An Unchanged Soul
Chapter Nineteen


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"I never wanted to hurt Emma, you know."

Scully faced Sam, who'd sat wordlessly through her
call to Mulder.  Knowing her husband, they had
little time until his arrival.  Despite the late
Friday afternoon traffic, Mulder would break all
records getting back to Annapolis, even if he had
to commandeer a taxi in the name of the U.S. Navy. 
This was her only chance to speak to Sam alone. 
She wasn't ashamed of her angry outburst when she'd
first arrived in Sam's room, but it wasn't the way
she'd wanted to set things straight.  Now was her
chance to be firm, to let him know how disappointed
they all were with his behavior of late.

"Yet you did.  Because of what you've seen?  You
could have told Mulder, Sam.  You could have found
another way."

"You think I didn't consider all that?  Emma means
everything to me - you all do."

"Then why leave with all the lies?  There was no
meeting with your agent, was there?  No chance to
get back into baseball.  You deliberately hurt
Mulder - and most especially Emma - with the way
you left.  The way you treated my family like they
were beneath you."

"I know, and I'm sorry.  But it was the only way,
don't you see?  The only way I could make sure they
didn't follow me."  He brought one hand up to scrub
at his stubbled cheek, his gaze vacant as he stared
at the floor.  "I couldn't take the chance on
this... *thing* hurting any of you."

"You should have let us make that decision.  We're
all pretty strong, you know.  Emma most of all." 
Scully hesitated to speak of love, though she knew
Emma's feelings for Sam ran deep, as did his for
her.  His desolation, the hopeless tone he used
when speaking of her, told Scully all she needed to
know.  "She cares for you, Sam.  I think you feel
the same.  I also think it's time you told her the
truth."

His head snapped up, his eyes angry.  "No.  She's
better off without me.  You know what kind of man I
used to be.  The drinking, the women.  I'm sure Fox
told you."

"He did.  He believes that's all in the past."

"But you don't, do you?"  Sam's eyes dared her to
argue.  "You saw through me from the beginning. 
You saw the man who was jealous of his own brother. 
You saw the way he was always one step from drunken
oblivion, because he was a lazy bastard who didn't
want to work for what he thought should be handed
to him on a silver platter.  How he always had that
capacity to hurt those he loved.  Well, you were
right, Dana.  I'm no good.  You knew it all along."

He pinpointed her reservations about him with
surprising accuracy.  She'd thought herself rather
good at keeping her feelings hidden.  But was she
being fair to Sam?  Mulder's love for his brother
would never change, no matter what Sam did.  Maybe
it was time to see Sam from another perspective -
one not tainted by concern for Mulder.  "And what
did Emma see?"

"What?"

"I based my opinion of you on your past
transgressions.  On the way you seemed to know just
where to hit to hurt Mulder.  But Emma saw
something else, didn't she? *Someone* else
entirely."

"I'm no saint, Dana.  I went after her from the
start, just like I always do when I see a woman I
want.  Just because she fell for my 'poor me' act
doesn't mean she sees anything else but what's
there."  He looked up, focusing on the deepening
dusk outside the window, somber anguish glazing his
eyes.  "I'm finally agreeing with you, Dana.  I am
one selfish bastard.  You should be happy."

Scully draped her coat over the back of the couch,
bracing herself to answer Sam's quiet statement.  
Dispirited and exhausted, Sam didn't seem to be
able to summon any energy to face her, as he sat in
the chair opposite.  "I'm not."

"Well, you should be," he replied, his head hanging
as he studied his hands.  "Emma deserves someone
better than me.  You saw it before anyone else."

"Sam, I never said a word to Emma."  That wasn't
quite true; while she'd never actually come out and
made her dislike of Sam known to her cousin, she'd
not kept the subtle distrust from her voice when
speaking of him.

"You didn't have to."  Once again, he managed to
home in with piercing truth.  "Anybody with eyes
could see you never liked me, Dana.  Really, I
never much liked myself.  Still don't."

