I'm a fan of many fanfic authors, and Madeleine Partous is one of my
favorites. I ran across two great pieces ("Pilot" and "Pilot II") and was
immediately struck with inspiration: Why not rewrite your favorite scene
from a character's point of view? So here it is, my take on what Mulder was
thinking during the infamous scene in "Tooms". Please send comments,
flames, etc. I like knowing what you think! (Anyone interested in knowing
what Scully saw?)

TITLE: "Nobody But You"
AUTHOR: Josh Schirmer
E-MAIL ADDRESS: schirmer@uslink.net
ARCHIVE: Forward to Gossamer, and to AXFC. Ask before anywhere else.
SPOILERS: Tooms
RATING: PG, for language flares
CLASSIFICATION: V, MSR
SUMMARY: What was Mulder thinking during the infamous "I wouldn't put
myself on the line for anybody but you" scene?

****
"Nobody But You"
 by Josh Schirmer

The moon hung high over Baltimore, casting an eerie glow around the town.
Not a cloud shrouded it's presence; nothing separated it from reaching the
cold earth in full force. The bright, yellow sphere, rested against the
supreme blackness of the nighttime sky, was an awe striking site. One that
set the mood for a stakeout perfectly, so decided Agent Fox William Mulder.

His eyes darted quickly from the sky to large printout cupped within his
hand. He ran his eyes back and forth over it -- the large face, half human,
half a skull. It DID prove that the recently exhumed skeleton belonged to
the victim that disappeared back in 1933. There was no question about that.
But how would this identify Eugene Victor Tooms as the killer?

He felt the stare of his partner, awaiting his answer. "It's not enough,"
he sighed, brushing the evidence aside on to the cold, leather seat of the
vehicle. "It doesn't tie it to Tooms." That was true. She knew it as well
as him.

Mulder focused his eyes back on the quiet house, looking for any sign of
the freak that it encased. He had spent the past -- what was it? Two, three
days? -- keeping an eye on the newly-released psychopath, the one who had
brutally killed four people (or was it fourteen?) and made a snack of their
liver. He KNEW, with all of his heart, that it had been Tooms who murdered
all of those people thirty and sixty years ago. The evidence was all there!
Why couldn't anyone else see that?! Were they blind? Or just plain stupid?!

He shook his head slightly, shaking the thoughts away. They were the
thoughts of a man who hadn't slept in 72 hours; tired thoughts, irrational
thoughts. Thoughts he wanted to shed, NEEDED to shed, if he was to keep up
this investigation. One slip, he knew, and his precious X-Files were all
but expired.

"Well, it's a start," came a small voice from beside him, the voice of his
partner. He flashed a quick glance her way, into her deep, emerald eyes,
giving a slight nod. She had beautiful eyes. Her gaze could bring any man
to his knees; it was like a warm blanket, wrapping you safely and tightly.
He was tempted to turn back again, to look into her once more, but quickly
shook the feeling. Best to push down the temptation, like you always do, he
told himself.

He could feel her stare, however. He knew it was there. Was she concerned
about him? Upset? Angry? Or was she waiting? Waiting for the same thing he
was? Waiting for the longing stare he wanted to give? She was always so
difficult to read. He kept himself at a distance.

Mulder heard a rustle from beside him, the rustle of old Styrofoam. He
threw his glance back in Scully's direction. She had found her way to an
old coffee cup, one that had been there for God knows how long. He winced,
cursing silently. Great way to earn points, Mulder, he told himself. By
being a complete slob. "Mulder, it's getting a bit ripe in here, don't you
think?" She smirked, holding the coffee towards Mulder. He took a sniff.
Geez. She was right. Even better, Mulder. Earn yourself points by being a
slob with a distinguishing odor.

No, no, no, he told himself again. Keep your mind on Tooms, on the case.
Keep your mind off of Scully. Go back to your witty self. He smirked a
little, bending over, opening a small compartment beneath the tape deck.
Thrusting his hand in, he rustled through some old papers before finally
finding his prize.

He threw his hand into the air, grasping a small, pine shaped air
freshener. He shot a sarcastic look over towards his partner. "Pine
scented!" he chirped, a little too cheery for someone who had been up as
long as he had. Your letting her get to you, he told himself. Don't let her
get to you...! He drafted the small, powerful smelling cardboard tree
towards Scully. She pulled away from the aroma. "Better?" he asked,
sniffing the air. Not really, he knew. But still! It's the thought that
counts, right?

