An Unchanged Soul
Chapter Twenty-Six


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He couldn't stop holding on to Scully.  She'd
raised an eyebrow at his comment on how beautiful
she was, and he'd laughed, saying they could
compare bruises once they got home.  There was no
talk yet of the accident, or of her miraculous
recovery.  He didn't expect any on the latter,
simply because he'd pulled Emma aside earlier this
morning and asked her not to say anything just yet. 
Scully's doctor had agreed, deeming her peace of
mind tantamount at the moment.  Though he'd been
adamant in prescribing total bed rest for the
duration, something Scully had bristled at.  But
she'd not protested verbally, knowing she'd escaped
with a warning this time.  There weren't that many
weeks left to go, anyway.  And it looked like they
were going to be spending them under guard, so what
more could she say?

"I'm glad you're in here with me now."

Okay, out of all the things she could say, that
little sentence ranked right up there at the top. 
Especially delivered in that husky murmur designed
for stealth in light of their visitors.

"So am I," Mulder replied as he leaned in, equally
as covert in his tone.  It didn't do much good, as
he heard a small huff from beyond the end of the
bed.

"Uh, Fox?"

Mulder looked up with a grin at Sam, who shifted on
his feet.  "Yeah?"

"Just wanted to tell you before I go that I'm gonna
be out of town the next few days."

"Oh really?"  From the opposite side of the bed,
Emma stood with crossed arms, her face as bland as
a bowl of oatmeal.  Mulder winced, feeling the
undercurrents in the room.  He glanced at Scully,
who confirmed the tension with a knowing lift of
her brow.

"Yes, really," Sam answered, shoving his hands in
his pockets.  "I'm leaving on the nine o'clock
train.  Which reminds me, I've got to get going if
I wanna have time to pick up my bag at the hotel."

"Have a good trip."

It was fascinating to watch, Mulder thought.  The
subtle play between his brother and Scully's cousin
brought back memories of his own courtship with his
wife.  It was nice for a change to be observing and
not participating.  He brought Scully's hand to his
lips and leaned back in his chair with a sidelong
glance at his beloved.  She wore the same pleased
grin.  The scene before them sure beat the tapioca
pudding they'd had for supper.

"Aren't you curious where I'm going?"  Sam was
nervous, Mulder could tell.  But it wasn't a
fearful nervous - just a typical 'facing the Scully
woman' nervous.

"Not especially.  I'm going to be out and about
myself."

"Oh yeah?  Doing what?"  Now Sam was more than
nervous.  He was jealous.  Mulder heard Scully
suppress a snicker and he squeezed her hand,
wanting to hear the rest.

"Just visiting Aunt Olive.  You remember her, don't
you Dana?"  Cool blue eyes glanced at Scully, who
didn't have a chance to reply before Emma turned
back to Sam.  "Poor thing is all alone for the
holidays this year.  So I arranged for a few days
off - I understand there's a lovely man just moved
in next door.  One of Baltimore's premier
attorneys.  Aunt Olive is quite the matchmaker."

A slow tide of red crept up Sam's cheeks.  "And
your father knows you're going?" he ground out
through clenched teeth.

"Of course.  I told him I'd try to be back for
midnight mass Wednesday, but you know how that
goes."

"No, how does it go?"

Sensing a volcanic eruption on the horizon, Mulder
cleared his throat.  "So, Sam - where exactly are
you going?"

His brother spared him a quick glance.  "To New
York to see my manager."  Hands on hips, he turned
back to Emma.  "Guess I'll have to spend Christmas
up there, won't I?"

"Well, if you make it back in time, Da always makes
extra at the pub.  It's closed except to family
that day.  We could make an exception in your case,
I suppose."

"Gee, thanks."

As if the previous minute had never taken place,
Emma breezed up to the bed, giving Scully a peck on
the cheek.  "You two do what the doctors say, okay? 
I'll see you at Christmas.  Gotta run."

"Emma -"

"Catch you later, Sam.  Have fun."  She was out the
door before anyone could blink.