It wasn't in her to lie, but neither did she want
to add to his misery any longer.  Her anger had
come and gone in light of his fantastic admission. 
They had more in common than Mulder.  "I admit I
haven't been very welcoming, Sam."

"Smart woman."

"But if you'd let me explain why -"

"Why should you?  In fact, why bother at all with
me and my ghost?  Why not just wash your hands of
me, all of you.  I'm not worth the trouble, believe
me."

Sudden anger broke through her sympathy. Scully
closed her eyes and counted to three.  The Mulder
men had an uncanny knack for belittling themselves. 
"Will you stop feeling sorry for yourself and
listen to me?"

"Sure."  He waved a dismissing hand.  "I got
nowhere else to go, do I?"

"Sam, there are a lot of things you don't know. 
About me, about your brother."

"What kind of things?"

"Things that have happened since you've been gone. 
Dangerous things."

His head snapped up.  "Dangerous things?  Like
what?"

"Mulder hasn't told you everything, has he?  About
the war, about Chang?"

"Chang?  Who the hell is Chang?"  Sam's knuckles
tightened as he fisted his hands.  She'd seen the
haunted look in his eyes before, on men worn down
by the horrors of war.  Men physically fit yet
unable to get past memories; searching for some
sort of resolution in the peaceful confines of Oak
Knoll in the days after the war.  With a flash of
guilt, she recognized the fear.  She'd felt it
herself many times - an almost paralyzing reaction
to a certain flashback.  She still had trouble at
times with tight places, recalling the suffocating
blackness of the hole at Los Banos.

"You aren't familiar with the name?"  She held her
breath, searching his face for signs of
recognition.  Or worse, the skittish avoidance of a
lie.

"Should I be?"  Genuine worry tightened his face. 
"Damn it, Dana - I have no idea who Chang is!"

She believed him.  Even if it turned out he'd once
worked for the crime boss, he certainly didn't
remember doing so.  His amnesia, while not
preventing him from living a relatively normal
life, acted as a smothering cloak.  Surrounding him
with uncertainty he dared not show for fear of
coming off as insane.  Why hadn't she noticed it
before now?  Had her own lack of trust blinded her
to Sam's trauma?

"It's bad enough I can't remember the last two
years," he continued, his voice strained.  "If it
will explain some things and help me to understand,
then tell me.  Please."

Just because he hadn't come home shell-shocked by
memories of bombs and death didn't mean he was any
less lost, she realized.  His circumstances, while
unusual, were just as life-altering.  He needed
help - and her experience made her the logical
choice.

She spilled it all - leaving out more intimate
details, of course.  Mulder mistaking her for a
spy, Chang returning to seek his revenge.  The
little things she barely knew of but only guessed -
Mulder's opium addiction, the way he'd gone crazy
when he heard of Sam's death in the war.  Charlie
hadn't been all that open about the mess in Hong
Kong, but what he'd told her about Mulder, the
*way* he'd told her, with his smile dying as he
remembered his friend's breakdown... she knew it
had been horrible for Mulder, and she spared no
words in conveying her husband's grief and trauma
to his brother.

The telling was difficult for her, with Sam's
reactions varying from anguish to fear.  She
watched him closely, looking for any glimmer of
recall.  There was none.  He sat silent through it
all, only speaking when her words trailed away.

"You thought I was connected somehow to this Chang
guy, didn't you?"

She bit her lip, the remorse she felt tamped down
for the moment.  "I did.  Using you to get to
Mulder would be right up Chang's alley."

Sam paled, realizing what she'd suspected for a
while.  "Do you still think I might be working for
him and not know it?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Sam.  It's possible."

He gulped, shooting out of his chair to walk to the
window.  "Jesus."  He propped his hands on the
windowsill, taking a deep breath.  "So this guy...
this ghost... he could be trying to get me to
remember my purpose here.  My mission, so to
speak."

