XX~XX~XX~XX~XX

PART 1:

'Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?'

XX~XX

 

It's over. They came. They apologized for the fuss. They left.

I'm oversimplifying an incredibly complex and intense experience
that enveloped seven years of my life and tore through decades of
other lives.

But after exhaustively spelling out the entire series of events
for an investigating panel, a Senate Hearing and Larry King Live,
I've lost my enthusiasm. Now when I tell the story, I tell it
short and sweet.

The sop-up took a few months but from the look of it you'd never
know aliens had landed on earth.

These days I just go to the office with no expectation beyond the
occasional monster search. In the words of my Aunt Olive,
'Careful what you wish for, child.'

Every morning when I arrive, Mulder has rearranged the furniture,
is sorting files, or is up on a box, washing the windows.

He hums a lot.

"Lovecats!"

"What?" I can't help asking.

"Lovecats. The song. Had it in my head all morning. Finally
remembered the title."

"Oh." I stare at his new poster.

'I Know For A Fact' is scrawled over the image of a hovering
silver disc.

"How are you today, Mulder?"

One of the things left behind after the black ships flew away were
skeletons. Among them was a young adult female with a collarbone
break. DNA evidence completed the identification as Samantha
Mulder.

He gave me soft smile. "I'm fine, Scully."

I can believe him. When I gave him the news in the cold autopsy
bay, he said, "I knew."

"Mulder--"

He shook his head at my confusion. "When I said I had to find
her," he stroked her right femur, "This is what I meant. I had to
hold her again, that's all."

When I touched his hand, he smiled again and I had to turn away.

He does that a lot now. His eyes seem to be looking for something
all the time, searching every room we were in, crawling over my
body.

I don't feel fine. I have the oddest sensation that pieces of me
were falling away, leaving a breadcrumb trail out behind me.

One afternoon, Mulder had mentioned a case we'd worked in New
Jersey and I didn't know what he was talking about.

"You remember, Scully," he exclaimed.

"No. No, I don't."

He had shrugged and changed the subject, but I had been upset. I
don't forget cases. I realized I couldn't remember that year. Any
details at all.

Having lunch after church with my mother and friends, she had
related a childhood story, the type told a hundred times until the
details wear a groove in your memory. All but mine. I couldn't
follow along.

More incidents followed, arriving closer and closer together.
Misplaced keys became lost days and weeks. I was concerned, but
as with any odd detail in my life these past few years, answers
could be even more disturbing.

 

XX~XX~XX~XX~XX~XX

 

The long uncomfortable ride had ended. I had lost track of time
and had given up attempts to keep my bearings. My hands were numb
from the bindings, my mouth was dry, and I blinked rapidly when
the blindfold was whipped away from my eyes.

The old man stood in the blank room, thoughtfully looking me over.

There was someone else in the shadows. I waited. Finally, the
figure revealed itself.

What a surprise. Diana Fowley.

The smell of burning tobacco reached my nostrils and I forced my
attention back to him.

"Isn't the game over, Mr. Spender?"

"For you, yes." I felt a prick of the fear of the unknown.

It was allayed when he said, "Your time is up."

My mouth was still cotton-filled but I gave a gasp of a laugh.
"Oh?"

He stepped closer. "Yes. Your work is finished. You've served
your purpose."

I must admit, he'd piqued my curiosity. I felt the familiar rush
of excitement pound through my veins for the first time in weeks.

"What's my purpose?"

He and that woman both smiled. I didn't.

"I suppose you can know. Your job was to be a good partner to
Agent Mulder. Help him reach our objective."

I broke in. "Oh? You were on our side?" I glance over at her.
"I must have missed that inter-departmental memo."

She curled her red lips back and her teeth snapped. "Yes, you
little fool."

He silenced her with a jerk of his head. She moved to fiddle with
a television monitor in the corner.

He cut to the chase. "You are not Dana Scully."

That was a new one. "Oh? Who am I?"

I didn't like the way he looked up and down my body as though I
was a prize lamb at the slaughterhouse. "That isn't important.
You were sent to replace Dana Scully after she was abducted."

It only got better. "Why?"

"Agent Scully and Agent Mulder had become sexually involved." He
pulled his pack of cigarettes out and had the nerve to offer me
one. "We'd hoped breaking up their partnership would keep Agent
Mulder on the course set for him, but it didn't happen that way.
Instead, he and Agent Scully became closer still." He smiled
through his cloud of blue smoke. "In hindsight, I realize the
excitement of forbidden love only exacerbated the situation."

"I think I would have remembered having sex with Mulder."

He shook his head. "No. We didn't plant those memories in you
and we took an opportunity to wipe that memory from Agent Mulder."

My head began to pound as I tried to think as fast as possible.

He droned on. "You were instructed to distance yourself from
Agent Mulder and to never pursue a relationship. You followed
that course perfectly."

Tipping his head towards Fowley signaled her to turn on the TV.
The image formed on the screen.

A perfect suburban house. White picket fence and everything. A
SUV pulled up into the drive.

A woman got out. A woman with my face and body.

"Who is she?"

He had been watching the scene with a small fatherly smile on his
lips. "She is Dana Scully. For now she's living another life.
She believes her husband is dead."

