I'd do anything for you."
	She pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans and set it down on the
couch.  "All right, then take off your shoes and get out of those pants."
	"Oooh, Scully, I think--"  His words cut off abruptly as she reached for his
button fly herself, taking matters into her own hands.  "Damn, woman, you
could wait for me to comply."
	Popping open his jeans, one handed because of her sling, she then dropped to
her knees and began tugging on his shoe.  He lifted his foot the moment she
got a good grip, nearly causing her to fall flat on her ass.  He started to
reach for her, but she easily regained her balance and started on the other
foot.
	"Take your shirt off."
	Arching an eyebrow, he did as she asked.  His black turtle-neck fell to the
floor, leaving him shivering in just his jeans and underwear.  Climbing to her
feet, Scully started towards the bathroom.  Seconds later, he could hear the
water running.  He shook his head.  Hell, if she wanted to warm him up, he
could have suggested dozens of better ways to go about it.
	"Mulder, get in here."
	"Yes, dear."
	His smart-ass remark earned him nothing but an unappreciative scowl.
	"Aren't you coming in with me?"
	"No.  I'm supposed to keep my bandage dry.  Now get in the shower."
	He stripped out of his jeans, fumbling with half-frozen fingers to pull his
underwear off as well.
	She opened the shower door and ushered him inside.  The warm spray was like
stinging needles against his painfully cold flesh, and he let out a startled
gasp.
	"Is it too hot?"
	He shook his head, his teeth chattering.
	"I'm going to make you some hot tea."
	"With lots of honey," he said, as she walked away.  She glanced at him over
her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at his not-so-subtle bee reference.  He had
to laugh.
	After a few minutes, the water wasn't quite so biting against his skin.  A
few minutes after that it began to feel good.  By the time Scully came back
with his tea, he was half asleep under the steaming shower.
	"What did you find out about Spender?"
	Her hesitation made him open his eyes.  "Well--I don't know anything for
certain.  I just have this feeling..."
	"Women's intuition?"
	"I guess you could call it that.  Agent Spender ranks about an eleven on the
Gives Me The Creeps scale.  He kept talking about how we all work for the same
people, and other such garbage.  I just *know* he's corrupt.  But, we have no
proof."
	He didn't say anything about the cigarette butt he'd found in Spender's
office.  For some reason, given her tone of voice, he didn't think it was as
important as what she was about to say.  "What else, Scully?"
	"He--oh, God, how do I say this without you going ballistic?"
	"Just say it."
	"He tried to kiss me."
	Oddly, he found himself smiling.  "Did he succeed?"
	"Hell, no.  He's lucky I didn't shoot him."
	His grin grew even wider.  "He's lucky I didn't do it for you."
	"Mulder?"
	"Hmm?"
	"You should probably get out now, and get dry.  I got out some extra blankets
and towels."
	Although his fingers still felt a bit stiff, he reached out and turned of the
faucet.  Cold air swept in as she opened the shower door.
	"Here, drink this."
	He took the mug from her and sipped it cautiously.  Not hot enough to burn,
and sweetened just like he asked.  He stepped out of the shower stall and was
about to reach for a towel, when, once again, she did it for him.  He nearly
choked when she started sliding the terry-cloth over his body, mopping up
excess moisture.  She took extra time drying his hair, standing on tip-toes
just to reach.  Smoothing her way to the droplets that clung to the hair on
his arms and chest.  Down his torso to the thatch of hair that covered his
groin, lingering for a moment, before moving down to his thighs.  By the time
she worked her way behind him, up his legs and over his ass, he didn't need
any more damned tea.  He was hotter than hell.  She wasn't the least bit
hampered by her bound arm.  The arm she did use worked miracles--he'd been so
cold earlier he'd felt shriveled, but now...now he was anything but.
	Annoyingly, she didn't even seem to notice.  She just kept right on with her
clinical motions, like a nurse fussing over a patient, as if totally unaware
he had an erection that could rival the hardness of diamonds.
	Setting his mug down on the sink, with a not-so-steady hand, he sucked in a
shuddering breath.
	She stopped wiping the towel over his back and just stood there, her fingers
resting against his shoulder blade.
	"I'm sorry I slapped you."
	He could barely get the words out.  "I know why you did it."
	"I know you do, but that doesn't excuse it."
	"I forgive you, Scully."
	He felt the kiss she placed on his spine all the way down to his soul.  He
reached behind him for her good hand and felt the towel fall from her fingers.
He placed her palm over his chest and as she rested her cheek against his
back, he couldn't tell which was hotter--her flushed face or his steaming
skin.
	"Would you let me do something to make it up to you?"
	He swallowed heavily.  "Oh yeah."
	He could feel her smile against his back, and seconds later she was following
her arm around to stand before him.  "Are you warm enough?"
	"If I get any warmer I'm gonna spontaneously combust."
	"Oooh...I was kind of hoping you would."  Before he could come up with a
response, she lowered herself to her knees before him on the plush carpeted
bath-mat.  His mouth fell open in shock, and he could only stare blindly as
she placed a simple kiss to the tip of his erection.  So...she had noticed.
	Moving slowly, so as not to jostle her shoulder, she pulled off her sling and
tossed it on the floor.  She slid her hand up his thigh, using her wounded arm
as an anchor, before meeting his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes.  And, when she
wrapped her good hand around the length of his cock, he thought he'd died and
gone to heaven.
	With the slightest feather-light touch, she ran the tip of her tongue up the
sensitive ridge below his cock, from the base of his shaft all the way to the
head.  Like licking an ice-cream cone.  He could feel his lungs constricting,
clenching painfully in his chest.  She swirled her lips over and around him,
kissing and nibbling, doing things he never imagined her doing.  Not even in
his wildest fantasies.  Somehow, his mind always skipped away from this
image...as if Dana Scully was too good for this sort of thing.  In reality,
she was too good *at* this sort of thing.
