^*^*^
Pine Street Boardinghouse
Noontime

Dropping his keys on the coffee table, Mulder wiped the back of his 
hand across his forehead, whisking sweat droplets away. For early 
fall, the weather reminded him much more of the muggy heat of a 
D.C. summer. He'd run as far as the docks, but even there the air 
was dead, still and hung over him like a presence. At least his 
muscles were warm enough to give him a good workout.

Not that Scully hadn't done that for him, but he needed to get all 
his muscles going and really needed a much more sustained workout. 
Especially because he had a lot on his mind and running seemed to 
help him sort through it all.

He switched on the AC as he toed off his running shoes and reached 
down to yank the damp, dank socks from his feet. His toes wriggled 
and flexed in the low nap of the throw rug as he padded to the 
kitchenette. Pulling the refrigerator door open, he guzzled straight
from the juice carton, the orange both cooling and slightly stinging 
his parched throat. He never was one to carry water on his runs.

He peeled the wet tank from his chest and slung the armhole over 
the door handle, making his way into the bathroom. Reaching behind 
the curtain, he turned on the shower making sure the water was good 
and hot before pulling it closed again.  Gripping the elastic 
waistband of his nylon shorts, he tugged the wet fabric down over 
his hips and legs, leaving them in a heap on the tile floor.

Clad only in his briefs, he reached for his toothbrush. Just as the 
phone rang. Hoping it was Scully, he set the toothpaste and brush 
on the sink and headed for the nightstand. "Hello?" 

His hopes were dashed when a decidedly male voice replied. "Hello, 
Mr. Arsenault." Not waiting for an acknowledgment, the deep 
baritone rumbled on. "We are in need of your services. My 
associates and I will be waiting for you at the nearby house. We'll 
be looking for you at one." Zale disconnected before Mulder could 
do much more than open his mouth; not sure whether he'd planned to 
ask a question or make a statement. Either way, it was now a moot 
point as he hung up.

Billows of steam had now filled the bathroom and mushroomed out 
into the bedroom area. Pulling the door closed, Mulder dug out his 
cellphone and speed dialed.

<Scully>

Not wasting any time, he skipped the preamble, "I've got a job. Not 
sure when I'll be back, so go on with whatever you were planning on 
doing for the rest of today."

She could tell that he was about to end the call, so she hastened, 
<What job? Talk to me>

Semi-evasion. Subtle, but there. She always knew. The case dictated
some of it, considering his cover, but she expected a bit more 
since they were working together. Supposedly.

"I should be back in a few hours or maybe a little longer. I'll 
call you."

She didn't hesitate to allow some of the irritation she was feeling 
make itself known. <Are you sure about that, Mulder? That you'll 
call? Just tell me where you're headed at least>

Putting his remaining time to good use, he tried to one-handedly 
remove the sweaty briefs from his clammy skin. It wasn't working 
very well. He had to get moving. "Scully, look, I'm heading for a 
house on Cherry Street. Have to be there by one and I'm trying to 
jump in the shower. That's all I know." Almost as an afterthought, 
he added, "And yes, I'm sure that I'll call you."

Her tone softened slightly, although the edge honed by concern for 
his safety was still present. This case presently had too many 
unknowns and with her partner's penchant for running straight into 
the face of trouble, she felt she had good reason to be wary.  <If 
you don't, Mulder, I'll hunt you down. Now get that nice ass of 
yours into the shower>

His smile could've lit the city of Burlington. "I have a nice ass?"

She had disconnected.

^*^*^
115 Cherry Street Apartment 16
1:10PM

"You're late, Mr. Arsenault. Not a very auspicious start." 

Zale dug his hands into his suit coat pockets conjuring the image 
of some dowdy librarian to Mulder, although he'd be hard pressed to
say why. He refrained from offering his observation, however, and 
stood neutral under the polished man's scrutiny. Even though his 
eyes were carefully schooled directly in front of him, he caught 
movement off to his right, a trained Agent's reflexes always on 
alert.

He heard the voice moments before he caught sight of the platinum 
blonde hair that had been swept up casually, strands falling out 
of those hair clips that reminded him of chopsticks. 

"You know the routine Mr. Arsenault. Against the wall, please."

"You always this polite or is this special just for me?" Mulder 
moved toward the wall and assumed the spread-eagle pose, his palms 
on the wall, but his face remained turned toward her. "I thought 
we'd taken care of this the first time."

The force of Zale's hand on his ear neatly turning his head to face
the wall suggested that he not turn again. "It would mean a lot if 
you could remember your manners, Mr. Arsenault. I've found things 
go so much easier when you do."

The senior Associate had moved to one side to allow Jemel to move 
in behind the undercover Agent. As her hands began their search, 
Zale explained the purpose of the 'meeting'. 

"The Boss needs another delivery, but this time, you work as part 
of a team." The man stood close enough to be heard if he were 
whispering. Instead, his voice boomed into Mulder's ear, making 
him wince. He considered telling him this, but had a feeling that 
against the two of them, with no weapon, he was probably outnumbered. 

Meanwhile, Jemel's body search seemed to be a little more 
'thorough' than he remembered it the first time. Particularly in 
those areas she should have known he'd be quite unable to conceal 
a weapon. He moved. Or rather, he jumped.

Her hands firmly on his hips and Zale's forcing his neck to the 
wall got the message across pointedly. But, hell, if she didn't 
stop practicing the fine art of erotic body search...

She actually purred. With all the subtlety of a lioness with a 
thorn in her paw. "I'm pretty sure you're not packing anything...
dangerous to my continued breathing. If you hold still, I can 
finish without further need for Mr. Zale's assistance."

Mulder released a rather large lungful of air he hadn't realized 
he'd sucked in, but kept still and quiet.

Her body pressed rather close to his, she finished with the upper 
body search and then, seemingly satisfied that she found nothing, 
she walked around him, removing one of his hands from the wall. 
Causing him to nearly fall against it.

"You're working with me and Zale and we leave at five." One hip 
jutting to the side and her arms crossed over her chest, she 
focused her gaze on him.

Causing him to feel as if he were being pinned to the wall behind 
them. "Where are we going?" He risked interrupting, but also 
realized that this was probably as much about testing him as 
figuring out how he'd work with them as a team.

It was Zale who answered him, also telling Mulder that he was 
expected to participate. He supposed he'd find out if he 
overstepped his bounds. So, he repeated his question, surprised to 
find his new colleagues smiling at him. Even so, he put little 
stock in the meaning behind their upturned lips.

Jemel tucked a few strands of falling hair back into the twist in 
back and approached the new associate. "Well, Chris, we're heading 
north of here, St. Albans Bay. We've got a few colleagues to talk 
to. We've planned a little party. Two of the northern contingent, 
Zale, me...and you."

Mulder watched the gleam in her eye. A decidedly deadly gleam. This
woman was powerful and he guessed she was pretty well connected in 
this organization. Hard as nails too. She was edgy strength with a 
taut intelligence. He'd have to stay sharp around her.

She left barely enough room between them for even a breath. "You do
well on this trip and good things could come your way." Nearly 
matching him in height in her chunky bootheels, he felt the heat of 
her words, but held his ground, neither backing up nor stepping 
forward. For what seemed like several extra long minutes, they both 
held their positions, their eyes locked, breathing tight.

"Well, much as I hate to break up this little stand-off, we've got 
some preparations to make. Be back here by five sharp, Chris, or we
got without you." Zale's smile remained on the southern part of his
freshly shaved face.