The woman opened the passenger door. A small child pops out of
the interior of the vehicle. Dancing dark pigtails and freckled
nose.

A memory jerks forward in my mind. Me, lying on a table. With a
belly swollen as though pregnant. But I'm standing back and
watching as doctors tend to that woman.

I can feel the man's gaze.

"You see why it was necessary to remove Agent Scully. She and the
child would have been too great a distraction from his work."

She wears her hair long. I like my hair short. I used to wear it
longer. . .

"Do you trust me?"

I blink. "No."

"Good." His voice is kind.

The minutes pass. She's pulling bags of groceries from the car.

He gave me time to think. Mulder never gave me time; I'm tossed
along on his storm.

A whisper now. A thought out loud. "A child should be with her
father."

I blink again. I raise my shackled hands and push my hair back
behind my ear. A nervous gesture from childhood. I remember it
clearly.

Bill was fooling around with his damned BB gun and shot me in the
head. A spent shot, the BB rested just under the surface of my
skin. He made me swear never to tell. I was a good sister, I
didn't, but I will stroke the nub, remembering how close to death
I came.

It wasn't there. No, it wouldn't be. When was the last time I
remember feeling it? Or did I only know it should be there?

My eyes flick from the woman to the man.

He snapped off the picture. "You can have a life. You'll go
away, get a new identity."

He shrugged. He had read my thoughts. "I have no reason to
destroy. . ." He looked me over again. "Such fine work. We'll
drop you off and you wait. When we have everything set, we'll
pick you up again. Simple."

XX~XX~XX~XX~XX

Simple. I think that over as I sit behind the desk in Mulder's
office. He's whistling again.

"Mulder?"

"Scully?" He's buried behind a pile of reference books.

Dana Katherine Scully. That is my name.

"Nothing."

"Okay." He sounds cheerful, as always. The only part I can see
of him is the occasional hand rising up to the top of the stack to
pull down another volume.

A beautiful hand. Sculpted.

I concentrate. Dana Scully and Fox Mulder made love right before
the abduction.

I remember missing him with an ache of a freshly removed tooth. I
remember my heart leaping when his voice whispered down the phone
line to me.

"Scully, it's me." That name again.

I pull my ID badge loose from my blazer and stare at the
photograph. Who was this person? A picture taken in her first
year with the X-files. An outdated hairstyle and different make-
up.

I find a mirror at the bottom of my purse and compare the two
images. They look nothing alike to my analytical gaze.

With a shaking hand, I reattach the badge.

"Scully?"

I have to answer. "Yes?"

I can hear a gulp from behind the pile. "Uh--nothing."

He feels it too. The way the earth seems to be rotating with a
slight jerky motion, like a projector with a loose pin.

XX~XX~XX

 

I'm outside his door. I'm going to do something Dana Scully would
never do. I'm going to walk in there and fuck Fox Mulder. Like a
naughty child, I'm going to steal a piece of candy before I leave
the store.

I think she owes me. I've taken good care of her man for the past
five years.

Not knocking, I unlock it.

"Scully?"

Mulder is on the couch, bathed in the warm light of his lamp.

"It's me."

"What's wrong?" He rises to come to me, blocking the light.

I like that. I like the darkness.

"Scully?"

I hate that name, I don't want to hear it again, but I know it's a
habit I'm not going to break him of tonight.

I move towards him and he takes a hesitant step back.

"Mulder--" My voice seems to hold him still.

I see the glint of his tongue as it darts to wet his lips.

I move closer.

"Scully."

I can play along. "Yes, Mulder?"

"Was there something you wanted?"

I smile. He knows why I'm here.

I take the last step and reach up for his mouth. In the dark, I
find only his lower lip and suck it between my teeth. He gasps,
and I strain upward to enter.

His arms wrap around me, lifting me. Much better.

My hands course through his hair, pulling him down deeper into the
depths of my mouth and my depravity.

I have to release him to breathe and he makes his escape back to
the couch.

He's laughing and combing his fingers frantically through his
hair.

"Wow, Scully! What a surprise!"

He waves a hand in my direction. "No! Let me put it another
way." He smiles sweetly. "I dreamed--I've been waiting. I
wanted to give you all the time you needed. So many changes in
our lives..."

I advance. I have to make him shut up.

"I'm here, Mulder," I say as I reach for his shirt buttons.

His brow furrows in confusion. "Scully? I--"

I have to swallow his tongue to stop its flapping.

Pressing him back into the couch, I tear at his clothing and mine.

Gasping, he forces me off. "Scully! What's going on?"

I roll up into a ball in the corner of the couch. "Do you want
me?" I ask.

He can't look at me. "You know I do," he whispers. He darts a
glance at me out of the corner of his eye. "I just thought...we'd
take some time."

"Why? What are we waiting for?"

He stares off across the room for a few moments and then shrugs.
"Good point."

He meets me in the middle of the cushions. Covered, I'm blinded by
his body. Good. I want to block everything out but his straining
muscles and silken edges. Now he buries me in the soft black
depths of the sofa.

I'm running out of time, I know I am. His clothes are gone so I
tear at his skin.

