*^*^*^*^*^
J.E. Hoover Building
August, One Month Earlier

Mulder sat on the edge of her desk. He still smiled thinking about 
how long it had taken to requisition the one piece of furniture that 
held such symbolism for her. He'd never minded sharing his desk, never 
really saw why having her own was so important to her. Well, 
actually, that wasn't entirely true. He knew intellectually that it 
made them equal partners in her eyes, placed them as partners as 
opposed to her working *for* him, but, the truth of the matter was 
that he was the senior agent in their pairing.  And, they didn't 
really spend that much time in the office to require an additional 
work surface.

However, when she threatened to call central warehouse supplies, 
his 'senior' status wouldn't allow her to do that. He had to do it 
himself. Only because he was responsible for ordering supplies. Not 
that he usually did it. Not that he didn't know that she usually 
ended up doing so. Not because he felt he had to be the one to take 
care of it from some archaic male frame of mind. No, not for any 
of those reasons.

He'd joked that they should be placed flush against each other so 
they had to face one and other while they worked. She had glared and 
shown the movers where to place *her* desk. She had asked for a 
chair, too, claiming that the stool she usually perched on wasn't 
ergonomically correct for the desk. Mulder had figured (incorrectly 
as it was pointedly pointed out to him...)that since neither of them 
spent much time at their desks, she could use the stool.  The chair 
they rolled in looked less like a desk chair and more like a sports 
car version of a Barco-lounger updated for the new millennium.

She had tried to ignore his 'test-drive' as he'd plopped into the 
chair with great flourish and proceeded to lean back to put his feet 
on her desk. She had smiled when he realized that he could do so 
without risking life and limb as this chair had a controlling 
mechanism that worked to halt backward motion.  The look on his face 
told her that against his better judgment, he did find it comfortable. 

Not able to leave it at that, he had rolled around the office in the 
chair, his long legs 'walking' it and him from one end to the other. 
He had heard her mutter, not as under her breath as she thought, that 
he was like a child with a new toy that didn't belong to him.

She'd finally put the breaks on his test-drive, placing herself 
directly in front of him, hands on her hips, head tilted to one side, 
imperious eyebrow arched.

 
Knowing the gig was up; he'd backed the roving chair to her desk and 
folded his hands in front of him in supplication, his eyes searching 
out hers from under a lock of errant chestnut hair.

She'd simply motioned for him to vacate her seat and find his own.

Instead, he had perched on the edge of her desk, his hand wandering 
idly over the smooth new surface, noting the blonder wood that was a 
cross somewhere between the darker mahogany of his and the ash of the 
table in the back room.  He crossed one leg, leaning on it and 
looked in her direction.

All business, she'd told him she had stopped by to pick up some 
materials before she headed back to Quantico and then on to her 
conference.  He wanted to know where she would be staying at the 
conference and she wanted to leave the office.

He'd realized that although this short time together was easier than 
the last, there was still a tightness, a distance between them that 
he didn't know how to bridge. Not completely, anyway.

As she'd gotten up, he'd reached out, touching her hand lightly then 
letting his drop to his side.  He'd asked her to at least keep her 
cellphone on in case of emergency. She had agreed, gently grasping 
his fingers, and then walked out the door.

*^*^*^*^*^
Metronome Club
Pine Street
Burlington
15 September

They were sitting at the L-shaped end of the penny bar. The bartender 
beamed with pride when Kimberley inquired about the endless expanse 
of copper coins underneath the glass covered bar ledge.  "I've been 
collecting them since I worked here with my Dad. Makes for a colorful 
counter, don't you think?" The middle-aged man brought over four more 
glasses of Chablis, waving his hand and shaking his head to indicate 
that he wouldn't accept any money; these were on the house.

"Had I known you liked compliments, I would have told you just how 
nice the," she looked around, trying to find something else to 
'notice', "dance floor is." 

He laughed and smiled at her. "Only one on the house per customer. 
At least in the same night. You all staying in town, are you?"

"Well, I just moved here from Toronto, Canada. I've been transferred 
for my job." She told him she lived over on Church Street with her 
fiance, Bryan. He tipped his head at the light haired woman and her 
taller partner.

"And I'm here for the conference over at the Radisson; just visiting 
from D.C."  Scully shook his hand and smiled. 

He was suitably impressed. This little thing was a pathologist?

"And, this big galoot," Kimberley gestured towards Ian, "is my big 
brother. He's just here...well, he's just here." Ian, at 6' 2" 
towered over both his sister and her fiance.  His straight sandy 
colored hair was parted on the side and highlighted his dark brown 
eyes.  He and Kimberley shared the same fair complexion although 
her hair was a bit lighter than her brother's.

Quite the contrast to Bryan.

Bryan stood behind Kimberley's barstool between her and Scully.  His 
5'10" height made him seem short next to Ian, but Kimberley found 
him 'just tall enough' and made sure that Ian knew it every chance 
she got. It was a bit of insurance for those times Ian felt the need 
to tell his younger sister how she needed a big strapping man rather 
than the wuss she'd chosen. Usually, a friendly pushing and shoving 
contest ensued, almost as if they were establishing the odd male 
pecking order.

Scully could see why her sister's friend found Bryan very handsome. 
He wasn't exactly her type, although lately she wasn't quite sure 
exactly what her type was.  She smiled wistfully, thinking back to 
when she had first realized that Mulder was definitely her type.  

***
She knew she'd liked him early on, had been attracted to him not much
later on. It hadn't been any one thing in particular, more a 
combination of who he was. It was how he looked, how he treated her, 
his ability to make her smile when she needed to snap out of a mood 
and know the difference between coming out of the mood and being 
allowed to remain inside it. 

They had been on their way to their car at the airport when another 
Federal Agent had approached her.  After shaking her hand and his, 
the Agent had started asking her some rather pointed questions 
regarding the evidence she had sent on ahead to Washington. She had 
tried to explain, at first calmly and quietly, that they shouldn't 
be talking there and that he could simply contact the A.D. to confirm
receipt of the materials.  Mulder had been attempting to usher them 
past the Agent who was obviously stepping way out of bounds with her.

He'd kept his distance at first, allowing her to deal with the 
situation, doing nothing more than covering his partner's back. When 
it had been clear that said Agent was not about to back down, Mulder 
had escorted them quickly away from the scene he was sure would 
follow. The Agent did not pursue them.

Once they reached the car and had stowed their luggage in the trunk, 
they had both collapsed. The airport confrontation had not been 
special in and of itself. They'd dealt with much worse. It had only 
been the frosting on the cake after a harrowing and emotionally 
exhausting case. 

He had turned to her then, his hand on the key, already starting the 
car, and smiled.  One of those toothy grins she realized she 
loved. "Well, partner, I guess we evaded the big bad Agent." 

His eyes rested on her for several moments, giving her ample time to 
read the depth of his smile, his concern for her safety, his respect 
for her as his partner and the intensity of what he felt for her. It 
wasn't the first sign, but it was the first time she'd allowed 
herself to put all the pieces together, thinking that there just 
might be something much more than friendship between them.

She had returned the smile with all of herself, no walls, no 
barriers. She had told him to take them home.

^*^*^
Bryan wore his tan well, not the typical; 'I spend everyday on the 
beach tan'. Kimberley had told Scully that when she and Bryan had 
first started seeing each other that he liked to work outside. He 
ran his own highly successful landscaping business and often went on 
assignments with his staff and took great pride in getting to know 
his customers so he could design an outdoors sanctuary they'd cherish.
His customers were important to him and he did his share of the 
digging and planting. His well-developed muscles were most likely the
result of daily workouts and his last job carting quarry stones for 
his neighbor's one-acre wall.  

Where Ian's eyes were round and velvety, Bryan's were the most 
gorgeous shade of blue Scully had ever seen, seeming to draw 
immediate attention to him.  He and Ian both had an affable and 
overtly friendly and engaging manner that was apparent in their 
smiles. Compared to Ian's sandy and unkempt locks, Bryan sported a 
rather short cut to his blondish brown hair.  Each time the strobe 
flashed the bar area, Scully caught the slight red highlights that 
only added to his striking and unique appearance.
 
She was glad that Melissa's friend had found someone to spend her 
life with. Watching how easily the two interacted made her eyes 
misty. She smiled at their little touches, nothing overt or 
showy, but gestures and glances that came from knowing each other 
well and an overpowering need to share and be together. She 
watched, silently wondering whether she and Mulder would 
ever return to that point in their relationship.

Ian watched Scully. He remembered her and Melissa from their 
younger days on the naval base. Dana had been the youngest 
Scully, the tomboy and almost always, the pest.  The little 
redhead with the short curly pigtails who insisted on hanging 
out with Ian and Bill or Melissa and Kimberley.  Well, she was 
still a 'little redhead, he observed, but any other comparisons 
were off the mark.  Ian really hoped that his wife, who worked 
at the local Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream plant and had a late 
night shift, would be able to join them while Dana was still in town.

"So, Dana, what's the latest buzz from our nation's capital?" 
Bryan stood behind Kimberley, his hands on her shoulders as she
leaned back against him. Her dark brown velvet khakis and cream
colored crop top really set off her petite figure. She, like
Scully, seemed to favor the higher, chunky-heeled shoes and 
boots and tonight was no exception.

"The latest 'buzz' is absolutely nothing new. You've heard about 
it on the news."
 
Ian chimed in. "C'mon, Dana, give.  We all know that you're into some
really weird shit down in that basement office of yours. Just when 
are they gonna let you come upstairs with the big boys?  Crystal's 
been saying you shouldn't be stuck down there this long."  Scully 
playfully punched him in the arm making him chuckle, nearly spilling 
his Chablis down the front of her pale blue square-necked tee and 
black chinos.

The ever-watchful bartender appeared as if out of nowhere, offering 
a dishrag for possible spills.  Scully waved it away, smiling and 
ordered them another round.  "Did I tell you I love good customers?
I'm hoping you folks are going to be visiting me more often."

"Tell him, Sis." Ian nudged his sister, a little harder than he'd 
intended, sending her back into Bryan.

"Hey, you big..." Recovering quickly and smartly, she snagged his 
hand.

"Do not call me that again or I might have to share with Dana and 
Bryan a little something you did in your more formative years." 
He reached over and tweaked her cheek, instantly bringing color 
to her cheeks.

The laughter from the bartender reminded Kimberley that she had been 
about to comment. "Actually, I should be here for at least the rest 
of this year.  I'm doing some consulting work with the local 
detectives. I'm actually on loan from the Ontario Provincial Police."

His smile grew serious. "You're a cop?"

Her smile met his with a twinkle in her eyes. "Well, not exactly.
I worked in the special forces division of the Royal Canadian 
Mounted Police for a long time before doing some local work at 
the Provincial level.  Your government called upon our services 
and I guess I'm it."