"Exactly.  Back in Los Banos, the Japanese
experimented with brainwashing some of our men. 
They looked normal, acted normal, but were
programmed to act upon a specific word or phrase. 
The camp was liberated before their plans got to
the point they'd actually used these men as
assassins.  It took months for our physicians to
undo what had been done to them."  She watched his
back stiffen when she added, "Chang could do
basically the same, according to Mulder.  Opium
makes a man easy to control.  Makes it easy for him
to forget."

Sam's profile was tense, his words soft and sure. 
"I wouldn't work for someone like Chang.  Not even
if he forced me, or turned my brain to mush with
drugs."

"How do you know?"

He turned to face her, his eyes fierce.  "I know it
*here*."  One hand came up to settle over his
heart.  That lump of muscle that wavered now and
then, that stood by and let his own brother pay for
his mistakes; she wondered if he should rely on
such an inconstant thing.  To date, it had been a
cold, unforgiving part of him.  "I'd die before I
let anyone use me like that.  I'd give up my own
life before I'd ever harm my brother."

Scully wanted to believe him.  He stood before her
unblinking, his honor shining through in his
bright, determined gaze.  "I know you would," she
said, lowering her chin.  "It's obvious you're
telling the truth as you know it."

"But that still won't cut it with you, will it?"

Scully, drained herself from the afternoon's
events, sank wearily into the cushions of the sofa. 
"I can't just... forget all that's happened to
Mulder and me, Sam.  Mulder, for all he went
through, bounced back more quickly than I ever did. 
I still find it hard sometimes."

"Find it hard to do what?"

The old familiar feelings surfaced; pain, fright,
paranoia.  They hadn't grabbed hold in months. 
This time, she found a new meaning.  Talking to Sam
was like re-living those war years with a constant,
sympathetic companion.  She'd found that kind of
peace by telling Mulder of the experience.  She
wouldn't be as open with Sam, but she felt he would
appreciate the feeling of helplessness.

"To live," she whispered, raising hot, tear-filled
eyes.  "To get up in the morning and go to work
like normal people do.  To not feel as if all the
strangers on the street are watching you, spying on
you.  To button up my damned coat without feeling
as if it's strangling me."

She heard Sam take his seat once again, felt his
sigh slowly close the distance between them.  "Was
it that bad?"

She chuckled without mirth, knowing exactly what he
was asking.  "Worse.  Took me weeks in a hospital
before I could function without medication.  To
even remember how to speak English without mixing
it with Japanese."

"But you're okay now."

She nodded, feeling the knot in her chest loosen. 
"I am.  It took me a long time to let myself become
close to anyone again.  To realize that you have to
open yourself up to trust.  That you're no longer
alone."

"I still am," he replied.  He stared off into
space, hunched over.  "Alone, I mean.  No one else
knows what it's like, do they?  To lose part of
your life. I may not know what happened, may never
know.  It's gone."

Again, she felt a surge of remorse for her earlier
outburst.  Sam wasn't incapacitated by his
circumstances like some of the patients she'd
treated, those who could do nothing but mumble and
scream at inner demons.  But he was affected just
the same, felt the same isolation.

"You are not alone, Sam."  She waited for him to
face her; in his eyes confusion waned and a dawning
understanding took hold.  "I lost two years of my
life in that camp.  To this day, there are some
things that unnerve me.  Memories that freeze me
with fear."

"At least you can remember."

Thinking of the dust and heat of the hole in the
ground, she murmured, "Sometimes I wish I didn't."

"And I'd give anything if I could."  He stood on
stiff legs, his frustration palpable in the stuffy
room.  "What's wrong with me, Dana?  You think you
can sympathize, but you can't.  You don't see
ghosts."

Scully waited, trying to find the right words.  How
could she tell him she'd seen *him*?  She'd
admitted it to Mulder long ago, in the heady day
after her escape from Chang.  They'd let it hang in
the air between them, so grateful for the chance to
start over they never questioned the event.  Each
willing to believe for a moment that beings from
another plane did exist - how else could they have
survived all they'd lived through?  Sam's admission
that he'd seen something similar had been like a
bucket of ice water on her anger, given her the
impetus to probe into his fear.  Could she now
admit to him what she'd seen?