	She knelt before him, her hair falling in copper waves around her face, her
eyes closed in concentration, her cream-puff lips wrapped around him like
savoring a bit of candy.  Christ, he was lucky he was still breathing.  She
took as much of him into her mouth as she could, but it was obvious that 'Deep
Throat' was a name to be saved for his former informant alone.
	It didn't matter.  The things she was doing to him blew his mind...so to
speak.  Wrapping her mouth around him, she sucked hard while teasing the
sensitive skin of his scrotum with tickling fingers.  Her tongue bathed him,
sweeping away the drops of moisture leaking from the swollen head.  Yet, when
she opened her eyes to gaze at him, and started moving her fist over the
length of his shaft, using her own saliva as a lubricant, his knees nearly
buckled.  She sucked hard, keeping up a steady rhythm as familiar as his own
palm.  One long, slow stroke, followed by five fast, vigorous pumps.  His ears
were ringing so loudly, he almost didn't hear the sound of his own whimpers.
His hand gripped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair.  The
closer he got to the edge, the more he felt the need to move.  To thrust into
her open mouth and ease his suffering.  But he held back, barely restraining
himself, lest she decide never to do this again.
	He could feel his balls rising, and his breath fell from his lips in harsh
gasps.  Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?  Did she know how
much he loved her?
	"Ahh, Scully--I'm gonna--"  He couldn't stop the movement of his hips any
longer...keeping still was like trying to stop a tsunami.  "Scculleeee!"
	The echo of his shout bounced off the walls, ricocheting back at him as he
emptied himself into her mouth in a series of rapid thrusts.  Her eyes
widened, taking on a momentary glimpse of fear, before she accepted what he
gave her...and swallowed.
	This time, his knees did buckle.  He dropped down to kneel before her, taking
her face in his hands, watching--mesmerized--as she licked her lips.  She
smiled, softly, shyly, damned near breaking his heart.  He had no doubt she'd
never done that before...well, at least, not that last part...and he was
amazed at her audacity.  He kissed her gently, tasting himself on her lips,
before giving her a full-force grin.
	"Baby, that was so good--if I were the President, I would've given you a
cigar."
	She giggled, resting her head against his shoulder.  "You really--I mean, it
was really OK?"
	"Oh yeah.  It was better than OK.  Much better."
	Pulling back to look at him, she grinned slyly.  "Good...'cause next time
it's your turn."
	"You'll have to give me a few minutes to catch my breath."
	Gathering her feet below her, she reached for her sling and stood.  Taking a
sip from the mug he left on the counter, she handed him his tea and urged him
to drink the rest.  "I hate to tell you this, Mulder, but you aren't spending
the night."
	With that she disappeared into the living room.
	Still stunned, he quickly wrapped the discarded towel around his waist and
followed her.  "Why not?"
	Picking his clothes up off the floor, she laid them neatly over the back of
the couch.  "What if Spender came back?"
	"Why in God's name would Spender come back?"
	"I don't know...but that's precisely the point.  We don't know how that
little weasel thinks."  She lowered her voice a bit.  "He could be listening
outside the door right now."
	He gave her a look she knew very well, because she'd perfected it herself.
Scully patented the "you're crazy" look.
	Bending to reach for his socks, she said, "And be sure to take all your
clothes this time.  I nearly had to dive for the couch tonight just to hide
the tie you left over the weekend."
	"Why do I suddenly feel like the 'other woman'?"
	She finally smiled at him.  "You know that if the circumstances were
different, I'd love for you to stay.  But we both have to work tomorrow and we
need some sleep."
	"So...I'm supposed to just come and go?"
	Her cheeks took on a decidedly pink glow.  "Yeah."
	If he hadn't just had his socks knocked off by this woman, he might've been
disappointed.  Instead, he reached over and took his socks from her hand.
"I'll go.  But as soon as this is over, I'm finishing what you started.  And,
just for my enjoyment, I want you wearing nothing but that tie I left behind."

	The air was bitingly cold as he stepped out of Scully's building.  Pushing
his hands into his pockets, he puffed out a breath of air, and jogged towards
his car.  Grinning at the memory of Scully coming out to rescue him, he
unlocked the door and slid into the driver's seat.
	While he waited for the car to warm up and melt the ice on the windshield, he
debated with himself over where he should go.  Home was boring--he would only
be thinking of Scully.  Well, he'd be thinking of Scully wherever he went,
she'd made sure of that.  The Gunmen would probably be awake, but he wasn't
really in the mood for greasy chips and a late night surfing session of all
the X-rated sites on the internet.
	Blowing on his hands, he suddenly remembered what Scully had told him about
the surveillance tapes at the hospital.  He should have known HE was behind
it: he had certainly suspected as much, but now he had proof.  Or at least,
proof existed.  And he was personally going to make sure it stayed that way.
Pushing the gas pedal not so gently, Mulder turned the car around in the road,
and headed for the hospital.

	Mulder couldn't imagine why Scully had decided to become a doctor.  Hospitals
were depressing places: everyone was either miserable or exhausted, and they
never stopped.  As he made his way once again to the nurse's station, he was
amazed to see the young nurse he had spoken to earlier still on duty.
	"Still here?" he inquired with a smile.
	"Still here," she replied, and yawned behind her hand.  "Still waiting for my
replacement to arrive.  Can I help you?"
	"Actually, yeah.  I didn't get the chance to take a proper look at that tape
before, and I was hoping I could do it now?"