He seemed to relax visibly, but she made a note to do a little 
background on the otherwise jovial server. Something in his 
reaction gave her pause. It seemed to be just a bit more than 
the usual reaction the general public seemed to have to the mention 
of 'government' or 'law enforcement'. For now, though, she was 
content to enjoy the time with her brother, Bryan and Dana.

She hadn't seen Dana since the previous year. At that time, she'd 
learned about her most recent relationship with her partner at the 
Bureau.  She hadn't recalled seeing her any happier.  Although she 
appeared to be enjoying herself tonight, there was something just 
under the surface that Kimberley couldn't quite place.  She knew 
from their time together and more of her time with Missy, that Dana 
was much more guarded about her feelings. However, that certainly 
didn't seem the case tonight.  She wondered if her partner had 
joined her for the conference. If so, she was keeping him tucked 
away somewhere.

^*^*^

The music picked up at that point, rendering further conversation 
almost impossible without yelling above the din. Ian made some witty
remark that had been aimed at Scully. Although her hands were on her
hips in her classic challenge position, her eyes were dancing and 
she was smiling, realizing she hadn't had this much fun in a long 
time.

She reached over and touched Ian's arm as if to push him away. 
Before she knew what had happened, he swung her, one arm around her 
neck, pulling her to him her back to his front.  Bryan and Kimberley
were already laughing.

Mulder stopped just short of his contact's table. When the short, 
round man stood to indicate his whereabouts, Mulder walked past him 
with intent. It couldn't be her. She was away at the Pathology 
Conference.  Somewhere in New England. Where had she said it was?  
She hadn't, but he had checked; it was easy enough.

It was here in Burlington.  And that was Scully. Scully looking as 
if she was enjoying herself...a lot. Scully smiling and in the arms 
of another man.

He shrugged out of his leather jacket, setting it on the nearest 
chair.  

Short round man sat back down, gazing up at his 'appointment'.  
<This man is trouble> he thought as he sized up the tall, muscular, 
yet lanky man dressed completely in black except for the lone silver 
neck chain and the small diamond stud. He stopped trying to attract 
Mulder's attention since it was clear it was now focused elsewhere.

"I -- I'll be right here when you want to talk, uh, Sir?"  He was 
sure Mulder hadn't heard him since he didn't receive any 
acknowledgment. His round eyes watched as Mulder's arm extended 
toward the table, never looking down, and picked up the open bottle 
of draught he was sure had been placed there for him. Only at that 
point did he nod absentmindedly in his contact's general direction.

Holding the bottle by its long neck, Mulder brought it to his lips, 
never taking his eyes off Scully and the others that seemed to be 
with her.

He stalked a little closer, moving through the tables to the wooden 
pillars that framed the bar area. It was so easy to be invisible 
here. Contrary to how very visible his partner, his lover was. 
So much for 'moving closer together over time' as she had put it 
at her mother's house before she left for the 
Conference...

^*^*^*^
August

Almost two months had passed since that fateful day in early June.  
Two long, hot and relatively silent months.  Although their paths 
crossed many times, it was almost as if they were strangers to one 
and other.  They exchanged information needed for professional 
reasons and some perfunctory pleasantries. She had warmed to him 
occasionally, but then pulled back, the chill enough to make him 
wonder what the hell was going on.   

Her mother had invited him to dinner one night, hoping to warm the 
chill.  While he had seemed comfortable with Maggie and her 
grandchildren, his relationship with Scully had still been strained. 
Through no lack of trying on his part.  

At times, it had almost seemed as if that July night in the park 
hadn't happened, those words hadn't been exchanged, the touches 
never felt. 'Mercurial' was certainly a word that described his 
partner, mercurial and sometimes unreadable. And enigmatic.  He 
hadn't been sure what was real.
 
Then Maggie had invited them to a cookout for 'no special reason/does
there have to be a reason?' Scully had actually seemed very happy to 
see him, some of the usual banter flowing between them more easily, 
little touches, bigger reminders of who they were together.

He had grabbed a plate piled Mulder-high and some lemonade and had 
headed for the chaise lounge, sitting with one long leg off the 
side, the other stretched out in front of him.  His dark tan 
contrasted against the off-white of his long cargo shorts. He was 
the picture of end of summer; strands of hair glinting gold within 
the darker chestnut, hazel eyes mirthful, a lazy smile on his warm 
lips. His short-sleeved raspberry tee worn specially since Maggie 
had given it to him complimented his coloring well.

She had cut a large slice of watermelon. He had watched her looking 
around for a place to sit. 

Or had she been looking for him? 

He had held up his lemonade, looking in her direction. Her eyes had 
met his almost shyly, he remembered, but she had walked toward him, 
taking a bite out of the watermelon, spitting the seeds into the 
grass. He had found himself wishing he were the seeds passing 
between her soft, pouty, fruit juice stained lips.

She had stopped at the arm of the chair, smiling down at him, her 
face stained pink from the sticky juice. His other leg had slid off 
the side of the chaise and he had patted the spot between his legs.
She had taken another bite and shaken her head, 'uh-ah', but hadn't 
moved from her spot. 

Without taking his eyes off her, he had set his plate and lemonade 
slowly on the lawn next to him. In one fluid movement, he had 
reached for her, pulling her down between his legs.  She had landed 
with a soft thud and an audible, 'oh!' and had nestled back into 
him.  As he had reached for his plate, she had twisted.  As he had 
turned, her watermelon lips had nuzzled his.
@@@@@@
^*^*^
<What's going on, Scully?>  He finished off the bottle of beer and 
set it down on the nearest table, without taking his eyes off her 
and the unfolding scene. Leaning back against the pillar, he 
crossed his arms over his chest, the already tight fabric stretching
over his well-muscled biceps.

He watched as Ian leaned down to say something to her, his lips 
directly over her ear. He knew the music was so loud that their 
voices wouldn't carry unless they were closer. But still. He watched 
as she responded, laughing and half-heartedly trying to free herself 
from his neck hold on her. But she didn't seem uncomfortable.

He continued to watch as Bryan and Kimberley walked hand in hand to 
the dance floor, their hands instantly holding each other's hips 
once they left the bar area.

He didn't want to watch anymore of Scully and the tall, geeky looking
guy who insisted on touching her. Touching her in places that were 
supposed to be reserved for him. Mulder gave only cursory 
examination to the fact that he was thinking very possessively of 
her.  He considered himself much more 'enlightened' because of his 
time with her, but damnit, he was fast becoming angered and 
territorial. 

To hell with 'enlightened'.

He almost turned away from watching as the man placed his hands low 
on her hips, bending over to keep his mouth by her ear.  He watched 
her nod as he propelled her forward onto the dancefloor. Almost 
losing her balance, the same man reached out ahead, steadying her, 
but nearly grazing her breasts with his large hands.

The volume became even louder although it didn't seem possible. 

Mulder could feel the primal throbbing that reverberated through 
the overhead and floor speakers as an extended mix of Suavecito 
flowed from the previous selection. The percussive combination of 
Congas, timbales, and bongos coupled with the horns, guiros, 
claves and the cowbells was a heady mix that could be felt, as well 
as, heard.

Mulder wasn't sure whether it was the percussive mix or his pounding
blood that created the throbbing. He was only certain that he 
needed to...what? Talk to Scully? Drag her from the dancefloor by 
her hair? Deck geeky man with an uppercut to his jaw? The 
possibilities were endless.

Kimberley had settled fluidly into Bryan's arms, their bodies melding
as his hips punctuated the beat against hers. "Did I ever tell you 
what a fantastic dancer you are?" 

She pulled herself from his chest to look into the deep blue of his 
eyes. "Oh, once or twice, but don't hesitate to tell me again."

"You've just got that certain rhythm, you know?"

"You mean *this* rhythm?" She not so subtly ground into him as her 
hands slid down to cup his ass.

"Uh, yeah, that's the rhythm. The same one you use when we..."

Bryan failed to complete his sentence since her mouth suddenly 
absorbed the rest of his words.

"You know," Ian scrunched down so Scully could read his lips and 
hear him as he pointed to Bryan and Kimberley, "those two are 
going to get arrested. Should we pull them apart?"

Scully was holding his forearms as she shook her head. "Shut up, 
Ian and dance with me." She playfully put her palm over his 
mouth and then pulled it away. Ian grabbed her hands, twirling and 
spinning her in some wild parody of 70s disco.

As he pulled her back from the last swing out, she landed with her 
palms to his chest, laughing.

Ian watched the tall mainly dressed in black man approach them, the 
man's eyes intently focused first on himself and then on Dana. 
Thinking he had probably just had a few too many, he ignored him.

Until he laid his hand on Scully's shoulder, trying to pull her 
away, toward him.

Raising his voice to be heard, Ian tried to ask the man to back 
off.  Mulder would not relinquish his hold on Scully, causing her 
to turn toward him.

As recognition dawned on her, Scully gasped, then briefly smiled, 
clearly puzzled by Mulder's new look. She had to admit that he 
wore darkly dangerous well...very well.

But she didn't like the look in his eyes as he tried to wrest her 
away from Ian. She'd seen him like this before, somewhat subdued 
and controlled in his not-yet-full-blown anger. Intent. Determined.

As she wriggled, attempting to pull away, Ian interceded, shoving 
Mulder hard.  Scully knew that they were seconds away from coming 
to blows. With Mulder still holding her arm, she turned toward Ian, 
placing her other hand on his chest, keeping him back.

The storm clouds in Mulder's eyes seemed to move away, clearing to 
nothingness as he dropped his hold on her arm and walked away. 
For a minute, Scully stood motionless and stunned.

All around them, other dancers paid them little attention as if 
this type of situation happened nightly. Either that or they were 
too out of it to have noticed.  

Kimberley and Bryan had witnessed everything, but decided not to 
jump into the fray.  Her training told her that sometimes the best 
policy was to simply observe and try to provide the people involved 
their own time to come to terms with their behavior. 

"Who the hell is that?" Bryan yelled to his partner. She smiled, 
that special knowing smile he both loved and hated. It usually 
signaled something he'd catch onto on his own eventually, but she 
knew first. How she did it, he'd never know. She didn't reply that 
she thought the man in black could very well be Dana's partner.

Scully briefly explained the situation to Ian who had the good grace 
to merely ask if he could help in anyway. Scully thanked him,
murmuring that she didn't know if she'd be back, but would see them 
all tomorrow.

As she made her way across and away from the dancefloor, she watched 
Mulder locate his jacket and another bottle of beer as he headed 
for the door. She occasionally lost sight of him as she ducked and 
wove in and out of the dancers and then the people seated at the 
tables and chairs. He was moving with determination, the slow 
pace making it appear as if he didn't care. As he neared the door, 
he set the empty bottle down on a table in his path and slung his 
jacket over one shoulder hooked with his thumb.