Sam looked as if he wanted to run after her.  He
took a step toward the door before pulling up
short, indecision making him bite his lip.  After a
broad sigh, he turned back.

"Well, gotta make that train, Smokey.  I'll call
now and then to check up on things, okay?"

"Sure..." Mulder began, then found himself talking
to no one, as Sam made a beeline through the open
door, closing it behind him with an almost slam.

"What was that all about?" Scully breathed, taking
his attention from the door.

"Beats me.  I thought those two were..."

"So did I," she said, as confused as he was.  A
sudden thought made her jaw drop.  "You don't think
they're planning to meet, do you?  For...."

"For what?"

Scully pinched his hand.  "For... you know.  Like
we did once upon a time.  Belmont Hotel?  Me
supposedly staying with Ellen..."

"Oh, yeah."  Mulder's smile faded.  "Of course, we
all know what interrupted that little tryst."

"Chang."  Scully nudged him with reassurance.  "I
don't think we have to worry about that in their
case, Mulder.  He's after us, not them."

"True."  Not wanting to mar the good mood with talk
of Chang - especially since Charlie assured them
earlier in the day they were in hot pursuit of the
man - Mulder eased up from his chair and said,
"Scoot over."

"What?"

"Scoot over, Scully.  I feel like lying next to my
wife."  He flicked off the lamp beside the bed and
gingerly wrapped his body around hers.

In the dark, he felt her chuckle.  "It's too early
yet to sleep, Mulder."

"Who said anything about sleeping?"

She tasted like tapioca.  Funny, but he'd always
hated it as a kid.  Now he couldn't get enough.


**********


As expected, he caught up with her before she made
the elevator.

"What was that all about?" he whispered, taking
firm hold of her elbow.

Emma schooled her face into a polite mask.  "I
could ask the same of you.  New York?  Since when?"

"Since this afternoon.  My manager left a message
at the hotel; he wants me there tomorrow morning. 
I told you last week I wanted to get back into
baseball, Emma."

He was very smooth, she had to give him that.  If
she hadn't overhead his conversation with Charlie
that morning, she'd fall for his line in a thrice. 
Charlie had tried his best to bluff his way through
it as well, but she was too smart for them both. 
She knew very well what they'd spoken of when
Charlie visited earlier in the afternoon.  Some CIA
man, she mused.  Anyone could see he'd taken Sam
aside to give him the particulars of their
'operation'.  Their unofficial operation,
undertaken without approval from anyone in the
know.  Of course, she'd immediately taken Charlie
aside to confirm her part - on pain of swift
reprisal should he dare to refuse her again.

"So you did," she said softly, listening to the hum
of the approaching elevator.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Aunt Olive?" he prompted.

"I'm not allowed to visit an elderly woman whose
only child has to work this Christmas?"

"You could have told me."

"You could have told *me* you were leaving, Sam." 
She tamped down her anger for a better, more
private moment.  One she was certain would arrive
shortly, if things went as planned.  Softening her
voice she said with a smile, "Don't worry.  I'll be
back Christmas Eve.  Will you?  Da's expecting you
at the pub Christmas Day."

Sam's eyes skittered away for a second.  "Sure. 
Unless something comes up.  You know how that
goes."

She gave him back his words of before, with less
bite but no less meaning.  "No I don't.  How *does*
it go, Sam?"

The cad.  The foolish, overconfident slimeball. 
How dare he put his neck out like this?

He finally looked at her again, searching her face
with curiosity.  She let a brief wave of animosity
bleed through and was gratified to see him waver,
his fingers clutching her arm as if he never wanted
to let her go.  "Emma..."

Thankfully, the ding of the elevator interrupted
whatever he was going to say.  She gently pulled
her arm from his grasp and pasted a carefree smile
on her face.  "I'd kiss you goodbye," she murmured,
"if we were alone.  Too bad there's no mistletoe
around, then we'd be set.  Guess we'll have to save
it for later, won't we?"

"Emma, wait -"

But she was already in the elevator.  He watched it
close on her smile, wishing he could tell her the
truth.  Then again, it was best she didn't know. 