	"It's 2 am."  The girl looked confused.
	"Chronic insomnia," he told her with a wink.  The action had the desired
effect: the nurse backed away slightly, and waved a hand in the direction of
the video player.
	"Over there.  I think the tape's still in there."  She yawned again as an
alarm began to sound and a little red light lit up on the desk.  "Excuse me."
She leaned across the desk and grabbed the phone, punching in three numbers.
"Janice?  We need Dr. Marten down here now!"  She replaced the hand set and
took off down the hallway at a run.
	Left on his own, Mulder studied the tape player.  The tape had, indeed, been
left in the player, a situation he was less than happy with, but was willing
to overlook seeing as the tape was still there.  Settling back against the
edge of the table Scully had sat on earlier, her pressed "Play."
	The tape had been left where Scully finished watching: Mulder could just see
the back of one man leaving the room.  Pushing the rewind button, he tried to
follow who the characters were: Scully had only been able to identify one of
them, but he wanted to have a go at the others.  He suddenly realized there
was no one on the screen, and pressed "Play" once again.
	He didn't have to wait long.  Only a second or two had passed when a figure
walked in to the room.  The image was only black and white, and extremely
fuzzy, but it was clear the figure was Spender.  He stopped at the foot of the
bed, and picked up Diana's chart, tracing one of the lines with his finger.
After a minute or so he wandered round to the other side of the bed, so that
Mulder could no longer see his face as he pulled up a chair and sat down.
	He had only been sitting a moment when four men, three identically dressed in
black suits and trench coats, the fourth wearing jeans and a leather jacket,
entered the room.  One was indeed the Cigarette Smoking Man, another looked
vaguely familiar, while Mulder had never seen the third before.  The fourth
was standing in a corner with his back to the camera, too near the edge of the
frame to be in focus.
	The man Mulder had never seen before seemed to be discussing something with
Spender, who nodded like an idiot.
	After a few minutes the conversation seemed to be over.  Spender motioned for
the others to leave the room, which, to Mulder's surprise, they did.  It was
only then that he could see the fourth person, still blurred, but unmistakable
in his appearance.  He couldn't believe it.  Reaching for his cell phone, he
wondered if Scully had seen the same thing.
	He started when the cell phone rang before he had a chance to dial.
"Mulder."
	"Mr. Mulder.  I am calling from D.C. General, about Ms Diana Fowley."
	"Has there been any change?"
	"I'm afraid I can't tell you any details over the phone, Mr. Mulder, but we
would be grateful if you could come down here immediately."
	"I'm already here," he informed her.
	"You're with her already?"  The voice sounded confused and over stressed.
	"No.  I work for the FBI.  I was following up a lead down here."
	"Oh.  You know what room she's in?"
	"Yes," he assured her, as he ejected the tape from the player and tucked it
into his jacket.  "I'm on my way now."
	He wondered at how he could have missed anything going on in Diana's room: it
was only just across the hall.  But upon reaching the door, he found the room
empty.  Baffled, he turned around, almost knocking a passing orderly to the
ground.
	"Sorry."  He shook his head.
	"Not a problem."  The orderly smiled.  "Can I help you?"
	"I don't know.  I was looking for Diana Fowley, she was here this
afternoon..."
	"511," the orderly told him.  "They moved her up a floor."
	"Thanks."  The elevator was not far away, and Mulder made a mad dash down the
hallway in an attempt to catch it before the doors closed.  He stuck an arm
out, forcing the doors open before they shut him out completely.  There was no
one else in the carriage, and he leaned against the shiny metal walls until an
enthusiastic "ping!" told him it was time to leave.
	Mulder started walking, checking the numbers above the doors as he went.
513, 512, 511.
	He pushed the door open, gently, not wanting to disturb the occupant.  Most
of the machines had been cleared away, with just one IV drip going in to her
left arm.
	He paused for a moment at the foot of the bed, before grabbing a nearby chair
and pulling it closer.  The rubber tipped legs squealed along the floor, and
he cursed at the noise.
	"Fox?"  The voice was hoarse, hesitant, as though afraid.
	"Diana."  He nodded to her, and sat down.  "How are you feeling?"
	"Not so good."  She coughed, and made a face.  "They said I'm going to make
it, though, so that's something."
	"Yeah."  He paused, not knowing what to say.  "Why did they call me?"
	"Next of kin."  She continued when he appeared confused.  "Never got around
to changing it.  Didn't have anyone to change it to."
	"Oh."  Not much you could say to that.
	"But I did want to."  She coughed again, and struggled to sit up.  He wanted
to help her, but he physically couldn't move towards her.  "Talk, I mean."
The drugs were still clouding her brain: another minute, and she would be
asleep again.
	"I'm not sure we have anything to say to each other, Diana."  He pushed his
chair back, this time delighting in the squeals when they made her flinch.
	"Stay."  She reached out for him, but could not make contact.  "Please."  She
squeezed her eyes shut.  "Won't take long."
	He sat down again, but left the chair where it was.  It wasn't like he had
anything better to do at half past two in the morning.
	Well, he could think of one thing, but Scully had vetoed that.
	"You were right.  About the Consortium.  And I was," she coughed again, this
time almost doubling over with the pain.  When she had recovered, she
continued.  "I was telling you the truth in the warehouse.  Well," she paused,
"most of the things.  They..."  Her eyes slipped shut.
	"Diana?"  She had always done this: prevented him from getting information at
the last moment. 
	Her eyes fluttered, then opened, and she took a deep breath.  "They did make
me marry you: I was always a part of their agenda.  I reported on you twice a
week.  I did keep you away from the cases that would get you too close to the
truth."