Scully quickened her pace, calling out to him, to no avail. She was 
relatively sure that he could hear her. And she caught a brief 
glimpse of him as he shoved the door open, exiting the Club.

Not two minutes later, she pushed her way through the same door, 
stopping just outside to get her bearings. The street's dim 
lighting and the early fall fog that settled around her, made 
it difficult to see where Mulder had gone. The late night 
revelers hanging around outside only made it harder for her to try 
to find him.

"Mulder!"

He knew she had followed him, had half expected she would, but was 
in no mood to talk to her.  He'd done something professionally 
jeopardizing and personally stupid.  He silently cursed Skinner 
for not alerting him to the fact that she'd be here. Ok, so he'd 
done his own checking, but he'd done something he rarely did; 
especially where she was concerned; he'd forgotten.  Therefore, he 
wished their boss had seen fit to remind him. And who the hell was 
he kidding, Skinner wasn't his fucking babysitter, was he?

How the hell'd he expect him to keep his undercover status from her 
if they were in the same city? Perhaps his boss had assumed that 
even if they were in the same location, he'd stay in character. And 
how was he supposed to just ignore her without incurring her anger? 
These thoughts warred with the fact that she'd probably figure it 
out eventually -- after she finished reaming him for his behavior 
inside.

Of course, that said nothing for the potential danger he'd already 
placed her in just by having contact. The circles he was now 
traveling in were notorious. Her association with him; real or 
perceived, would most assuredly place her in danger.

But, he was leaving out the best part. The part where he plunged 
into a situation about which he had no facts.  He had allowed his 
gut instinct, his heart to take over, to act for him. Was he so 
insecure that he couldn't just talk to her?

All he knew was that he'd seen red. <And now I'm a friggin' 
comedian?>  He'd never expected to see her here because his 
usually exhaustive memory had failed him; he'd forgotten where her 
conference was being held.

He continued to move with purpose northward toward the Pine Street Boardinghouse. The two modest rooms were actually an upgrade from 
The usual hotels they stayed in but nondescript enough to deflect any 
unwanted attention.  

Barely glancing behind him, he could tell she was still in pursuit.  
<Damn it, Scully. Leave it alone> The thought still in process, he 
realized she'd do no such thing.  He knew she was concerned, angry 
and curious from her tone of voice and the rate of pursuit alone.

At the intersection of Pine and Maple Streets, he changed direction 
knowing he couldn't lead her to his residence.

Mulder caught her off guard. Just as she was about to give up, he 
doubled back, causing her to nearly run into him.  The look in his 
eyes was inscrutable -- almost as if he didn't know her, as if he 
were looking through her.  Jacket still slung over his shoulder, he 
brought one hand up as if to steady her.  Her blue eyes blazed as 
her brow furrowed.  

"Jesus, Mulder," she swatted his hand away, "what the hell--" Her 
question was ended abruptly by his interruption.
 
"Scully, back off."  

The tone was not threatening, yet she wondered why she felt as if 
she was being dismissed.

And she was not pleased, not at all.

"Like hell, Mulder!  I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's 
going on, what this is about." She felt her face flush with her 
renewed anger and frustration.

With a heavy sigh, his eyes met hers as he took her by the arm, 
dragging her into the cobble-stoned alley.  "Look, I'm sorry, ok? 
But you need to go back to your friends; leave me alone."

He had not yet released her arm and her hand came up, closing over 
his, attempting to remove it. Trying to calm herself, she again 
asked him what was going on.

The jacket slipped from his fingers, falling with a plop to the 
ground.  His voice matching hers, he leaned in closer, each word 
punctuated by a puff of breath against her face.  "You can't be 
here with me.  Go back to the geek."

If he thought he could dismiss her that easily, he could think again.
If anything, his comment had only served to re-ignite her anger. 

"You don't know what you saw Mulder. They're friends from--"

"It doesn't matter, Scully; don't you hear what I'm telling you? You 
can *not* be here with me. It's not good for your health."

He started to walk away, but found himself effectively blocked in by 
5'5"-in-heels Scully Fury.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, Mulder, but I do know 
something's not right with this."  She waved her hand about, 
trying to indicate the all-encompassing situation.

"Ok -- part of it is Ian dancing with me.  Ian dancing with *me* 
because his wife had to work tonight.  Ian, who's Kimberley's 
older brother.  Did I tell you that Kimberley was a friend of 
Missy's? That we're old family friends?"

Her words came out with a controlled urgency as if she thought he'd 
run off before she'd finished. 

"What're you doing in Burlington?  Did you follow me?" she continued. 
 
Grabbing her shoulders as if he were trying to slow her down, he 
asked her to stop. "I said I'm sorry.  I didn't expect to see you 
and when I did, well, you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Maybe because I was, Mulder?"  She replied as she shrugged his hands
off her shoulders.

"Anyway," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, hadn't moved, 
letting her know he needed to get it all out at once, "I was 
missing you, missing us, wishing you could be with me--"

Her words picked up where he had trailed off, creating a 
bittersweet reminder for them both of their recent rift 
and rejoining -- tentative though it may be.

"And you saw me with who you assumed -- *assumed*, Mulder -- was 
a date?"

"Yeah, something like that." His tone defeated, he nonetheless moved 
closer to her.

Seeking eye contact, she demanded, "What else?"

Reaching for her, his hands grabbed at empty space. She had stepped 
back, not quite ready for the contact.

Letting his hands drop to his sides he stated, "God, I've missed 
you, Scully."

"Me, too, Mulder, me too." Something in his eyes caused her to 
reevaluate her anger with his earlier behavior.

"But you can't be here with me."

"Then let's go back to the Club or to my room."  She tentatively 
reached out to take his hand.

"No--, "he pulled away so he could look at her, his arms crossing 
in front of him, buffering, blocking.  She reacted to his sudden 
defensive posture with confusion he could see clearly in her face.

"You need to walk away now."  Seeing the 'why' forming on her lips, 
he chastely brought a finger to them and withdrew it quickly.  He 
shook his head, 'no' and stepped around her.

Leaving a speechless and questioning Scully standing alone in the 
alley.

^*^*^
Kimberley knew something was up, something more than a little 
partnerly jealousy, although that had been blatantly obvious.  Ian, 
for his part, took the whole situation rather good-naturedly 
telling Kimberley that if he'd been in Mulder's shoes and it had 
been Crystal, he might've decked the guy and dragged Crystal out 
posthaste.  Bryan suggested they all head home, but she insisted
they find Scully.

"Look, she's new to town, she's a friend and she doesn't have her 
car.  We can't just leave her here."

"But we don't even know where she went, Kimber."

"Ian," Kimberley's tone warned her brother lovingly, "back off with 
the nickname.  I'm not your 'Kimber'."

"And that's all the more reason for us to go look for her." Bryan 
stood behind his fiancee, a solid presence and support. "She's right,
Ian."

"You're just saying that because you won't get any if you don't 
agree with her."

Kimberley shut them both up and headed for the door. "Your baby 
sister's one determined woman."
@@@@@@@  
^*^*^

Scully had finally turned around, making her way out of the alley, 
certain Mulder wouldn't be waiting for her.  Almost tripping, she 
looked down to see his jacket laying on the cobblestones.  She bent 
over to pick it up, absentmindedly running her hands over the 
slightly cooled, well-worm leather.  She brought it up, unfurling 
the long heavy sleeves and slipped it on.  The fact that it hung 
almost to her knees and swallowed her went unnoticed as she wrapped 
the little she'd have of her partner tonight around her.

Mulder watched her from across the wide avenue from behind the cover 
of the two large maple tree trunks.  The ground beneath his boots 
was mist-slick from the combination of the slight drizzle coating 
the fallen leaves rendered a monotone black in the late night.  He 
smiled when she wrapped herself in his jacket, watching as she 
seemed to do so without conscious thought. If it weren't for her 
fair complexion and russet hair, she'd be totally invisible, 
ensconced in black.

He waited to see where she would go, worried about her being out 
alone at this time of night.  He hadn't noticed if she had her 
weapon, but then again, he hadn't been paying attention to 
anything other than his conflicted desires, knowing he couldn't 
let her risk being seen with him and wanting to take her home with 
him.

Headlights cut a swath of illumination in front of the Bronco, 
heading straight for her. Caught like a deer, her eyes widened and 
she instinctively stepped back into the alleyway.  From across the 
street, Mulder darted forward as the scene unfolded before him.  
The vehicle seemed to be heading straight for her and he realized 
she'd be backed into the alley with no exit.

Just as she turned to find an alternative exit, she heard the horn 
honk twice in quick succession.  Swiveling back toward the street, 
her eyes squinting in the glare, she pulled one hand up to her 
forehead.  Her other hand drew the leather jacket closer around her 
in part to ward off the cool, damp air and to keep it from falling 
from her shoulders; its weight more than enough to let it slide 
from her petite frame.  A small smile played at the corners of her 
mouth.

Before his presence could register, Scully felt his body behind 
her, arms wrapping around her possessively and with their full 
might, whisking her into the darkness of a shop front. Her struggles 
to free herself were futile, his size and strength easily overcoming 
her, but in no way subduing her efforts.  The blaze of light from 
the Bronco narrowly missed their hideaway, the horn blaring again, 
more insistent.

She cried out, her bootheels kicking into the man's shin.  She was 
clearly puzzled. If his intent was to harm her, he was taking an 
awfully long time to reach his decision. If he was abducting her, 
the local storefront with the rather large SUV parked directly in 
front of them was probably not the most efficient. She renewed her 
struggles, twisting and turning.  She bit down hard on his forearm.

And that's when she heard the familiar, husked whisper. 
"Scully, stop; it's me."

"Let go of me, Mulder." She gritted out between clenched teeth, not 
knowing whether she was relieved that this wasn't some stranger or 
angry at Mulder. She grabbed onto his forearms for leverage and 
jammed her heel into his instep, eliciting a sharp intake of breath 
from him followed by a string of expletives.

"Damn it, I'm trying to--"

"You're trying to what, Mulder? Protect me? Is that it, *again*? 
Those are my friends from the Metronome. Now let go of me."  His 
arms had barely released her when she shoved away from him, dropping 
his jacket over his open arms.

He reached for her hand, spinning her back into the cover of the 
vestibular area. "How was I supposed to know they were your friends? 
How could you be so sure?"

Although she did not pull her hand away, her stance and the set of 
her face made it clear that she was seething. "Look, Mulder, you 
can't have it both ways. You just got finished explaining, or, 
should I say, 'not explaining', that you couldn't be around me. You 
told me to 'stay away from you'. Even though you offered me no good 
reason, I did as you asked; yet you're back. Tell me what's going on 
or I'm turning back around and walking away."

Kimberley and Bryan had dimmed the headlights, parking by the curb 
a few shops up from their location when Bryan recognized Scully's 
partner and that she was in no danger.  Kimberley's senses were 
still on alert, something she couldn't identify telling her to 
stay nearby, but to give them some space.  