"Scully...slow down," he insists as he pins my arms away from him.
"We have all the time in the world." That sweet smile again.

I can't stand it. "Let me go."

He releases me immediately.

I pull myself upright. He's right. I'd rather be taken after
three deep kisses than one quick fuck.

I find his mouth again, this time exploring the corners like a
hesitant swimmer, dipping my toe in first.

He moans in approval and his hands sweep over me, molding and
shaping my now loose muscles into a smooth Henry Moore sculpture.

"Scully," he whispers against my lips before slipping down my
body. "Scully, I--" My fingers stop him from saying that name
one more time.

I ask again. "Do you want me, Mulder?"

From the valley between my breasts, he answers, "Yes, always."

I have to know. "When, Mulder? From when?"

He rolls over onto his back, pulling me with him. My last
garments fly away under his busy hands.

"Outside Ellens Airbase, when you said, 'Get in the car, Mulder.'
I loved you then. I was probably reading too much in your words,
but--" I can feel the heat of his blush against my suddenly cool
skin. "I felt like someone wanted me. Even if it was just so you
didn't have to explain to the AD how you'd lost your partner after
only one month."

Ellens Air Force Base is in the state of Idaho. I can't remember
being there. That was her past, not mine. "I wanted you."

"Did you?" His voice is hopeful.

"Yes, Mulder. Always." I know it now, in my last few minutes as
Dana Scully.

I won't listen to his endearments, only the messages spoken by his
body. It calls no name. It loves the body beneath it, a dark
soul stealing its light for a brief moment.

XX~XX~XX

 

At the dawn, I walk towards my car on aching legs, Mulder seeping
out of me with every step. The black van pulls up beside me.

The side door slides open. I stop.

"It's time."

I nod and climb into the dark interior.

Looking around, I ask, "Where's Fowley?" I want to know if I have
to spend the rest of my life in her company.

He speaks from a shadow. "She isn't privy to every part of my
work."

I hear the hiss of his lighter and feel my eyes burn as smoke
fills the space.

A ghostly pale hand appears before me. "The necklace..."

 

XX~XX

PART 2:

'From the great deep to the great deep he goes.'

XX~XX

 

The first time I got the call, I carefully preserved the tape as
evidence.

"Mulder! I need your help!"

Over the next months, I would take it out and play it, telling
myself I did that to keep myself hungry. I was hungry all right.

This time, a computer chip recorded the message in my answering
machine.

I pick up the black hunk of plastic and slam it against the wall
until it shatters in my bloody palms.

When the chip is dislodged and spins around on the floor, I scoop
it up and swallow it. I don't want to think about what that
means.

The message had been very static-filled and kept breaking up. She
was on her cell phone.

//Mulder? Mulder? I'm afraid, Mulder.//

I lost her to hissing and popping.

//The plane's in trouble, Mulder. Mulder?//

//There's a storm, Mulder.//

I glanced outside the window. The sky was clear.

//I...//

I noticed that my potted plant is dying.

//I love you, Mulder.//

I couldn't absorb these words. The line went dead.

The next message.

//Special Agent Fox Mulder? This is the Nashville office. Your
partner, Special Agent Dana Scully, is believed to have been a
passenger on a jet that crashed attempting to land in a severe
storm this afternoon. An ID card found on a body has you as the
person to contact. If you could come to Nashville to possibly
identify the body as soon as possible?//

I don't call Mrs. Scully yet. This is wrong. This isn't Scully.

 

XX~XX~XX~XX~XX

 

Black body bags are neatly lined up within the cavern of an
airport hanger. The official walks me down an aisle. Some of the
shapes still smolder. The smell is beginning to rise and settle
into the air.

He stops at a small bundle. He tries to reassure me.

"Death was a result of severe trauma from the impact with the
earth by the plane, but the body is intact."

"Yes. Open it."

I need to find out what was going on. I need to start my search
for her. This is where the trail begins.

He pulls the zipper open. I look down at the body. It's not
Scully. Scully is alive.

A body with short stature and fine-boned build lies on the cold
cement. The face is untouched. The eyes closed.

I kneel down. The features are correct on the head, even the mole
on the upper lip. I push a clump of hair away from the ear. The
diamond solitaires. One quarter caret. They could be purchased
at any jewelry store, but they are items owned by Scully.

The hair has become stiff and matted with fire-retardant. I can't
tell if it is soft enough to be hers.

"Sir?"

I don't respond. I pull open the eyelids. It's impossible to
determine if these are her eyes. They are cobalt blue, but dim
and flat, devoid of light. Out of respect for this woman, I brush
the lids shut.

A hand is touching my shoulder.

"I'm examining the body to determine identification."

I pull the plastic all the way off the body, and roll it over.
Pulling the shirt up, I see the tattoo blazing out of a mesh of
bruises on the back.

Skinner is there. I can hear his low, deep voice reassuring the
man who'd escorted me. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see
other uniforms beginning to inch towards me.

Sweeping the collar of what had been her favorite white blouse
down, I gasp in joy. Her neck is bare. They'd forgotten to put
her necklace on this body.

"It's gone," I say to Skinner, craning my neck to look up at him.