	"You bitch."  Mulder spoke softly, but there was nothing but hatred in his
tone.
	"I know.  Just, please, hear me out.  It was like that, for the first month
or so.  I wasn't in love with you, but I certainly grew fond of you.  It's
true," she defended herself as she saw the incredulity on his face.  "But I
suppose I can't make you believe me.  That's why I had to leave, I was getting
too close.  They decided to give me a cooling off period.  Then they brought
me back to finish you off."
	"Well, you nearly managed it."  Was she telling the truth?  Something in her
tone made him think twice.  She had more to lose, after all, by telling him,
than by denying flat out any involvement with the Consortium.  "Why Scully?
Why shoot her and not me?"  She was fading now: he hadn't much time to get the
answers he wanted.
	"She got in my way.  It was supposed to be a warning..."  She trailed off,
her eyes glazing over.
	"You found her, then?"  Mulder started and looked up at the orderly he'd
nearly knocked down in the hallway.  He could only nod dumbly.  "Well, it
looks to me like she's worn out.  Been a big day for her.  There's a bench
down the hall, you can wait there until she wakes up again."
	Mulder watched as the orderly retreated from the room.  Slowly, he stood, and
once again stared down at the woman before him.  He'd loved her.  She betrayed
him.  But she was herself a victim.  And even though he accepted this fact, he
could not bring himself to feel any sympathy for her.
	The bench was, just as the orderly had promised, just down the hall, tucked
just around the corner to another hallway.  Mulder sat down, letting his eyes
slide shut, and wishing not for the first time that some of the hospitals'
budgets should be spent on the relatives as well as the patients.  How much
can a cushion cost?  He shook his head: he must be getting tired if his brain
was going off on tangents like these.
	He opened his eyes, and examined the hallway around him.  "Obstetrics" read
the sign in front of him.  "Oncology" announced the one underneath it.  God,
that brought back nightmares.
	He was shaken from his reverie by a commotion around the corner.  He began to
rise from the bench, but stopped himself when he realized the noise was
heading his way.
	"Sir, she's sleeping.  Sir.  Sir, you can't go in there.  Sir, please..."
Whoever it was evidently was not in the mood for negotiation, Mulder reflected
as he listened to the footsteps grow nearer.  "Sir!"
	He was only half listening: it was a speech he'd been on the receiving end of
many times.  But the sight of the man striding across the end of the hallway
grabbed his attention immediately.  It was Spender.
	The little weasel was really starting to get on his nerves.  Striding down
the hallway, he caught the rest of Spender's words as he neared the door.
"I'm an FBI agent, and this is my partner.  Now if you don't want me to have
you thrown out of this room and dismissed from this hospital staff, I suggest
you leave us alone."
	The nurse backed out of the room, her mouth twisted in anger, before striding
past Mulder on a mission.  He was just about to put an end to this madness
himself, when he heard Spender turn his wrath on Diana.
	"What did you tell them?"
	"Wha--"  Her voice was shadowed with exhaustion, and the slightest twinge of
what sounded like pain.  "What are you talking about?"
	"Mulder and Scully.  What did you tell them in that warehouse?"
	"I didn't--I told them the truth."
	"Damn you!  What did you tell them about me?"
	"Nothing--ah!"  Her little shriek of pain ended abruptly as Mulder burst into
the room and grabbed Spender by the collar.  Even then, he couldn't drag the
crazed agent off of his own partner.  Spender had his hands locked around her
shoulders, shaking her so violently that her bandage-wrapped head bounced on
the pillow.  Shoving hard, Mulder loosened the man's grip and sent him
careening into the nearby wall.  Diana groaned, her hand groping blindly for
the nurse's call button on the side of her bed.
	Spender didn't stay down for long.  He lunged at his adversary, causing
Mulder to stumble back against the bed before regaining his feet.  Spender
swung at him, clipping his jaw before he was able to duck.  Countering with
his left fist, Mulder pummeled him in the stomach and was rewarded with a
harsh rush of air out the man's nostrils.
	Doubled over, Spender had barely a moment to react before Mulder grabbed him
by the neck and slammed him against the wall.  Seconds later, the gangly agent
froze as Mulder's pistol bit into the flesh under his jaw.
	"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just shoot you right now.  What the
hell do you think you were doing?"
	"Fuck you, Mulder.  This is between me and my partner."
	"The hell it is.  This is about to be between you and the cops.  Or maybe
you've never heard of a little thing called assault?"
	"You really think she's gonna press charges?"
	Mulder's eyes narrowed, and he could only stare at Spender in disgusted
amazement, before he heard Diana's hoarse whisper coming from the bed.
	"Let him go, Fox."
	His gaze whipped around as he incredulously looked over his shoulder.
	"I said, let him go."
	"I'm not moving an inch," he said, through gritted teeth.  "He's one of them.
He always has been.  Who is that smoking son-of-a-bitch to you, Spender?"
	"Leave my father out of this."
	He didn't know what was more shocking, Spender's words or that his suspicions
had been correct all along.
	Although his voice was impaired by the fist Mulder had around his throat,
Spender had no trouble voicing his opinion.  "What are you gonna do, Mulder?
Arrest me?  You can't prove a fucking thing.  I've done nothing wrong.  No
complaint of yours could ever stick to me."
	"How about murder?  The theft of human ova--"
	"The conspiracy to populate the world with alien hybrids?  Jesus, Mulder, you
really have one sick imagination."
	"Fox, let him go."  Diana tried in vain to sit up.  "Please."