She had watched as Scully recognized the Bronco and approached.  
When she first saw him dart across the street, her hand was poised 
on the door handle, ready to jump out. Bryan had insisted he go 
instead, but deferred to his partner's glare, reminding him that 
she was trained in law enforcement. He was simply trained to want 
to take care of her.  Men; you couldn't live with them and you 
couldn't live with them. But she always appreciated his gesture...
and the fact that he was willing to believe that she was quite 
capable of taking care of herself. 

By the speed with which Scully's partner made his way to her, 
she suspected that he was not quite so willing to believe. 
Although she admittedly didn't know all there was to know about 
Dana's adult life as a Bureau Agent, she did know that she'd at 
least had the training and completed her course with distinction.  
An Agent didn't get where she was today without excellence in 
dispatching her duties.

As her partner dragged her, almost literally kicking and not quite 
screaming back into the darkness of the storefront, Bryan again 
suggested intervening. Kimberley pointed out the finer points of 
observation to him; noting that although she did not seem to know 
it was he at first, she and Bryan did. Besides, she didn't appear 
to be in any danger.

"Scully, you've got to trust that I know what I'm doing; why I 
can't tell you what's going on."

"And you don't have to trust me? Since when did it become so hard to
trust me Mulder?" 

Their hands still connected, her voice softened as her eyes searched 
his. He returned her gaze, squeezing her fingers, telling her he 
understood.  His refusal to tell her because of the undercover status 
of his case, his need to shield her from the fall-out, not as a 
woman partner but as a partner who could crumble under the 
side-effects of this case by mere association with him, hit way too 
close to home after Marblehead. He was sure she was replaying his 
words in connection with Diana and his supposed need to protect his 
partner back then. 

<Awww, Scully, don't you understand? I'd never do anything to 
intentionally hurt you.  Use your training and read between the 
lines; please>

"This is not about 'trust'. Damn it, do I have to spell it out 
for you?" She could hear the barely controlled rage in his voice.

Her decision made, she let his hand go and spun around, heading 
for the Bronco and her waiting friends.  His decision made, he 
followed her. Once, his career had been his life, then she had 
slipped in, almost under his radar, supplanting his first quest 
with his second, his final and his most important. She was 
right; she was the only person he could trust without conditions.

He spoke softly once again, but it was enough to still her.  Her 
back to him, she looked to one side, letting him know she was 
listening. 

"Scully, I'll say this once, but without further explanation. I owe 
you that much. Hell, I owe you a lot more, but this is all that I 
can do right now.  Now come back here and let me try to make you 
understand."

Her skepticism at war with her curiosity, she turned and approached 
him with her arms crossed and one arching eyebrow. 

"Make it good, Mulder."

He looked around, his eyes darting to either side of her, around 
her. She followed his gaze almost amusedly knowing there was no 
one there, knowing his non-verbals signaled his processing, 
trying to frame what he was about to tell her. He pulled her out of 
the storefront and moved with her further down the street.  Under the 
cover of huge maple trees overhanging the roadway, he jogged into 
the crosswalk, pulling her across the street. Puzzled now by his 
speed and urgency, she charged to keep up with him.

"Where are they going, Kimber?" Bryan was clearly concerned 
although she did not seem to be worried.  "Don't worry, I've got 
my sights on them. Something strange is going on, I just feel it, 
but he won't hurt her. That much I do know."

Bryan once again shook his head, smiling at Kimberley's uncanny 
knack to size up people and situations in relatively short order. 
He supposed some of it was her job, but he knew more of it was 
that slightly mysterious way she had about her, something more than 
intuition but less than clairvoyance. It had often allowed her to 
see 'into' a situation more deeply, helping guide those involved to 
resolution.

It had been just last week. She had taken time away from the local 
Police Department to join him for lunch at one of his client's.  
She drove the red Bronco up the winding gravel driveway, parking in 
the turnaround circle near the main entry.  Bryan had been out on 
the vast expanse of green with the two owners, Mr. and Mrs. 
Witherspoon.  Laid out on the oak bench was Bryan's design plan; 
a carefully and meticulously rendered drawing of their 
newly-landscaped lawn. 

She got out of the truck, adjusting her skirt and corduroy jacket.  
As she approached, she heard Bryan talking about the placement of 
the spring bulbs; a few rows of tulips surrounded by crocuses and 
book-ended by daffodils.  

Mr. Witherspoon had nodded approvingly, but his wife was far from 
happy.She questioned Bryan's understanding of the symmetry of 
design, pointing out how the texture of the purple crocuses would 
simply crowd the more fragile tulips. The man of the house had 
tried to explain that he liked the plan and furthermore, they had 
hired Bryan specifically 'to' design for them. He told her to shut 
up. And she glowered. Bryan merely stood in the middle; half hoping 
a bit of magic would end the stalemate.

And that's when Kimberley had shown up.  Angry Witherspoons 
surrounded him as he tried to discern which camp would emerge 
victorious.  The wife's voice was raised, but not yet yelling. 
The husband was vehemently stating his point.  Bryan was attempting 
to show both how he could develop a design intended for 
compromise.

Kimberley was amused.

"Might I be of some assistance?" She strolled into the almost-fray, 
a small smile lighting her face. <God, how I love that smile, Kimber>

Bryan took her hand, making her part of the group. She looked from 
Mr. to Mrs. as she was introduced to his clients.  "How do you like 
his ideas?" Insinuating herself into the issue at hand, both 
Witherspoons looked at her openly, Mrs. W showing just the slightest 
bit of pique. "Too much color and texture so close together." That 
she had managed to eek out that much of a response from his wife was 
remarkable in Mr. W's mind.  "Is not."

Bryan watched Kimberley watch the W's, her eyes scrunching in 
scrutiny, her lips forced into neutrality.  "Mrs. Witherspoon--"

"It's Edna, dear; call me Edna."

Bryan attempted to sputter as to just how she had managed to get to 
a first name basis with this stodgy client, but wisely held his tongue.

"Edna it is.  Edna, have you noticed how the eye is drawn to the 
varying heights..." Mrs. Edna Witherspoon had become damp potting 
soil in Kimberley's hands and Still-Mr. Witherspoon was smiling for 
the first time that morning.

Although nothing quite miraculous, her quick read of the people and the 
situation had averted hours of haggling and kept both clients satisfied.

Leaving them to fold up the plans and decide on a start date for 
their project, Bryan tugged on her hand.  He had someone else to
satisfy.

^*^
Scully raked a hand through her damp and curling hair as her partner 
pulled her across the sidewalk and under the cover of the towering, 
thick-trunked maples.  He backed her into one of the trees, his 
hands on her shoulders. He smiled ruefully at the look of confusion 
on her face, knowing he owed her a quick, but thorough explanation.

Without preamble he told her, "I've been assigned a case here, 
Scully.  I'd been researching it while you were assigned to 
Quantico back in July. I can't involve you in this one."

She released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, 
searching his eyes. The reality of his situation finally dawned on 
her, slammed into her. He must be undercover. That was why her 
showing up and asking questions had angered him. But, it had been 
he who had initiated contact with that adolescent display of 
testosterone-fueled, territory marking. She suppressed her chuckle.

"Mulder, you're the one who found me. You could have walked out of 
the Club without me ever having seen you and you know that."

He almost hated the way she was able to zero in on the truth...any 
of his truths...with amazing clarity.  He wanted nothing more than 
to erase what he'd done, but knew he couldn't. He had jumped to 
conclusions. 

The recentness and somewhat still tentative steps back to their 
earlier relationship were not always easy for him. While he 
intellectually understood her need to take things slow, to feel 
sure of him once again, his heart wanted to move full steam ahead.  
Seeing her enjoying herself with another had spiked a white hot 
anger he hadn't realized was there. He had done a quick *read* of 
the situation based on nothing but what he saw. He knew better. 
Much better. Especially when it came to Scully. He hoped that when 
she was feeling more charitable about his earlier behavior, she'd 
look upon it as nothing more than a minor lapse of his sensibilities.

When he still hadn't commented, she looked to him questioningly, 
wondering whether he would explain further or if this was to be 
their last contact.  She knew he would not want her becoming 
entangled in whatever his case was; it could be risky for them
both.  However, she also knew without a shadow of a doubt, she 
planned to find out what he was working on; with or without his 
assistance.  

It wasn't that she didn't understand or respect the nature of 
undercover work nor was it that she wanted to unnecessarily endanger
either of them. It was that she knew her partner all too well and 
for all his blinding brilliance, the ability to gather all sorts of 
information and pull it together into theory after theory, there 
was usually just one small problem -- he often got himself into 
trouble.  

Dana Scully was often quite good at extricating Fox Mulder from 
trouble. And he tended to rely on her, even subconsciously, for that 
help. Yes, she was rationalizing her involvement quite well...

"You're right, Scully.  I knew you were here for your conference, 
but I had no intentions of trying to find you until my case was 
resolved or I was pulled out."

He paused, seeing the look of mild disbelief on her face. Would he 
really have stayed away? She wasn't sure if she was happy about 
that prospect; knowing he'd be in the same town and they wouldn't 
ever connect.

He continued, trying to ignore her unspoken question. "It's just 
that when I did see you, I hadn't expected to, and you were dancing 
and he was touching you. Ah, hell, I don't want to go through all 
this again. I'm sorry and I hope your friends will understand."

"They will, they do. Now, tell me what you can about your 
assignment." She shivered, the night chilling her to her bones.  
She nodded at him as he replaced his leather jacket around her, 
his hands lingering on her arms before moving back to his sides.

"That's just it, Scully; I can't tell you anything.  You've got to 
try not to run into me and...don't look for me. I can see it in your
eyes." He touched her chin with his thumb and index finger, tilting 
her face up toward his. "Promise me."

Averting her eyes, she shook her head slightly and then looked back 
up at him. She crooked one finger at him, motioning him closer. 
Bending his knees just a bit, he took a step toward her, smiling. 
"What're you up to?"

His question went unanswered verbally as she opened his jacket, 
drawing him into the warmth created by her body and his leather. 
He wrapped his arms around her and asked her once again to promise 
she would not look for him. 

She took his face in her hands, turning his head so she could 
whisper in his ear. "I'm not promising you anything, G-Man."

"Well, in that case..." His lips sought hers, trying to devour her 
mouth. She alternately tried to pull back and tried to perform a 
not-so-scientific examination of his teeth, his tongue and other 
warm, moist places. Her interest in exploration won out over her 
uncertain reasons for hesitating.  