"Sir? Are you looking for a necklace?" a weedy young man asks
from the gathering around the body.

I don't answer. I don't want to lead him.

He crouches on the other side of the body and lifts her right
hand. Clutched in the frozen fist is a glint of gold. He starts
to open the hand.

I stop him. "No. Let me."

I gently pry the fingers free from the chain. The cross is
pressed into the palm.

The man pushes her hair away from her neck. He whispers, "See?
Here." His fingertip traces a harsh red cut. "She must have been
holding the cross and at impact, it broke free."

I grip his fingers for a moment and he looks afraid.

"Don't touch her."

"No, sir." He gets to his feet slowly.

"Mulder." Skinner is still behind me.

I look at the face again. It just doesn't look right. That
smoking bastard is a fucking idiot if he thinks he's fooled me
this time.

I lift the body from the cold surface. Loose, broken, it bows
back over my arm. I watch the limp neck arch, a white polished
bone under the florescent light.

"No."

I drop this bit of trash back down.

"It's not her."

Skinner is trying to make nice.

"Mulder."

"No."

He is talking again. Not to me. To the uniforms. Low and fast.
Ordering genetic tests to be performed on the body. It won't
matter. Those tests will say whatever needs to be said to make me
shut up and go away.

I don't care. I'm walking away.

 

XX~XX~XX~XX~XX~XX

 

Mrs. Scully comes to see me the next day. She opens the door with
Scully's key. I'm sitting on the sofa. I haven't cleaned up the
phone machine. She steps over it and sits with me.

"Fox?"

"Mrs. Scully?"

"Please call me Maggie."

"I'd rather not."

"All right." She reaches over to the side table with a slim gold
hand and pulls a brown leaf from my potted plant.

"Fox?" She seems to be pushing her heart down her throat to clear
it.

"Yes?"

"Is it her?"

I stroke the warm cushion beside my leg. I can still hear
Scully's frantic panting pounding against my walls.

My neck is as limp as that body's. My head rests on the back of
the sofa. Knowing I should look her in the eye when I answer, I
still can't lift it. "No."

"I don't think so either." Her fingers crinkle the dry leaf to
dust. "She doesn't feel dead to me."

"Does Melissa feel dead? Your husband?"

"Yes." The sun is setting outside my window. I can see the
reflection of the vivid orange orb caught in the tear on her
eyelashes. "But I'm not sure if Dana doesn't feel gone because I
can't take one more loss, or--"

"No. It wasn't her."

She must be thinking. She's quiet and the room slips into
darkness.

"Find her then. Find her for me, Fox, and bring her home."

I can finally lift my head. I have to. Her fingers, suddenly
strong, have gripped my chin. Her eyes are as tired as another
burnt leaf still hanging from a stem on my plant.

I'd done this once before. I'd begun a search that had worn me
down, twisted and stunted like bonsai.

"I will."

 

XX~XX

Part 3:

'Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell.'

XX~XX

 

I'm being followed. I've done everything I could to avoid this
situation and now that it's upon me, I'm curiously unaffected.

I realize I don't care.

I can't think of a better place to die.

The streets of New Orleans are sweating off their late evening
rain shower. I can hear every step around me. Nervous tapping of
hurried movements. Slow, uncertain steps signifying a drunk.
Purposeful strides of the tourist.

One set of steps mirror mine. Only one. I might have a chance
after all.

Stopped by beauty, I'm distracted by a woman singing in a dead-end
alley. Her upturned hat lies at the entrance to the alley,
collecting raindrops and a few coins.

Her tune has changed. "Amazing Grace." How appropriate.

The notes rise from her throat, sliding off of the brick walls to
escape the poverty of its origins. The singer's dark skin shines
deep purple in the reflection of the street light.

When the hands grab me and throw me to the wall, the singer
doesn't notice. No one notices.

I'm surprised at myself. I fight. I thought I had no fight left.
But the body is too large, pressing me into the wall, covering
every inch of me.

"Mulder."

"Scully." His quick breaths are sharp as nails over my face. The
next word is a slap. "Why?"

His large fingers grip my neck, dragging me into the circle of
light from the lamp. Shaking fingers scrape at the skin at my
throat. "You gave them the necklace. It was your necklace. But
it wasn't you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I slap in return.

He withdraws his hand. He's pulled the scab from the back of my
neck. His fingers are bloody.

"Why?"

"I didn't want them to be able to follow me. He said they
wouldn't hurt me, but I didn't trust them."

"You ran because you were scared?" He has never sounded so
astonished at anything I've ever said.

I have no idea what to say. I can't preserve the lies.

I stay silent.

"What the hell is going on?" He's still talking.

"Go home, Mulder. Go home and wait."

"Are you out of your mind!?"

I'm suddenly tired, more tired than I've ever been in seven years.
I want him to go away. "All the times you left me, wondering,
afraid. Did it just piss you off that I left you for once?"

He envelops my body, pressing me against the warm, wet bricks.
"No. What pisses me off is that you fucked me and left me."

I've got a back-up. "Don't tell me it hasn't happened to you
before."

He actually laughs. An odd, cheerful sound. "A time or two.
Why?"