God, he was going to miss her.


**********


"Frohike's got his people working night and day,
going through recent arrivals up and down the
Severn.  He's even got his security service
searching the docks.  With as little noise as
possible, naturally.  We should have something in a
day or so."

"Frohike?  Melvin Frohike, the little man with the
gnome face?"

"Hey - that little man with the gnome face is worth
millions, and don't you forget it."  Charlie gave
him a glare.  "You could do worse than to take him
up on his offer of a job, Sam."

"Maybe I would.  If I hadn't gotten a call from my
manager today."  Sam shrugged on the dress blue
suit coat, fingering the gold stripes with a soft
whistle.  The fancy threads were a bit tight in the
shoulders, but they would do.  He buttoned it,
squirming against the itchy wool of Fox's uniform. 
He'd forgotten how heavy military attire was; maybe
it was just the weight of the captain's insignia on
his lapel.  Authority never sat comfortably with
him, especially with such obvious demand.  He was
certainly no longer footloose and fancy free, and
he damn well better start acting like it.  This was
his chance to prove to the world he'd changed.  He
wasn't going to screw it up.  No way.

"Oh, nice cover, by the way.  Very convenient."

"Yeah, especially since it's true."  Shocked the
hell out of him to find the message at the hotel
when he'd returned to check out.  Maybe his life
was finally turning around.

"Really?"  Charlie looked impressed.

"Really.  I told him I'd be up there after the
first of the year.  He thinks he can at least get
me a solid spot on a Yankees farm team, with the
possibility to move up to the majors in less than a
year."

Holding out a hand, Charlie smiled, looking him up
and down.  "Congratulations."

Sam gave him a sheepish grin, accepting the
handshake.  "With any luck, I can keep Emma in
style."

Charlie's smile faded and he turned, peeking out
the men's restroom door.  "Looks quiet out there. 
I'd prefer more activity, to tell the truth."  He
looked over his shoulder at Sam.  "We're all set
then?"

Sam pulled his officer's hat low over his eyes.  As
a precaution, he hadn't shaved, and the resulting
stubble gave his face a good shadow covering.  He
looked in the mirror, and was struck by just how
much he favored his brother.  The plan was looking
more and more workable; so far, no big glitches. 
Dana and Fox were resting peacefully on the third
floor, their beds now in a common room.  The guards
were still there, but now clothed in civvie gear
and told to keep a low profile.  

On instructions from Charlie and Skinner, the
doctors had insisted Fox and Dana stay in the
hospital for a while.  Fox had surprised them all
by agreeing, but Sam knew that wouldn't last.  A
few days in confinement, and his brother would be
itching to leave. 

He'd hated to have to tell them a lie about his
whereabouts the next few days, and thankfully it
would eventually become truth.  What galled him
more was Emma's nonchalance about the whole thing. 
He envisioned her pleasant surprise when he stood
before her with a baseball contract in one hand and
an engagement ring in the other.  That would knock
her down a peg or two.

Aunt Olive, indeed.  She was no more going to visit
an elderly relative than he was.  What was she up
to?  When they married, she'd have to learn who was
boss.

"Sam?"

He snapped to attention, reaching for the overcoat. 
He pushed one arm through, then the other, the
final adjustments taking only moments.  "How do I
look?"

Charlie eyed him from head to toe.  "You'll do. 
The darkness outside should help."  His offhand
remark was anything but critical; Sam could see his
own resemblance to Fox reflected in Charlie's
pleased eyes.

"I'm all set.  Just tell me where to go."

"My guess is Chang has someone watching the
hospital.  Soon as they see you leave, they'll
follow.  Might take a couple of days before they
feel comfortable enough to make a move.  You sure
you know how to use that gun?"

It felt bulky, strapped as it was to his belt, but
somehow reassuring.  "Top of my unit in
marksmanship, Charlie.  I told you that already."

"Well, let's hope you're not put to the test. 
Besides, I think we'll catch up to Chang before
then.  I feel it in my gut."