^*^*^
Radisson Hotel
2:30PM

Scully stopped at the desk, checking to see if any messages had 
been left for her. More habit from other travels than actually 
expecting anything, she was not surprised to find that she had 
nothing waiting. She felt amazingly good -- energetic and lively 
with none of the residual sluggishness of the previous bouts of 
dizziness and nausea.  She hypothesized that whatever lingering 
side effects she previously experienced were waning.

Either that or a night of good sex with Mulder was the answer.

She felt the heat rise from her neck, warming her face right to her 
hairline as she approached the elevators. Her mind occupied, she 
barely registered the doors opening and closing or her finger 
depressing the button for her floor. The wood paneling behind her 
felt comfortingly warm against her back as she leaned into it.

She pulled her cellphone from her pocket as she stepped off the 
elevator and headed toward her room, the need to call him in the 
forefront.

<Mulder>

"Mulder, it's me."

<I know, Scully>

The man could be so smug. And so infuriatingly unpredictable.

And endearing, she thought, as she rounded the corner to see him 
sitting on the floor outside her room, cellphone to his ear. 
Looking impossibly, adorably carefree.

Simultaneously snapping their phones off and returning them to 
their pockets, the two Agents stared at each other; a test of wills.

It was Mulder who smirked first. Clasping her outstretched hand, he 
clambered to his feet asking, "So, how was your meeting?" Her hand 
still in his, he pulled her toward him, their bodies touching.

"What're you doing here, Mulder?" Her words were whispered. Her 
hair fell back off her shoulders as she regarded him. What was it 
about this man that allowed a change in her plans--heck...a change 
in her life? Thinking she'd come home and relax for awhile before 
calling him, she'd been surprised, albeit pleasantly, to find him 
waiting for her. Seeing him sitting outside her door had caused a 
of thoughts and emotions. Minor irritation that her planned time 
alone was about to disappear. Amusement at his playfulness. Sudden 
contentment that they'd have some unexpected time together. 

The change in plans was a good thing.

With a quick kiss to her forehead, he took her other hand. "I was 
waiting for you. Let's go inside." He took the keycard from her 
and slid it down through the slot, activating the green light, 
opening the door. Still holding her hand, he led Scully into her 
room.

Steadying herself as she gripped his shoulder, she bent to pull off
her shoe and then toed off the other with her stockinged foot. Next
came the jacket, unbuttoned, shrugged off as she walked farther 
into the room. Mulder trailing right behind her.
 
When she set the jacket down on the bed, she turned back around, 
heading for the bathroom. "Mulder. Down boy."

He couldn't see her face, but he knew that she needed a little 
private time, so he plopped down into the club chair, propping his 
feet on the ottoman. Listening to the sound of running water in the
background, he called out, "How was your day, Scully?"

She peered around the doorframe, her hair pulled into a ponytail at 
her nape and a few clips holding stray locks in place. She resisted 
the matching smile to her partner's as he took in her soapy face 
and fingertips. "Busy. Informative." Ducking back to the sink, she 
splashed some water on her skin and then, looking over her left 
shoulder, called back to him, "How about yours?"

Patting her face dry and freeing her hair, she walked back toward 
her partner. "Mulder?"

Chin on his chest, arms folded in front of him, feet crossed at the
ankles. Special Agent Fox Mulder was sound asleep.  On tiptoes, she
approached him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

And found herself in his lap with his lips on hers.

"My day was so-so. Got a call to visit the new colleagues." The 
kiss was quickly intense and all-too short-lived as he muttered 
into her neck.  A sometimes signal that a bit of information 
withholding might be on his agenda.

Twisting out of his embrace, she idly pushed his hair out of his 
face and then tipped his face up so their eyes met. "And?"

"*And* I'm in on a job. Tonight." Her look was unreadable, but his 
trained eye told him this information was probably not winning him 
any points. 
 
"Where to? What did you find out?" Sliding off his lap, Scully 
reached down to take his feet off the ottoman. Sitting on it, she 
scooted forward, her hands on his knees. He had her undivided 
attention.

He was actually surprised that her first words hadn't been to 
remind him that they'd said they would join Bryan and Kimberley for 
a night out. Shaking his head imperceptibly, he placed his hands 
atop hers and explained about his visit with Zale and Jemel. Told 
her about their trip north in a few short hours.

Reading her mind, knowing before she said it that she was going to 
back out of the date with her friends because he might not make it 
back. "I can meet you all there later tonight. Zale said we won't 
be spending any time there. I think this is a drop off and pick up.
Getting in and back out quickly will be important."

"The town, Mulder?"

"Small town on the Lake Champlain shore, right up Interstate 89."

"Mulder..." The man could be so obstinate sometimes.

"St. Albans Bay. I just happen to have a map..." Extracting the 
oddly re-folded document from his jacket pocked, he placed his 
hands on the ottoman on either side of her legs and pushed her back 
far enough to lay the map on the rug between them. Kneeling beside 
her, he located Burlington and finger-traced the path to his 
meeting place. "I'm not sure where I'll be."

"What about a wire?"

"Too early for that. This sounds like small stuff. It's just a test 
run." Refolding the map into something that somewhat resembled its 
earlier form, he set it on the chair. "So, what time are you 
meeting them?"

"I don't think I'll go. I'm kind of tired and should probably do 
some research from the information we gathered today. Maybe I could 
even check up on your new friends...After all, Skinner did assign 
me as your back-up." She was up and moving around the room as she 
spoke, finally landing on the edge of the bed.

"You're not tired, Scully, and the research can wait until 
tomorrow. You're just backing out on a night of fun with friends." 
Sitting down beside her, he snaked his arm around her waist. 

"You look pretty hot, Agent."  Green was a good color on her, he 
noted. "How about a kiss before I go?" Without waiting for her 
reply, he fell backward, taking her with him until she was lying 
flat on her back, their lower legs hanging over the edge. "Tell me 
you'll go." He kissed the tip of her nose.

Smirking, she raised a skeptical eyebrow and told him she'd 'think
about it'.

"I see I'm going to have employ the Mulder Method of Persuasion." 
Her giggle alone was worth his attempt at humor, he mused. "Where 
to start...hmm..." Rolling onto his side to face her, one long leg 
draping across hers, he stared into her eyes. "Is it working yet?"

"Is what working?" When did she start grinning like a Cheshire Cat?
And why couldn't she stop?

Turning her head away from him, he nuzzled her neck with his nose 
and lips. "You should go, Scully. When was the last time you went 
out? When was the last time you really had fun? When--"

Returning to face him, she shoved him, her hand square against his 
chest, and laughed as he dropped onto his back. "Were you planning 
on pausing to allow me to answer any one of those questions, 
Mulder? Just for your information, not that I have to answer, mind 
you, I seem to remember having 'fun' with you rather recently. I 
seem to recall us having fun together..."

Now it was his turn to laugh and she collapsed, half of her body 
covering him. 

Running her fingers through the hair at his temples, she rolled his 
head to one side, her warm puffs of breath making the short hairs on
his neck stand up and take notice. He idly wondered what her lips 
were doing *there* when they should be covering his...

And then he had his answer.

"I'll go. As long as you promise to join us when you get back. I 
want to see that sexy body of yours on the dance floor." With a 
quick kiss to his cheek, she sat up, patting him on his chest.

As she sauntered back toward the bathroom, untucking her sage silk 
tank, she told him, "Better hurry up, Mulder; don't want to be late 
for your trip."

Just a little breathless and flushed, he sat up, running his hand 
through his hair. She sure liked to keep him on his toes. 