He has got to be the most obstinate motherfucker I've ever met
in my entire life.

Tired again, I just blurt out, "What the hell. It doesn't matter
anymore. You've screwed everything up." I try to pull out of his
grip. "As usual."

"I improvise. I don't screw things up." Cheerful. How can he
always find something to be happy about in the most hot and fast
brush fire?

I'm suddenly afraid for him. I push him into the alley. "Amazing
Grace" is winding down. The streets have emptied.

"Well, you're going to have to improvise your ass out of this
one."

"What about you?" He's still thinking of us as partners.

I need to shake him loose, I can see that. "I'm not Dana Scully."

Of course he laughs.

"Scully..."

"Stop calling me that. I'm not her. Your Scully is coming back,
soon."

He's lost his patience. "What the hell are you talking about?
Dammit, Scully!"

"If you call me that one more time--" I'm furious. I hate her.
I hate her for having this man love her so much.

He pulls back at last and I can see it's beginning to sink in.
Good. I have to take the name away. The name that I'd heard a
thousand emotions wrap around.

"Then who are you?"

"I don't know."

"Where's Scully?" He's asking the question, but I know he's not
taking me seriously. He's testing me.

"I don't know. They didn't tell me anything more than I needed to
know."

"Why would they do this?" He thinks he's playing chess with me.

"I've seen her."

"What?"

"I've seen your Scully. She thinks you're dead. That's why she
didn't come for you." I can't make myself tell him everything.

His eyes narrow. "You've seen her?"

"Yes. Video. You think I wouldn't know...my own face?"

Suddenly his face is close to mine. He whispers, "Okay. So, you
aren't Scully. My Scully is coming to me."

"Yes."

"Then whose body did I have to I.D. in Nashville?"

He's trying to trick me. "What?"

"There was a body. It looked like you, but I knew it wasn't you."
His finger lightly traced a circle on my collarbone. "It was
wearing our necklace."

An odd way to put it. Our necklace. I had felt as though I'd
betrayed him when I gave it to that old bastard.

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. The blood tests say it's you. The fingerprints
say it's you."

"But--" I ask.

"I knew it wasn't you."

"You don't understand. I don't know why they showed you a body.
But I know I can't remember her life anymore," I whisper.

Stubborn, he says, "Do you remember I love you? That you love
me?"

"Mulder..." I'm shaking my head in amazement. "All the times I've
asked you to trust me--"

"No, Scully. It wasn't you."

Trying a different track, I ask, "Then who is it? Why?"

"I don't know that yet." He starts hurrying down the street,
fugitively glancing to and fro as he drags me along.

I gasp in exasperation. I can't escape this man's relentlessness,
even after I turned in Scully's I.D. card.

 

XX~XX~XX~XX~XX~XX~XX~XX

 

When I said Fowley was there with the old black-lunged bastard,
Mulder wanted to start with her. I was concerned, but it
shouldn't matter for me anymore.

"Scully--"

"Stop calling me that."

"Than what should I call you?"

He had me there. "I don't know."

"Then I'll just keep calling you Scully for now."

Bastard. Doesn't he realize it kills me every time he says her
name?

"Why was she there?" he mused.

I controlled myself with admirable strength. It's not my business
anymore. It's Scully's problem. The role of that thin-
lipped, fake-titted, nasty old bitch...

He talked on. "She must be working with him."

I gritted out, "Yes, I would think so."

He didn't notice.

I told him, "I have the phone number for that smoking man. We
could just call him and ask him what's the deal. I mean, where
the love of your life? Shouldn't she have turned up by now?"

He looked at me through squinting eyes. He opened his mouth, and
then closed it again. "He gave you his number?"

"Yes. I was supposed to keep in touch."

"Why?"

I realized not being Scully had its advantages now. "I don't
fucking know!"

"Let's start with Diana. She'll easier to get answers out of."

XX~XX

Tonight I'm surrounded by a different kind of woman; a kind I've
never been and never would want to be. Silk, satin, cloying
perfume. She's everywhere and I can't escape. Diana Fowley.

I'm in her very large, very full closet. We've set up a 'viewing
station' for me, better known as a peephole drilled into the wall,
looking into the living room. I could also peer out the crack in
the door into the bedroom, but Mulder doesn't think I'll need that
view. We'll see.

The front door opens. They're here, returning from an intimate
dinner for two at that Italian place in Georgetown Mulder always
told me he would take me to sometime.

He's protesting. She's inviting him in for a nightcap.

She's dragging him in with one red-taloned claw. He's putting up
a token resistance. He's a better actor than I am.

I hear the creak of leather as she presses him down into the long
sofa. His voice is suddenly stilled. Oh yeah, Mulder, you've
got her number, all right.

I watch the two perfectly matched bodies roll leisurely on the
couch, the two slick black heads twist and turn in their mutual
exploration. I have an uncontrollable urge to urinate in the
corner of her closet.

After hundreds of horribly long seconds drag by, the phone rings.
Pushing her hair out of her face, Diana picks up the receiver.
She murmurs something to Mulder and he rises from the couch,
shifting across the room.

I lean closer to the hole, trying to make out the phone
conversation. Mulder has disappeared.

