TITLE: "Raining, Pouring"

BY: Ten

E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au and/or

kristena@netconnect.com.au



CATEGORY: V; MSR, A, MT

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: After their trip to Kroner, Kansas, Mulder makes

his move. Scully panics. Cue a downpour.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Up to and including "Rain

King".

ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be

archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer

stay intact.

FEEDBACK: I love to know who is out there in the ether!

THANKS TO: Sheila, Suzanne, Gerry, Mac, Debbie and Judie.

I salute you ladies for your patience, promptness and

honesty.



My website for all my X-Files fanfiction, thanks to the

wonderful Skyfox, is at:

http://tenxffic.tripod.com

Mirror site:

http://homex.coolconnect.com/member3/tenxffic/



DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, the episodes referred to, Mulder

and Scully and all other characters from the show belong

to Chris Carter and his team of writers, Ten Thirteen

Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without

permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no

profit will be gained. Characters not recognised from the

show are mine.





The X-Files: "Raining, Pouring"

By Ten, 1 January, 10-18 & 27-28 February, March 2001



xXx



Monday night

Scully's apartment:



Even though she wasn't in Kroner anymore, Scully could

hear Sheila's disbelieving voice, right down to the way

it had echoed across the bathroom tiles as they discussed

Mulder. "Not even a kiss?"



Mulder's lips so close to hers in the hallway, just

before the bee... Does within a fraction of an inch of

contact count, Sheila?



Scully knew she had to stop thinking like this. But since

they had returned from the Rain King case on Sunday, it

was all she could think about. Her and Mulder's

relationship. Or lack thereof.



As Mulder had once said to Robert Patrick Modell, "Made

you look."



She was. She was indeed. But she shouldn't be. It ain't

broken, so don't try fixing it.



However...



"Stop it!" she told herself.



A knock on the door broke her out of her musings.



Mulder. A rather uncertain-looking Mulder, dressed in

jeans and a pullover.



"Anything wrong?" Dana asked as she let him in. "Another

case?"



"No. Just thought I'd drop by..."



"I was just about to make some tea."



"Go ahead. I'll even have some."



"Not coffee? That's a change."



"About time I made some changes." He sounded cryptic.



She felt increasingly - irrationally - nervous. "I'll -

I'll just go put the water on."



"Sure."



A thought occurred to her before she entered the kitchen.

"How's your arm?"



He shrugged. "Fine."



Scully regarded him. "I might as well check it and change

the bandages while you're here. I'll just go get my bag."

On her way back, she filled the kettle, put it on the

stove and turned the stove on.



Mulder, having apparently resigned himself to the

inevitability of an examination, was waiting on the sofa

with his sleeve pulled up and no smart remarks

forthcoming.



The bandage and gauze pad were quickly removed. Scully

scrutinised the wound carefully. It was closed with

butterfly strips. "Yes, that's looking all right." She

thought about putting some Betadine on it, but remembered

she had to stock up on more. It could wait until tomorrow

night. "No signs of infection. You are taking the

antibiotics, aren't you?"



He nodded. It was a preventative measure - Mulder had

probably cut his arm on a piece of furniture while diving

out of the way of the crashing cow, but there was the

likelihood of something nasty from the cow's hooves

getting into the wound. Not to mention anything that

could have been lurking in the eaves of the now-destroyed

roof thanks to vermin or birds.



Scully began putting a fresh pad and bandage over the

cut. She felt nervous. Mulder was watching her. Gazing at

her. Almost like the way poor Holman had kept gazing at

Sheila in Kroner.



Uh-oh.



Mulder took a deep breath. "Scully, I've been

thinking..."



Please let it be about our next case.



"Holman and Sheila have got me thinking. About us. About

things - like what I said to you after I was rescued from

the Devil's Triangle. What happened in the hallway last

year. What *almost* happened before the bee cut in."



"Oh?" Scully's head was praying that Mulder had come to

the conclusion that it was best if they continued on as

normal, while her heart was taking up arms - most likely

in the form of little arrows - for the right to complete

that kiss and much more.



She looped the bandage around his arm again, wishing she

could wrap it around his mouth instead to block whatever

words were about to come. She didn't dare look at his

face. She couldn't.



"I wanted it to happen. I still do." His right hand came

up to still her busy fingers and hold them. "Scully, I

meant what I said in the hospital room. I lo-"



"Mulder, that bee saved our friendship," she blurted out,

abandoning the bandaging to meet his eyes.



There was a pause. He stared at her in hurt and

disbelief. "What?"



"You're my best friend. You mean so much to me, but if we

took this further, it could ruin everything. To risk

that..."



His expression was quickly altering to an impassive mask.

His right hand lifted off of hers. "So the bee did us a

favour?" he asked quietly.



"In a way, yes."



The whistle of the kettle made her jump. "That's the -

I'll just go get - make - the tea." She scrambled up and,

despite her best efforts at normality, raced into the

kitchen.



There she tried to collect herself. What *was* she doing,

panicking like that? Mulder was probably going to walk

out after that performance. No - his arm was half-

bandaged. A slender thread to be tethered by, but she was

suddenly grateful for it.



All right, Dana. Go out with the tea and fix his bandage

and talk about this rationally.



The second she determined her course of action and

reached for the teabags, she heard her front door close.

It wasn't slammed, but it didn't need to be.



Mulder had taken the hint and his bruised feelings - and

his half-bandaged arm - and left.



xXx



Two hours later, across the phonelines:



"Mulder."



"It's me. Um, I just wanted to check if your arm was

okay. It was kind of left...unfinished."



"I fixed it up. It's fine - no more loose ends."



"That's good." Pause. "Any pain?"



"A little. Not for long. If I chase flying cows I have to

remember they can crash back to earth. I think I'll stick

to UFOs from now on."



"Okay. Um... Can we still... I mean..."



"It was no biggie, Scully. It didn't even need stitches.

Won't leave a scar. Don't worry about it."



"That's good. Okay... I'll see you tomorrow."



"Yeah. Night, Scully."



"Night."



xXx



Tuesday morning:



Why had she panicked?



It had been a restless night indeed for Dana Scully. The

phone discussion had not alleviated her turmoil. She went

over and over things in her mind.



She was upset over what she had done, but if it happened

again, would she do it any differently?



And now there was the very knotted dilemma of how to act

at work this morning. Scully was still wrestling with

that one as she hurried through the FBI parking lot - she

was late. Mulder would probably be studiously

indifferent. They would tiptoe around each other for the

next few days, waiting for the awkwardness to reduce so

they could continue on down the path she had chosen.



It might not be the desired path, but it was the chosen

one.



What made the situation even worse was that they couldn't

navigate through this in the relative privacy of the

basement office. Fowley and Spender still had the X-

Files. How Mulder had convinced Kersh to let him and

Scully go to Kroner was a mystery to her. Though Kersh

had probably taken one look at the subject matter - a

self-labelled 'Rain King' swindling a drought-stricken

farming community - and thought that it had the potential

to turn into even more humiliation and fruitlessness for

her partner. Or Mulder had pulled in a favour from

someone 'on high' that allowed him to run with this one.



And now to have to sit out in the bullpen surrounded by

so many other agents who would notice and watch the ex-X-

Files team's behaviour and waggle their tongues about

it...



In the elevator, it was still difficult not to press for

the lowest floor, though that wasn't just because of her

worried mood. After all this time since the basement fire

some habits were still hard to break. Scully also

realised she had been so distracted and in such haste

that she hadn't looked to see if Mulder's car was in the

parking lot.



Exiting the elevator, she walked down the hallway. Time

to face Mulder, the other agents, and Kersh. She took a

deep breath, put on her professional face and entered the

bullpen.



Mulder was not at his desk. A quick - hopefully casual-

looking - glance around failed to locate him. Perhaps

Kersh had called him in, or he was somewhere else in the

building, or he was running late too. The latter was most

likely - his desk looked just the same as it had last

night.



Perhaps he was sick. Or pretending to be sick.



The phone on her desk rang. She picked up the receiver.



A few minutes later she was taking a seat in Kersh's

office, the chair next to her unfamiliarly empty. Her

boss had launched into a reprimand about her lateness the

second she was fully in the door.