"I saw... something."

Sam turned, hands on hips, her admission cutting
through his anger.  His eyes, shadowed with
unwilling hope, swept over her face.  "Say again?"

Scully cleared her throat.  "You saw a ghost, as
you call it.  I saw something similar, not long
after I returned."

He paled, taking a step back.  "I'm crazy, aren't
I?"

"I told you I saw something just as unusual.  Do I
look crazy?"

Sam chuckled, his color returning with a burst of
humor.  "You look like you just sucked on a lemon."

It was gratifying to see him relax, but not at the
expense of her dignity.  "I do not."

"Kinda hard to admit it to yourself, isn't it? 
That you see things that aren't supposed to be."

Scully forced her face to soften; she didn't like
admitting a weakness to anyone.  One look at Sam's
face told her he felt the same.  But they were both
powerless to explain what they'd seen, at the risk
of being perceived as mentally disturbed.  Even
coming clean with each other was a monumental task.

"I don't know what I saw.  At the time, it was all
clear to me."  She remembered Sam's face and the
overwhelming sense of peace his presence summoned
in a time when she needed help to escape Chang. 
Now, she had no idea what she'd seen back then -
but she refused to believe she'd conjured up a
familiar face and voice to give her strength.  The
event had been real.  Just how and why, she didn't
know.  "It's not so clear anymore.  One thing I do
know - I saw it, whatever it was.  What you're
seeing... you believe in it, don't you?"

"Enough to scare the hell out of me."

"Then we have to find out what it is."

Explaining away visions of ghosts were not her
forte.  Mulder would most likely pounce and
immediately tie Sam's return into one of his more
outlandish theories.  It was all so confusing.  She
believed Sam when he said he didn't know Chang, and
she was willing to afford him the benefit of the
doubt from now on.  However, just because he didn't
remember Chang didn't mean he wasn't one of the
opium boss's pawns.  They were about to walk a fine
line to find the truth.  She hoped they all had the
strength to see it through.

She jumped when the phone rang; Sam nodded at her
to pick it up.  "Hello?"

"Scully, I'm downstairs.  Put Sam on so he can tell
them it's okay to let me up."

"Sure thing."  She handed the phone to Sam, saying,
"It's Mulder.  He'll know what to do, Sam.  Just
give him a chance."

He took the phone from her, lifting anxious eyes. 
"Will you stay?"

"For a while."  She nodded, listening to him
instruct the front desk to let Mulder through.

Sam saw ghosts.  Mulder saw aliens.  She wanted to
believe a more human hand manipulated Sam's life. 
She dismissed the second, hoped against reason for
the first, and prayed it wasn't the third.

No matter what, none of them would be at peace
until Sam was at peace.


**********


He didn't tell his brother everything, of course. 
It was no use bringing up the knife wound that
wasn't, simply because he still thought Cannon had
somehow pulled a fast one on him.  A circus trick,
some kind of stunt with fake blood designed to
scare the daylights out of him.  Fox, for all his
willingness to believe (which still surprised the
hell out of Sam), would probably be inclined to
agree.  They'd done such things as boys.  Everyone
had at one time gotten a kick out of making
teachers furious with fake injuries.  All in the
name of cutting class, naturally.  Sam wished all
this were that simple to explain away.

"From what you've told me, I don't think you have
to worry about any of us, Sam," Fox said, his eyes
steady with certainty.  "Whoever this is, he seems
to be targeting you, not us."

"But I can't go back, don't you see?"  He paced the
floor, eyeing Fox and Dana with a desperate look. 
"He can be anyone he wants.  What if I hurt one of
you, thinking it's him?"