A silent battle raged within as her heart and her head warred, drew 
up lines and crossed them. So many starts and a few more stops in 
their relationship over the past several months.  Her desire to find 
again what they had cherished prior to that fateful day in June, in 
Boston, threatened to overwhelm her at times. At other times, she 
was able to operate under, 'in due time', able to allow herself and 
him the space and time to slide back into the easiness they had. 
Although, she mused, 'easiness' would not aptly define what it was 
they had, would not truly describe *them*.  Each in their own way, 
they 'worked' at it, often stumbling, tripping each other, obtaining
a few bruises to their egos, to their hearts.


^*^*^*^ 
August
Quantico

Two days had seemed like so many more. She was positive she had 
worked the forty-eight hours in their entirety. The very least she 
could say was that she had not been bored.  She would have 'killed' 
to feel bored.

There had been one rather standard autopsy to negate or confirm the 
previous coroner's report and then a follow up, again, on the 
Hapskah case. Something wasn't sitting right.  With her or with 
Mulder.  Even after her original report, he had raised questions, 
presumably based on information provided by the Sargent over at the 
34th Precinct. She gathered correctly, although she hadn't know 
just *how* correctly at the time, that Mulder had suspicions about 
Ben Stillman. At any rate, she needed to show him one of the 
reports and what she believed had been evidential tampering.

Since she still had another on-going project that needed her 
ttention, the white paste, she suggested he come after the main labs
had closed around eight o'clock. 

In the meantime, she had busied herself with her on-going research 
on the white paste substance, now officially known as 'conduction 
tincture 54'or CT54.  Their joint research had proven that two of 
the yet-unidentified chemicals were indeed, somehow, responsible 
for transport. For 'conducting' the subject from one state of being 
to another. She had not wanted to believe, had not been able to 
believe this information. Except that she had seen proof with her 
own eyes. She still doubted what she saw because she had some of 
the same substance in her at the time.

They had also proven that one of the main ingredients was a 
component of a substance extracted by means of a solvent. In this 
case, turpentine. This made it a tincture; at least in part.  She 
felt as if they were finally making some headway, although she was 
still frustrated that they had not learned more, much more.

She had gone to change to a new lab coat; her last white one so 
totally covered that it made her feel grimy. While she was used to 
this type of work, she often needed to feel as if she were starting 
each project 'fresh'.

She returned in a dark teal jacket, long enough to cover her short 
skirt completely. She had pushed her hair off her face with a 'lab 
hair hold'; the staff's technical name for the unbecoming black 
fuzzy headband they used when the need arose.  It had hung around 
her neck for most of the day, but having worn her head covering for 
most of it; it had not been used. After shaking her hair loose when 
the unflattering 'hat' was removed, she had pushed her hair back 
from her forehead and let the band rest behind her ears. Her hair 
fell just beyond her shoulders. She'd been meaning to have it cut 
earlier in the summer, but Mulder had told her how much he liked 
the longer length. One month turned to the next and, well...

She had moved to the workbench area at the back of the room and set 
the reports and pictures in front of her. The bench's height made 
it very easy for her to stand and review the materials while in 
close proximity to any other information she should need. However, 
as soon as she had laid out the materials and begun to pore over 
them, her hair had fallen forward. She turned her head quickly to 
one side, trying to toss the long locks back over her shoulder.

And it worked the first two times she had to do so.

She was in the midst of comparing the black and white photograph of 
a test subject with the CT54 on his forehead when her hair fell 
forward over both shoulders at the same time. The tossing wasn't 
working.

She had never even heard him come in. Hadn't known who it was when 
she felt two warm hands reach over her shoulders and gently gather 
the red strands. When she heard him pronounce her name in one of the
many ways only he could, she had shivered.

She had been bent over the work surface and he seemed to tower over 
her, his body close to hers. He let her hair fall to her back. His 
hand seemed to wander down the length of her tresses for a moment 
and she felt time stand still. Before she could call his attention 
to the familiarity, he had stepped back.

"What're you working on?" His question was casual, belying the stir 
of emotions he was experiencing.

She turned to him, grateful that he had stepped back. She knew he'd 
notice the flush to her face, but explained that she had to show 
him the Hapskah body.

He had stopped her, his chin jutting out to indicate the workbench. 
"No, I mean that. What is it?"

She glanced back over her shoulder as if she needed to make sure it 
was still there. "It's the white paste project."  

She tried to move them over to the autopsy table holding the Hapskah
woman's body, but he wasn't moving.

"How's this research going? What have you found?" She watched his 
eyes, those eyes that missed nothing, darting around her, trying to 
get a closer look at the reports and other information. She knew 
that given half a chance, he'd have reached for the materials.

"Nothing's conclusive. We should really check out..."

And she should have known that he would not be so easily 
side-tracked. Mulder could be like the proverbial dog with a bone 
when his interest was piqued. She hadn't been sure why she was so 
hesitant to show him the file. After all, he had been there, too. 
Had experienced the same thing she had. Had--  

She couldn't complete her thought because the images forming in her 
mind included her and her partner tied to side-by-side chairs with 
Diana Fowley standing between them. With Diana Fowley touching 
Mulder and watching for her reaction to those touches. She felt 
queasy at the recollection and knew that her eyelids had fluttered 
shut and then reopened.

His hands had been on her arms in an instant and he had bent down 
to look directly into her face, his eyes full of worry and concern.

Although unintentional, she had hoped that he would have been 
sufficiently distracted to allow them to move from the Marblehead 
file. But it was not to be.

As soon as he had ensured that she was indeed all right, he had 
moved to stand beside her at the bench, their arms and legs 
touching. She had turned toward the bench, wanting to watch him 
peruse the information.  She felt the heat and the slight charges 
his body set off in her like long forgotten memories.

He had continued to read the findings while he spoke. Mulder was a 
proficient multi-tasker, she had thought.

"Scully, this is interesting information." She had looked up at him 
once out of the corner of her eye as he read her preliminary 
findings on CT54, had listened to him tell her how he was always so 
impressed with her ability to tease out the smallest shred of 
evidence or information. Had felt his hand as it closed over her 
hand, his fingers curling downward through hers until they touched 
her palm.

She had looked up; somehow knowing he was no longer reading the file
but gazing at her. His eyes had formed the question, but she had 
not been sure how to respond.

"Scully, we need to talk, and not about any of this." 

She knew exactly what he wanted to talk about as he pushed the 
pieces of the report aside and slid up to sit at the edge of the 
table, gently pulling her to stand between his legs. She had 
considered whether or not it was a good time. And then realized 
she didn't *know* when a better time would come.

She had listened to his words, but had been more concerned with 
looking at his face, knowing it was there that she would find the 
sincerity of his apology and the sorrow about what he had done to 
nearly decimate their relationship.

She had desperately wanted and needed to feel completely 
comfortable with him once again. Had known she was almost there, 
that he had been there all along, somehow able to understand her 
anger, but continue their connection without hesitation.

She had explained that while she was willing to try to meet him 
halfway, she wasn't so sure how much of their original relationship 
she would be able to resume, at least not then. And he seemed to be 
pleased with the commitment, drawing her to him, wrapping his arms 
around her.

Her hands had wound their way underneath his jacket and around his 
waist. She had felt him pull back just slightly, although his arms 
had not left her. The light touch of his lips upon hers almost 
blinded her with its simplicity. 

She had felt him deepen the kiss, the two of them smiling against 
each other's mouths at the awkwardness of trying to connect while 
still wrapped around one and other. Neither had attempted to move 
from their positions.

Something had been spoken in the lab that night. And while she 
hadn't been sure of the depth of it, she had experienced the 
promise of it.
@@@@@@5
*^*^*^*^*^
Burlington
15 September

With neither of them holding onto the jacket, it soon slipped, 
unnoticed, to the ground.  A slow heat burning inside him, Mulder 
drew her farther into the trees, his lips kissing any available 
skin on their way. In-between small butterfly and fleeting kisses,
he murmured, "Promise me, Scully." 

In the other spaces filled with more soulful and deep lip locks, 
she hummed against him, "No can do, Mulder."

They both loved a good challenge.

She attempted to slow their mounting passion, afraid it would 
consume this duel, leaving both without resolution. The problem, as
she saw it, was that the feel of his fingers tangling in her hair, 
occasionally tugging at her damp and curling strands was that she 
wanted nothing more than to give in to his thought obliterating 
touch. And with his lips hungrily seeking hers, she was no longer 
so sure exactly what resolution she was trying to find.

Mulder felt Scully-starved, wanting to consume her until he was 
sated and then just a bit more until he was replete with her. He 
was treading on dangerous ground, risking his cover, risking her. 
And he didn't give a damn at this moment. His hands traveled along 
her arms and to her back, skimming lightly and not quite lightly as
she clung to him, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his black tee.

When one hand moved to her behind, the other softly glancing across
the underside of her breast, she pulled out of the kiss, bereft at 
the break in the hot, wet connection. Her mind had not yet signaled
the rest of her body as to her intentions. Therefore, when both of 
his hands found her ass, gently stroking and kneading, it was all 
she could do not to moan.

"Scully..." 

Mulder reached for her again, not wanting to let her go and 
realizing that he had to. If he didn't get a hold of his runaway 
feelings, he wouldn't be able to walk her back to her friends.  

He had kept an eye on them, noting that they stayed close <probably
making sure I don't behave like a Neanderthal again> but gave them 
some privacy. If they were friends of Scully's he wanted to meet 
them. But knew that wasn't possible until the case was finished. 
Just too many more people to possibly become entangled.

"You're cold." She moved back to him, her words seeming to assess 
the situation for them both, for their mutual desire not to end the
contact. He pulled her to him, hugging her, his chin resting on 
her head.

"Warmer?"  She smiled against his chest, her arms around his waist,
her hands at his mid-back, holding him to her.

"I am, Mulder, much warmer."

"You've got to go back with your friends and pretend you haven't 
seen me. At least for a few weeks. All right?" He hadn't moved 
unless the subtle shift of his hips against her counted.

She said nothing as her hands kneaded his back muscles.

It was like pulling teeth. And he knew if he were in her shoes, 
listening to her tell him that although she was in the same town, 
he couldn't have any contact with her, he'd never agree to the 
promise to stay away. Yet he wanted her to tell him, to assure him 
she'd be out of harm's way.

Sensing his need for some sort of acknowledgment, she drew back, 
taking his hand in hers.  He took her other hand in his, as well. 
In the way that they'd always had, she told him.  He nodded at her imperceptibly, knowing he hadn't gotten what he wanted to hear, 
but had gotten what she was able to give.

Taking his hand in both of hers, she walked toward the street, 
pausing to retrieve his jacket. She turned to hand it to him, but 
he took more than his jacket, leaning in to kiss her once more, 
telling her there would be more later.

As he shrugged into the leather jacket, she had walked away toward 
the waiting Bronco.

Remaining under the dark cover of the tree-lined street, he watched
her, a small smile forming. It had been a long time, too long, 
since he had held her.  Really held her.

The Bronco pulled up across the street and he looked after her as 
she darted across the wide avenue. Just before she got in to the 
front seat, she glanced back in his direction and then jumped 
inside, pulling the door shut.