Now he glared at her over his desk as he continued, "I

always thought that you were a fine agent, who had been

unfortunate enough to suffer guilt by association because

of your partnership with Agent Mulder. However, it seems

you are now adopting aspects of his rebellious nature."



Before she could comment, Kersh abruptly asked, "Are you

aware of Agent Mulder's connection to a SAC in the

Portland office called Ruiz?"



Scully wondered where this was leading, but answered.

"SAC Ramon Ruiz. Yes, Mulder has mentioned him in the

past. They knew each other in the Behavioural Sciences

Unit." She could recall Mulder speaking to him on the

phone a few times.



Kersh nodded. "Ruiz has a serial killer case in need of a

profiler. Not just 'any old' profiler, he stressed to

me." He looked disdainful. "This case apparently needs

Agent Mulder's 'straw into gold' touch." Kersh's frown

deepened at the agent's choice of words. "They really

need a break on this case before the killer strikes

again. So Ruiz requested Mulder be sent out on the next

available flight. He'll be in the air now."



Scully tried not to stare at their boss in disbelief at

what had to be a deliberate omission - she had been left

off this case, but by whom? Kersh could have easily given

the assignment to both partners. Was this part of another

attempt from the upper echelons at driving a wedge

between them? Or had Mulder specifically asked for a solo

case to have some time away from her?



Kersh continued, "Apart from informing you of that, I

also wanted to give you your work assignment for the rest

of this week -"



"With all due respect, sir, I could have accompanied

Agent Mulder and provided assistance - especially in

going over the autopsy results."



Her boss frowned at her interruption. "You can do that

from here *if* you are required to help, though I don't

think much was missed. A certain Raymond Chapman is the

pathologist in charge."



Scully knew that Kersh knew she couldn't complain much

about that. Few others were held in such high esteem in

the pathology field as Raymond Chapman. If there was

anything to find, Chapman would have found it. And he had

a very open mind.



Still, when she left Kersh's office, part of her was

fuming at being left out of the loop. And another part of

her was shamefully relieved that she didn't have to face

Mulder just yet.



xXx



Portland FBI Office

Oregon

Same day



Photos from each crime scene were spread out across the

conference table. Mulder walked back and forth, studying

a certain picture here, a section of them there. The only

other occupant of the room was SAC Ramon Ruiz, an

Hispanic man in his late forties and a Bureau veteran. He

stood back and watched.



While pursuing the paranormal over these last years

Mulder had still been in contact with Ruiz, mainly via

email, every so often giving his insights and thoughts on

cases his friend asked for his opinion on. He'd done a

few profiles for Ruiz during that time too, but not to

this extent.



Finally Mulder stopped the examination and turned to him.

"Geez, Ru," he said grimly. "You've really laid on quite

a spread for me."



Ruiz's face was world-weary, but his eyes were genuinely

sympathetic. "Told you it was tough. It's going to be one

of those, isn't it? So deep you nearly get lost. If you

don't want to take this on, I understand."



"No. There's a killer to catch. I'm ready to delve."



"You sure?"



Mulder nodded. Indeed, his mind was already ticking over

what he had seen and been told. Once he had the taste of

a case he knew he could use his skills on - even if, like

this, it did not possess a 'paranormal bouquet' - he felt

bound to see it through. The X-Files wellspring was

pretty dry at the moment, and mostly out of his reach -

again *only* for the moment, he vowed. And he had heard

about this case on and off in the news and through the

FBI grapevine as it dragged on.



Plus he was still raw from Scully's rejection. As well as

hurt, resentful, upset... Bases were loaded. So having

work to distract himself with was another reason to take

this on.



"I'm ready."



His old colleague allowed a small smile of relief. "Okay

then. I've arranged a guy who'll run interference for

you."



"I don't ne-"



Ruiz gave him a look that Scully would have been proud

of. "Yes, you do. And not just for the case stuff. He's

there to ensure you don't come out of it a dehydrated,

malnourished mess."



"I'm sure he'll love ensuring *that*. I can't expect

someone to do that for me." Even when he was on profiles

with Scully present, Mulder didn't *expect* it of her

either. It wasn't like she was the 'little woman' taking

care of her man.



On the Mostow case he had done just as he had when he was

the profiling section's golden boy - at least when

circumstances or Patterson required him to focus on a

certain profile instead of several at once and to go in

THAT deep. Usually it was a high profile case, one where

in the eyes of his boss it was worth 'the cost' of

pulling Mulder off normal duties, worth letting him go on-

site, and worth the risk of him needing recuperation

time. Patterson and co. had been very conscientious about

getting him to the hospital if required - once the

profile was finished and he was near collapse, that is.

He accepted it as the way things were and so did the rest

of the team. The price that had to be paid for those

results.



But in that first deep profile with Scully around, her

reactions and concern had been like her holding a mirror

up to him, showing just how 'out there' he was. And she

also showed him that while he was wandering in the abyss,

she was going to be a rope tied around his waist at all

times, instead of the last minute one Patterson would

throw down desultorily - too bad if he didn't have the

strength to haul himself out.



So since then, things had been different. Scully had seen

to that.



Mulder wasn't the only one thinking about how formidable

Scully was. Ruiz kept pressing. "Look, I don't want your

usual partner mad at me. I've heard stories."



Mulder had to laugh. Then he considered. He didn't like

this, but he was out here with no Scully safety-net. He

knew what he got like on deep profiles. He had learned

since the Mostow case and didn't want to cause any more

trouble than necessary for Ruiz and his team. Or go back

to D.C. a wreck and have Scully think that he couldn't be

relied upon to take the necessary steps without her.



He took a deep breath. "All right."



Ruiz feigned a heart attack at the turnaround, then

disappeared and came back a few minutes later with an

Agent who could almost have been Chuck Burns' twin. This

man was a foot taller though and had a moustache and,

unlike Chuck, didn't have a fascinated, 'what cool stuff

have you got for me to examine this time' air about him.



"Special Agent Fox Mulder, Special Agent Kenneth Curtis."



As Curtis approached, Mulder could see that his first

impression was correct - the man was not overly thrilled

to be acting as a glorified wet nurse, but there was a

curiosity in him at actually seeing 'Spooky' in the flesh

and in action.



They shook hands. Ruiz said, "Curtis has been on the

taskforce since the beginning, so he'll be on hand to

answer any questions you have and to drive you to crime

scenes if need be. But your main task is to go over the

casefile and get that profile written. We're setting you

up in a nearby hotel - a suite. So there's plenty of

space for you to pace and spread stuff out."



"You're too good to me, Ru."



"We've got copies of all the photos and documents and

everything all boxed up ready to go with you."



Mulder nodded. Reading over the casefile was not going to

be just as simple as studying a modestly-sized file

folder of documents and reports. Not even an immodestly-

sized folder. This required boxes to contain everything.



But it wasn't just the casefile itself, as Ruiz pointed

out. "I've also made sure there's heaps of legal pads - I

remember how you burn through those. Your favourite pens

and pencils. Printer & laptop for email access and for

the final draft."



"Thanks for that - I usually use Scully's..." Mulder

trailed off, then quickly jumped back on track. "Okay, I

think we're up to speed here. I'd better get started."



"Yeah, if the UNSUB sticks to his MO, he'll strike again

on Saturday. Though he could escalate. Anyway, it'll take

you time to process everything we've collected so far."

Ruiz gave Mulder a solemn look. "Good luck."



xXx



Mulder and Curtis each carried a box to Curtis's car. As

they were putting them in the trunk, Mulder saw that the

agent was looking at him - or more specifically, his arm.

Mulder realised that somewhere along the way his sleeve

had ridden up and the bandage was visible.



"Just a cut. No stitches. I'm fine to be carrying boxes."



"Did you get that on your last case?"



"Yeah."



"Did you fall or get attacked?"