^*^*^
Radisson Hotel
Penthouse Suite
4:00PM

She paid them handsomely, but they earned their keep. One or two 
had been discarded along the way; no hurt feelings. She just had no 
time for sniveling young men who believed they had the looks, the 
prowess and/or the intelligence to keep pace with her. Their first 
mistake was assuming that she would allow them to bed her. Their 
second mistake was usually their inability to fully comprehend the 
meaning of the word 'no'.

Denzel and Jeremy were the first to go. They'd served their 
purpose, but they had limits. Ward and Jorge managed to last. Their 
current assignment was simple. Keep her apprised of the comings and 
goings of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. They were very good at what 
they did.

Which was why she was currently dressed in black from head to toe. 
Flat shoes, Levis, Tommy Girl long-sleeved tee and, for later, 
black kidskin gloves and matching Wilson's jacket. She'd removed 
her jewelry to allow her to blend in.

Her latest information indicated that although Fox was visiting 
Dana, he was headed out of town with some new associates. Her 
curiosity was piqued. Very much so. He was going without his 
partner. Very interesting.

Much as she wanted to know what that woman was up to, she knew she 
could rely on Jorge to watch her tonight. Her raven-haired, 
blue-eyed employee thought he'd fit in at the club Dana would be 
visiting with her friends. She'd eyed him skeptically, wondering 
just how he planned to appear inconspicuous since his usual dress 
consisted of a pair of the tightest jeans just this side of not 
being able to breathe and an assortment of navy tees. She hoped the
man realized he was going for a night of fancy dancing...  

As quickly as the thoughts had crossed her mind, they'd been 
shelved away. Sometimes the committee in her head got a little 
carried away, tending to pull her away from the matter at hand. 
She'd long ago abandoned the notion that Fox would seek her out and 
ask her to come back to their relationship. But that was all she'd 
abandoned. She knew that he was merely a bit confused right now, 
that his officious partner had clouded his ability to reason and to
see his way clear to accept her back into his life.

Well, she'd take care of both his meddling red-haired partner and 
his inability to see just how much he didn't need that excuse for a
woman.

Diana had neither the time nor inclination to dissect the nature of
the strange relationship between the two Agents. Why bother when 
her main goal was to sever their ties?

Snapping the end pieces of the straps to secure her fanny pack, she 
deposited her keys, some cash, a Maglite and mini-binoculars 
inside. She zipped it closed as she left the room, her crooked 
smile lighting the sparkle in her eyes. 

Tonight could indeed be her night if she played her cards right.  

^*^*^
Raddisson Hotel
Dana Scully's Room
5:30PM

Stepping out of the shower, her hair wrapped in a towel, she dried 
off and slipped into her robe. Waiting for the overhead exhaust fan 
to clear the condensation from the mirror, she removed the towel 
from her hair and patted the ends, removing the excess moisture. A 
small amount of gel worked through, she picked up the blow dryer 
and bent over from the waist. A few quick passes from the warm 
forced air and she was finished. As she returned to face the 
now-cleared mirror, she turned her head from side to side, liking 
the way the gentle waves and occasional curl fell around her face 
and shoulders.

She knew Mulder liked her hair this way; he said it was 'sexy' and 
'soft'. She felt the heat rise in her face remembering the first 
time he'd told her... his long fingers tangling in her hair...the 
way his lips touched her hair...then her forehead, each cheek and 
finally...her lips. As she'd parted her lips to mesh with his, he'd 
breathed the words into their kiss. She'd wanted to laugh, but when 
he'd bent down and picked up her very scantily-clad body and melded 
it with his already-naked one, she'd decided laughter was 
definitely not what she was feeling at that moment. He had a way 
with words...

She pulled on her taupe satin thong, adjusting the spaghetti thin 
fabric to rest on her hips.  From the closet, she unclipped the 
mocha microfiber skirt from its hanger. Bending over, she stepped 
into the snug garment and shimmied it up and over her curves. The 
low-riding band sat just below her navel, hugging her hips and then 
clung to her, stopping just above the knee. She grabbed the hangar 
with her top from the mirrored closet and carried it over to the 
brass drawer handle of the highboy chest of drawers. The pale 
bronze gossamer fly-away shirt had three small buttons from the 
breastbone to just below the chest, leaving the deep neckline and 
her midriff open. She removed the velvety brown satin push up bra 
from her lingerie drawer and put it on. Eyeing the shirt once 
again, she was glad the weather had turned much warmer. Or she'd be 
freezing in this outfit. That is, unless a certain tall dark and 
handsome G-Man showed up in time to keep her warm.

She shrugged into the top, fastening the extra long French cuffs at 
her wrists and adjusting the collar wings to lay flat. The squared 
off shirttails with the deep side slits fell longer in the back and 
just above her hips in front. She hadn't had much opportunity to 
wear this outfit before now and silently thanked Kimberley for 
inviting her and Mulder.

She padded back into the bathroom to set her robe on the hook 
behind the door and put on her make-up. Applying some chocolate 
kohl around her eyes, she smudged it into the creases and along 
the lid line. She topped that with some mocha powder, drawing it 
upward toward her brows. A sweep of mascara finished her eyes. 
She applied some light bronzing cream to her face and deep berry 
stain to her full lips. A pair of small gold hoops complimented 
the neck chain dangling her cross into the dip in her neckline.

Things had been going too smoothly, she mused, when she realized 
she couldn’t find her leather slides. Since there was a finite 
number of places they could be, she methodically searched the room, 
locating them finally in the closet where she'd last set them. The 
wide thick heels added two inches to her natural height and the 
wide brown leather strap hugged her instep allowing her burgundy 
painted toenails to show.  

^*^*^
Interstate Route 89
North to St. Albans Bay
5:00PM

The cab wasn’t exactly cozy; at least that wasn't the way Mulder 
would have described the Jemel sandwich he and Zale formed.  Why 
they were using the dilapidated and old Chevy pick-up, he didn’t 
know. Oh, it was a classic -- the rounded hood and wheel panels, 
the low floorboards, the bottle green paint job. But it was also 
very crowded. These two could probably afford something a little 
more spacious and much more elegant.

They made quite the interesting trio dressed in black head to toe. 
Even Jemel's golden locks had been tucked up under a midnight 
baseball cap.

"So what's on our agenda for tonight?" His right shoulder had become 
one with the passenger door and his left arm was mashed into his 
side. If that weren't comfortable enough, he mused, his knees were 
wedged into the glovebox. He hoped they'd tell him they'd changed 
their minds and either called off the trip or were on their way to 
a much roomier vehicle.

No such luck.

With his hands at the classic 'ten o'clock' position, Zale 
explained, "We have a delivery. Actually, you have the delivery 
Chris." The sun was painting a glowing trail in the sky to their 
left, allowing the driver to turn his head to look past Jemel. To 
see the look of surprise on the newest recruit's face. "Go ahead, 
reach into your pocket." Almost as if he really had second 
thoughts, he shook his head saying, "Oh, wait; I'm sorry. You can't 
move, can you? I'll let Jemel locate it for you."

Nodding imperceptibly at his partner in the middle, he smirked with 
amusement. So he was playing back up to the new Number One. At 
least she let him have some fun. And now it was her turn.

He squirmed and almost squeaked. Her small but strong hands found 
him, one resting on his left shoulder for support as she angled 
toward him while the other seemed to snake along his thigh. He 
wanted to tell her that if anything had been hidden there, he'd 
certainly have known it, but his voice didn't seem to be working. 
Luckily, her movements were also economical and brutally efficient 
as she found the pocket of his leather jacket and slipped her hand 
inside. Since he'd decided to watch her little maneuver, their 
foreheads all but collided.