*^*^*^*^*^
15 September 
2:00AM

"So?"  Kimberley turned toward Scully as she lowered the volume on 
the radio. The voice of Carl Castle of NPR grew even softer. "What 
happened?"

Bryan's ears perked up. He'd seen exactly how upset Dana's partner 
had been with Ian, but also knew that she hadn't been worried about
leaving with him. And with Kimberley's insistence that all was 
fine, they had given them space.

"I don't even know where to start, but he's in town on business. 
Our 'meeting' was purely accidental. He feels bad about Ian.  Right
now, I just want to get back to the hotel and crash.  Sessions 
start at nine tomorrow." Scully sank back in her seat as the Bronco
headed for her hotel. The ride was blissfully quiet; not that she 
minded talking with either of them. However, she had too many 
things to think about and wasn't sure where to begin.

Her lips were still tingling and felt swollen; that feeling she 
relished from kisses that threatened to consume her. It had been a 
long time; or at least what felt like a long time, since she had 
really kissed Mulder. Her body had responded in kind and 
consequently, she was just this side of unfulfilled. 

It was a first time experience all over again; that tentative 
dancing around the need, the desire, trying to answer the 'do we?'
question without words. They excelled at the silent communication 
in most things, but this was not the usual situation for them.

It had been too long since their intimacy was a natural part of 
their lives. Too much had happened and she had spent a lot of time 
thinking and analyzing and wondering and planning. Time and her 
love for Mulder had allowed her to forgive, but she sometimes had 
a hard time with forgetting. Unbidden, she'd replay the month of 
June, the scenes from Marblehead, and find that gnawing feeling in 
her gut, threatening to eat at her from the inside out. No matter 
how she rationalized it, she would feel profoundly sad and somewhat
depressed at her inability to understand how he had done what he 
did.

It wasn't that she didn't understand now. They had talked things 
through and she knew he was sincere in his apologies. His sincerity 
and honesty were two things she loved and cherished most about him.
When she could step outside herself enough to gain perspective, she 
realized that the Diana event had scared her, rocked her faith in 
their relationship.

And she worried that it could happen again.

And that she would die if it did.

She didn't know how she could explain that to him or whether he'd 
really understand why she felt that way. Consequently, letting him 
back in...all the way...was sometimes easier said than done.  
Touching his hand had ignited her, sending warmth flooding through 
her, making her hungry for more. Loving Mulder was a total 
experience because he put everything he had to give into their 
relationship, his heart, his soul, his mind, his body.

That thought sent her mind reeling and she surreptitiously glanced 
over at her friend. She assumed Kimberley thought she was asleep or 
rightly figured that she needed some time to think.

Images and sensations flitted and floated behind her eyes touching 
her lightly and moving on. Little gossamer and gauzy remembrances 
of their first time, tentative at first but exploding into frenzied 
and frantic and rough. Other stolen kisses in the basement office 
even after promising each other that office protocol dictated 
otherwise. Mulder's naked body, hot and firm and arousing; her 
strong desire to tactilely explore every possible inch of that body 
with her eyes, her hands, her mouth.

It was almost a good thing that they couldn't be together in every 
sense of the word tonight. She was too open to possibilities she 
might not yet be ready for.

"All out for the Radisson Hotel." Scully shook herself from her 
mental meanderings. Unbuckling her safety belt, she reached for the 
door handle and suddenly sunk back against the seat, her hand 
coming to her forehead. She absent-mindedly pressed her thumb 
against the spot between her brows.

"Scully?! What's wrong?" Kimberley unfastened her own belt and 
leaned over to her. She felt her pulse, noting it was strong. 
Turning on the ceiling panel interior light, she saw Scully's 
eyelids rapidly flutter and close. She heard her mutter something 
that sounded as if she was 'fine', but wasn't taking any chances.

"I'm on it, Kimber." Bryan had already dialed 9-1-1.  Kimberley 
smiled wanly at her fiance' and returned her attentions to Scully. 
She could count on him in all sorts of situations. His ability to 
remain calm and levelheaded was beneficial in situations like this.

Kimberley kept talking to Scully who faded in and out, although as 
the seconds ticked by, was more 'out' than 'in'. "Scully, can you 
tell me what day it is?"

"Uh, mmmm...it's after midnight." Her voice was growing softer and 
her lips seemed to be having difficulty forming the words.

Bryan looked concerned and Kimberley knew her condition was 
worsening. "Hunt around in her bag, see if she has a cellphone." 

Before she could finish her instructions, the Ambulance pulled up. 
The EMTs talked with Kimberley and Bryan as they triaged Scully's 
condition. Her pulse and breathing were both within normal ranges, 
but her pupils were equally dilated; more so than would be typical 
given the lighting conditions. Although she was able to speak to 
them, she provided only partial responses, often trailing off after 
a few words. One of the team noticed that her right hand kept 
moving to her forehead, her fingers almost massaging back and forth 
between her brows. She would then allow it to gently fall back to 
her lap. Questioning her as to the reason for her actions did not 
produce results. The EMTs noted her confused expression.

They radioed on ahead as the placed her on the stretcher. The 
Bronco followed Scully to the Fletcher Allen Health Care Center's 
Emergency Entrance.

*^*^*^*^*^
Fletcher Allen Health Care Center
Colchester Avenue
Burlington
16 September
3:00AM

Scully's stretcher was rushed into Emergency Services as the EMTs 
called out her vitals, her condition when they arrived and the 
minute changes that had occurred during the short ride. She was 
whisked behind one of the empty curtained assessment areas, the 
nursing staff already loosening her clothing.  An intravenous line 
was started and her vitals were checked again, all information 
noted on the clipboard chart hung on the foot board to her bed.

Kimberley and Bryan again gave what little information they had. It 
had come on suddenly, but she had not lost consciousness at any 
time that either of them could see. They were asked to wait in the 
Guest Reception area while the doctors ordered tests.

"Did you bring her--" Before Kimberley could finish her question, 
Bryan had Scully's cellphone out.  "Thanks, Bry. I'm betting she'd 
want her partner called. I'm also going to bet that since I don't 
know his name nor where he's staying that she's got him on speed 
dial." 

As she flipped the phone open and brought it to her ear, she smiled 
at him. He grasped her hand, squeezing his love and his admiration 
through his touch. He mouthed, 'it'll be all right' as she punched 
#1.

<Mulder>  

"Um, Mulder, we haven't met. I'm Kimberley Kresgee, a friend of 
Dana's and--" She never got to finish her sentence. Mulder was 
instantly alert and concerned.

<What's the matter with Scully? Where are you?> There was no 
mistaking the worry in his voice when he believed his partner might 
be hurt.

"We're at the Fletcher Allen Health Care Center over on Colchester,
in the ER. She's stable Mr. Mulder, but they don't know what's 
wrong."

<What the hell happened? Was there an accident?> She could 
recognize the frantic tone, the concern.

"No, no, we weren't in any accident. Look, it might be better if 
you just got here. I'm sure she'd want to see you. My fiance and I 
will wait for you in Guest Reception." She flipped the phone closed 
and put it in her backpack.

"Well, he's on his way." Bryan could hear the laughter in her voice 
and threw her a questioning look. "The man is intense and obviously 
really in love with her. If he could have jumped through the phone 
to get here, he would have. I don't know where he's staying, but 
I'm betting he'll be here pretty quickly. I'm going to go check on 
Dana." 

She walked over to the vinyl two-seater he had perched on, bent 
down and kissed him lightly. "Thanks. Just thanks." He smiled back 
at her as she turned to go find the doctor.

No sooner had she walked away than Mulder charged through the 
doors, skipping the Guest Reception area entirely. His boot heels 
were loud enough to wake any patients who might have finally 
started to relax or doze.

Locating the triage desk, Mulder introduced himself asking for 
Scully's whereabouts. "Please, I need to find her right now." When 
he didn't get an instant response, he started walking by each 
curtained area, sweeping it back so her could check for himself.  
The Shift Supervisor Nurse caught up with him at the third patient 
area. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Mulder? You can't be back here; you're disturbing 
our patients. Can I help you find someone?" The Nurse stepped in 
his path, but he effectively side stepped around her, continuing to 
plow his way down the hall. He was quick, but she had experience 
and her pace quickened considerably when he started calling his 
partner's name. She mused wryly that this man had probably had a 
few bad experiences with hospitals and this woman, his partner.

Taking him by the arm, she gripped his biceps. The force with which 
he was already moving allowed her to use the momentum to propel him 
into a storage alcove. "I am going to ask you once more, Mr. 
Mulder, and then I am through asking. At that point, you will be 
persona non grata in here. Now, tell me the name of who you're 
looking for and I'll get the chart."

Mulder actually stopped in his tracks, looking at her as if 
noticing she was there for the first time. 

She'd seen this reaction before, but rarely to this degree. This 
was a man used to being in control and having the answers at his 
fingertips.  It appeared he was surprised to hear that she intended 
to help him find Scully. She was also sure he was very worried 
about his loved one.

"It's Dana Scully. I need to see her. She--" 

She almost felt sorry for him.  When stopped in the midst of his 
tirade, the wind had been knocked out of his sails, rendering him 
almost impotent. One hand was stuffed in his jeans pocket, the 
other finger-combed his hair. He looked like he was tired enough to 
curl up on the floor and nap.

"She's in cubicle 12, around the corner, but-- " she reached out to 
stop him from heading over there, "she's gone down for testing 
right now," explaining almost uselessly. 

That information brought forth the lines and creases in his 
forehead and around his eyes. 'Testing' was never good where Scully 
or he were concerned. Her cancer had been in remission for so long 
now. He didn't want to even consider they'd ordered testing to 
check its spread.

"What testing? What do they suspect?" He moved past the Nurse, 
heading for Scully's cubicle. Throwing back the institutional green 
curtain, he looked at the empty bed, searching the modestly 
furnished area, knowing there was nowhere she could be hiding.  On 
a hunch, he checked the bedside locker for her clothing. It was 
empty. Trying not to allow himself to become overly concerned, he 
rationalized that they might have stored it elsewhere or that 
Kimberley and Bryan may have them. This line of thought was getting 
him nowhere fast.

He remembered the Nurse saying she'd gone for testing, so he 
reached for her chart at the foot of the bed. Noting the C.A.T. 
Scan notation, he strode purposefully into the hall, heading for 
the Nurse's station once again. He noted absently that a few of 
the staff actually seemed to find other places to be when they saw 
him coming. 

Attempting to keep his voice just below a bellow, he called out to 
whatever staff was present, asking where he could find the CAT Scan 
testing area. A candy striper who appeared quite mesmerized by the 
sight of a tall, good-looking man dressed entirely in black told 
him she could take him there. He stopped and faced her, smiling at 
the impressionable young staffer.