"Sort of attacked." Mulder hoped Curtis wouldn't ask any

more questions about it. To avoid that, he opened up a

dialogue about the weekend's action in the sporting world

and soon they were chatting animatedly. Sport was about

the only connection he had with other men. Ordinary men

with ordinary jobs and lives and families, that was. He

didn't quite include the Gunmen in that category.



xXx



True to Ruiz's word, the suite had space. The staff had

removed the sofa bed and put in extra folding tables and

some cork boards on easels. Mulder now had plenty of

surfaces to spread the contents of the boxes out on.



Mulder set a box down. "I'm sorry you got stuck with

watching over me, Curtis."



Curtis shrugged. "I figure that Ruiz will owe me big, if

nothing else. Could come in handy." He injected some

enthusiasm into his voice. "Okay, so what's the first

move?"



"I'll go over all this stuff, in chronological order, and

see what I can make of it. From what I've seen so far,

I'm really going to have to submerge myself to get into

the killer's mind. This will not be a 'light' profile."



"Yeah, so I've been told."



"Once I'm immersed, nothing else will exist for me apart

from getting that profile finished."



Curtis leaned against the wall and folded his arms. "I've

heard mention that you sort of let some things slide."



"Yeah. Don't worry, you won't have to buy any Depends; I

don't get THAT far gone. I may go without a shower for a

few days, but what guy doesn't?" They exchanged manly

grins of understanding. "If I get too offensive, just

spray some deodorant on me."



Now Mulder's grin faded. It was time to enter territory

that was a given between him and Scully, but to have to

mention it to another agent... It sounded like Ruiz or

the rumour mill had filled Curtis in anyway, to a degree.

Should I mention it, Mulder wondered. Yes, he had to, for

all the reasons he had come up with when Ruiz pressured

him. Loss of Curtis' respect didn't matter as much as

doing the profile properly. And Mulder knew he had to

mention food - he had to keep his strength up to do the

profile. If it wasn't brought to him, he certainly

wouldn't go seek it out or bother with room service.



Reluctantly he said, "If you bring food and draw my

attention to it, I'll eat. One thing though - this cut.

The bandage needs to be changed daily."



Curtis' face soured. "I've got to play doctor too?"



"No, not quite. That's another thing to keep at me about,

and I will do it myself. This is basically about

providing me with resources and reminders. The rest I can

do myself or go without." He remembered something else.

Damn. "I'm on antibiotics for the cut too."



"What, it's infected?"



"No - as a precaution." Mulder could see that little

titbit sliced another few feet off Curtis' opinion of

him. How manly was it to take pills for something you

didn't have? "They're not exactly sure what cut me, so

the doctors insisted on the meds."



He cursed the cut. This profile would all be much easier

without his injury adding to the list of 'to do's'.



He went into the bathroom and retrieved the pill bottle.

Coming out, he put it on a table. "I'm on these until

early next week. Put one tablet in front of me twice a

day and keep at me until I take them. I'm usually good at

taking meds, but when I profile like this, I just get

this bee in my bonnet that they'll interfere with my

thought processes. So make sure I don't just palm them."



Scully, I hope you appreciate this. I'm giving away all

my tricks, despite myself. But to keep the peace...



"Okay... Am I supposed to enforce bedtime too?"



Mulder thought the agent did an admirable job of keeping

the sarcasm out of his voice. "Nah. I can go a few days

without sleep if need be. If I do fall asleep at the

desk, if you see fit to shove a pillow between me and the

wood, that's great. If not, I'll live."



The agent nodded slowly. "Okay... I'll be back in four

hours. You've got my numbers if you need me before then."



Curtis shook his head as he left. He had never gotten

married or had kids because he only liked to look after

the needs of one person - himself. Sheesh. Now he was a

nursemaid. This assignment was a crock of... It wasn't

like he was a rookie agent or just back from desk duty.

Oh sure, he knew that Ruiz had originally slated Gordons

for this role, but then Gordons had been involved in a

car accident this morning and was in the hospital and

would require sick leave, so there was no choice.



Well, if this was what it took to catch the killer, then

he'd try to exercise a little patience. For now.



xXx



Mulder changed out his suit and into his favourite

sweatshirt and pants. That was much more comfortable and

suited Portland's climate, but he wasn't going to go for

a jog or lounge on the bed. Most of the day had been

unavoidably lost in transit and in doing all the things

that accompanied a trip, even though he had managed to

get an early flight this morning. He had managed some

sleep on the plane too - now it was time to work.



He stared at the boxes, then at the phone. Should he call

Scully before getting down to it? Once he started

unpacking the contents, he'd be off in his own world, or

rather the killer's world.



Kersh would have told her where I am and what I'm doing.



Yeah, but I'd just better...



Better what? What we going to say to each other? More

double meanings? Have a conversation and realise we've

said nothing at all?



She had made her stance very clear. Or she was in such

flat-out denial of their feelings that pursuing it

further looked pointless.



He headed for the boxes, then stopped. Sighing, he picked

up the phone and dialed her cell number.



"Scully."



"Hi, it's me."



"You're in Portland?"



"Yeah. Ruiz has thrown me a big bone to gnaw on."



"Gargoyle strength?" That had been their code since the

Mostow case for the really deep 'Spooky'-mode profiles.



"Yeah, at least. I'm just about to make a start. You on a

case or autopsies or teaching?"



"Our 'esteemed' boss slated me some lectures at Quantico.

I'm doing the prep now - and start delivering them

tomorrow."



Neither of them mentioned the fact that Scully could have

come on this case too. "Knock 'em dead."



"Thanks. Did you take this morning's pill?"



The one I swallowed last night was pretty bitter, thanks.

"Certainly did." He kept his voice light. He told her his

hotel details and phone number and about his temporary

partner. Then he glanced at his watch. "I'd better let

you go." Hmmm, does THAT have a double meaning, he

wondered. "I'm going to start the profile, or at least

the background prep for it, so I might be on silent

running until it's done. You know how I get."



"I know." There was a slight strain in her voice. Anyone

else would have missed it. "Good luck, call if you need

any help, and let me know when you're out the other

side."



He heard her pause, as if about to say something more,

but then she said goodbye.



Probably just wanting to be here so that she could be on

the case and keep an eye on me. That's all.



It was almost a relief to have the profile as a

distraction.



xXx



Wednesday

Mulder's hotel suite



Submergence. In the cuts, the slashes, the wounds. Lines.



Lines that he was painstakingly connecting, to find a

pattern. Motive.



Like with Mostow. Why did this killer kill? What was

driving him to do that and that and that to a body? To a

person? How did he see them?



He was in the well, in the putrid water. There was light

far above, but he had to let go of it, move away from it.

In order to dive under.



To find. To become.



xXx



Thursday

Mulder's hotel suite



Mulder was sitting at the desk, scribbling on a legal

pad. Curtis stood near him. He'd been watching for

several minutes, waiting for Mulder to pause. Mulder

wasn't. It was like watching a piece of machinery in

action. Constant. Unstoppable.



But Curtis was supposed to find the 'off' switch. Great.



He didn't even know if Mulder knew he was there. He

didn't want to interrupt Spooky if the iron was hot and

the profile was cooking, but it looked like he had no

choice. The food and coffee in his hands needed to be

consumed, and it might as well be now. That was his

'assignment', after all.



"Agent Mulder?" No response. He tried again, louder.

Nothing. Giving the ceiling a 'give me strength' look,

Curtis tucked the bag of food under the crook of his arm

so that he had a hand free. He picked up some pages and

debris from the corner of the desk, planning to clear

enough of a space to safely set the food down.



The second he did, Mulder spun round in the chair and

grabbed the pages off him like a crocodile bursting out

of the water and snatching prey from the riverbank.



"Jesus!" Curtis yelped, jumping. Lucky the coffee had a

lid on it. "Don't do-"



Then he looked into Mulder's face and saw no recognition

of who he was. Just...



Anger. Fury. Insanity?



A blink and it was all gone. Mulder's lips ceased the

pulled-back snarl and his eyes just showed tiredness. He

rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Curtis, what are you

doing?"



"Losing ten years off my life! I was just trying to put

the food down near you."



"Oh. Thanks." Mulder put the pages he had seized - now

severely crumpled - on top of another pile to his left.