He's in the closet with me.

"Get back out there," I hiss.

"She's on a conference call with London."

"She told you that?"

"She told me she'll be tied up for a few minutes."

"Is she going to ask why you were in her closet?"

"What do you think?"

"I think she wants to fuck you."

"I think you're right. Not the actions of a woman who's going to
hand over my girlfriend anytime soon."

"I suppose," I mumble. He's very close and her damn scent is
making my head spin.

"Should I fuck her? Do you think that'll get some answers?
Pillow talk and all."

"How could you do that to Scully?" I'm too loud and he claps a
hand over my mouth.

His lips are on my ear, his breath stirring my hair. "I want her
back. I want her back so bad. I'll do anything. Anything
necessary."

I turn my head so I can see his eyes in the dim closet. They're
amused. Fuck him.

I bite his palm and he releases my mouth. "Then fuck her."

"I can't. I can't get hard. I need help."

That son of a bitch thinks this is funny. I'm suspicious. I
shuffle closer and press my thigh between his legs. I was right.

"I don't see any problem." I bite his ear as I whisper these
words.

He groans. "That's for you."

"I'm sure it's an all-purpose erection."

"Scully, stop bullshitting. How can you believe this scheme?
She's not going to bring the little woman out any time soon. She
wants me for herself."

Arrogant SOB. "She could have gone rogue on the old bastard."

"For the love of a good man? I doubt that." I'm mildly surprised
to discover his hands have found their way under my sweater and
are covering my breasts. His grip is firm, but his touch is
gentle, stroking lightly across my suddenly goose-pimpled skin.

"Mulder--"

"Yeah?" His voice is deep.

"Mulder--"

"Just tell me what you want."

"I want you to go out there and find out what the hell is going
on."

"I've already determined Agent Fowley's intentions. And you're
right, she's kept my woman from me for too long."

"No, Mulder--" How can I be this weak? I asked myself that very
question the night I let Ed Jerse do what Mulder is doing right
now, slip his big hand down my belly to unzip my pants.

I was cold that night. His apartment was cold. This night is
different. The closet is stifling. Every breath is sucking the
air out of the space until my head swims.

I can't think. I can't make a judgement.

I can hear myself whining like a small puppy.

Mulder is cooing to me, trying to calm me.

His hands are lifting me to settle on his lap and I gasp at the
feeling of dew-slick skin against skin.

"Scully?"

"Yes." I answer his call. I can be Scully for ten more minutes,
can't I? Surely she'll allow me one more selfishness?

I rasp in his ear, "We have to be quiet."

He promises. "Oh, yes."

I lick the sweat from his neck. "She can't hear."

His arms are bands of steel holding me to him, lifting me again.
He says, "I swear I'll keep quiet."

"Promises, promises," I moan, as I'm filled with his heat and
strength.

"Yeah--" he rumbles as I push his shirt up and pull my sweater up
under my armpits. I want to feel as much skin as possible.

My breasts slide across his chest, the nipples tingling with the
sensation of prickling soft hair.

I listen to the low murmur of Diana's voice on the phone, the
static tones ticking off the seconds we have together. Our
gasping breaths beat in a counter rhythm.

"Scully. . ."

"Silence," I warn, placing a hand over his lips as I rise and fall
on the undulating wave of his thighs.

His open mouth takes in my stifling hand, suckling on the fingers
desperately.

I like that feeling a lot. I manage to guide his hand to my mouth
and latch onto two of his fingers, exploring their surface with my
tongue and teeth.

His free hand presses my hot ass harder down onto him and I have
to bite down on his fingers until I feel the groan of pain swell
on his tongue.

My ears pick up Diana's voice again. It's making those winding
down sounds.

"Mulder. . .Hurry!" I rasp around his fingers.

My giggle gurgles out from around his saliva-slick fingers. When
was the last time I told a man to hurry during sex?

As he pushes up into me and I grind down onto him, I have to pull
my mouth off of his fingers. I'm not getting enough air, and I'm
drowning in my own sweat. Her cool leaves of designer wear,
hanging over us like victory flags, wipe my face dry.

I plunge my face back down, grabbing the tendon on his neck,
muffling my cry.

Pulling my hand out of his mouth just in time and covering his
lips again, I hold in his moans. I'll be marked by the red
crescent of his teeth marks on my palm.

We don't have the time to recover. I hear the click of the phone.

"Mulder, hurry!" I hiss as I disentangle myself.

"Huh?"

Damn! He's not going to be able to pull this off. He reeks of
sex and is drenched.

"Mulder, get it together." My groping hand finds a misplaced pair
of her panties and I wipe his cooling, softening flesh dry of our
mingled essence. I start pulling and pushing his clothes back in
their original order. "Go to the bathroom and cover the smell
somehow."

As he crawls out of the closet, I see her beginning her search of
the apartment through my peephole.

"Fox?"

She's coming into the bedroom. I can't stop myself from wiggling
over to the crack in the door to watch her snap on a light and
check her makeup. She's adjusting her bra, pushing her breasts
back up onto their shelf of Wonderbra.

She notices the light under the bathroom door.

"Fox? Are you all right?"