	Within seconds, the choice was taken away from him.  He was seized from
behind by two very strong pairs of hands, his arm twisted behind his back, and
his face forced against the wall until he gave up his weapon.  He didn't hear
the orderly's words over the rushing sound in his ears.  He didn't hear Diana
explaining to the nurses what had happened, but he could easily imagine what
she said.  She was letting him take the blame, letting Spender walk.  Just
like always.  The burly orderlies didn't release him as Spender straightened
his jacket and headed for the door.  And as the bastard walked away, his last
words drifted back as clear as day.
	"Be sure to give my regards to Dana."

END (4/5)

WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME? II: NEVER TEAR US APART (5/5)
Isahunter@aol.com

	Clinging to the fuzzy coat-tails of sleep, Scully burrowed her head deeper
into the plush pillow and sighed.  As had become habit, she opened her eyes
for a fraction of a second to check the time, before rolling to her opposite
side--only to freeze in mid-motion.  Even the infinitesimal amount of time
she'd had her eyes open was long enough for her to realize something was
wrong.
	The shadows of the night had evolved.
	With nimble movements, she quickly grasped the weapon on her night stand,
flicked off the safety, and aimed it her intruder.  "Freeze!"
	"Scully, it's me!"
	Her thumb flicked the safety back into place, but it was several seconds
before she could draw breath.
	"Jesus, Mulder...I could have blown your head off."
	"Yeah, I know."  Through the darkness, she could see him run a shaky hand
through his hair.  Sometime during the night, as she'd slept, he'd pulled a
chair up beside her bed and watched her sleep.  She wasn't sure what troubled
her more: that he hadn't bothered to wake her, or that she'd never heard him
in the first place.  Surely he didn't move that stealthily.
	Leaning over, she flicked on the light switch, causing them both to squint in
it's bright glare.  "It's four in the morning.  What are you doing, Mulder?"
	"I didn't want to wake you."  As he spoke, he winced, and for the first time
she noticed the beginnings of a bruise on his jaw.
	Throwing back the covers, she grabbed his chin and tilted his head to the
side.  "What happened to you?"
	"Wasn't watching where I was going.  I ran into something."
	"Somebody's fist?"
	"Something like that."
	"Whose?"
	"Doesn't matter."  He flexed his jaw, before pushing her hand away.  Staring
at her, his eyes seeming to memorize every part of her face, he said, "You're
so pretty, Scully."
	She raised her eyebrow.  "How hard did they hit you?"
	"I mean it.  I like watching you sleep.  You looked so peaceful.  So...so
pretty."
	Shaking her head, she crawled out of bed.  "C'mon.  You need to put some ice
on that."
	"I don't need any ice.  I feel fine."
	"You sound drunk."
	"I'm just tired."
	Despite his grumbling, he followed her into the kitchen.  As she filled a
sandwich bag with ice and wrapped it in a towel, she couldn't help but watch
him.  He hadn't taken his eyes off her, not once.  And she couldn't discern
the odd expression on his face.  He looked almost...no, that wasn't it,
either.
	"Mulder, what happened tonight?"
	He flinched as she touched the towel to his face, but he still didn't look
away.  "I went back to the hospital."
	She tried to ignore the tripping of her heartbeat.  He went back to see
Diana.  "Was there any change in her condition?"
	"She's conscious.  I talked to her for a few minutes."
	"She's not the one who punched you, is she?"  She'd meant it as a joke, but
it didn't sound like one.
	"No," he said, with a wry twist to his lips.  "And I didn't go there to see
her.  I went to look at the tape again, to see if we missed anything."
	"And?"
	"And the Cigarette Smoking Man wasn't alone.  I couldn't be totally sure, but
I think Krycek was there, too."
	Just the mention of his old nemesis's name, even spoken from his own lips,
was enough to make the almost serene look on Mulder's face darken.  Scully had
to fight the urge to grimace herself.  "Krycek?  I thought he was still in
hiding?"
	"So did I.  But it looks like he's back, and up to his old tricks."
	"Did Krycek hit you?"
	He shook his head, pushing the ice bag away.  "No, this bruise is compliments
of your boyfriend, Spender."
	"What?"  She tossed the ice bag down on the counter with a loud thunk.  "He
hit you because you kissed me?"
	For once, he finally smiled.  "Yeah, we got our gangs together and decided to
rumble.  The winner gets to take you to the prom on Saturday."
	"If you're not going to tell me anything, I'm going back to bed.  You can let
yourself out."
	She started to walk away when he grabbed her arm, laughing softly.  "I'm
sorry, I couldn't resist."
	She crossed her arms over her chest.  "What happened?"
	"I found Spender trying to assault Diana, and I literally had to drag him off
of her.  He hit me, I hit him, Diana told me to let him go, and that was the
end of it."
	She knew he wasn't telling her all of it.  "What happened?" she asked again,
louder.
	"Spender was trying to get information out of Diana, to find out what she
told us.  She didn't tell him anything, and when I tried to help her, she made
me let him go.  So, I got to spend an hour explaining things to hospital staff
while Spender walked away.  I know he's involved with the Consortium, but
there's not a damned thing I can do about it.  He's clean.  There's nothing I
can hold him on."
	He paused, rubbing his knuckles against her cheek, before adding, "I did find
out something interesting.  It seems Old Smoky is Spender's father."
	"He is?"
	He nodded.  "Couldn't you see the resemblance?"
	"I guess I never really looked at either of them that closely."  She lowered
her eyes, staring at her bare feet.  "So, I'm guessing your little rumble
blows my cover as his date?"
	"If he ever comes near you again, I will shoot him."