He looked down at the legal pad and his body started to

resume a writing posture, like the profile was pulling

him back, to continue on. Like Curtis has ceased to

exist.



Curtis cleared his throat. "Mulder, won't take you long

to have lunch. Then you can keep going. I got you a

cheeseburger."



Mulder pulled a face. His voice hardened. "I hate fast

food."



"Yesterday you said you loved it." This guy was too

weird. Oh well, a few more days...



xXx



Scully's apartment



Scully finished putting her dinner dishes away and

wandered out to the sitting room. She looked out the

window. There were some clouds, but overall a fairly

clear night sky.



She couldn't shake the feeling that it should be raining.



Dana sighed. Hopefully a long and fragrant soak in the

tub would pull her out of this mood.



Sheila had sent her and Mulder a postcard, care of the

FBI Building. God only knew what the mailroom employees

had thought. And of course the jerk who delivered the

mail had left it on the top of the modest pile of

envelopes on Scully's desk in the bullpen, so everyone

had seen it.



The postcard was hard to miss. A blaze of tacky hearts

and flowers. The agents probably thought Mulder had sent

it. On the back Sheila had invited Mulder and Scully to

her wedding, preparations for which were underway right

now, to be held in two months' time. Once Sheila had

realised her love for Holman after all these years, she

was not wasting any time in getting him to the altar.



That reminded Scully of what Linda Bowman had said last

year. "When it's true love, why wait?"



Let me count the ways...



Fresh from the bath, Dana checked her email. Nothing from

Mulder. She knew her partner was armed with a laptop, but

he probably wasn't bothering to check his hotmail addy,

especially since he would be into the profile-proper by

now. Or maybe he only had eyes for mail that dealt with

the case. So it wasn't really worth sending him a

message. The same with phoning. No point in disturbing

him. It wasn't like she was on the case too - there was

nothing to tell him.



Except that she missed him.



If she phoned she would most likely get Curtis, and what

could she say to him? "Is he eating?"



"How can I miss him?" Scully asked herself. "I'm not

being dragged off on cases. My evenings are my own. It's

a holiday."



But she had to admit that she was bored. And lonely. The

'switch flicked' analogy she had given Sheila was

accurate - he had brought a lot of light into her life in

many ways. At work, Mulder had made existence in the

bullpen bearable. Even last night when she had gotten

together with her mother and Charlie and his kids and

laughed and played and joked, she had felt alone.



Alone? Try incomplete.



"I'm just out of practise with the family thing."



And the person who was just a friend is suddenly the only

person you can ever imagine yourself with...



"Bedtime, Dana," she said firmly. She turned the sitting

room lights off with a firm flick.



xXx



Friday

Mulder's suite:



Curtis gave his usual cursory knock on the door then let

himself in. His eyes went through their adjustment phase

again, coming from full sunlight to dimness broken only

by a few lamps. He regarded Mulder, who was sitting back

in his chair. He appeared to be staring at the printer,

which although on, was not currently doing anything.



"So," Curtis said into the silence, wondering if Mulder

even knew he was there. "You said it's finished?" He

hoped so, then his babysitting duty was nearly over. The

task force had been breathing down both their necks for

this equivalent of the ten commandments carried down from

the mountain. The killer would strike again tomorrow

unless Mulder could come up with something. The taskforce

had not been able to produce any new leads in the

interim.



Mulder pointed at the printer. The instant he did, it

whirled into life and started churning out the profile.

Then he opened his mouth and managed to make his voicebox

churn out words. They were rusty but loud enough. "I

emailed a copy to Ruiz ten minutes ago. But it'll make

more sense to him when he can look at the diagrams and

sketches. Guess I should have tried to recreate them in

the Paint program, huh?" He smiled tiredly. The work

would be solid and clear enough that Ruiz wouldn't want a

presentation on it. Not just yet, anyway, while the

taskforce absorbed it.



Curtis took another look at Mulder. His eyes were glassy,

but that was probably just from the permanently-on lamps.

And from tiredness. Same with the pallor. Yeah, he'd

heard about Spooky Mulder, but the guy was even freakier

than the stories let on. Some of the things he'd said and

done... Like it wasn't him at all.



Curtis told himself to cool it. There had been a few

times where Mulder had sounded like a different person,

like his assertion about hating fast food, but that was

hardly something to hit the panic button over and it

wasn't like he'd been putting his voice to much use

lately - no wonder it had sounded strange. And if a

mannerism or two seemed out of place, that didn't

necessarily mean anything either. He didn't know Mulder

well enough to be able to say for sure what was and

wasn't his ordinary behaviour. This was just the way the

guy worked.



"Do you want anything to eat?" Mulder went paler and

shook his head, still staring at the whirring printer.

"You really should eat something. How about you have a

shower and get some sleep while I run this all over to

the office. Then I'll bring you back something."



Mulder nodded absently. "Sounds good..." His voice was

hoarse.



The printer stopped, the pages resting in its tray now

taking Curtis' full attention. This was his priority. And

sleep would be the best thing for Mulder while he

delivered it. Then when Ruiz read through it and had any

questions, Mulder would have some sleep under his belt

and be more able to deal with them. Curtis picked the

profile up and had a skim through. He whistled,

impressed. The connections this guy had made...



"Curtis?" Mulder's voice was very quiet.



"Yeah?"



"What day is it?"



"Friday."



Mulder nodded, relieved. He knew he'd beaten the deadline

for when the killer would strike next, but he had been

unsure what day of the week it was. And his watch was in

the bedroom - he'd taken it off because during these

profiles he didn't care what hour of the day it was and

Curtis had been acting as his timekeeper anyway.



A few minutes later, Curtis was out the door with the

profile and the diagrams and other pertinent info from

the boxes and folders. When the door shut behind him,

Mulder started slightly. It was like he was finally

crawling up out of the deep, dark well, back into his own

mind and life.



But it wasn't quite ready to let him go.



Images of some of the victims flashed in front of his

eyes. Mulder flinched and blinked. They weren't from the

crime scene photos - they were from the killer's point of

view, from Mulder's reconstruction of their final

moments.



He might not be submerged any longer, but filth like that

tended to cling.



How long before he couldn't remove it anymore?



Pulling away from such thoughts, Mulder stared at the

computer equipment, then realised that he could turn it

all off now. His hand shook as he tried to press the

printer's 'off' button. It took a few attempts before he

succeeded, his arm aching with the movement. Then it was

the computer's turn to be shut down.



More flashes. "Don't think," he muttered to himself.

"Don't think." Turn your brain off - or at least that

part of it - like the printer. You've used it, it's over.



God, he felt awful. Little sleep for days. His joints and

muscles were stiff and aching from hours of sitting in

this chair. His head was hurting. There was a horrible

taste in his mouth. He risked a sniff under one armpit.

Whew!



"Shower, then sleep." That sounded wonderful. Providing

Ruiz didn't get on the phone and ask for clarification or

something. Unlikely. Shower - something to occupy him and

wash everything away. A win/win situation. And it was hot

and stuffy in here - Mulder hadn't exactly bothered with

opening windows.



Wincing, he got up. The walls did a little dance. He

gripped the edge of the desk and in a few seconds the

walls went back to normal behaviour. Though pains were

shooting through his body. Mulder guessed that after all

that time spent sitting he should have given his body

more notice before standing. And he had to admit that he

wasn't as young as when he used to do this. "Shower and

sleep," he repeated, hating this 'just out of the hole'

feeling. But he was quite willing to endure some intense

days and a crash period if it meant catching a bad guy.



And at least it had stopped him thinking about Scully for

a while.



In the bathroom, Mulder didn't look in the mirror. He

didn't want to know.



Feeling hot, then cold - or was it both at once? - he

fumbled with his sweatshirt. One arm was really hurting.



Oh, that's the one with the bandage on it. What was that

for? Cow through the roof. Right.



He'd taken an antibiotic this morning, but when had he

last changed the bandage? The one on his forearm looked

new enough. However, as he pushed his sleeve up and

unwound the gauze, he quickly found there were several

layers of bandages. One on top of the other.



Now he remembered. He'd done it quickly so that Curtis

would think he had changed it and leave him in peace.