Sam chuckled, his worries about Emma forgotten as
he approached the door where he'd walk out as his
brother.  "All I feel in my gut is butterflies."

"You don't have to do this, Sam.  In fact, I'd feel
better if we just got a man down here from
Headquarters." 

"Thought you said you were terrible at mopping up
piss?"

"I can live with it if I have to."  He held on to
the doorknob with hesitance, but Sam took the
initiative, knocking his hand away.

"Forget it.  I'm ready."  He boldly presented
himself to the world before Charlie's attack of
conscience put an end to it all.

Charlie walked beside Sam, constantly surveying the
halls to the exit.  "We just have to get you both
to the car outside the ER.  Then it's on to the
house." 

Charlie paused a few feet from the outer door,
lowering his voice as he nodded at a woman waiting
just inside and off to the right.  She sat primly
in a wheelchair, her face obscured by a veiled hat
and several strategically placed bandages.  "Your
'wife'."

"So, who'd you get?"

"No one you know.  No one anyone knows or will
miss, which serves our purpose."  An amused gleam
took light in Charlie's eyes, and he lowered his
voice to a whisper.  "Very discreet escort
service."

Astonishment laced Sam's voice.  "A pro skirt?"

"She isn't curious and will do just fine for a few
hours, until we can sneak her out of the house."

"How did you explain the pregnancy?  And the
wheelchair?"

"I didn't.  Punkin doesn't ask questions in her
line of work."

Almost incredulous, he turned to really look at the
woman.  She was padded to look pregnant and her
face was carefully hidden beneath the veiled hat. 
She had red hair, though, and was of a similar
build to Dana.  "Punkin?  You got a whore named
Punkin to play Dana?"

Charlie snorted, clearing his throat.  "Uh... yeah. 
Helluva name, isn't it?  She thinks you're nuts,
actually."  He wound a finger around the side of
his head, his eyes twinkling.  "Old war injury. 
Shell shock, to be exact."

"Lovely," Sam muttered, seeing this was one aspect
of the operation Charlie enjoyed way too much.  "I
don't have time to fight off this woman, Charlie."

"She won't talk, Sam - that's the most important
thing.  I don't care if you two sit and stare at
each other for two hours.  She won't attack you. 
Unless you ask, of course."

Sam rolled his eyes, words of protest gathering on
his tongue.  But Charlie stepped between him and
the door, blocking the woman from view.  "Listen
up, because time is short.  We want Chang to think
you're both okay, but confined to the house.  You
remember what I told you this afternoon?"

"Stay away from the windows.  Don't go out unless
it's an emergency.  Your men will work in shifts
parked in the street.  As soon as you have Chang in
custody, you'll be in touch.  Or when he comes for
me, whichever comes first."

"Right.  If you need anything, just radio the men
outside or call the police.  We can't put more than
two, sorry.  Too many and Chang will know
something's up.  As it stands now, we're spreading
the word it was just a drunk driver."  Charlie
sneered.  "Of course, not having your own
department back up your suspicions helps."

"You'll get what you need, Charlie.  I'll see to
it."

"Just don't be stupid.  A cool head is worth more
than two fists."

"You sound just like Mike," Sam chuckled.

"He's smarter than me and you, that's for sure. 
You'd be wise to remember a few of his sayings when
you feel like going off half-cocked."

<Be diligent, lad.>

Mike's words echoed in his head, reinforcing his
determination to end this once and for all.

"That's our car?" Sam nodded at an idling vehicle
parked at the curb.

"It's all yours.  You'll be followed home,
naturally.  The darkness should give you enough
cover to be convincing.  Just don't linger.  Go
straight to the house."

"Will do.  You just find that bastard, Charlie."

"Won't be long.  Good luck, Sam."  Charlie took his
hand.  "Don't fuck this up."

"Another Mike saying?"

"That one's all mine.  Remember it."  They were now
within earshot of the woman, and Charlie smiled
down at her.  "How's it going, toots?  You treat my
boy good, you hear?  Do whatever he wants, baby."