He yells out, "Sure, Diana! Something I ate tonight didn't agree
with me, that's all." Slick, bud. Seduction technique number 16,
I'm sure.

She backs away from the door. "Okay. I'll be waiting out here."

After I hear the water running for a while, he passes through the
bedroom without giving the closet door even a glance.

I hear the couch creak again.

"I've told them not to call me again tonight. We won't be
interrupted any more."

Mulder sounds nervous. "That's good."

I watch her shifting towards him on the couch. He scoots away.

"Fox, is something wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"I expected something more from you tonight."

"Like what?" I wince. Not subtle, but maybe he's lost patience.
I know I have.

"I thought you wanted to be with me tonight."

He's brutal. "Like have sex with you?"

She simpers and I have to hold my breath to keep a curse from
bursting out. "Whatever developed. . .I thought. . ."

"You thought with Scully cold in the ground, what? Uh, three
weeks--"

"What's Dana Scully got to do with this?" She could be brutal
too.

He looks her straight in the eye. "You know I'm in love with
Scully."

"No, as a matter of fact, I didn't. I'm truly sorry if that's the
case--"

"She's not dead."

"What? Fox, I know you don't want to admit--"

He repeats, "She's not dead."

Damn him. I see a shift in her eyes, calculating, weighing.
Damn him, he's blown the whole thing.

I hadn't counted on the cliche of a woman scorned to divert a
usually sharp mind. Pity the woman who thinks with her cunt.

She rises from the couch and suddenly appears very large, looming
over him. He presses back into the cushions to get away.

"Fuck! Fox! She's dead! She's gone! She never gave a shit
about you anyway!"

He's trying to garble something out, but she's only given him the
time it took her to take a breath.

"I loved you! I gave you five years of flat-on-my-back obedience!
I let you run off on your hare-brained leads, leaving me in bed!
I let you think you were right all the time, when you know what?"

He shook his head.

"You were full of shit, Fox! To the brim!"

Careful what you wish for, Mulder. I think you had it and just
didn't realize.

"You were supposed to follow me!"

"Huh?" He truly isn't getting this. I've never been so grateful
for his thick-headedness.

She spits out, "You were supposed to follow me to Germany. You
were supposed to want to marry me."

"Why didn't you just say so?" He's actually trying to use logic
on her.

She slaps him so hard I can feel it on my cheek.

I struggle to my feet. I think the evening is over.

When I get out into the living room, they're wrestling. I'm sure
she's hoping this will turn into a 'I hate you, now fuck me,'
session, but Mulder is truly fighting for his life.

"Hey." I break it up.

She's speechless for a whole five seconds.

First she slaps Mulder again. Then she starts cursing all over.

"That old motherfucker! I blew that wrinkled old dick of his and
he fucks me over for the little princess!"

I break in. "Where is he?"

"Fuck you!" She's huddled in the corner of the couch, wild-
haired.

Mulder actually tries reason. "If I ever meant anything to you,
Diana--"

I decide to spare him another tirade. I reach over and slap her
mouth to shock her out of her fury.

"Where? We'll take care of him for you."

"You won't do a good job," she sneers, shooting Mulder a
disparaging look.

"Yes, I will," I promise. "Where?"

Her eyes are as flat and dark as a shark's. "Just promise me
you'll kill him for me."

I feel the flush of victory. It feels great layered on top of a
post-coital glow. "Sure."

 

XX~XX

PART 4:

'For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.'

XX~XX

 

I'm waiting for him at the address given to us by Diana. Scully
is in the closet again. She says she likes the element of
surprise now.

I've turned the lights out and my other senses are on alert.
Drifting in this man's apartment are the sour odors of overcooked
cabbage and old nylon dress socks. Otherwise, it smells musty and
empty.

I'm still juggling her latest lob.

"Mulder, before he gets here, I need to apologize."

"Why?"

"I used you in that closet. I'm no better than Diana." I could
see the glint of tears in her wet pearl eyes.

"Scully--"

"No! I've told you. No."

I waited. There was more. I lost feeling in my extremities.

"There *is* another Scully. The two of you were lovers, once.
Then they took her. They altered your memories. But there was
something that didn't go away. She had a baby, Mulder. I've seen
her. She's--"

I exploded. "No, Scully! Don't you see? They *know* you. They
put the child in the equation because they knew you would never
keep a parent and child apart. It's not real, Scully. It's not!"

"Is it not real because you don't believe me or because you're
afraid I'm right?"

She had slipped into the closet before I could form an answer.

 

I tense, my attention focused again as the door opens. The
silhouette is lean with a trail of smoke rising away from the
head. He pauses. He must sense my presence.

I cut to the chase. "Shut the door. We don't want to scare your
neighbors."

He waits a moment. Fucker. I click the hammer back on my gun.
He closes the door.

"Mr. Mulder."

"Yes?"

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" I'm amused at his audacity.

"It's over, Mr. Mulder. I would think I'd stop being a concern
for you."

The waves are stroking closer to me. Some are carrying white-hot
anger. Others are bringing understanding.

"War crimes. Crimes against humanity."

He licks his flat liver lips.

"Sir? And I use that title with complete facetiousness."