Bright one, Mulder, he thought. Would have been just as

quick to change it.



He got down to the final bandage, but as he went to

remove the gauze pad, it caught on something, then tugged

free painfully. "Ouch!" He realised it had been stuck to

the wound by something...



Mulder stared at the revealed cut. "Shit..." The neatly

healing line was gone. It had morphed into an angry red

colour, puffed up between the few butterfly strips that

were still hanging on. The wound edges were no longer

closed in places. There was some discharge.



But there was something else even more alarming. Mulder

pushed his sleeve higher up to get a better look.



Evil-looking red lines radiated from the wound. They were

going up his arm.



xXx



Quantico



Scully thought today's lecture had gone well. The

students seemed receptive. Though as she recalled one

teacher saying years ago, "Some of you will love what I

do, some will hate it. And as for the rest of you, it'll

depend on what sort of day you're having."



She wondered how Mulder's day was going. She hated not

being there to keep an eye on him. Especially on a

profile like this one promised to be. At least Ruiz was

not like Patterson.



Scully had found out that Ruiz was a friend of the

Director, so had been able to get Mulder for his case

over Kersh's authority. Kersh seemed to have a mix of

feelings about having to let Mulder go off on a case that

he hadn't any say in or selection of. Scully was sure

that their boss was somewhat relieved at having the

'problem child' out of his way for a while, but then

again, he took delight in needling Mulder and giving him

degrading tasks, trying to push him to quit the FBI. And

also, with Mulder's legendary reactions to deep

profiling, there could be a wish on Kersh's part that

this would be the case to turn him into a washout.



Scully put her papers and satchel in the office she was

currently sharing in the teaching department, and headed

for the door to go out and buy her lunch. Her cellphone

rang.



"Scully," she answered.



"Scully..."



The happiness she felt at realising it was Mulder died

the second it was born, because her partner's voice was

hoarse and desperate. "Scully, it's got me."



xXx



Oregon Health Sciences University and Hospital



Curtis stood awkwardly against the wall in Mulder's room.

He hated hospitals. Ruiz wanted someone to phone in

regular updates and wait until Scully arrived. So much

for the babysitting assignment being over...



Mulder's left arm elevated on pillows and he was asleep

at the moment. Though in the times that he had been awake

he still acted like he was in dreamland. A high

temperature and whatever drugs the doctors had put him on

were the probable causes, but, after seeing Spooky Mulder

in action, Curtis had just cause to wonder if the guy was

capable of doing *anything* in a normal manner. That

simple little cut on his arm had become infected, then

the infection developed into septicemia. So Mulder

rambled that the killer's 'evil' had jumped into him and

taken up possession. In Curtis' experience, people with

fevers tended to jump from subject to subject, but not

old Spooky. The man just latched onto this one thing and

wouldn't let go. Panic-stricken, he had kept gesturing at

his arm like it was Exhibit A in his argument.



Yeah, right.



"No, Mulder," Curtis kept explaining. "Nothing quite that

exotic. No demons or evil. You're just run down and need

some rest." The Portland agent thought he had finally

driven the message home when Mulder had shut up a while

ago and gone into a light and restless sleep, his skin

flushed.



When the doctor had told Ruiz and Curtis what was wrong

with Mulder, Ruiz was not pleased that Curtis had 'let'

Mulder get into such a state. "Hey, you know better than

me what he's like!" Curtis had argued back, in front of

the doctor.



"He never got in this bad a condition before," Ruiz said.

"Couldn't you see his hand and arm were swelling up?"



At that point the doctor interjected. "Actually, the

swelling could have been hard to notice. Mr Mulder was in

loose clothing and wasn't wearing a watch or rings on

that hand. Also, from what you've told me, it sounds like

he was resting the arm on a table most of the time, so

gravity wouldn't have worked on it that much. It would

have been still swollen due to the infection, yes, but

with all these factors was not as noticeable to someone 

else as it could have been."



So Curtis had been somewhat validated. He knew Ruiz was 

acting like this because he was feeling worried and 

responsible about Mulder, but still...



Curtis dragged himself back to the present and yawned. He

glanced at his watch. Mulder's partner should be here

soon. Then perhaps he could -



A woman barged into the room. Curtis knew who she had to

be before she opened her mouth. She looked ready to chew

through titanium and he started feeling nervous for his

own safety. Because he would be assigned all blame. Of

course. What a crock. Fortunately, the moment her eyes

fell on Mulder it was like she went through some sort of

instant dilution process and became all concern instead.

Briefly Curtis wondered if he could sneak out while she

was distracted. She stepped up to the bed - Curtis was on

the other side - and whispered Mulder's name. No

response.



"The doctor says it's septa...septa..." Curtis gave up.

"Blood poisoning. That cut on his arm." At Scully's look,

he interjected, "Hey, I gave him the damn pills when I

was supposed to! I told him to change the bandage! What

more could I do?" He bet he wasn't going to get any

recognition for spending ages here while she was in

transit, trying to calm the guy down. He hadn't heard

such wild stuff since his grandfather used to tell him

bedtime stories.



Scully leaned over Mulder. Her heart had been doing

triple time ever since his phone call. When he had said:

"It's got me" she had first thought the killer had

somehow found and hurt or kidnapped her partner. But it

had quickly become clear from Mulder's panicked words

that the danger he was facing was internal - he was

talking possession, but she was thinking illness, severe

nightmare or overwork. Or all three.



So she had managed to get out of him that he was still in

his hotel suite, then while she kept reassuring him on

the cellphone that help was on the way, she was dialing

for that help on her desk phone, inwardly cursing that

she was over the other side of the country.



Now the physical distance between them had been bridged.

"Mulder?" Scully rested her hand against her partner's

cheek. Heat was radiating off him like a desert floor at

midday. Eyes closed, he flinched and moaned. "It's okay.

It's okay. I'm here. You're going to be fine." Scully

reluctantly pulled her eyes away from his face for a

quick but thorough look at the IV bags and the readouts.

There were pillows placed on both sides of the bed so

that Mulder had something to rest his arm on if he moved

onto his right side.



Eventually she registered that Curtis was still there,

and that he was looking defensive. Scully met that look.

"I'm sorry if I'm giving the impression of blaming you.

I'm not. This isn't your fault." But still, she felt it

best to remain on the other side of the bed in case she

got any urges to throttle him. "Mulder was on a broad

spectrum antibiotic, but even if he was taking them

religiously there was a chance he could get an infection

not covered by the pills. What seems to have happened is

that while his particular antibiotic wasn't correct, the

bacteria was mildly susceptible to it. If it had been

totally inactive, the symptoms would have come on

earlier, before he left to go profile."



She had been on the phone with the hospital for ages

while in the air. The culture and sensitivity to identify

the bacteria was still being run. Forty-eight hours was

the usual time it took. Then they would have to wait for

the correct antibiotic to take effect. Since Mulder was

relatively young and had been in good physical condition

before this, the doctors were hopeful about him pulling

through and not getting to the stage of losing his arm or

having any permanent damage to it. But Scully knew there

was still the chance of him going into septic shock. That

was all too often fatal.



Dana pushed the thought away.



She had also forgotten to inform Kersh where she was

going and why - she had only remembered when her plane

was finally in transit. So her boss got the call from an

air phone. He wasn't happy, but Dana could care less.

Kersh couldn't do anything about it. She did hold

Mulder's Medical Power of Attorney after all. And even if

she didn't, there was no way she was not going to be at

Mulder's side until he was out of danger. Her partner

needed her here.



Mulder shifted restlessly in the bed. Scully tried saying

his name again. He opened his eyes and looked at her.



When he spoke, his voice was flat. "Oh. You."



Stunned, Dana stared at her partner.



Mulder turned his head. His glassy eyes managed to notice

and lock onto Curtis. Then Mulder started to talk.

Actually, it was more of a babble, galloping the words

out with frequent pauses for breath and a lot of

slurring. A casual visitor would have had trouble picking

up the gist of what Mulder was saying, but Scully had

plenty of experience and Curtis had just had a crash

course while waiting for her to arrive, so they could

understand most of the words.