He managed to smile, the flush starting in her neck and moving up 
to her hairline making him smile a bit more. "Uh, Miss," he glanced 
at her name badge, "Sarah, thank you. You can just point me in the 
right direction." 

She shook her head, waving off his offer as she led him to radiology.  Reluctantly, she indicated the large double doors down the hall.  
Although she didn't accompany him, she did manage to remain rooted 
to her spot, her mouth hanging open slightly. And that was how the 
Shift Supervisor found her.

Leaning in so she could whisper, her boss said, 'He is pretty hot, 
isn't he?" Sarah nearly jumped out of her uniform.

*^*^*

Mulder shoved the double doors open, nearly sending the extra-wide 
panel into the wall behind.  His eyes took in the various signage, 
'hazard do not enter', 'radioactive', 'radiology', 'telemetry'. He 
pushed open the door marked, 'C.T. Imaging'. It was dark and 
somewhat cool inside. He could hear low voices, male and female, 
originating at the far end of the suite as he made his way toward 
them.  His hoarse and tired words echoed in the otherwise dim and 
quiet environment as he called out to Scully.

Almost immediately, a radiologist's assistant approached him, the 
look in his eyes warning Mulder that he didn't belong there. 
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Dana Scully. Her chart says she's 
having a CAT Scan done now. Is she all right?"

"Look, sir, I don't know who you are and I don't know who the woman 
is you're asking about, but no unauthorized personnel are allowed 
in here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He took Mulder's 
elbow, attempting to guide him to the exit, but Mulder would have 
none of it.

"I'm not leaving here until I know how my partner is. Her chart--" 
His voice had risen in volume and the somewhat frantic look in his 
eyes softened the Assistant's stance.

"Look, Mr.?"

"Mulder."

"Ok, Mr. Mulder, let's check the master schedule." They walked a 
short distance to the administrative offices.  Mulder's expression 
turned glum when the man started shaking his head as he scanned the 
sign in sheets.  "She's not listed and her name doesn't appear for 
the entire week. Are you sure you read the chart correctly? 
Sometimes the lay person--"

Mulder was already darting out of the office area, explaining to 
no one in particular that he was in no way a 'lay person' when 
it came to hospitals and tests.

*^*^*

Kimberley and Bryan had checked with the Nurse's station several 
times and there was no word on either Mulder or Scully's 
whereabouts. Kimberley couldn't figure out how a hospital could 
lose a patient. "Look, she was in the cubicle over there. She has 
red hair and blue eyes; you can't miss her.  Her partner was 
dressed all in black, tall, good looking guy."

Bryan's eyebrows arched upward, a smirk playing at his lips. He 
glanced down the hall and then back to Kimberley, trying to get 
her attention. When mere eye contact didn't work, he touched her 
arm. She shrugged him away. He knew she was intent on getting an 
answer, but he needed to let her know that he had her *answer*.

Right behind her.

"Have either of you seen Scully?" No preamble, no greeting. 

"You're Mulder, right?" Bryan extended his hand, smiling as Mulder 
shook it although a bit distractedly.

"Nice to meet you...Kimberley? Scully mentioned you both. Sorry 
that I don't have time for more pleasantries. I need to know where 
she is."  Mulder extracted his hand from Bryan's and headed back 
for Scully's cubicle. Noting that she was still absent from it.

"I want answers and I want them now." The desk staff began to look 
concerned once again, wondering if they needed to call security. As 
one of the nurses put his hand on the phone, Mulder's came down on 
top of it. "Look," his voice dropped some of its intensity and 
volume, "all I want to do is find my partner. You seem to have lost 
her."

The Nursing Supervisor came to the desk, one hand holding the 
stethoscope hanging from her neck, the other on her hip.  "Mr. 
Mulder, we meet again. What can we do for you?"

"You can find my partner, Dana Scully." He watched the medical 
personnel look him over, not sure what he might do next, not sure 
they wanted to know. The Supervisor, however, understood.

Someone handed her Scully's chart and she pulled her reading 
glasses from her lab coat pocket, sitting them on the end of her 
nose.  "She's in for testing, a CAT Scan by the notes here. I'll 
call--"

"Don't bother. The staff there showed me the scheduling book. She 
hasn't been there and isn't listed for any testing. Now, if you 
can't keep track of your patients, I'll go look for her myself." 
His voice had risen steadily with each sentence and now threatened 
to produce hospital security.

However, he had moved quickly from the Nurse's Station on his way 
toward the exit. Bryan and Kimberley tried to stop him, then tried 
to join his search. In his agitated state, Mulder swung off Bryan's 
grasp on his arm so forcefully that he sent Bryan reeling into the 
Guest Lounge, almost knocking Kimberley over in the process.

*^*^*

All he knew was that Scully was somewhere out in the dark and he 
had no idea where and in what condition. Temporarily frozen by fear 
and longing, Mulder could not decide whether to procure the SUV 
thinking someone may have taken Scully or to just run the streets 
assuming she had fled on foot.  Neither option made much sense to 
him, but when in their time together had anything made total sense 
or been easy to figure out?

He chose the 'running the streets' plan, heading up Colchester to 
its junction with North Prospect.  Prospect appeared devoid of 
possible hiding spots, so he continued on as Colchester became 
Pearl Street.  At the corner of Pearl and Loomis Streets, he 
stopped so suddenly he almost walked into a light pole. About 
fifty feet north on Loomis, he saw her.

Scully was sitting at a bus stop, the overhang of the lean-to-like 
structure providing little shelter from the lake effect winds. As 
he approached, he noticed that she was shivering and shaking, her 
eyes focused at some unseen point directly in front of her.

"Scully! Damnit, Scully, what the hell are you doing out here?"

The sound of his voice registered, causing her to turn in his 
direction. However, it was unclear from the confused look in her 
eyes whether she had turned because it was he or because someone 
had called to her. She took in his appearance, sensing that he was 
someone she knew, someone who would not harm her. But little else.

Wanting to spirit her away with him and keep her warm, but knowing 
he may frighten her, he approached slowly, his arms by his sides. 
He continued to say her name softly, telling her it was him, her 
partner. The sound of his name felt familiar to her and she 
attempted to stand.

He was at her side, easing her back to the bench, as her knees gave 
way. 

The feel of his arms around her seemed to clear her mind and she 
clung to him. "Mulder, what am I doing here? Where am I?"

"You're about two blocks from the hospital and I don't know why 
you're here. Kimberley called me to tell me the ambulance had 
brought you there." 

She could feel the vibrations of his words on the top of her head 
at the point where his chin rested. She snuggled more deeply 
against his chest as she vaguely recalled feeling very dizzy.  
Dizzy as she had a few months back. She wanted to sit up next to 
him where she could clearly tell him what had happened, but that 
would have required her to leave the sanctuary of his arms around 
her. Where she knew she was safe.

She was very uneasy about this whole situation, even though she was 
not really sure what 'the whole situation' was. "I'm not going back 
to the hospital, Mulder. I'll call Kimberley and have her and Bryan 
take me to the hotel. That's where we were headed anyway." She 
reached for her cellphone, but he stopped her.

"I've never known you to back away from finding the truth, Scully. 
Why start now? Let them run the C.A.T. Scan and tell you it's 
nothing. I'll be there with you." His words were soft, reassuring.

She did pull back then, her indignation piqued. Although her voice 
remained level and relatively calm, there was no denying the edge 
to her tone. "You'll be there with me? A few hours ago, you 
couldn't be seen with me. I--"

He knew that she was operating on her fear of what was happening to 
her and her loss of control, so her words were filtered through 
those lenses. But her response also surprised him. She had seemed 
to understand his explanations at the time.

"Look, Scully, I think you know why I tried to push you away 
earlier, last night. This is different and I don't think I need to 
explain how or why, do I?"

She looked defeated and deflated as she shook her head.  She knew 
why this was different, knew that she wanted him with her...and 
knew she didn't want to return to the hospital for the test. Since 
the first time the wave had slid over her, she had suspected its 
cause, but had been reluctant to tell anyone about it. At the time, 
talking to Mulder, her partner, her confidant, her errant lover, 
was the last option open to her. She knew as she knew most things 
about him that he'd understand her theory; probably embrace it. She 
also knew he'd pursue it relentlessly and they weren't back to a 
point then where she felt she could allow him to do so.

She needed time to call some of her Bureau and Quantico contacts, 
wanted to be on much firmer ground before she told him. Her insides 
were conducting an all-out emotional war. She knew that if he tried 
hiding this type of information from her, she'd be furious. She'd 
wonder about their relationship. She'd wonder, ultimately, about 
his trust in her. Yet she couldn't bring herself to share her 
suspicions just yet.

Scully placed one hand on his shoulder, allowing some of her weight 
to be supported by him, as she stood. She felt more confident in 
her body's ability to hold her upright and was not disappointed. 
"You're right, Mulder, this *is* different. The fact still stands 
that I am not going back to the hospital. I've probably got a viral 
infection and it's throwing off my equilibrium. The fluid in my 
Eustachian tubes is blocking my--"

He smiled, standing with her. Not knowing about the earlier 
episodes, taking her at her word. Yet still puzzled by her seeming 
irrational behavior...and the fact that he was sure she had not 
recognized him at first. The Scully he knew would not have liked 
being in the hospital, but would not have walked out on a test. He 
recalled many times when she'd analyzed her own blood or 'guided' 
the other doctors to the tests she believed she needed.

No, this was definitely not rational, clear thinking Scully. He 
vowed to keep closer tabs on her and notify Skinner.

"But you're not going back to your hotel alone."

She leaned into his side, his arm warm around her waist. She did 
feel amazingly strong with no residual lightheadedness.  They both 
started as the SUV flashed its headlights as it pulled over to the 
curb.

Kimberley got out and headed straight for Dana, the concern in her 
eyes all too evident. She earned the same response Mulder had been 
given when she offered to drive them back to the Fletcher Allan 
Health Care Center. Although curious about the reasons, she 
acquiesced, agreeing to take her back to her hotel.

Bryan watched the interchange, noting the worry hidden just behind 
Mulder's in-control look. He didn't have to know the man to 
understand what he was experiencing. He then glanced at Dana, 
quickly sizing up her status. She did look better overall, but he 
didn't feel quite right about her skipping out on her tests. 
Knowing she was a medical doctor herself only took away some of his 
uneasiness about the situation.

Mulder offered to stay with Scully, but she told him it wasn't 
necessary. She'd call him if anything came up. Truth be told, and 
as much as she hated to admit it, she still wasn't sure she was 
ready to have him that close again just yet. Even though she had 
suggested it earlier in the park. 

Something was holding her back from completely returning their 
relationship to its former level.  
@@@@@6
*^*^*^*^*^
Burlington, Vermont
16 September 
5:00AM

"He wasn't here long enough."