"I know it's in here somewhere," she purred with mock frustration 
that none of the three actually bought. And find it she did. In the 
far front corner of the pocket that happened to lay against the 
crease in his jeans where his thigh met his groin. Slowly sliding 
her hand back out of the pocket, she held up the small stoppered 
vial. "Behold."

"When the hell did that find its way into my pocket?" Mulder's 
voice sounded even louder in the close confines of the cab.

Her hand tapping his black denim clad thigh, her smiling croon told 
him, "Temper, temper Chris. You'll learn so much if you pay 
attention and do the job right."

Feigning impudent annoyance, 'Chris' shoved the animated hand from 
his leg and said, "I'll do the job right, but only if I know what 
the heck it is." 

Just beyond the aquiline features of Jemel's face, Mulder could see 
the glint in Zale's dark eyes. "Patience, Mr. Arsenault, patience. 
All good things come to those who take a breath and relax, as they 
say."

"Shut up, Zale." The sting in her voice was softened by the smirk 
on her face. Turning as much as she could toward the passenger 
door, she sketched the parameters of their job for tonight. "It's 
really very simple, Chris," she explained, balancing the slender 
vial between her thumb and index finger.  "Let me introduce you 
to 'Pro-Tea', a highly refined and distilled liquid. But it's so 
much more than that."
 
Mulder could see and hear the admiration in her voice. She held the 
substance as if it were a priceless commodity and in essence, 
that's probably what it was in certain markets. He suspected they 
were headed for one of those markets tonight. "So, bring me up to 
speed." 

He gathered that he'd said the right words as he smile widened 
considerably and she threw her head back emitting a throaty laugh. 
Quickly reestablishing her composure, she stroked his cheek. He 
would have described it as 'reverently' or 'seductively' had it 
not been for the sharp scratch of her nails as her eyes narrowed.

"In good time, Chris, all in good time. Tonight, you watch, you use 
those beautiful eyes to pay special attention and you keep these," 
her bloody finger tip dragged across his lips, "closed unless 
spoken to. Are we clear?" A slight smile played across her mouth 
before she pocketed the vial in her jacket and turned around to 
face the interstate.

Mulder found himself muttering something close to 'yes, we're 
clear', but he wasn't sure if he'd merely thought it or vocalized 
his response. One hand came up to his left cheek, feeling the 
slight tingling from the path of her nails. He wondered how he was 
going to explain the scratches to Scully.

^*^*^
Sometimes she wondered whether she was thinking clearly. She didn't 
question herself often; there was no need. She was well-educated, 
well-trained and more than cunning, clever and creative. But every 
once in awhile, she was curiously puzzled to find that she wondered 
about her motives and her reasons for her actions.

This was one of those times, on two counts. The more pedestrian 
issue was why she was tailing him herself. He already knew she was 
in town and had walked out on her once. Did she think he wouldn't 
do so again? 

The second issue was more complex and it worried her. Worried her 
that she allowed the doubt at such a crucial point in her plan. 
Worried that it was going to fail. She didn't want to ask the 
question, but it came to the surface of her mind like so many 
fast-driven air bubbles percolating relentlessly.

What if she couldn't convince him to come with her? What if he 
truly believed he loved Dana Scully? She'd known about his 
single-mindedness, had seen it in action. Had loved it when it was 
focused on her or their search for answers.

That was most assuredly not the case now. Now when it was focused 
on *that woman*.

With a few deep, cleansing breaths, she regained a modicum of 
control. She refocused as her Jetta consumed the miles of highway 
bringing her closer to wherever he was going. She would make him 
understand where he belonged and why.

Her attention now riveted on the taillights of the truck in front 
of her; she tried to ascertain what was transpiring inside the 
cab. The small rounded window in the back only allowed her to make 
out three heads. She knew who they were from her earlier 
surveillance, but she didn't particularly like the attention the 
blonde woman seemed to be paying Fox. When she saw her hand come up 
to his face, she seethed, inadvertently stepping on the gas pedal 
harder than she intended, causing the red car to surge forward. 
Nearly giving her away. 

Visualize. Breathe. Focus. Her mind/body training kicked in because 
she forced it to. She was perilously close to having an anxiety 
attack. Fox. He was her focus, her goal.

She slowed as the pick-up headed for the left-hand exit onto 
Route 7. Dusk was settling in around the blacktop, the brilliant 
orange-reds of the autumn sunset sinking low over the water to 
her west.

She was forced to pull over to allow them to gain some distance as 
the traffic dispersed. The residential neighborhoods off to the 
right diminished the farther northwest she drove, giving way to a 
line of non-descript low structures, mostly likely warehouses.  
Once she noted their turn-off, she pulled into the abandoned lot 
south of their location. Hiding the Jetta up against the 
dilapidated adjoining building, she got out, pocketing her keys. 

^*^*^ 
The Breakwater Cafe
King Street Ferry Dock
Burlington
7:00PM

She found them sitting outside on the Breakwater's wrap-around 
porch as she rounded the building's west-side. Bryan's arm was 
slung across Kimberley's shoulders, his fingers idly massaging her 
bare skin. Although the sun had nearly melted into the darkening 
waters of Lake Champlain, the evening air had retained some of the 
distant summer warmth. The thin cross-straps of her black linen 
sheath set off the woman's blonde waves, carefully pinned up on one 
side. Her crimson 'shrug' lay in her lap. Her partner beamed at 
her, as if caught up in watching her, although she seemed fixated 
on some point off to the right of their porch swing.

He was the first to notice Scully, smiling and standing to greet 
her warmly. He self-consciously tugged on his navy and white 
checked short-sleeved button-down shirt and then swept his hands 
over his navy khakis. "Hi Dana. Glad you could join us." He 
flashed her a wide grin as Kimberley rose beside him, obviously 
equally pleased to see that her friend had arrived.

"Where's Mulder?" Kimberley noted the slight slip of Dana's smile 
at the question. 

Scully climbed the three wooden steps to meet them on the porch. 
"He ended up having to go out of town, but he should be able to 
join us later." She stopped and turned quickly, ignoring her 
friend's inquiry.

"Dana? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing; I thought I heard someone coming up behind me." The 
shiver she felt unnerved her, but she hadn't seen anyone when 
she'd turned. "Let's go inside."

As Bryan held the door for the two women, Scully caught the strains 
of the band as they set up and tested their equipment. As Bryan 
ushered his fiancee inside, Scully stopped once again, sure she'd 
caught movement in the low-slung greenery that flanked the porch 
railings and bordered the steps. Telling Bryan that she'd join 
them inside, she swept past him before he had a chance to assist 
her.

As Jorge observed the fiery redhead mount the three steps, his foot 
caught in the dense, dry briars causing him to hop-step and land 
his soft-soled shoe on top of a rather sizeable pile of brush. The 
resultant sound had him biting back a string of curses. It was too 
early in his night to have to end his surveillance. Not to mention 
what his boss would do if she found out. When he'd signed on, he'd 
heard stories about two things: how well she paid and how nasty she 
could become when provoked. Jorge had also heard that the list of 
what provoked her was long and rather detailed. He had no plans 
on discovering the items on that particular list.