Scully may have had experience with Mulder in this sort

of condition before and heard him say a lot of things

during those times, but this time was very different.

Thanks to Curtis, Mulder had dropped the 'I'm possessed'

panic and seized on another subject to the exclusion of

all else.



Her.



"Do you know the things I've done for this woman? Went to

Antarctica when she was missing... because I couldn't

live without her." Illegible mumbling. "Infiltrated the

Pentagon for her. I told her I loved her ... laughed in

my face - twice. Even asked her... marry me."



Then he laughed and his voice briefly became clearer.

"But every time I try... it's like when I tell her about

something paranormal. 'Mulder, did they check you for

head trauma?' Or the classic, 'Oh brother'." Mulder shook

his head and returned his intense stare to Scully. "Told

you I loved you... you thought I was delusional. Tried

again... you nearly broke the sound barrier to get

away... I get the message. Least I got to kiss you in

1939. You punched me anyway. I can't score in any time

zone."



Scully was reeling inside. Not wanting any of this being

blabbed about in company, she said uncomfortably to

Curtis, "He's delirious."



"You see? You see!" Mulder said to Curtis. He shifted

around uncomfortably on the bed, wincing in pain and

pushing at the sheets. His words poured out, crammed

together more closely than strung beads. "Won't accept

it. Well, I give up, Scully. What do you want from me?

Blood?" He gave another feverish laugh. "You can't have

any of it, it's poisoned. No good. Just like me. Why

would you want me anyway? Okay, I give up. Go away." He

turned his face dismissively to the ceiling. More

mumbling, then: "Curtis'll do from now on... Least

there's no chance of me falling in love with him. No

offence, Curt."



"Um, none taken. Look, I'd better mosey along back to the

office now, report to Ruiz..."



"No, no, we gotta... discuss. Gonna work together, gotta

fill you in... I'm a loser. Last female in my bed was a

real cow."



Curtis was trying to edge away from the bed, not aided at

all in his escape by Scully, who was staring mutely at

Mulder, her hands slack on the bedrail. "I really have

to..."



"Thanks for your help, Agent Curtis," Scully said. It was

almost inaudible, her head bowed, but Curtis took the

dismissal and ran with it - or at least at a rapid walk -

out the door.



Mulder just kept talking to the wall, as if the agent was

still leaning there. He licked his lips and his voice was

growing fainter and fainter. Scully had to strain to hear

him. "Hey, that's ironic - hey diddle diddle, the cow

really did jump over the moon! Perhaps that's why it's

called the mooooooooon... But if the dish was so dishy,

why did it run off with the spoon? The spoon just kept

taking from it, making it empty. Spoon must have been

hoping to spoon, but too opposite, never work."



His eyes closed and his voice stopped. But his words kept

sounding in Scully's head.



xXx



A few hours later, a restless Mulder began talking to the

wall again. He didn't seem to know that Scully was in the

room, even though she had been the one giving him water

and tending to him.



"Everyone ended up with someone... at the reunion. Hell -

even that (mumble mumble) Mootz got the girl!"



Then Mulder blinked hard and Scully realised that his

eyes weren't just glassy from his temperature - he was on

the verge of tears. "I should have known better. Holman

was right... How can a frog tell a swan he loves her?" He

was huddled on his side now, shivering.



"Mulder," Scully whispered. "Mulder, please..."



"So hard... When she said no, does she mean that she

doesn't love me, full stop, end of story? Or she does

love me but she's not ready yet and if I can just hang

on, she may..." He sighed, half into the pillow, half

into his shoulder, breathing hard. "But how long?"



"Mulder, please listen to me. We'll discuss this in depth

when you're better. I promise. No avoiding. But for now

you have to rest. You're sick and it's very important to

me that you get better."



His voice was rapidly diminishing as the burst of

strength and semi-clarity left him. "Can't convince her

about UFO's and stuff, not even now, after all she's

seen, so I'm never going to be able to convince her that

I love her, to give us a try... Be too complicated

anyway. She's just being logical. I have to start being

logical. There's no way... Accept it." With that, Mulder

wrapped his right arm more tightly around his torso,

closed his eyes and drifted off into a stuporous doze.



xXx



Mulder was the one with the blood poisoning, but Scully

was reeling so much from what he'd been saying - and kept

saying, on and off, as the hours passed - that it was a

wonder she didn't have motion sickness. The depth of his

emotions towards her... How much he had kept hidden...

The fever had opened Pandora's box and all sorts of

things were flying out.



"When do I ... get my happy ending? Wanna speak to the

writer..."



"Frog and the swan. There's frog princes, but not me.

Princess would kiss me and I'd stay a frog."



"Weather is feelings not expressed... bottled up...

Wonder there's not permanent storms over my and Scully's

heads... Where I wander, showers follow..." He clumsily

felt his own burning forehead and chuckled with eerie

pride. "And now...I'm making a heatwave!"



"For other people it rains cats and dogs... I get cows."



"Wanted a peg leg, not a peg arm."



"Ironic... Holman and Eddie Blundt both thought I'd make

more of my life and looks. I told Holman to just tell

Sheila how he felt - like I had much luck with that one!

Can sympathise with him... Both worship the woman we love

from afar. Go into work every day just to see her..."



"Scully asked when I'd last been on a date. I haven't!

Loser by choice. Like Holman. I've forsaken all others

for her... Only want her. We sit and wait...and hope."



xXx



Scully had meant what she said. She had vowed to Mulder

and to God that things would change once Mulder was in

the clear this time. Even if they didn't pursue a full-

blown romance at the moment, she was determined that he

would know what he meant to her.



So of course, when the correct antibiotic did its job and

Mulder actually became aware and alert enough to provide

lucid answers to the nurses' orientation questions, it

quickly became clear that he had no recall of anything

that he had said to her while feverish. He could remember

bits and pieces of the profiling - asking if the perp was

caught before someone else was killed. And from the

polite but slightly remote way Mulder acted around her,

Dana knew he could remember his disastrous visit to her

place the night before he was sent to Oregon and was

behaving accordingly.



Just when she was ready to reach out, Mulder was in full-

scale retreat.



So, let it go and decamp back to base, her on one side of

the field, him on the other, or charge and damn the

consequences?



The doctor said that Mulder could be released tomorrow.

Scully stared across at her sleeping partner, watching

his breathing, his face. She had nearly lost him twice

over - because of the infection and because of her

rejection of him. To have him leave her life in either

way was unacceptable.



Help him recover first. Then see.



xXx



Next day:



Curtis and Ruiz entered the room to find Mulder sitting

on the edge of his hospital bed, dressed in casuals. His

left arm was in a sling at the moment because if he let

it hang down it throbbed, but once he and Scully got to

their motel, he could take the sling off and keep his arm

propped up again.



Scully was putting his bag on the chair. Greetings were

exchanged. Then Scully said, "Mulder, I've just got a few

things to talk to the doctor about, then I'll be back

with the orderly and wheelchair." He nodded and she

exited.



Ruiz gave Mulder the once-over. Twice. "Hate to say it,

but for someone who's just out of bed, you look like you

should be right back in there."



Mulder resisted giving a colourful answer. "I'll live.

Sick leave will be much more bearable when I'm lying on

my own couch with my TV and a decent range of stations.

But a motel room one will have to do for the moment."

They were going to a nearby motel for now, instead of

immediately jumping on a plane for D.C. before Mulder was

up to making the trip.



"Well, I won't be getting you to do any more 'straw into

gold' for me," Ruiz said.



"Oh, come on. I'm not Rumplestiltskin - it's not like I'm

demanding your firstborn as payment!" Mulder thought for

a moment about his friend's eldest son and couldn't

resist a dig. "Especially not after he hotwired my car

and took it for that little joyride."



Finally Curtis was hearing something of potential

interest. "He did? What happened?"



Ruiz gave a glare that was a little uncomfortable around

the edges. "That was years ago. He's studying to be a

lawyer now."



Mulder stared. "Really? You mentioned something about

that last year, but I thought you were joking. Oh God. At

least stealing cars is a more honest way to make a

living." His friend just gave a 'what can you do?' shrug.