"What can you prove?"

"I can prove you killed Scully." Which way will he feign?

Yellow teeth flash in the dimness. "I doubt that."

So there's part of the answer. He thinks he has his ace tucked
far up his sleeve.

"I think with all of your heinous acts, there must be some
evidence lying around, somewhere." I finally allow myself to
grin.

He grinds out his cigarette and gropes for another. His words cut
down into my chest, slide around my heart, and tear it free. "I
was just doing my job."

I can see him for what he always was. A pathetic, boring
bureaucrat who'd spend fifty years peering at other lives through
keyholes. And slaughtered those lives like a butcher.

His eyes plead for understanding and I want to rip them out with
my bare hands. "You need to go after my superiors. I can help
you."

My tongue is heavy in my mouth and I can barely lift it. "No
thanks."

He begins to rattle on. "No, I can. I've kept notes, very good
notes." His face becomes crafty. "I'll turn them over to you for
assurances--"

"Will you give me Scully back?" In this cold room, freezing my
limbs and my soul, I can almost believe there's another Scully,
living in the suburbs with our daughter. I can feel her tense in
the closet.

He takes his time to light another death stick. I push. "Sir?"

He breathes out, "Yes."

"Where?"

"It'll take me a few days--"

"Now."

He starts to bargain. "I want papers drawn up. Giving me
complete amnesty. Then you can have Scully back."

I should be patient. I should work a confession out of him. I
can't wait another minute.

I leap from the chair and feel his crepe-paper neck in my grip.

Wondering if there is breath in his body to squeeze out, I still
try.

"Mulder! Mulder!" She's there again.

"Stop! If you kill him, you'll never find her!"

I toss him back against the wall and he crumbles like a windblown
discarded newspaper.

I whirl to lay into her. She stands straight and true before me.

I search her face for the truth. She believes so strongly, why
can't I?

Reaching out, I trace her nose with a fingertip. I know that
little rise on the bridge, right there. Her mole. I brush away
the concealer and it's revealed. My thumb strokes her lower lip
and her mouth opens to gasp.

"Scully. I'm sorry. It's you." Dawn rises cold and blue. "I
know you don't want it to be true, but you are Dana Scully. This
is your life now. It may not be what you want, but here it is."

She's confused, but I've finally found the last piece.

"It was so easy for them. They could see you were lost now that
our quest is over. You thought your emptiness meant you weren't
Scully. All it means is we need to find a new quest."

She's quick. She slaps away my hand. "Doing what? Sitting
behind a desk? Picking up assignments out of the pool?
Schmoozing the Director for a better secretary?"

She claps her hand over her mouth in horror as she finally begins
to understand.

Still, she shakes her head to toss aside my words.

I should be furious with her. Instead I murmur, "It's all right.
He's had nothing to do all our lives but discover every corner of
our psyche. He knows our every thought and reaction. He took
your memories and left doubts."

She spits through gritted teeth as she concentrates on a spot
somewhere by my left foot, "I hate the idea of being predictable."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the snake slither out the
door. I turn back to her, very slowly.

I jerk my head in the direction of his retreat. "There. There's
something you can do with your time. They should pay for
everything they've done."

She nods slightly, her eyes still downcast. I can see her brain
turning all these new ideas over, examining them from all sides.

"Where shall I go? What shall I do?" she muses.

I can't help the grin. "Well, Scarlett, I don't give a damn."

Rhett was a fucking idiot. I pull her close with what I hope is
mastery. "I *do* believe you need to be with me."

She settles her head into the curve of my collarbone. I try to
stroke the worry line from between her eyebrows with my fingertip.

Her whispered words blaze through my shirt to burn my skin. "I
have the strength of your belief."

I grope for my suit pocket. Down at the bottom, next to some
lint-covered seeds, is my objective.

Pulling out the necklace, I hold it up in the streak of light from
the hall.

"Put it on," I command.

She snares the chain on her fingers.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," she mumbles with that tone of self-
disappointment that always breaks my heart.

With shaking fingers, I help her attach the clasp behind her neck.

"Never say that. Never. I needed you to do that for me."

"What?"

"Show me that you could be scared of love too. Just so long as
you came back to me after the trip."

"I'm back." Her face tips up to me and the familiar features are
in all the right places.

With a shaky grin, she adds, "I was dead and now I'm back."

I try to never cry in front of her but I can't stop my tears.

With one hand, she brushes the drops from my cheeks, licking them
from her fingers absentmindedly. Her gaze finds mine, and I see
the joy. She needed me to be scared too.

The other hand is pulling my face to hers. Just before her lips
touch mine, she whispers, "One quick kiss. Then we need to get to
work."

That's my Scully.

 

~The end~

 

XX~XX

 

*All quotes from the works of Tennyson

 

End Notes: This is a bit of an experiment in style for me. I had
this story idea that I loved but I could only see it as a long,
complex novel. Already in the middle of one of those, I didn't
want to start another. Then Rachel Howard posted 'Show'. Besides
trumpeting the amazing technique in that story to anyone who would
sit still, I was intrigued by the possibility of attempting it
with this story idea. Please let me know if it worked for you.

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