<And who's fault is that?>

"Look, I was waiting, as agreed. He found me. He left me. What the 
hell more d'ya want?"

<I want you to do the damn job you were hired to do; that's what I 
want. And if you don't think you can fulfill those responsibilities,
I'll find someone who can>

"The next connection will work. I'm going to contact him tonight."

<See to it that it does. You're already aware of the possibility 
for dire consequences should you fail this time>

The short round man hit the 'end' button, glancing around to see if 
he was being watched or followed.  He pulled a rag that passed for a handkerchief from his back pocket and scrubbed at his 
sweat-drenched face. Sweat in early fall morning briskness. He 
needed a new career. And if he allowed his current track record to 
continue, a new one might be the least of his concerns.

Proteus slammed the handset back into the charging station, nearly 
knocking it from his cluttered desk. He wondered, not for the first
time in the past week, how he managed to have some many weak links 
working for him. More to the point, who had hired the buffoons.

Yes, he had appointed the man who hired The Short Round Man and the
assorted others that were supposed to ensure that his business ran 
smoothly.  A lot hinged on things running smoothly...a lot. More 
concerned with the latest development, he opened the personnel 
files himself, hoping to discover someone who could not only follow 
orders without question, but exercise expert judgment when necessary.

He grabbed the phone, nearly disconnecting it and stabbed at the 
numerical buttons. He was about to bellow for his assistant, 
demanding that he program the speed dial for him, but the line was 
picked up.

<We've got a major shift in priorities>

"Yeah? So what else is new?"

<What is it today with smart asses? Look, I need you to get up here
on the first flight and be discreet, damn it>

Before he could hear the response, Proteus slammed the phone down. 
He was nervous.  His associate was good, better than most, but he 
lived life large and made a point of showing the world just how 
large he liked to live. In this business, discretion was the better 
part of staying alive and reaping big rewards.

Pushing away from his black lacquer, glass topped desk, he stood. 
He moved toward the plate glass window of his 'office', looking out 
over Lake Champlain.  Absentmindedly, he tugged gently at the small 
gold ring in his left ear and swept back the deep silver hair that 
constantly threatened to fall in his face.  Steel blue eyes gazed 
at the small white caps on the water, imagining the sounds as they 
broke over the shore. He crossed his arms, the charcoal Armani 
jacket straining across the firm muscles of his back.

He'd made a decision. If his associate couldn't facilitate the 
proposition, he would step in himself. The corners of his otherwise 
thin-lipped, straight line lips turned up just slightly.  He knew 
exactly what he'd do first.

*^*^*^*^*^  
Radisson Conference Center
Burlington,
16 September
9:30AM

She was surprised to wake up so easily after her 'event' last 
night. She wasn't sure what to really call it… It wasn't the first 
time she'd experienced those symptoms and deep inside, she was 
afraid it wasn't the last, either.

As with the earlier occurrences, she had her suspicions and had 
done some preliminary work while still in D.C., but hadn't had the 
time to discover anything, really. She needed more time.

The only bright spot, if she could really think of it in that way, 
was that the symptoms didn't seem to be long-lived nor produce any 
lasting effects. Other than some fatigue and a bit more tiredness, 
she felt fine. 'Fine'... She wasn't so sure she knew the meaning of 
that word anymore; at least not in how it related to her current 
situation.

She showered and dressed quickly, looking forward to the upcoming 
sessions and reconnecting with her colleagues. She knew they'd have
questions, but hoped they'd respect her wishes to not discuss it 
now. Maybe never.

*^*^*
11:00AM
The last session had been intriguing and actually managed to hold 
her attention for the entire ninety minutes. As she was leaving the
lecture hall, she was approached by one of the conferees.

"Excuse me, aren't you Dana Scully?" She looked at the man, noting 
immediately the deep green eyes that seemed to catch the over-head 
lighting.

"Yes I am.  Do I know you?"

"I don't think so and I'm sorry to be so forward, it's just that 
I've always wanted to meet you.  I'm in the third year class at 
Quantico and your name is legendary there."  

Suppressing a smile, she merely nodded at his very obvious 
adoration. This was not the first time her reputation had preceded 
her, but it still surprised her.

"Legendary? Hardly."

His fidgeting fingers drew her attention.  "Is there something I 
can do for you, Mr.--?"

"Oh, it's Joshua, Joshua Simmons. Well, I was wondering if we might 
be able to talk a little more about your dissertation? On the 
Twins Paradox? I'm fascinated and it would be helpful to my 
research. I've cited your paper and findings already."

Scully blushed, angry that she allowed his comments to affect her 
professional demeanor. She was about to thank him when her 
cellphone chirped.

"Excuse me, Joshua. I need to take this." Smiling at him, she 
flipped the phone open, one hand on her hip, the other at her ear. 
She walked toward the alcove.

"Scully."

<It's me>

She looked down at her feet as the highly polished toe of her 
aubergine pump pushing into the taupe carpeting. The heat in her 
face did not dissipate.  

"Mulder?"

His voice floated into her via her ear, caressing as it traveled.

<What're you wearing, Scully?>

She was sure he had heard her brief intake of breath before she 
responded with what she hoped was a stern tone. "Mulder!"

<You didn't answer my question>

The man was not about to give up. And she was not about to give in.

"Try another question, Mulder. I'm busy right now."

She paced the width of the alcove, glad most other people had moved 
to the Hospitality Suites for session breaks. She noted that Joshua 
was biding his time right where she'd left him.

<Busy? Do you really call talking to that wet-behind-the-ears pup, 
'busy'?>

Stopping in her tracks, she whirled around quickly while striving 
to appear collected. Her eyes took in the area directly adjacent to 
the alcove and the seating area where Joshua still stood.

Her voice grew quieter. "Where are you, Mulder?" And then it 
dropped even lower and softer. "I thought we weren't supposed to 
be seen together."

She never thought to look above to the mezzanine level. Never saw 
his elbows on the polished brass railing, the cream-colored 
cashmere Johnny-collar pullover setting off his darker hair. Didn't
notice the way his chocolate-brown worsted wool trouser clad hips 
swayed imperceptibly to some unheard tune.

<We're not 'together', Scully. I'm up here and you're down there 
with the youthful lad>

Her eyes darted above her moving past his location twice before 
settling on him. The cellphone still at hear ear, her lips slightly 
parted, she registered the fact that he had changed his 'look' again...completely. She hoped she never had to choose quickly 
between the all-black/all-leather look and the GQ cover look. The 
decision would take more years than she had to be rendered.

She regained her composure, noticing the smugly satisfied look on 
his grinning face. The way his eyes seemed to follow her curves in 
her aubergine pantsuit. 

She snapped the phone closed, ending any further comment from him, 
swiveled on her heel and headed back toward the still waiting 
Joshua Simmons.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Joshua, why don't we..." The 
stunned look in the Quantico student's eyes registered a split 
second before she felt the hand on her elbow.

"Do excuse us. Agent Scully and I have important Bureau matters to 
discuss." Her mouth once again hung open as her partner quickly 
guided her to the alcove.  Turning back, she noticed that the 
adoring Mr. Simmons had fled.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mulder?" She tugged her 
arm free of his hand, crossing her arms in front of her chest. The 
imperious eyebrow framed her glaring look. "And this better be 
good, very good."

How he managed to look so smooth even while she knew he was doing 
his level best to manufacture some response he hoped she'd buy, 
she'd never know. Didn't think she ever wanted to know. What she 
*did* know was that he was downright pleased with himself. And it 
was probably because he had scared off her solo fan club member.

"Don't be angry, Scully, I'm here for noble reasons." She allowed 
herself to be led to a two-seater, turning toward him and crossing 
her legs at the knee.

"Care to share with the class, Mulder?"  One of his favorite 
phrases thrown back at him with the patented Scully Neutral face.

"Cut me some slack; I just wanted to see how you were feeling after 
last night. I was worried about you."

For the briefest of moments, her look softened. For all his bravado 
and playfulness, she knew he had been very concerned for her last 
night and would have stayed with her in a minute had she agreed to 
his offer.

Then, she realized they were together in a highly public place. She 
recalled his earlier admonitions and her anger flared.  He couldn't 
tell her what he was doing in Vermont, she couldn't be seen with 
him, yet he casually dropped in on her, wasn't concerned for even 
his own safety.

"Look, I know you're worried about me, but as you can see, I really 
*am* fine. Besides, you could have found that out by calling 
me -- from home; wherever *that* is. I just don't get it. You can't 
tell me anything, you shove me away and then here you are."

Her remarks definitely had an effect. He stood slowly, his hands in 
his pockets, the indecision on his face clearly visible.

"Look, I know I took a risk coming here, Scully, but I had to see 
you. You're right, we aren't supposed to be seen together, but I 
don't think anyone's watching and--"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing.  Rationalization from 
the man who sees conspiracies in most things? The man who trusts no 
one? This was spooky and Halloween was still more than month away.

She reached for his forearm, glancing around quickly, and led him 
into a corner-recessed area sheltered by potted miniature palms.  
The feel of the lightweight cashmere against his arm was 
wonderfully warm. Her mind wandered, wondering, knowing just how 
wonderfully warm his ass would feel under her hands, under the 
fine wool so nicely draping him. 

She wondered, not for the first time, exactly how she did that. How 
she could go from clinical detachment and critical observation 
straight to unchecked and unbridled lust.

The blush from earlier returned, much to her dismay, and it brought 
with it a slowly darkening stare from him.

The weight of his hands on her shoulders and then skimming down 
the sleeves of her jacket brought her out of her momentary haze. 

"You, Mulder? *You* don't think anyone's watching? Did I hear you 
correctly?"

Her voice was an exasperated whisper as she continued. "Mulder, you 
have always thought people are watching us. You're slipping. And 
it's going to get you hurt."

"Are you finished, Scully?"

He didn't wait for her to answer.  "Can I help it if I just wanted 
to--"

It was his turn for a phone call. "Mulder"

<Mulder, it's Skinner. I haven't heard from you since you arrived 
and I need to know what's happening>

"Yes, ok, I'll look into it and get back to you."

Scully didn't believe him for one moment.

<Who's there with you, Mulder? Tell me it's not Agent Scully. If 
you've jeopardized...>  

She stood to one side of him, her hands on her hips, her foot 
barely tapping the carpet impatiently.

"No, that won't work. But I'll go right now and take care of it."  
Mulder flipped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket 
and started moving toward the main lobby.

Seeing through his transparent charade with his unknown caller, 
Scully decided that following him would be fruitless.

Besides, he'd probably show up again later. Somewhere where she'd 
least expect him to be.

He slowed his pace just before rounding the corner toward the 
registration desk. He was still within her view as he turned back 
around, the hint of a smile lighting his eyes. Shaking her head, 
fighting the acknowledgment she knew was already in her eyes.

His look told her that he had not yet finished their impromptu 
conversation. That there would be more...
 
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