Recovering quickly and without undue attention drawn, he slunk back 
behind the large junipers standing sentinel along the tall sweeping 
sides of the Club. Adjusting the amplifying mic in his ear, he was 
able to pick up their idle conversation as the blond haired man 
held the door for the women. He'd moved close to the Breakwater's 
main entrance once again when his target stopped. Damn, but she 
was sensitive. He froze, but suddenly realized she meant to come 
search for him. Knowing he could not allow her to make him, he 
turned and jogged around the side of the building, hoping to duck 
into the cover of the dumpsters.

Scully silently opened the small leather handbag, her fingers 
wrapping around her weapon as she drew it out. She followed the 
foundation of the building closely, sure that she was already 
being observed. By whom, she wasn't sure. Her first thoughts 
centered on Mulder's new 'associates', remembering her first 
meeting with them in the Marketplace. Mentally wincing, she blinked 
and tried to refocus herself as she moved around the east side of 
the Club. She stopped, looking down to the damp grass beneath her 
feet and noticed the large depressions heading away from her. 
Toward the back of the building and the loading docks. Briefly 
considering going back inside to enlist Kimberley's assistance, 
but discarding that idea knowing she'd lose valuable time.

The fact that she was following him made Jorge uneasy. Sucking in 
a noisy lungful of air, he threw his back against the bricks 
alongside the loading docks, quickly scanning the area for other 
hiding places. Diana had failed to tell him about his target's 
curiosity. Actually, he reflected, his boss hadn't said much other 
than to note everything and stay the hell out of sight. When he'd 
pressed for more information to help him adjust his surveillance 
methods, he'd been admonished to just 'do his job'. 

It was windy at this end of the building, owing to the fact that 
the nearly wide-open parking lot bordered the lakeshore. Scully's 
hair whipped around her face and her diaphanous shirt billowed 
around her causing gooseflesh to cover her stomach and bare legs. 
As she approached the corner of the building, she could see the 
several large rust-colored dumpsters ringing the loading area. She 
flattened herself to the wall, her right arm bent at the elbow, 
weapon pointed skyward. She sidled along, holding her breath. And 
heard nothing.

He'd used his time wisely, moving away from the juncture of the 
grassy side lawn and the back lot. He had no desire to tip his 
hand, hoping that eventually she'd go back inside with her friends. 

Rounding the corner, extending her arms weapon trained, she swept 
from side-to-side, seeing nothing unusual. The sudden clang 
followed by what sounded like shoes on gravel had her on full 
alert. She crouched low, using the cement steps to the receiving 
dock for concealment and then crab-walked toward the nearest 
dumpster.

She wasn't sure who jumped first. Her or the calico cat that leapt 
from the dumpster, skidding to a stop and then fleeing with a 
high-pitched 'meeeooowww'. Standing, she brushed herself off and 
sighed heavily. If there had been anyone out there, she or he was 
probably long gone...or more carefully hidden. Although she'd 
brushed off her clothing, she couldn't brush off the feeling, yet 
she headed back inside.

Jorge allowed himself one brief moment to exhale. The woman had 
been too close for comfort. He'd held himself stock-still on the 
other side of the dumpster, unaware of the feline intruder. When 
she'd decided to leap from the metal confines, she'd nearly caused 
him to call out. He'd been promised excitement, but this wasn't 
good for his young heart. He followed the Agent's movements until 
he was sure she was safely back inside and planned to remain there 
for awhile. He had to report in and was glad he wouldn't have to 
talk to the Fowley woman directly. For tonight, he worked under 
Ward and would share the information with him. 

^*^*^
34 1/2 Georgia Shore Road
St. Albans Bay, Vermont
6:00PM

"You know, much as I'm enjoying your company immensely, it's 
starting to get cramped in here." Mulder tilted his head from one 
side to the other and then dropped his chin to his chest, letting 
his head move back and forth. He wasn't surprised that neither Zale 
nor Jemel responded. His back was talking to him -- loudly -- and 
his legs were cramping in the tight confines. For some reason his 
thoughts drifted to the countless and endless miles in a 
Bureau-issued sedan he and Scully had clocked over the years. How 
much he enjoyed spending the long hours with her; in silence and 
in heated debate. Hour upon hour of two-lane blacktop, cheap 
fast-food joints, colorful and not-so-colorful motels. And though 
it all, the two of them.

"Earth to Chris," the flat of her palm shoved against his temple, 
Jemel smirked, "Anyone home?" 

Somewhat disoriented, Mulder once again took in his surroundings, 
noticing they were in a sparsely populated residential area. Old 
homes reminiscent of many others he'd seen close to the water. 
Clapboard structures in white, dingy gray or muddy brown; most 
neatly tended and lovingly cared for. The haphazardly manicured 
lawns were dotted with brown leaves tossed by the now strong 
winds off the lake.

"Are we there yet?" His sarcastic grin and his grip on Jemel's 
wrist drew the driver's attention.

"Getting impatient, are we?" Zale's eyes never left the road, but 
Mulder knew he was watching. Noticing the way Jemel's fingers 
seemed to linger just a little longer than necessary whenever she 
came into contact with their newest recruit.

Chris/Mulder noticed it, too, and set her hand firmly on her own 
leg, his eyes warning her. Warning was met with edgy amusement. He 
noticed that she enjoyed exerting control and did not like being 
on the receiving end of his.

"The first assignment is always the most anxiety producing Mr. 
Arsenault, but let me bring you up to speed." His tone was all 
business, but had softened, almost as if he were talking to a 
colleague. "We're headed to one of the boss's properties down by 
the water. It's a simple transaction tonight -- product for 
payment. You're window-dressing on this ride. Jemel hands over the 
vial, I collect the briefcase. You get face time. Got it?"

Mulder looked out the window and then turned back toward the 
driver, "Yeah, I get it."

But Jemel couldn't leave it alone, her hand now over his, squeezing 
pressure just this side of painful, "I'm not sure if you do. I've 
seen the maverick in you. Maverick doesn't play well in our 
organization. Maverick gets people dead. Do you think you can keep 
those lips sealed?" 

Her face inches from his unsettled him for reasons he wasn't sure 
he could explain, so he merely nodded his acknowledgment, 
extracting his hand from hers. 

With a lurch, the truck swung into the gravel driveway, stopping in 
front of the whitewashed garage door as Zale shifted into neutral 
and set the parking break. "Remember her words Bud, and you'll do 
just fine."

^*^*^
Diana could have sent Ward tonight, but subscribed to the old 
adage, 'don't let anyone else do what you can do better yourself'. 
Besides, this wasn't just any old job. This was Fox. Soon to be 
'her' Fox if she played her cards right.

She had followed at a discreet distance, wondering what he was 
doing in this semi-run-down neighborhood, but she shelved her 
thoughts to park her car on the side street. She slipped from 
behind the wheel, pulling her black baseball cap down over her 
eyes, her hair poking out through the hole in the back of the hat. 
Her soft-soled shoes moved soundlessly along the sidewalk as she 
approached the large Cape on the next street.

And there was that blonde woman again, wedged between the 
silver-haired man and Fox. Although they weren't touching, Diana 
wasn't quite sure about the nature of their relationship. Her 
curiosity was as piqued as her need to assure herself of her own 
place in his life.

She watched as they made their way to the side door, the other man 
holding the door for his two partners. Her homework and earlier 
surveillance led her to believe that the FBI Agent was on a case. 
Once she'd learned of the drugs connection, she was sure that 
there would be no way he was involved other than in his official 
capacity. Therefore, she had to take special care not to jeopardize 
his efforts. On the other hand, she pondered as she approached the 
large structure; he could get himself in over his head.  