	She smiled.  Why was it that when Spender acted possessive of her, she wanted
to deck him, but when Mulder did it, it sent little quivers of warmth down her
spine?  It wasn't just that she despised Spender, because she'd felt the same
kind of resentment when other men tried to be her macho protectors.  Yet, with
Mulder it was different.  She found herself grinning every time he put a
territorial hand on her back.  It only made her want to lean even closer.
	Just as she did now.  Slipping her arms around his waist, she rested her head
against his chest.  And she didn't imagine the shuddering breath he took.
	"Mulder, is there something you aren't telling me?"
	"Let's go to bed," he whispered, his voice gravely.  "We can talk about this
later."
	"Mulder--"
	"Don't tell me I'm not spending the night, because I am.  I just want to hold
you."
	She nodded, silently taking his hand and leading the way back to her bedroom.
He didn't say a word as he set his own gun down on the night stand and started
removing his clothes.  Scully slid under the covers, waiting patiently, and
when he was stripped down to his T-shirt and underwear, she pulled him into
her embrace.  He settled down on to the pillow next to her, his eyes meeting
hers, his gaze studying her face once more.  Committing it to memory, before
placing soft kisses over every inch.  He was gentle, reverent, almost delicate
in his explorations.  And for a moment, she was stunned when he turned off the
light and pulled her close...intending to sleep instead of make love to her.
	His breathing didn't slow, and the rapid heartbeat under her ear didn't
lessen either.  But somehow the steady rhythm soothed her, lulling her back
into much needed sleep.
	And just before she felt herself slipping into dreamland, she thought she
heard him murmur, "He knows, Scully."

	He had been so full of indignation he hadn't even stopped to consider his
actions.  Now, however, as Spender stood in the hallway outside the office, he
wondered if he was doing the right thing.
	The truth be told, he was scared.  No, not scared, he chided himself, ashamed
at his own cowardice.  Apprehensive.  That was more like it.  That was a word
his father wouldn't be ashamed of.
	It wasn't as though he'd never been there before.  He had been once, but that
had been purely to pick up information.  He hadn't even set foot inside the
door.  He had a right to be apprehensive.
	He took a deep breath, and raised his hand to knock.  Before he had a chance
to do so, the door was opened by a man he recognized only vaguely.  The man,
who, like all the others, had graying hair and a gray suit, motioned for him
to cross the threshold.  Eyeing his company carefully, Spender obeyed, halting
just far enough inside to allow the other man to shut the door.  For a long
moment he exchanged silent stares with the other occupants of the room.  He
was fast leaving apprehension behind and heading for full-blown fear when he
heard his father's voice.
	"Jeffrey."  The owner of the voice emerged from the inner office, a trail of
smoke following closely.  He raised the cigarette to his mouth and took
another drag before speaking again.  "I was expecting you.  Please, won't you
come in."  He motioned for Spender to follow him in to the smaller room, and
indicated that two of the other men should follow as well.  Spender recognized
one of them as the "leader" of the Consortium, and the other had allowed him
entry to the premises.  Allowing himself another deep breath, Spender
followed.
	The inner office was smoky and dingy.  At first he assumed there to be no
window, but on closer inspection found a painted-out glass panel, obscured by
several struggling spider plants.  File cabinets lined one wall, while the
opposite wall was covered floor to ceiling with books, some of which appeared
to be extremely old.  Behind the door was a cracked and dirty ceramic sink,
with several unlabelled bottles on a shelf above it.
	But it was towards the desk that Spender was unceremoniously shoved.  The
desk appeared to be a conglomeration of the rest of the room: piles of
folders, another pathetic plant, a couple of bottles, and although he
squinted, Spender could not determine what they contained.  One of the
ancient-looking volumes from the bookshelf was open on the desk.
	His father sat at the opposite side of the desk, allowing Spender to take in
his surroundings.  When he was satisfied his son had been given a sufficient
amount of time to do so, he spoke.
	"It has been going on for centuries, Jeffrey."  He pulled out a half-empty
packet of Morleys, and extracted one.  He gestured towards the book that lay
open in front of him, lighting his cigarette as he did so. "Three hundred
years ago there was a man, living in England, who claimed to have been visited
by men from the stars.  The Church condemned him, would not allow him to
contaminate others with his ravings.  He was burnt at the stake."
	Spender was confused.  He had always suspected his father to lean towards the
border of madness, but never had he imagined that he'd crossed it.  Nodding
slightly, he moved a step closer to the desk.
	"I'm not sure I know what you mean."  Much as he wanted to say his piece and
leave, Spender did not want to risk angering his father, or either of the
other men in the room.
	"There have always been those that have known, Jeffrey.  The Aztecs drew
pictures of so-called spacemen on their walls.  This man three hundred years
ago claimed to have spoken with extra-terrestrials.  But there have always
been those who kept the majority of the evidence hidden.  Luckily, up until
this century the church did most of that work for us.  But after Roswell, they
just didn't have that kind of power any more.  People started relying on their
own beliefs."  He paused.  "You're here about Fox Mulder."
	"He attacked me in the hospital."  Spender felt his indignation flare again.
"I was visiting Diana, to make sure she hadn't told anyone..."
	"I know what he did to you."  His father stared at him for a moment, his gaze
sweeping over his neck.  "Those are some nasty bruises you have there.  Better
be more careful in the future."
	"He doesn't know," Spender assured him.  "He couldn't know.  She hasn't told
him anything."
	"And in the warehouse?"  Damn.  He wasn't there.  She could have told him
everything.
	"That was entirely Diana's fault.  She ignored protocol and broke guidelines.
I can only be expected to stay by her as long as she keeps the rules."
Spender flushed slightly, feeling like a little boy who had just spoken back
to the Headmaster.