He found himself staring at her again, and quickly pulled away. Mind on the
case, he repeated. Keep your damn mind on the case! His eyes drifted back
towards the moonlit house. Still no sign of Tooms. "Tooms hasn't come out
of the house all day," he sighed, finally finding his mind back on track.
"I sat through a Phillies game, an Orioles game, and four hours of Ba Ba
Booey. When it got dark, I took a walk around the block." Recounting all
the events made him realize how long it had been since he had eaten
anything. He turned to Scully, his mind no longer on her, but rather, the
bag she brought with. "Do you have that sandwich that I asked you to
bring?" After all, one can't survive on sunflower seeds alone...!

Scully smiled, a little acknowledging, "Hmm..." creeping out. She dropped
her head, looking towards the bag. The moon caught her auburn hair in such
a manner, it nearly took his breath away. But the moment was soon over, and
he found a sandwich, wrapped in plastic, sitting in front of his face. His
stomach growled at the sight. "It's liverwurst," Scully joked as he took
the food from her.

Ah! Sarcasm! He had been having SOME effect on her during the past year! It
was one of the first times she had ever joked with him. He threw his head
back, pantomiming a laugh, before sinking his teeth into the bread. He
nibbled it around in his mouth.

He felt another stare beaming his way, but paid it no mind. He prepared to
sink his teeth into the sandwich again, even with a full mouth, when she
suddenly interrupted him. "Mulder," Scully said. "You know that proper
surveillance requires two pairs of agents, one pair relieving the other
after 12 hours."

True. He knew that VERY well. "Article 30, paragraph eight point seven?" he
said, noticing his full mouth. He quickly swallowed, feeling the delicious
bread plunge into his empty stomach. He hoped Scully hadn't noticed.
Apparently she hadn't. Thank God.

"This isn't about doing it by the book!" she protested. "This is about you
not having slept in three days!" He acknowledged with a slight nod. His
heart beat a little faster. Was she just being a good partner? Or was her
concern genuine? Something from the heart? He couldn't dwell on it for
long; she interrupted his thoughts once more. "Mulder, you're going to get
sloppy and you're going to get hurt! It's inevitable at this point!!" Yup.
Just being a good partner. Damn.

"A request for other agents to stake out Tooms would be denied," he shot
back. "To them we have no grounds." That was nothing new. To the rest of
the world, all of his investigations had no grounds. 'Look out!' he'd hear.
'Spooky's on a new case.' To hell with them, though. To hell with them all.

"Well, then," Scully's voice spoke. "I'll stay here. You go home."

Mulder turned to her, quickly, surprised. Was that still just being a good
partner? Or was there something more? Was she going through the same thing
he was? Dammit, was she hard to read!! The pause seemed to go on forever;
she stared into him, he into her. After a moment, he jerked away, his mind
fading to a new subject.

Through a heavy sigh, he muttered. "They're out to put an end to the
X-Files, Scully." He knew it. He had known it all along. Since his first
case. The X-Files had always been a touchy subject, but he would never
quit. And they knew it. So they through someone in to dog him around.
Granted, he couldn't complain about that. But Mulder had shown no signs of
slowing. He refused to let the system get the best of him. That was the way
he had always been, and always would be. And they'd try every damn thing to
stop him. Even if it meant taking away his baby, his X-Files. "I don't know
why, but any excuse will do." He knew he was lying: he knew well enough why.

Because he was hot.

Because he was on to something they didn't want him to find.

He liked to think she knew it, too, but didn't put that faith in her. He
couldn't. Trust no one; that was his motto. Not even if that person is the
one closest to you in the world. No matter how much you care for them...
trust no one.

"Now, I don't really care about MY record," he spat. They BOTH knew that
was true. Mulder's record had been going down the craphole since the day he
picked up that first X-File. He stopped at nothing, was incapable of
stopping. He wouldn't let anyone shut him down. "But you'd be in trouble
just sitting in this car..." True, true. All too true. How would the Bureau
like it if their watchdog began to stray? How would they like it if their
colleague became his? The system hated him, and if she began to stray,
they'd learn to hate her. And he didn't want that for her, especially if it
was his fault. "...And I'd hate to see you carry an official reprimand in
your career file because of me."

A long, awkward silence separated the two. His heart was racing, but he
didn't let it show. Was she surprised? Had she assumed he didn't care at
all? That he was heartless, unable to love anything but his precious quest?
Well, news for you, Scully. Mulder's as genuine as they come.