"You said he wants you to come to him, to touch
him.  Something's preventing him from making the
first move, Sam.  As long as you keep your hands to
yourself, you should be fine."  Fox shook his head,
an excited smile taking shape on his face. 
"Unbelievable.  My own brother, hanging out with -"

"Mulder, I think it's time I went home," Dana
interrupted, nudging her husband.

Sam caught the subtle move, his eyes narrowing. 
"Hanging out with who?"

"Maybe not a who.  Maybe a what."

"What?"  He thought *he* was the loony one.  His
brother couldn't be serious.

Dana stood, pulling on the coat she'd taken off
once she'd called Fox.  "I think it's best Sam
stays here for the weekend, Mulder.  It's safe
enough, and he's left orders at the front desk to
screen his visitors."

"That reminds me," Sam said, ignoring Fox's
fascinated stare for the moment.  "How'd you get
past the guy at the front desk?  I never would have
let you up here if he'd called."

"Easy.  I faked a labor pain and Uncle Mike sneaked
a look at the register while the guy helped me to a
chair."  Her eyes went wide.  "Uncle Mike!  I
forgot he was waiting for me in his car!"

"I saw him parked out front.  Sent him on his way
before I came up." Fox got up from the couch to
stand beside her.  "Why didn't he come up with
you?"

"Uncle Mike's not very light with his fingers. 
Needless to say, he was immediately ushered out the
front door when Mr. 'Prissy Pants', as he calls
him, caught him thumbing through the register.  I
followed him to the car, got the room number, and
came up through the kitchen.  Piece of cake."

"And you think this place is safe?"  Sam rolled his
eyes.  "A pregnant woman and an old man made it
through on the first try, for Christ's sake!"

"Take it easy, Sam," Fox said.  "I can ask my boss
for a man to keep you company, if you want."

"A watchdog?  No, thanks.  And don't ask me to come
to your place, because that was the point of this
whole exercise."

"I understand."  Fox helped Dana with her coat,
flashing Sam an impatient look.  "I'll stop by the
desk on my way out."

"What good will that do?"

"I can impress upon Mr. Prissy Pants the importance
of denying access to you.  A matter of national
security.  All it takes is a flash of my
credentials."

"That's it?"

"You were okay all this week, weren't you?  As long
as you stay indoors, it can wait until I can get a
handle on it."

"A handle on what?"

"If it's what I think it is, I'll have to consult a
few unusual resources of mine."

"Mulder."

Again, Dana's tone held a hint of warning.  Sam
felt very uneasy about his brother's hints and
vague answers.  "Would someone please tell me what
the hell is going on?"

It was Dana who responded, moving to Sam's side
with a reassuring smile.  "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I hit you.  I'm not a violent person by
nature, and the way I reacted... well, there's no
excuse for it.  I could say it's hormones," she
added, looking down at her belly with a rueful
grin, "but pregnancy usually makes one cry, not go
around emulating Joe Louis."

"Apology accepted, though I don't blame you.  I've
never been the easiest person to get through to,
ask Fox.  Sometimes the only way to get my
attention is to pop me one."

Dana gave her husband an impatient look,
unbuttoning the coat Fox had just buttoned.  Sam
looked on, remembering the way she'd said even her
coat seemed to suffocate her sometimes.  He gave
her a nod, silently communicating his awareness of
her discomfort.

He realized the effort she'd expended in opening up
to him.  She didn't have to do it, but she had. 
She acknowledged his respect and affection with a
raised eyebrow, asking, "Did it work?"

"The punch?"  Their talk had done more to wake him
up than any fist to the gut, and she knew it.  He
cleared his throat, backing away from his brother's
wife.  Dana would always hold a special place in
his memories, but someone else had taken the upper
hand in his heart and soul.  He rubbed his stomach,
lightening the mood with a lopsided smile.  "Oh
yeah.  Think Emma will do the same?"

"Emma was always an uppercut person.  Watch your
jaw."

Just thinking of Emma gave him pause.  "About Emma. 
Don't tell her what's going on with me, okay?"

"Why not?  She deserves an explanation, Sam."