She knew him. Knew his penchant for delving deeply into his work 
and also knew that he sometimes needed a lifeline. Oh, she'd heard 
his hollow platitudes for his partner and how well she watched his 
back, but she knew those beliefs of his were false. She knew in 
her heart of hearts that it was her guidance and caring that would 
keep him safe and strong.

The hedgerow, closely bordering the driveway, gave her a modicum of 
cover and a chance to lay out her next move. She was now picking up 
voices, but she didn't recognize Fox's. Mostly greetings among 
acquaintances or colleagues and introductions. That's when she 
stopped, squatting down behind the privets, but steering clear of 
the small pointy leaves and white flower clusters, one hand to her 
ear for better sound conduction. 
 
From what she could tell, there were seven people present and the 
blonde seemed to be the only woman. Diana desperately wanted to 
observe and knowing her subjects were otherwise occupied provided 
her an opportunity to move closer to the house. Staying low and 
close to the hedge wall, she made her way around the northern edge 
until she was standing across from the pick-up truck.

The conversation had stopped briefly, the sound of music and 
glassware supplanting the earlier voices. As she neared the two 
brick steps leading to the side door, she drew flush with the 
building to the left of what appeared to be the kitchen window. 
Several dark-clothed backs presented themselves, none of them her 
Fox. If they didn't move out of her way, she'd never see anything.

When, after several long minutes it appeared that they'd formed a 
body curtain blocking her view, she ducked and cautiously made her 
way around toward the front of the house. As she moved, she heard 
the woman's clipped intonations as her boots clunked on the 
hardwood floors. Diana froze under the railing of the front porch, 
the tense quality of the conversation holding her enthralled.

<What's with the new guy Jemel?>

'Proteus wants him in on this.'

<I don't care what *he* wants, this is *our* gig and I call the 
shots. What's with him, cat got his tongue?>

She held the ear piece closer as she made her way up the steps, 
ending up on her knees beside the window ledge.  

'Look, wise ass, Chris here stays. You got any problems with him, 
you take it up with the Boss. In the meantime, you want the stuff 
or not?'

Chancing a quick glance, she saw Fox, his hands stuffed in his 
jeans pockets, eyes downcast. Next to him, one hand gripping his 
leather-covered elbow, was the woman she now knew as Jemel. She had 
already decided that Jemel could be a problem but not one she 
couldn't handle. Later.

<Lemme see the stuff first> Diana watched as the speaker moved 
closer to Jemel, his eyes never leaving Fox. Much as she wanted to, 
the former Agent knew better than to interfere. As a matter of 
fact, she also knew that now was probably the time to distance 
herself from this transaction. She could hear the proceedings well 
enough from her car. It was just that she had to see him; had to 
have as much time around him as possible. 

As she moved away from the site, she heard his voice. Two things 
tipped her off; the low rumbling monotone and the fact that the man 
never did know when to keep that beautiful mouth of his closed. She 
could almost visualize the scene as it played out. The brute 
requesting the 'stuff' reaches out toward Jemel, believing she'll 
just hand it over. Jemel holds back, wanting evidence of the pay-off 
cash. Fox deciding to help move the proceedings along, probably 
under his usual mistaken notion that everyone will be as amused by 
his wry sense of humor as she. He quips about how many of them it 
seems to take to do a little transaction. From her safe post inside 
the Jetta now, she hears the thwack of the back-handed slap across 
his cheek. She does not see the glowering side-glance Jemel throws 
his way although she utters not one word. Silence follows until she 
hears the sound of shoe heels as they approach the side door. 

^*^*^
"I warned you about that mouth of yours, Chris. You're lucky all you
 got was his hand across your face." Her left arm resting on the 
driver's door slim window ledge, she lazily steered them back 
toward Route 7 with her right. She'd tossed her baseball cap onto 
the dash in front of Zale who now rode shotgun. 

Mulder had the strong suspicion that Jemel wore the pants in this 
organization. Zale had been nearly mute since they'd entered the 
shoreline home, deferring to her lead. She had what it took to be 
a leader, he mused, noting how the breeze from the open windows 
whipped her straight, fine hair about her face. After ineffectually 
attempting to rein it in, she gave up.

He wasn't sure whether or not her statement warranted a response, 
so he held his tongue. She quickly indicated she expected some type 
of response, her right leg nudging his left. He found his eyes 
wandering down to where their legs were touching, once again 
wondering why she felt the need for so much physical contact. 
Managing to rouse himself enough to pay attention again he replied, 
"Yeah, well, you know how it goes." 

He was not sure how his statement would be interpreted, but Zale 
merely shook his head. Eye rolling probably followed, but in the 
darkened cab, Mulder couldn't tell.

Jemel, on the other hand, was much more responsive. "Zale, tell the 
Boss that this one gets full status." The overhead street lamps 
briefly illuminated her smile as they sped forward to the outskirts 
of town.  

"Got it, but I'm not making any promises about what he says." 
Zale's tone told Mulder that the man might not be quite as 
enthusiastic about having a new colleague as Jemel obviously 
was.

Mulder silently followed the exchange as if he were watching an 
odd ping-pong match. They seemed to be talking as if he wasn't 
there and that was fine for him. A little less Jemel attention was 
very fine. The woman seemed to have taken a liking to him. Either 
that or this group had some strange initiation rites.
 
"So, what do you say, Chris?" Jemel's hand fell to his thigh once 
again, this time a little higher than before and Mulder found 
himself ineffectually trying to move away. In the close confines, 
wedged between the two associates, all he managed to do was nudge 
her leg with his, allowing her hand to slide higher still.

Looking down yet again, he muttered, "About what?" Suddenly, 
unbidden, he heard Scully's voice telling him to take a little 
control and he reached down grasping the blonde's fingers. And was 
rewarded with a smirk-turned-smile. 

The smile slipped from her face when she realized he had placed her 
hand back on the steering wheel. "About the bar, Chris, the bar." 
The edge in her voice suggested that he answer quickly, but Zale 
beat him to it.

"It's right around the corner if I remember. What was it called? 
Uh, I think it was EMAC 225's. Yeah, that's it."

Mulder/Chris located his wayward vocal chords and made them hum. 
"Uh, guys, no, I don't think so. I've got another engagement back 
in Burlington." It was still early enough. It had only taken them 
a half-hour to drive to the house and they'd been there another 
half-hour. The last thing he wanted to do was entertain the 
possibilities with a drunken Ms. . Loose canon was what he was 
dealing with. A loose canon with a good head on her shoulders and 
a direct connection to probably one of the biggest drug lords in 
recent history. 

"Yeah?"

"He's got 'another engagement'." Zale replied to Jemel's query, his 
sarcasm as barely concealed as hers. "I guess we can let the man 
off the hook with his little woman."

Mulder didn’t bother responding and hoped neither of his new 
colleagues saw his eyes roll or the smile that played across his 
lips as he thought about being able to keep his date with his 
'little woman'. 

No one noticed the Jetta pacing them mile for mile. 

^*^*^
Breakwater Club
Burlington
8:00PM

"You still need me here? She ain't doing anything but drinking and 
eating and chattin'"

<Nobody asked you to make decisions. You're being paid--and quite 
handsomely I might add-to keep your ears and eyes open and report 
everything she does, everywhere she goes, who's with her. 'Sthat 
ringin' any bells with you, Knucklehead?>

Ward shook his head, holding his ear piece tighter and gripping his 
cell phone with his other hand. Interruptions for anything less 
than crucial or vital information were not tolerated by *her*. 
They'd never know when she chose to monitor them while on the job, 
so following her rules with exacting protocol was a given. At least 
for Ward... 