She stared into him, finally dropping her head a little. The silence was
breathtakingly horrible. What was she thinking? Had it been that much of a
surprise to her that he had a heart within his cold, spooky self? Geez, she
had known him for almost a year. What did she see in him? Did she just see
some hellbent maniac, willing to fly off the handle at every turn? Some
damn UFO nut? Is that all Scully saw when she looked at him?

The silence was shattered with a simple whisper. "Fox..." she cried.

He suddenly found himself laughing. Fox?! Maybe she was being caring and
genuine, but FOX?! God, in all of their times together, that was the first
time she had ever addressed him by his first name. Frankly, it sounded
almost laughable. He turned to her, and saw in her face that she was a
little hurt. Oooh, Damn. Good one, Mulder. She finally starts to come
around and you LAUGH AT HER?! He tried to make a quick recovery. "No, I
even made my parents call me Mulder," he chirped. That was a lie, of
course. But it was a save. He only hoped it worked. He turned away, towards
the window. "Mulder..." he repeated, distant.

A silence tore them apart again. He closed his eyes, quietly clenching his
fists, awaiting something. He looked out towards the house, trying to make
it look like a stakeout, but his mind was on her. What was she thinking,
damn it?!

More silence.

Finally, she spoke. "Mulder," she said, addressing him the way she always
had. "I wouldn't put myself on the line for anybody but you."

Mulder's eyes went wide.

He turned to her, his heart near racing. If that wasn't genuine, he didn't
know what was! He wanted to take her into his arms, to tell her everything,
to hold her close, but knew he couldn't. He knew he dare not. This was the
furthest they had ever come, and he wasn't about to destroy it. He looked
at her, a longing gaze between both of them, and he couldn't help but
wonder if she was going through the same personal hell.

But he couldn't let it last. He knew better. He had to say something; the
ball was in his court. His eyes caught the bag in her hand. "If there's an
iced tea in that bag," he smirked, flashing a sarcastic suave grin, "it
could be love." There, he grinned.

Scully leaned over and began to inspect the contents of the bag. She pulled
out a metallic can. He tried to read the lettering, but the same moonlight
that may had made him crazy wasn't allowing him to. He couldn't help but
wonder if it was...

"Must be fate, Mulder," she spoke, quietly, sheepishly.

Oooh, Jesus.

She handed the can over to him, and he could feel a certain degree of
warmth in her touch. Her hand quickly brushed away, and he found himself
caught in another stare. He wanted to look at the icy can resting in his
palm, to see it read "Lipton's", or something similar, but awaited an
answer from her.

"Root beer," she finished.

He leaned his head back, a disappointing sigh coming out. He concealed it
perfectly, or so he hoped, so it would pass as joke. She smirked at that.
Well, Mulder, he told himself. You win some, and you lose some. But he
still couldn't take his mind off those words: "I wouldn't put myself on the
line for anybody but you."

Scully smirked, her hand creeping towards the papers she had brought with.
"You're delirious," she counterjoked, taking the reports up in her hand.
"Go home and get some sleep." Her voice had grown quieter, less
anticipated, since she had first sat down.

He couldn't help but wonder...

He looked down at the sandwich she had brought him. "Here," he called.
"Take my sandwich. I only had one bite. You're going to want it later.
BELIEVE me." He held the sandwich toward her. She seemed to hesitate
slightly before taking it. Don't say I never gave you anything, he thought.

She began to exit the vehicle, the moonlight striking her in such a way it
was undescribable. "And you'll call me if anything happens," he demanded.
"Immeaditly. I'll be here." He would NEVER forgive himself if he let Tooms
do something to her. She had been in danger before, but he had always been
able to help. That wasn't about to change. Even if it meant his career, his
quest, his life, he vowed he'd always protect her. "I wouldn't put myself
on the line for anybody but you." Damn straight.

She began to leave, but he couldn't let her. He wanted to stay with her for
just one more minute. And sarcasm seemed to be the best way to go. "Oh, and
at 11:30? Station 790. Pete Rose Late Night Sports Talk Radio Show." He
topped it off with a dopey grin, and a small nod. She smiled.

The door slammed shut, and he allowed his eyes to track her for only a
moment, before turning back to the road. He was free to go, to sleep. He
turned the keys to the ignition, and found himself laughing. "I wouldn't
put myself on the line for anybody but you," he repeated to himself.
"Nobody but you."

He turned to look out the rearview window, slowly backing up. "Mulder," he
smirked. "You've still got it."

He laughed as he drove off into the moonlight.

***

Fin