"When we figure out what's the deal with this, I'll
tell her, okay?"  He shot a look at his brother,
hoping for backup.  Fox wouldn't put Dana in harm's
way; Sam expected total agreement with his logic,
and he got it.

"That's your call, Sam."  Sam was relieved, but not
for long, as Fox added, "She'll find out anyway,
sooner or later.  You know that, don't you?"

Sam nodded, knowing Mike knew enough of the truth
to tell Emma that Sam had removed himself from
their sphere on purpose.  But he couldn't let her
come near.  Not until everything calmed down. 
"Just don't tell her anything.  I can keep her from
coming up here."

"Like you kept me away?" Dana asked softly.

"You have a point."  As they walked to the door,
Sam felt a prickle of uneasiness.  He'd never been
a coward, but all he seemed to do lately was run
and hide.  God, he needed Emma.  He needed her to
talk to him, to hold him.  He'd give anything to be
able to just look at her in silence.   "She
wouldn't come up here, anyway, even if I asked."

"You don't know that."

"She's known where I was the whole week and she
hasn't even called.  Why would she come now?"

"Because even if she tries to pretend otherwise,
she knows it's not over between you."  Dana took
her husband's hand; Sam felt the warmth of their
connection mirror his own with Emma, even if they
were separated by dozens of city blocks and a huge
mistake on his part.  "I promise you I won't say a
word to her.  But she *will* realize there's more
to your leaving... and when she does, I doubt even
Mr. Prissy Pants could stop her."

The thought of Emma putting aside her anger and
disappointment long enough to brave the desk clerk
made Sam shake his head.  "It won't come to that. 
I think I did a pretty good job of messing things
up, but good.  She probably won't speak to me ever
again."

"Oh, but she will.  Deep down, she's dying to let
you have it."

Sam opened the door with a chuckle.  "With a wicked
uppercut, right?  You know, Fox told me you'd
walloped him a long time ago.  What is it with
Scully women?  You'd rather punch a guy than give
him a kiss?"

Dana passed a sidelong glance at her husband, who
stood sheepishly in the hallway.  Sam saw Fox
blush, and he knew he'd put his brother in serious
straits with the teasing.  But Dana didn't react
other than to roll her eyes at Fox before
addressing Sam coolly, "We'd rather make him
realize he's being an idiot who deserves one before
the other."  She wrapped her arm in Fox's.  "She
will come sooner than you think, Sam.  Try not to
make her more angry before you get the explanation
out of the way."

As they walked away, Sam closed the door and locked
it.  Leaning against it, he sighed.

How the hell would he keep from making Emma more
angry?  Easier said than done.  He ran his fingers
over his jaw, already lamenting the loss of his
teeth.


*********


"You told him I hit you?  How could you, Mulder?"

"I didn't tell him *why* you'd hit me, Scully.  Or
our respective states of undress at the time." 
Mulder gripped the steering wheel with tight hands,
carefully maneuvering his car through heavy
traffic.  "Geez.  Gimme a break."

"Why tell him at all?"

"Because I was trying to impress upon him at the
time what a great woman you were - *are*.  Besides,
seems like you haven't lost the propensity for
using your hands for something other than healing
the sick, have you?"  Mock chastisement curled his
lips as he looked at his irritated wife.

"Sometimes that's the only way to get through to
the Mulder men."

"I'd keep that in mind, then.  Because it might be
the only way to get through to one particular
Scully woman when it comes to a sore subject."

"That subject being your wayward brother?"

Mulder shook his head with a chuckle.  "'Wayward'
doesn't begin to describe Sam."  He waited a beat,
turning onto a less crowded boulevard.  "You sure
changed your tune in an afternoon, Scully.  Last I
heard, you had Sam speaking Chinese and smuggling
opium.  What gives?"

"Sam isn't working for Chang, Mulder, knowingly or
not."  She was adamant, and Mulder studied her
profile as he slid to a halt at the next light.