"Anyway, Ru, the profiling didn't make me sick. Curtis

can tell you that I took the meds - it was just the wrong

type. That was NOT my fault or yours. It wasn't

anyone's."



Ruiz wasn't to be put off. "If you weren't doing such a

deep profile, you would have seen the cut wasn't healing.

Or are radiating red lines normal to you?"



Mulder shrugged, not up to his usual level of stubborn

argument. It was hard to resist the urge to lie down on

the bed and go back to sleep.



"Anyway, thanks to your profile, we caught the killer,"

Ruiz said. "Before he killed again."



"And that's the most important thing." Ruiz and Curtis

had filled him in on the good news and the details of the

perp and his capture once Mulder had been well enough to

comprehend.



Ruiz smiled. "Well, we came by to say thanks and I'm glad

you're okay, and we'd better let Scully spring you. I'll

catch up with you both again before you leave for D.C.

Have you over for dinner."



"Yeah, Scully said she'd -" Mulder stopped as he caught

sight of the disbelief on Curtis' face. "What?"



The agent shook his head. "Boy, I can't believe she's

still talking to you!"



Mulder stared at him in genuine puzzlement. "Why?"



"You're kidding? After what you said... Or have you done

some heavy duty grovelling since?"



"What? Why? When?" Mulder asked, giving him an 'out with

it already' gesture.



Curtis filled him in. And then sleep was the last thing

on his mind.



xXx



Aquarrus Motel

Portland, Oregon



Mulder was lying in bed, eyes closed, trying desperately

to work out what to do.



"Mulder."



He jumped, eyes now open. He hadn't even heard Scully

come in through the connecting door. "Yeah?"



"Stop thinking."



"Huh?"



"I can practically hear your brain buzzing from my room.

You're supposed to be relaxing and sleeping." Her voice

was mild, but her expression was serious.



"It's important," he said defensively.



"It can wait. And it will wait. Get some sleep. I'll

bring dinner in a few hours."



"I need to apologise," he blurted out.



That stopped her. She turned back to him, then came and

sat on the side of his bed. "For?"



"Where to begin? For screwing things up between us that

night when I went to your apartment and especially for

the things I said to you when I was sick."



Scully arranged all the pillows so he could sit up more

and also as a slight delay while she prepared herself for

their talk. "You can remember what you said when you were

in the hospital?"



"Not really. Curtis filled me in."



"Good old Curtis..." Scully said, trying to work out what

torture to inflict as punishment on the agent. Curtis

hadn't heard everything, but still... "Mulder -"



"I really did a great job of ruining things between us.

I'm sorry, Scully. The stuff I came out with was

inexcusable and I don't blame you if you've had enough of

me after that. But, can we... Is there a chance of us

going back to what it was like before? Best friends and

partners?"



"When you came over that night, you wanted us to become

more than that," she reminded him.



"Let's just say that on reflection, I think you got it

right that night. The bee saved our friendship and if we

try rocking the boat, we could turn it into the Titanic.

I don't want to lose you. If you were killed on a case or

through an accident it would be bad enough, but if I

pushed us into something and ruined what we have..." He

sighed. "I made things worse when I was sick. What I

said... A bruised ego that wants to vent and a high

temperature are NOT a good mix. Sorry."



"So, a romance between us is not a good idea?"



He nodded. Then to his astonishment, she laughed. An

ironic laugh that even took her aback. Silence fell.



"I don't believe this," she said finally, just when the

silence seemed about to snap in two. "Mulder, when you

were doing the profile and then when you were sick, I was

thinking a lot about us. And to cut a long story

short..."



"We're still on opposite poles?"



She nodded. "I realised - I *accepted* - that I want to

carry our relationship further." When she said it, there

was a panic in her, but it wasn't the type that had made

her flee into her kitchen. This was panic that it was too

late, that he would say no. She saw the news make him

pause. And think. Emotions flared briefly in his eyes,

then dulled.



She saw that it *was* too late. He had been too badly

burned.



It was Mulder's turn for a wry chuckle. "You'll see

reason soon enough, Scully. You always do."



Everything really had flown out of Pandora's box, she

thought. Never to be recaptured.



No. In the legend, hope had remained. Mulder had vast

reserves of hope - Scully was all too aware of how those

reserves had sustained him through so much of his life.

His quests for her cure, her return, his search for his

sister, UFOs, the drive to solve cases. His hope for a

relationship with Scully, which had been driven deep

inside after those disastrous attempts. She had to

convince him not to give up on this.



xXx



When Mulder was strong enough for the trip, they flew back to D.C.

He was still on sick leave. Scully was back doing Quantico

lectures, but visited each evening. Their interaction was a little

uncertain, a little wary, as they were trying to settle back into

their old roles, but they didn't quite fit them anymore.



Scully was sure of one thing by the time the next weekend rolled

around: she knew how she felt about Mulder and didn't want to

continue to hide her feelings from him. But Mulder was now the

doubting one.



So, how to prove something to a skeptic?



Give them evidence.



xXx



Mulder's apartment

Friday evening



He greeted her at the door, minus the sling, but with severe bed

head. Or rather, couch head. "You didn't wake me. I was lying

there reading. So, what's up? A case Kersh thinks will be fitting

punishment for me? Or did the hospital bill have to be delivered

by forklift?"



"No. I just needed to use the phone."



Mulder followed her into the kitchen, his puzzled expression

growing as she picked up his cordless phone. "You came all the way

over here after work to use my phone?"



"Yes." She didn't dial any numbers, just carried it past him into

the living room and put it next to Mulder's main phone.



"The ones at the FBI aren't working?" he queried. "Your apartment

and cell phones?"



Scully merely picked up the handset of the living room phone and

dialed.



Please let this work...



After a few rings, a very distinctive voice answered. Scully gave

an inward sigh of relief. "Hello, Sheila, this is Dana Scully."

Mulder stared at her. "I got the postcard, yes, thank you. We'd

love to come to the wedding, as long as our work schedules allow

it."



"That's great! I can guarantee that the weather will be perfect!"



"Of course. Sheila, I've got Mulder here with me."



There was a delighted squeal. "So you two have gotten together?"



"Well, I need your help with something." She had phoned Sheila

earlier today, to ensure she would be available tonight to take

the call - and where she would be - but had not gone into details.

Scully didn't want this to smell like a set up, but she hadn't

wanted to be standing here in Mulder's living room like a lump on

a log while the phone rang and rang and rang... "I want to ask you

a question, Sheila. I'm just going to put Mulder on the extension,

because I want him to hear the answer. Is that okay?" Too bad

Mulder didn't have a speakerphone - though the acoustics wouldn't

have done Sheila's voice any favours...



"Sure. Go ahead."



Dana held the cordless phone out to her partner. He was still

staring at her, but accepted the cordless and played along.



"Okay, Mulder is here too."



"Hi Agent Mulder!"



"Hey, Sheila, congratulations."



"All thanks to you two."



Scully continued, "Sheila, do you remember when we were in the

bathroom at the reunion? What I told you about how relationships

could evolve?"



"Yes, oh that was so beautiful. I wrote it in my diary."



"Good. Could you please tell Agent Mulder what I told you?"



"Okay, sure." There was the sound of pages being turned. Trust

Sheila to have her diary on hand. She was that sort of girl. "Here

goes: 'The best relationships, the ones that last, are frequently

the ones that are rooted in friendship. One day you look at the

person and you see something more than you did the night before.

Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was

just a friend is suddenly the only person you can ever imagine

yourself with.'"



Mulder stared at Scully, so stunned that he probably didn't hear

Sheila continue speaking.



"Isn't that lovely? I'm going to have that read out at the

wedding. It certainly clarified things for me. Ooops, that's the

doorbell. I have to go - was there anything else?



"No. Thank you, Sheila. That was exactly what I needed." Scully

wondered if she really did have a visitor or whether she had

realised what was going on and was aiding and abetting.



"I'll contact you soon with more details about the wedding, okay?

Bye!" Click.



A pause. Mulder sat down on the couch, still holding the phone in

his hand. He had genuine eyewitness proof now that Scully had

thought about him 'in that way' before their return from Kroner.