"I know what I'm supposed to be doing. And don't call me that, 
Ward. How much longer's the Boss want me here?"

<Till the redhead calls it a night. Then she wants to know *where* 
she lays her pretty little fiery head down for the night and who's 
with her. You got that?>

"Yeah, I got it." Jorge closed the connection, readjusted his 
listening device and made his way out from the bushes in front of 
the Club. He'd found a rather nice niche on the east side where he 
could see almost the entire inside area.

He wasn't much into this type of Club scene himself, preferring the 
smoky darkness of the pool halls and beer pits, but watching his 
subject, it appeared that she fit in this environment rather nicely.
The room consisted of a large open space with a polished wood dance 
floor. Several smaller and more intimate seating areas branched off 
the more expansive space, separated with short hallways he assumed 
went into the bar and kitchen areas.

The red-haired woman and her two friends were ensconced in an 
alcove with three leather booths and tables and two round tables 
with leather-upholstered wingback side chairs. The only lighting in 
these rooms were petite glass lanterns covering cream-colored 
candles. Given the setting, he assumed his subject was waiting on 
her man.

The music level had picked up as the Club filled nearly to capacity.
He'd checked ahead of time and knew that the local band tonight 
tended to play a lot of Marvin Gaye, Barry White and assorted other
jazzy/bluesy/Motowny-type songs. Another alcove housed the band's 
horn, guitar and keyboard players with the drummer sitting on a 
riser behind them. Not bad for a night's work -- an assignment 
better than some she'd dished out to him.
 
As he watched the tall man get up, presumably to get their drinks, 
he idly wondered why he was watching this petite, good looker. 
Based on the clipped tone and way her eyes turned hard, he'd 
guessed that this was a classic triangle situation, maybe having to 
do with the looker's male friend and his boss. But he'd sensed 
something deeper at play. He hadn't gotten where he was today 
without being observant of behavior and reading non-verbal 
communication. His boss had spoken volumes; especially with the 
words she didn't say, the information she didn't share.

As the band kicked into a set of Barry White, he found himself 
humming along. He'd never really taken a shine to the man's lyrics, 
but for some reason, the chicks he'd dated then had tended to swoon 
on him when he played those tapes up on look-out point.  Since the 
trio wasn't going anywhere for awhile, he took the opportunity to 
go back to his car and get a warmer jacket. God how he hated 
outdoor assignments... 

Back inside, Bryan reappeared with three bottles of Shiner Bock and 
set them down on the table. One of the waitstaff appeared a few 
moments later with an assortment of hors d'ouevres and three 
frosted mugs. He told Scully to put her money away since he and 
Kimberley were treating her and Mulder to a night out. Taking a 
long drink of the dark brew, Scully thanked them both, saying she'd 
want to return the favor another time. She watched as her friend's 
partner made quite a show of pouring the unfiltered brew into the 
glassware, first decanting half the bottle and then swirling what 
remained in the bottle before topping off the mug. He set a wedge 
of lemon on the rim of each. 

She found herself almost downing the beer in a few gulps and set 
the mug down with a satisfying 'thunk' on the heavy wood tabletop.  
She helped herself to some nachos and settled back against the 
high-backed booth. The sultry beat was lulling and energizing at 
the same time and she found herself wishing Mulder would show up. 
Images and sensations worked their way through her; images of his 
body moving with hers; the feeling of his hands on her.

"Must be something pretty good, Dana." Kimberley's amused grin 
startled her and she turned to her friends.

"Oh, I was just thinking..." Her reply trailed off as she wasn't 
sure how she'd finish it. And somehow, her mug was full again.

Through the slight alcohol haze, she saw them smile at her and 
heard Bryan mumble something about dancing with his fiancee. The 
band continued its Barry White set, a song called, 'Can't Get 
Enough of Your Love, Babe'. Scully recalled how Missy had briefly 
mentioned what she thought of this artist, but it had been Bill's 
derisive comments that had her smiling wistfully. He'd thought that 
any singer who did nothing but compose music solely to get a woman 
to go to bed with him had a problem. Scully mused that it probably 
hadn't stopped her older brother from testing his assumption.

Bent over at the waist outside in the hedges, Jorge was bored. The 
other man and woman, most definitely a couple, were on the dance 
floor, their lips locked, their bodies moving to Barry's throaty 
declarations. And then there was 'Red'. From where he sat, it 
looked like she'd had about two and a half beers and very little to 
eat. She had what he recognized as the 'two sheets to the wind' 
look on her face. She was feeling the effects of the alcohol, the 
buzz making her appear slightly loopy. He could go for a cold 
draught right about now, but that was strictly forbidden as per the 
Fishmouth. The Boss, he silently amended.

And then he saw him strut into the room. By the look on her face, 
it was clear to the hired-observer that this man was Sexy Red's 
date. 

Scully drank in the sight of him as she slid to the edge of the 
booth, one leg crossed over the other at the knee. Stereotypical 
undercover blend-in garb notwithstanding, he looked good enough to 
eat. From his black boots up to the black denim that seemed to hug 
his legs... She found herself wondering whether she'd said the 
words aloud, but then decided she hadn't. Perhaps the little bit of 
booze had rendered her brain somewhat fuzzy? Anyway, she decided it 
wasn't worth her effort when she still had the rest of Mulder's 
outfit to describe to herself. And why was he still so far away? 
So out of her reach? 

But his black tee was clinging to his abs and his chest and the 
black leather jacket was...leather. Yes, that was it. She liked 
leather. Her hand was resting on the leather seat. Probably 
holding her up. Just a little bit. Mulder looked wonderful in 
black. She'd always known that, but it was still true. Very true.

She smiled at him, at the sight of him maybe; the feeling just a 
bit heady.

His hair was falling across his forehead making him look rakish. 
Rakish like leading men in the movies. Her mother would say Clarke 
Gable. She would say George Clooney or Richard Gere. Or just 
Mulder. He looked rakish.
 
But her mental wanderings came to an abrupt halt as he drew 
nearer...and she saw the scratches on his face. Three long 
scratches on his cheek. Faint, but visible. Her previous 
languidness flowed into questioning alertness as she grabbed hold 
of the tabletop.

"Whoa, Scully." Mulder's hands were on her biceps, the warmth of 
his fingers heavy through the voile of her sleeves. His eyes 
glittered at her as his chin inclined toward the table. "Shiner 
Bock? And you didn't wait for me?" 

'Smug bastard,' she thought, her smile saying she was mighty happy 
to see him -- smug or otherwise. Her hand went to his cheek, barely 
touching the reddened skin. "What happened, Mulder?" 

The knit of her brows told him he was dealing with full-tilt Doc 
Scully. Although he couldn't ever remember seeing any doctor 
looking quite as hot as she did. As he'd walked toward her, all 
he'd really noticed was her legs...all that leg showing as her short
skirt clung to her mid-thigh. Even in her current serious mood, 
there was no denying how beautiful she looked. Sexy and beautiful. 
The long sleeves of her blouse did little to hide the fact that 
fabric was transparent. 

He realized he still hadn't answered her -- a sure way to allow the 
good doc to remain in residence a little too long. "It's nothing, 
Scully. Just a few scratches."

"I can see that, Mulder. Human?" She knew the marks hadn't been 
there earlier this evening in her hotel room.