	"Understood.  We'll be keeping an eye on Fox Mulder.  You needn't worry about
him."
	"I have reason to believe Mulder and his partner are involved."
	"Involved in what?"  It was the first time either of the other men had
spoken, and the leader's voice took Spender by surprise.
	"No, Sir, I mean involved personally.  With each other," Spender clarified.
	"Do you have any evidence?"
	"I saw them..."  Spender was baffled at the suddenly unprofessional attitude
of the Consortium members.
	His father stood, having been given sufficient time to light his third
cigarette.  Walking around the table, he stood directly in front of Spender.
"Mulder will be taken care of."
	"And what about Diana?  She knows too much."
	He nodded.  "Indeed, she does."

	The door to her hospital room stood open, the light from the hallway and the
machines monitoring her health being the only relief in the consuming
darkness.  She lay motionless in her bed, draped with white cotton blankets
and a hideous blue gown.  A bandage covered her head, drawing his attention to
the ghastly color of her face.  She looked dead.  If not for the shallow rise
and fall of her chest, he would've thought someone had already done his job
for him.
	He cast a glance at the door behind him, before moving deeper into the
shadows that surrounded her bed.  The curtains had been pulled before the
window, so as not to disturb her much needed sleep.  He almost smiled.  She
wouldn't ever have to worry about missing sleep again.
	The silent drip of the IV in her arm drew his attention.  He wondered
momentarily about what they were giving her.  A little morphine sounded damned
good right about now.  But he didn't need drugs to give him a high, or to slow
his heartbeat.  What he was about to do was enough to send a warm tingle
flooding through his veins, sweeter than any narcotic could ever provide.
Killing didn't use to be so easy.  The first time, he'd puked his guts out.
But the more times he did it, the more he grew to love the power that surged
through him.  He liked that feeling, that god-like grip.  And he didn't bother
to suppress the grin on his face as he took her pillow out from under her head
and smashed it down on her face.
	She jerked on the bed, her arms flailing out and clutching his black leather
jacket with surprising strength.  Her legs kicking wildly, nearly pulling the
blankets free from their tucked position.  Her other hand clawed at his,
trying to hurt him so he'd let her go.  Too bad she forgot that arm was a
prosthesis.  He pressed down harder on the pillow, putting his weight on it,
delighting in the muffled gasps she emitted.  Her chest heaved, struggling to
breath, but the pillow stuffed in her face smothered her efforts.  Her hands
continued to claw at him, to try and push him away, but it was no use.  She
thrashed and struggled for what seemed like forever, before sinking back to
the mattress like a limp rag doll.  Still, even then, he didn't remove the
pillow from her face.
	The machine at her bedside, connected to a finger monitor that checked her
pulse, slowly stopped beeping.  It would only be a matter of seconds before an
alarm sounded at the nurse's station.  Lingering as long as he dared, he
carefully replaced the pillow behind her head and smoothed the blankets over
her legs.
	With a satisfied smirk, he headed for the door.  Just outside, a man carrying
flowers stopped at the sound of the alarm and gave him a panicked look.
Straightening his own jacket, Krycek quickly grabbed the man by the shoulders
and turned him towards the nurse's station.  "Get help!  My wife's heart just
stopped beating!"
	The man rushed away to do his bidding, and didn't see his quick escape into
the nearby stairwell.  Once a reasonable distance away, he removed his
disguise and shoved the wig and other evidence into the garbage.  Without even
raising his pulse, he hurried to the main doors and departed the hospital.  He
didn't bother to stick around and see if they revived her.  He didn't need to.
	Diana was dead.

	The faint glow from the street lamp filtered through the window, brightening
the room just enough for Mulder to see the copper fire of her hair.  She lay
curled against his side, her cheek resting on his chest, breathing softly in
sleep's embrace.  She was so warm and soft, smelled so sweet, but not even
Scully could chase away his dragons this time.  Sleep never came easily, but
sometimes, when lying next to her, he was able to find peace.  Not tonight.
He was so tormented by the thoughts roiling in his head he was afraid to even
close his eyes.
	His eyes stung with the need for sleep.  His chest was tight, aching despite
the slight weight of her head.  He gently ran his fingers over her hair,
barely skimming the surface so as not to disturb her, trying to ignore the
shaking of his hand.  She murmured in her sleep, shifting against him before
settling once more.  Her leg slid against his, the silky material of her
pajamas causing a reaction he tried hard to ignore.
	He glanced at the clock.  Less than an hour until dawn.  He knew he should
get up and shower, but he didn't want to move.  He should've rolled her
beneath him and made love to her one last time, but he didn't do that either.
As much as he wanted to, he knew she'd despise him for it after what he was
about to do to her.
	He felt her stir once more, and she lifted her head to peer at him with
sleepy eyes.  "Why aren't you asleep?"
	He licked his lips, fighting the urge to evade her gaze.  "I think we need to
talk."
	She blinked, trying to focus on his face.  "Why does that sound so serious?"
	"Because it is."
	"What is it?"  She sat up, curling her legs up beneath her, straightening her
blue satin pajamas.  Despite his T-shirt and boxer-briefs, he was suddenly
unbearably cold.
	"I've been thinking...that we should stop seeing each other outside of work."
	She crossed her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow.  "You're the one who
insisted on spending the night, Mulder."
	"No, you don't understand.  I think we should stop seeing each other.
Period."
	"You think we should break up."
	He closed his eyes, but it didn't stop him from seeing the wounded look on
her face.  "Yes."
	Her long silence forced him to meet her gaze.  He was almost sorry he did.
She didn't look sad, she looked angry.  It wasn't anything obvious, like a
narrowing of her eyes or a pinching of her lips.  She merely stared at him.