The woman in the chair seemed to bristle at the
comment, though she said nothing.  Sam felt a blush
stain his cheeks; though she was a prostitute, he
had no right to embarrass her that way.

Charlie, damn him, looked like he was having too
much fun at her expense.  He leaned down to address
her as a starched nurse walked toward them, tucking
a twenty dollar bill down the modest neckline of
her dress.  "A little something extra, doll.  He
has a thing for spanking."

The woman reacted to Charlie's smarmy attitude and
smart mouth, becoming board stiff in the chair. 
Sam sent him a dark look of warning, wondering how
the hell this man could joke about any of this. 
But he was oblivious, standing there with an impish
grin, his hands spread as if he didn't know what
he'd done.

"What?"

<Spanking?> Sam mouthed, his eyes wide as he looked
at Charlie over her head.

"Trust me," Charlie answered, waving them away.

Sam ignored him, touching the woman's arm with a
gentle, "Ready?"

Now upon them, the nurse took hold of the
wheelchair and answered briskly, "Every patient is
ready to leave the hospital, Captain.  Isn't that
right, Mrs. Mulder?"

A slow nod was her only answer.  Sam wasn't put off
by the non-response, figuring it was best the woman
didn't speak if she didn't sound enough like Dana. 
He had no problem with speaking; besides looking
like Fox, people had often mistaken them over the
telephone, their voices were so similar.

"Let's go, then."  With a nod at the still smiling
Charlie, he opened the outer door to let the ladies
through.

The cold night air hit his face with a slap,
putting him on immediate alert.  He kept his chin
down, but remained very aware of the comings and
goings in the busy parking lot.  He'd been very
good at picking up outside curve balls, and this
was no different.  In fact, it was much easier. 
The passersby didn't move at ninety miles an hour.

Duck soup.

"Mrs. Mulder should sit in the back for the ride
home, Captain.  And no more automobile rides for
the duration."

"Of course," Sam replied, opening up the back
passenger door.  Like a good husband, he reached
for his wife to help her in the vehicle.  "Here we
go, sweetheart."  Oh, he was good at spousal
concern and affection.  He'd have to remember all
this when he married Emma.

"Thank you, sweetie," she barely whispered,
complying without hesitation, which was good.  The
more familiar they were with each other in public,
the more convincing they'd be to the right - or in
this case, wrong - people.

She was a bit on the light side, even in light of
the enormous pillow she'd strapped to her body.  He
could feel its bindings around her back and he took
it easy, not wanting to pinch her skin as he
cradled her close.  A sudden whiff of womanly scent
made him curl his fingers into the straps.  She
hissed a bit and he relented, though he couldn't
help but wonder why the reaction on his part.  Then
it occurred to him.

Geez.  He really had it bad when he started
thinking of Emma when he got close to another
woman.  Of course, sex was this woman's profession. 
She was clean and smelled nice, something that
surprised him.  Though illegal, paying for
companionship in the nation's capital had always
been a thriving business.  From what he remembered,
there were some pretty high-class escort services
in DC.  Places to buy a woman of education and
class; she wasn't an ordinary streetwalker, that
much was obvious.

Her curves were slender yet plump beneath her coat
and he nearly groaned with sudden longing, feeling
her fingers curl into the hair at his nape.  She
leaned into him with a sigh, one that brushed his
chin with warm invitation.

No such luck Charlie had explained she was merely
to keep him company for a few hours.  Sam vowed to
set her straight the instant they were safely
inside the house.  With a few stern words, he would
make it clear any advance on her part would be most
unwelcome.  He didn't care if she thought him an
impotent lunatic with a fetish for simply looking
at pregnant women;  her job was to fulfill any
fantasy, whether or not it involved sex.

Her nails gently scraped his neck with reluctance
when she let him go to settle into the seat.  

Damn it.  This he didn't need.  He let the shiver
along his skin fade and thought of the one woman
who shined like a guiding star in his mind.

He should have told Emma where he was going.  He'd
had enough of lying, especially to her.  Knowing
she was miles away now on the road to Baltimore
made him ache.  Finally, he had the mock Dana in
the car, though it was with some effort he
disentangled himself from her hold.  With a nod to
the nurse, he slid behind the wheel.