"Dance with me, Scully." He planned on telling her, but also knew 
it would definitely get in the way of what he really wanted to do 
this evening. They could talk about the case and his trip tonight, 
but not now. Removing his jacket and tossing it into the booth 
behind her, he took her wrist, bringing her hand to his hip, holding
it there as he leaned in to kiss her hair. His other hand sought 
her, coming to rest on her bare skin just above the waistband of 
her skirt and he pulled her toward him. "Dance with me," he 
repeated, murmuring to her as he back-stepped them onto the dance 
floor.

Still eyeing him with concern and curiosity, she followed, drawn 
into the electricity of the moment with him. She'd get her answers, 
saw right through his avoidance behavior. Years together as 
professionals had honed her instincts telling her when 'now' wasn't 
the appropriate time. Years together as friends and later, as 
lovers, had also honed her instincts, telling her when her partner 
was truly being evasive and when he simply wanted to put other 
things first. Well, she thought, I'd like to put other things first 
right now, too. Besides, she'd accurately assessed the condition 
and decided that the scratches weren't life threatening...

And he'd asked her to dance with him... His hand against her skin, 
his fingers teasingly dipping just under the waist of her skirt as 
he maneuvered her toward him and into the small crowd of couples 
was helping her forget other concerns. By the time he'd found a 
spot, she felt the Mulder full court press. One hand had moved to 
her head, a gentle fistful of hair guiding her head back as his 
lips sought hers. His other hand possessively cupped her ass, 
melding her to him as his hips swayed with the sultry beat of the 
bass guitar. 

Across the room, Kimberley had followed and tracked their 
movements, positioning Bryan so she could see what was going on. 
He'd attempted to bring her attention back front and center and 
he'd gotten a nip to the earlobe for his efforts. Not bad... She 
considered how little she really knew about the two Agents; the 
fact that their relationship was unlike any other she or Bryan had 
experienced. Intense was a good way to describe it, she thought, 
before she was interrupted from her pondering.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Bryan whispered into her ear following 
with a kiss to her neck.

"What? My thoughts aren't worth any more than that?" Kimberley 
pulled back slightly, noting how his arms still managed to keep her 
close. Before he could develop a witty response, she continued. 
"I'm just watching Dana and Mulder. They're...interesting as a 
couple, don't you think?"

Pulling her back toward him, he rested his chin on her shoulder. 
"That's just the thing; I don't really think about it at all." 
Knowing she was about to pull back yet again, he finished, "But for 
you...I guess they are interesting. She seems rather guarded. Nice, 
professional, sophisticated, but closed in many ways. Mulder's 
somewhat of an open book. Yet, they are obviously very in tune with 
each other."

Taking the lead, Kimberley swung him around and away from the other 
dancers. "As always, your assessments astound me." She knew the 
sarcasm wouldn't be lost on him, adding more seriously, "But that 
seems to be an astute assessment. It's almost as if they charge 
each other, you know?"

"Ms. Kresge, is it possible to get you to be quiet long enough for 
me to kiss you?" Bryan didn't bother to wait for her answer, now 
sure that watching Dana and Mulder was the last thing on her mind. 
He did, however, check to ensure that the two couples were about as 
far apart as they could be and still be in the same room.

Scully wasn't aware of much other than the man pressed against her 
in all the strategic places. She barely heard the singer doing a 
very passable rendition of Marvin Gaye's 'Let's Get It On', but 
reveled in the depth of the feelings it was stirring in her. They'd 
taken a break from the kiss, most likely in order to resume 
breathing, and her head was turned to the side, her cheek resting 
near his shoulder. She hadn't been able to decide whether she liked 
having her arms around his neck or his waist, so she'd split the 
difference for a while.

His arms hadn't stopped moving, although like the music, they were 
sluggishly seductive as they moved up and down her back, over her 
hips, along her arms. She wasn't clear-headed enough to wonder what 
anyone else was thinking as her tall dark partner all but made love 
to her on the dance floor. 
 
^*^
Diana had notified Ward when she'd returned to Burlington, asking 
him for a report on Jorge's activities for the night. Pacing back 
and forth alongside her car, she kicked bits and pieces of gravel 
in front of her. Grudgingly acknowledging that Jorge had indeed 
done his job, she was still not pleased with his final report.

Fox had gone straight to see *her* when his colleagues had dropped 
him off, not even stopping at home first. Her hired help was still 
positioned outside the Club and, according to Ward, was complaining
frequently about the weather conditions. Well, she thought, let 
him complain now and she'd make sure he got her next plumb 
assignment...some place farther north...during the dead of winter. 
Maybe when she moved on to the Canadian site, she'd take him with 
her. Grinning, she thanked Ward for the information and headed for 
the Breakwater.
 
^*^*^
He had walked around the building twice now, ear piece still in 
place. Ward hadn't been all that impressed with his pleas to sit in 
his car and listen to his subject. Of course, his boss had been 
correct, but that hadn't helped his mood. Being near the lake 
didn't help matters any since the wind coming in off the water had 
picked up. Yes, he had drawn from the bottom of the barrel tonight.

On top of his location, he wasn't learning a damn thing. All Red 
seemed to want do to was cling like a vine to her date. She had 
class though and her partner had some sort of steel restraint. 
Well, he admitted with a leer, he was sure the man had 'steel', but 
it probably wasn't restraint. At any rate, Jorge couldn't for the 
life of him understand why they were still standing. The guy had 
his hands almost everywhere at once and she was quite happy about 
it if the look on her face was any indication. 

Jorge was glad for the cover of the bushes. The tall man's hands 
were kneading her perfectly round behind, intentionally or 
unintentionally -- it didn't really make a difference -- sliding 
that scrap of fabric higher on her shapely thighs. And the way she 
pressed herself into him, subtly grinding her hips...Well... Jorge 
knew he wasn't being paid to enjoy himself and he also knew that 
Fishmouth sometimes made surprise site visits.

^*^*^
Diana wheeled into the parking lot, two of the tires spinning out on 
the loose stones over the asphalt. Yanking the keys from the 
ignition, she set out in search of her staff member. It was time 
Jorge called it a night. 

She located him huddled in the shrubs, getting his attention by 
tapping on his shoulder. Extremely pleased when he started and 
jumped in response, she told him to pick up his check from Ward and 
head home for the night. Easily slipping into his spot, she 
adjusted her listening device, quickly turning it down as the 
sounds of 'Ain't That Peculiar' blared in her ear. Damn things 
never worked right. She'd be placing a call to her suppliers in 
the morning. Someone would fix this.

Now satisfied that she was picking up conversations inside, she 
moved up to the window. They were easy to spot since they were 
removed from the main throng. She bristled, her fists clenched by 
her sides. Dana was behaving shamelessly, most likely in a drunken 
stupor, and from the looks of things, she'd convinced Fox to join 
her.

Not wanting to watch anymore, but drawn to gathering as much 
information as possible, she seethed. Like nothing more than a pair 
of randy teenagers, their hands groped and pawed each others' hips, 
meshing their lower bodies together. Fox leaned down, attempting to 
kiss the slut, but she played coy, letting her head fall backward, 
probably trying to convince him to come closer, to tempt him with 
her charms.

What had happened to him anyway? He actually seemed to be falling 
under her spell. Diana was repulsed and galvanized into action. She 
would allow them their sordid game for tonight, but Fox was swimming
too far downstream now and it was time to rein him in. First his 
blonde associate and now, always, his wanton partner.

In spite of herself, she found her eyes glued to the way his body 
moved, to the sexy curve of his lips as he drew closer to the short 
redhead, to the way he tried to wedge one leg between hers. If she 
blocked out all else, she could imagine it was her.

She smiled sardonically as she walked back to her Jetta to get her 
gloves. 
 
^*^*^