"I always knew that."  His brother might be an
arrogant bastard at times, but he had a true,
honest nature.

Scully lifted her chin, facing him with a clear,
regretful stare.  "I'm sorry, Mulder.  I'm not
usually so quick to judge.  I've apologized to Sam. 
He's accepted it."

"I'm not angry with you, Scully.  I'm more worried
about Sam.  And fascinated with his story," he
added, shifting the car into first to pull away.

"Don't go reading more into this than what's there,
Mulder.  Sam could be suffering from nothing more
than repressed memories surfacing after a traumatic
experience.  I've seen it all too often with war
veterans."

"Well, we'll find out, won't we?  In the meantime,
don't get *your* hopes up that Emma will cooperate
with this scheme of yours."

"Scheme?  What scheme?  I don't *scheme*, Mulder."

"No, you get Mike to do it for you."  After a
second or two in which his wife sat silently, he
warned, "Get that idea right out of your head."

She sat in angelic poise, her face a tranquil mask. 
"What idea?"

"Scully, it's none of your business.   You'll end
up pissing someone off and getting into all kinds
of trouble."

She quirked an eyebrow, slanting an amused look his
way.  "Frustrating, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Arguing with someone who doesn't listen."  Her
pointed look made him flush.

"I've never not listened to you.  I just... take
your counsel under advisement."

"And do what you want, anyway.  Tell me, was
Skinner always that bald?  I'll bet he had a full
head of hair until the day you walked in his door."

"Ha ha."  Mulder pulled up into their driveway and
killed the motor.  He turned in his seat, at once
assailed by the need to kiss that smirk off her
face.  He put the urge on hold for a moment,
however, saying, "First of all, you had no business
going to that hotel today.  Mike should be
horsewhipped for talking you into it.  Second of
all, despite your family's need to meddle in each
other's affairs, this is *my* brother we're talking
about here, and he specifically said -"

"Emma is *my* cousin, I'll have you know."

"He specifically said not to tell her -"

"I said I wouldn't, and I won't.  But five'll get
you ten Uncle Mike pays us a visit in the morning. 
He won't rest until he knows what happened after I
went up to Sam's hotel room."

"You don't have to tell him."

"I would never break a confidence.  But I can offer
an opinion on a family member's well-being, can't
I?"

Mulder leaned in, catching his breath at the warm,
excited scent of the chase that clung to her. 
"That's gossip, Scully.  About Sam."

"Who said anything about Sam?  I was speaking of
Emma."

"Scully," he said softly, his voice rough with
warning and want.

"Mulder," she purred in return, one hand coming up
to caress his tight cheek.

They had on too many clothes.  It was hot in the
car.  She had the most delectable, sassy little
mouth.  He knew lovemaking was impossible because
of the advanced state of her pregnancy, but when he
tumbled backward onto their bed a scant five
minutes later, he thought he'd died and gone to
heaven.

"I'm still mad at you for traipsing off with Mike,"
he ground out as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"I'm still mad at you for telling Sam I hit you,"
she murmured, her lips stealing kisses down his
chest.

His skin came alive with gooseflesh, his hands
moving to support her as she hovered above him.  He
sucked in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes,
feeling her cool fingers tackle his belt.  "We're
not finished, Scully."

"I should hope not."

"I meant the argument."

"What argument?"

As her lips followed the downward slide of his
zipper, he groaned, "No fair.  I had a good head of
steam going, Scully."

Her warmth left him; he opened his eyes to see her
giving him a small, ego-feeding smile, her eyes
shifting down to where he impressively reacted to
her attentions.  He grinned, shrugging with typical
male pride.

Until the curtain of her hair swept across his
hips.  His grin faded into a sigh, his head
slamming back into his pillow.

"You always come out on top."

"Mmm... I try."

"Gotta have the upper hand, that's you."

"Mulder?"

"Huh?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, ma'am."

What had they fighting about, anyway?  He slid into
pleasure, losing himself to her touch.



End Chapter Nineteen