And just in case he thought that Scully had said that merely to

get Sheila together with Holman, it was time for complete

clarification. No clouding the issue.



Scully sat down on the next to her partner. She caught his eye

with hers. "I was talking from personal experience there, Mulder.

My experience with you. When I first realised what I felt for you,

I panicked and tried to rationalise it and hide it and pass it off

as a crush that would go away. The feelings were so strong that

they frightened me. It's taken a long time to deal with that. Just

when I think I'm ready..."



Deep breath. "Mulder, the truth is that I love you and I know that

I will never feel this strong a love for anyone else. You're my

soulmate, the only person I want to be with. And even if we don't

go any further along the path, or perhaps not just yet, I wanted

you to know that, and I'm sorry I kept cutting you off when you

were trying to share how you felt." She could see that Mulder was

processing her words, especially her declaration of love. It was

sinking in. He looked dazed, but happy, realising that she really

meant it.



He wasn't just going to leave it at that and start celebrating

though. As he put the phone down, he said, "You said you kept

panicking. Why? What about?"



"It's complicated."



He gave a wry smile. "Try me. I watch the weather channel."



Here's hoping this doesn't tip the boat over... "Several things.

Some silly now that I think of them, some not so much. I was

worried, because there were times when it can feel that I'm just

there to back you up, do the research and provide rationalisation

for your cases, and I'd wonder if you were equally involved in my

needs. In that, I mean the day to day things."



"Scully, your day to day happiness means just as much to me as you

being free of the cancer, for example, or even chasing my quest. I

love you so much."



At last she had let him say it, and also let herself believe it

instead of finding an excuse or running.



However... After a pause, Mulder then said, "But a lot of the time

I have no idea what your needs are. Often when I try, I get -"



"An 'I'm fine'," Scully finished, looking down at her hands. "A

brick wall."



"Yeah. We have some great silent communication going at times.

That doesn't mean it works all the time. We can't rely on assuming

the other will know precisely what we want. I need more to go on -

I'm sure you can say the same for me. Then I'll do my best to

fulfil those needs. If we can keep talking like this - that would

be great."



She nodded and said, "Well, one fear that was holding me back was:

we have this great grand passion, but how will it translate into

normal, everyday life if we were together? We do these immense

things like chase each other across the globe if we think the

other is in danger. However, relationships live and die on the

little details."



"I went to Antarctica for you, Scully. I'll take the garbage out

to the sidewalk for you too." She could tell that nerves as much

as his inherent humour had led to that comment. "Seriously though,

I know what you mean. But we already do a lot of the little

things. Like when we were still in the basement or out on cases.

How I'd make sure there was a cup of coffee ready for you each

morning at just the strength you like it, because we know how you

are before that first cup. How you put up with me pilfering your

pencils after wasting all of mine."



She grinned and said, "You watch my back and I watch yours."



"How you know what I'm thinking sometimes before I do."



"You treat me as an equal and not a subordinate."



"How you cover for me, lie for me, put up with my weird theories,

believe in me even if you can't understand how I reach some of

those conclusions."



"You're overprotective but respect me enough to let me do my job."



"I know your favourite foods and you know mine. How we each like

our pizza."



"What nights we do our laundry. What's in our laundry. The sizes.

What we pack in our suitcases."



"Just when you're going to go have a nice long soak in your tub

instead of a shower."



"What toiletries you use. How good you smell each morning because

of your aftershave lotion."



"We can gauge each other's mood and try to act accordingly.

Usually."



"You don't ditch me anymore."



"When we pick a movie we know what the other prefers to watch and

can choose common ground."



They grinned at each other. "Mulder, I think you're right." Scully

took his hand in hers. "And we're there for each other. It's just

that the one that needs the comforting is usually too afraid to

reach out or give the permission. I want to change that," she

said.



"So do I. We are now." He leaned back against the couch and gave

her an endearing look. "So... You really love me? In that way?"



She smiled at him and moved closer and leaned over so that they

were eye to eye. "I'm thinking about you now, Mulder. What I feel

for you. I know I hide my emotions so much, but can't you see it?

What do you see?"



"It's like looking in a mirror." He was almost laughing in wonder

and relief.



They leaned forward the few remaining inches and kissed. It

quickly became obvious that at this form of joint communication

they were going to be very successful indeed.



When they eventually moved apart a little, Mulder said quietly,

"You're still my best friend. That hasn't changed."



"It won't. That's how the best relationships start. That's how

they last. Otherwise there's just sex, and relationships can't

survive on that alone."



"Hey, we don't know that for sure yet! We could be the exception!"



She shut him up with a kiss that quickly became a multitude. Or

perhaps the same one, going on and on. The cow definitely jumped

over the moon.



When they stopped to catch their breath, they smiled at each

other, happy and somewhat self-conscious about the next step. Then

Mulder hugged Scully. She wrapped her arms around him.



After a minute, he said, "We've got to this point - at last - but

that doesn't mean we're now obliged to go do the wild thing."



She pulled back a little in his embrace and stared at him, partly

in amusement, partly in surprise. Was this a clone Mulder?



"Well, not that the wild thing wouldn't be great!" he elaborated

hastily, with a grin. "But what do you think about us taking

things slowly at first? Easing into the idea. Dating. Talking.

Seeing as it's such a big step and we've taken so long just to get

this far." His expression was now very earnest. "I just

couldn't... If you woke up in the morning and regretted what we'd

done, then living on the memories of that one night of passion

would *not* be worth the cost for me."



Scully considered carefully. Then, slowly, she nodded. "I think

that's a good idea. For now."



"Yeah. Not for ever. I'll get pneumonia if I have too many cold

showers!"



"This is your idea. And you've survived six years already."



"I've survived a LOT of cold showers. Perhaps I am a Rain King."



"Believe me, I want to see the king!"



"Soon, soon. And by then I'll be one hundred percent fit, which

will be another important factor."



"Your arm was in a sling, not your..." She trailed off

suggestively and laughed. "We haven't declared a temporary ban on

all the fun stuff though, have we? There will be compensations.

For example, some more kissing wouldn't go astray..."



Their lips did 'stray' a bit, however neither partner complained

in the least.



xXx



The day of Sheila and Holman's wedding brought glorious weather.

No freak snowstorms, no faces visible in clouds.



The reception was held in the afternoon at the high school hall,

which was fitting, because the high school was where the couple

had first met and then finally declared their love years later at

the reunion. That fact was pointed out in the speeches, when

Sheila quoted the advice Scully had given her in the bathroom. The

location also meant that this time Mulder and Scully got to have

the good time they had missed out on at the reunion - dancing,

eating, laughing, talking. They were just as happy as the bride

and groom.



"It took Holman and Sheila over twenty years to get together. It

only took us six!" Mulder pointed out with some pride.



Sheila approached Mulder and Scully near the dance floor, her

elaborately frilled dress swirling around her. "Oh, Dana! I'm so

sorry you didn't catch the bouquet. I was aiming it your way too!"



Scully smiled at her. "That bridesmaid has amazing reflexes. But I

don't mind - I don't need it."



Sheila looked at them - Mulder's arm was around Scully's waist,

Scully's hand was linked with his, and they had very content

expressions on their faces. She smiled even more broadly and

nodded at the obvious truth. Holman came up to sweep his bride

onto the dance floor, but not before remarking to Mulder, "It's

good to see you took your own dating advice. At last."



Eventually Sheila and Holman were waved off into the sunset -

Sheila had told Scully on the phone weeks earlier that they had

decided to wait until their wedding night to consummate their

relationship. That had been one reason why the wedding date had

been set so early.



Scully understood. She and Mulder had similar plans for when they

got back to their motel room.



So when they were ready to leave, she quickly went in the ladies

room, to do a final check of her hair and make up and put on some

more perfume. She didn't want to spend time doing that when they

got back to the motel.



"All set?" Mulder asked when she came out.



She slid her hand into his waiting one and raised herself up to

whisper sultrily in his ear, "Yes, no more bathrooms. I'm ready

for the bedroom..."



That night, Mulder well and truly flicked Scully's switch.





THE END