"Comfortable?" he asked over his shoulder.

A soft 'hmm' was his only answer.  Even that made
him groan, as it sounded so much like a purr he'd
heard only last night in Emma's arms.

He practically raced to the Mulder house, keeping
his mouth shut and one eye on the following
vehicle.  The faster they got home, the sooner he
could rid himself of his unnatural attraction to a
total stranger by shuffling her quickly off in a
back alley cab.

Fat chance.  Unless she had a beak of a nose and
rotted teeth, she was bound to remind him of Emma. 
He'd just have to avoid her at all costs.  It was
only because she'd made the first move that he'd
reacted, plain and simple.

Steeling his spine, he pulled into the drive.  He
could do this.  It was the perfect test of his
fidelity to one woman.  If he couldn't last a few
hours, then it was no use thinking he'd make it a
lifetime without straying from Emma.

Would every woman affect him like this from now on? 
No - he'd already been hit on by all manner of
beautiful women at the pub, but they left him all
cold.  Just one glance at Emma and his temperature
skyrocketed.  It was now her or no one, and he knew
it.

As he quickly ushered them inside and locked the
door, he didn't even take the time to turn on the
light before he said, "Listen, Punkin... we've got
to set a few things straight -"

And suddenly found himself attacked.

Her arms were around his neck and her lips hungrily
latched on to his neck.  His body, stunned into
immobility, bended under the advance and he slammed
into the door behind him, his palms reaching out to
steady himself.

It was with some effort he managed to break free. 
"Wait just a damned minute," he said between her
pressing kisses.

"You're a cutie," she rasped against his mouth. 
The netting of her veil tickled his cheeks and he
moaned, trying hard not to give in.  "Charlie said
I'd like the job, and I do.  So kiss me, Loverboy."

"No!"  Sam finally got her away from him and put
some distance between himself and her by shoving
her at arms length.  "Miss, I think there's been a
mistake."

"But why let good mistletoe go to waste?"  His
companion pointed to a spot above their heads with
a grin barely visible in the dimness.

"Would you stop?  I'm not... there's someone..."

"I've heard all about you, you know."  She sounded
like a cross between a tigress and a kitten - all
soft and whispery, yet seductive.  "You have a
thing for the ladies."  One hand snaked up his
lapel.  "Now I can see why."

Charlie had told her who he was?  That idiot!  "I'm
practically engaged, for Christ's sake!"

"Practically?  Either way it doesn't matter,
sugar."

"It matters to me."

A slim hand pressed low between their bodies.  "Not
bad," she mused, giving him a slow stroke. "Is that
a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me?"

To his utter humiliation, he felt himself begin to
harden and knew things had just gone too far.

"Okay, that's it."  Sam shook her off and found the
telephone in the hall.  Charlie should have looked
more closely into the woman he'd picked for the
job, and he was about to get an earful.  "You're
outta here, lady.  'Mrs. Mulder' has suddenly had a
relapse and must be sent back to the hospital."

"But what about Chang?"

First, she knew who he was.  Now she knew about
Chang?

He stilled, reaching for the gun.  In an instant,
he had her in his sights, saying, "Get your hands
up, doll."

Fright made her step back, her hands fluttering up. 
Crystal clear now, her voice lost all huskiness as
her shout rang out.  "Sam, no!"

Sam dropped the gun with a shudder of disbelief. 
No.  She wouldn't.  She couldn't.  She didn't!

He slapped at the light switch before turning to
face her sheepish smile.  The hat was gone, and the
bandages came off one at a time, revealing a face
he figured he'd not see again in a few days.  One
that was supposed to be headed to Baltimore.

A shaky smile burst forth from her before he could
snap from his stupor.

"Guess that really was a gun in your pocket."

"Yeah," he growled, plunging them in darkness again
as he clamped a hand around her wrist to pull her
away from the door.  "Just like it seems I have a
thing for spanking after all, Emma."



End Chapter Twenty-Six