Unblinking.  Unmoving.  He wasn't even sure she was breathing.  And as much as
he wanted to, he couldn't look away.
	"Why?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
	"I put you in too much danger.  When the Consortium finds out we're together,
they'll do everything they can to use it against us.  They won't stop until
one of us is dead."
	She shook her head.  "Mulder, I've been abducted, given cancer, exposed to
some strange virus, frozen...the list goes on and on.  How could I possibly be
in more danger now than I was then?"
	"Maybe I didn't make myself clear.  You're in danger, but I'm in even more
danger...because if they hurt you, they'll *kill* me.  Do you understand that?
I won't watch them do that to you again.  I'd rather slit my own throat than
watch you dying another time."
	She stared at him silently, biting the corner of her lip.  It seemed like an
eternity before she ended the staring contest.  "It took me six years to win
you over, and you're willing to just throw it away so easily?"
	"Who said I was willing?"  He rested his hand on her knee, causing her to
flinch.  "Scully, I don't want to do this.  But I'll do anything to keep you
safe.  Leaving you would be like ripping out my own heart, you know that.  But
it would be bearable, with the knowledge that you're alive and safe enough to
go about your own life."
	He could feel tears stinging just behind his eyelids, but he was too tired
and too far past caring to blink them away.  "You always said you wanted a
normal life.  Well, here's your chance.  Maybe you could marry a nice
accountant and buy a house in the country or something."
	She laughed a bit and shook her head, but the sound was devoid of humor.
Slipping the covers off, she got out of the bed and left the room.
	He could only stare at the doorway she'd disappeared through, feeling the
moisture escape his eyes, recalling the words they once said to each other,
not so long ago.  He'd told her to go be a doctor, that he wouldn't watch her
die for his hollow cause.  But she'd refused, stating that if she quit, they'd
win.  He hoped to God she still believed that...because if he lost a lover and
a partner, he didn't think he could continue.
	It wouldn't be easy working with her now, after all they'd been through, but
he sure as hell didn't want to go on without her.  It would be torture not
being able to hold her, and it just might rip him in two if she found someone
else, but he would bear it.  She was the best partner he'd ever had.  He
needed her, not just for her rationality and brilliant mind, but for her
determination as well.  And maybe it was selfish, after what he'd just done,
but he wanted her around just so he could see her and be assured by her
presence.  Even that meager residence she'd hold in his life would be more
precious than a fist full of diamonds.
	He had no doubt it would be difficult.  She'd probably hate him.  But Scully
was a perfectionist at work, and she wouldn't fail him.  The dangers posed by
the Consortium were considerably lessened in their current assignments, and if
it appeared they were minding their own business, they should be relatively
safe.  He would continue to work on restoring the X-Files on his own, without
her help.  If she wasn't involved, she couldn't be hurt.  But, if worse came
to worst, he could always try to convince her to seek work elsewhere.  Her
safety ranked above all else.
	Even above the rapid beating of his own foolish heart.
	Sitting on the couch, Scully stared around the room with numb eyes, searching
but not really seeing the shadows before her.  She couldn't stay in that room
one minute longer, with the smell of him teasing her, the look on his face,
the waver in his voice.  She couldn't believe he was actually doing this.  He
was sacrificing everything they had, because of fear.  Jesus, he was an FBI
agent, who used to investigate the X-files.  They faced things in the past
that would've made civilians wet themselves.  They'd looked down the barrels
of guns, but they didn't quit just because someone might've died.  They didn't
turn in their badges because their partner might get hurt.  So why the hell
was he doing this?
	She didn't want to see him hurt anymore than he did her.  But she'd rather
savor every day she did have with him, and mourn his loss, rather than live
the rest of her life knowing he was just out of reach.
	How could he let Them come between what they had?
	Anger burned in the back of her throat, just as he walked out of the bedroom.
She glanced at him, noting that he'd gotten dressed.  He was leaving.  And she
almost wanted to shoot him herself.
	"So...what am I supposed to do, Mulder?  Walk into work tomorrow and pretend
I don't know what it feels like to have you inside me?"  He cringed at her
words, but kept walking.  "Pretend I never heard you say you love me?  And I
never said it back?"
	He paused as he reached the door, his hand frozen on the knob.  "Yes, that's
exactly what you're supposed to do."
	"And I guess I should just forget you held me all night long, and I felt
completely safe in your arms...the way I'll never feel again?"
	His back was to her, but she could see the shuddering breath he drew.  "I
never meant to hurt you, Scully."
	She looked away from him, fighting the quivering of her lips.  "Yeah,
well...no one else could ever hurt me like you do."
	"I do love you.  No matter what else happens, you have to know that's true."
	She hoped he didn't hear the tiny sob that escaped her lips.  She wasn't
crying, but she couldn't control the tremors shaking her.  "Just go.  Please."
	He nodded, slipping open the door and stepping out into the hallway.  Out of
her life.  Or the only part that mattered, anyway.
	She sucked in a deep breath, staring at the closed door.  Waiting for him to
see the idiocy of his words, and come back.  Knowing he would change his mind
and tell her he couldn't live without her.
	It wouldn't be long now.
	Just a few more minutes.
	He was probably standing there in indecision, trying to make up his mind.
	Any second now he would open the door.
	Any second.
	Just one more...
	He didn't come back.

END (5/5)
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Don't ask me
What you know is true
Don't have to tell you
I love your precious heart

I, I was standin'
You were there
Two worlds collided
And they could never tear us apart
                    --"Never Tear Us Apart" by INXS

  (Lyrics used without permission.  No infringement intended.
      The song is property of INXS and Atlantic Records.)
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