Date sent: Thu, 07 Aug 1997 16:15:41 -0500 From: Megan Subject: Secret Life of Dana Scully - all - 310 K __________________________ The Secret Life of Dana Scully by Megan Reilly eponine@prodigy.net __________________________ -9- He made breakfast for her in the morning. He didn't wake her, and she found it lovely to awaken naturally, without the ringing of an alarm, to the scents and sounds of a homemade breakfast being prepared. She stirred sleepily, reluctant to relinquish the warm coziness of his bed. He was a sensualist, she knew that now from the pillowy mattress and the softness of the handmade quilt. She rose from the bed yawning and realized she was still wearing his robe. She leaned over the railing and looked down on the kitchen, watching him for a moment as he moved around the kitchen, putting something into one pan, taking another off the stove, adjusting the heat. This is wonderful, she thought. The smells reminded her of her strong sense of family while she was growing up. I want this, she said to herself. Every day. With kids playing and fighting and making their lunches before they go to school. She didn't want to be alone again. She went down into the kitchen. "You're amazing," she told Krycek. "This?" he said, "This is nothing." She smiled and sat down at the table. He served her with eggs and bacon and pancakes and milk, then sat down across the table to join her. He watched her as she began to eat, as though he was waiting to see if she liked it. Aware of his eyes on her, she smiled. "It's good," she assured him and he looked away, picking up his own fork. She picked up her glass and the cold sweetness of the milk surprised her. It had been a long time since she'd had a meal like this one. "Where did you go to college?" she asked him. He gave her an incredulous look and laughed self consciously. "I make you breakfast and you ask where I went to college?" "I don't know any of the trivial details about you," she admitted. "And now you want to know?" He still looked like he couldn't believe it. She nodded. "Duke," he told her. "I got scholarships and studied pre-law and social work and took parapsychology classes." "Why?" "I wanted to make a difference. The way I was raised...I wanted to keep that from happening to other kids." He sounded so passionate about it, even now, she thought. "I meant, why the parapsychology classes?" she asked. He shrugged. "I was looking for some purpose in life at that time. I thought there had to be more out there than we knew about." "And you thought the occult was a place to find it?" "Look, Dana, I realize it's what you do for a living, but they were just elective classes when I was in college, for Christ's sake," Krycek pointed out. She nodded, feeling cold suddenly, and went back to eating the terrific breakfast. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "No reason to apologize," she told him. "I was just curious." "Why don't you believe in any of that stuff?" he asked her. She considered her answer for a moment. No one had ever asked her *why* she didn't believe before. Well, Mulder asked her at least once a week, it seemed, but he was never interested in hearing an answer. "I was raised a Catholic, and part of that belief is based in a certain amount of mysticism. When I went to medical school, I found that science had the answers that religion seemed to still be searching for. And science could find the answers to the rest of the questions we hadn't yet thought to ask. It seemed silly to look elsewhere." "Science can explain everything?" he asking in such a delicate way that she knew he didn't believe it. "Yes. It may not be the most glamorous or exciting explanation, but it can explain anything." "Anything," he said, not sounding convinced. "Anything," she confirmed. "But surely you've seen things that could not be explained by science?" "There's no limit to what science can do; the only limit is human understanding at this time. This isn't exactly a breakfast conversation," she pointed out, finding it tiresome. Even though she was learning things about this man who she thought could make her happy, things she needed to know. "What if I told you I'd seen things that science cannot explain?" "When you were working on the X Files?" she asked, although she did not want to bring it up because she knew it was going to be a sore spot. She still felt anger over that period when the files had been closed down and she and Mulder had been reassigned. By the way Krycek didn't answer, she knew he was referring to the time after that, when he had been selling government secrets to nefarious parties. "What have you seen?" she asked him. "What do you know?" "About what?" he looked uncomfortable. "You were on the other side. You know what the answers are and where to find them. You know what they're covering up because you helped them to do it." "I don't think I should tell you," he told her. "Why not?" "Are you done here?" he asked, avoiding her question by rising and reaching for her plate to take it to the sink and wash it. He gathered the dishes and started the water running, but she followed him. "Wouldn't it be anti-climactic if someone just told you the answers you'd been seeking so long?" he asked her, trying to sound teasing but she thought he only sounded desperate. "No," she said plainly. He squirted soap into the water in the sink and began to wash. She watched him for a moment, trying to control and sort out the anger that she was feeling. "Do you think this relationship has any future?" she asked. He almost dropped the dish he was rinsing. "Of course I do." "Where do you think we're going to end up?" she asked. "I don't know...I hadn't given it much thought beyond 'happily ever after,' I guess," he admitted. She frowned. "We can't have a relationship without trust." "You don't trust me." It was a downhearted statement. "You say you've changed, but how do I know?" she asked honestly. "Now you're covering for the people you used to work for...what am I supposed to think?" He sighed. "All right," he said after a moment. "But I can't tell you very much, because if I do, they'll know where the information came from and they'll kill us both, and Mulder too, probably," he told her seriously. His eyes met hers. "I don't want to tell you anything that will get you into trouble." His urge to protect her was sweet, she thought, but it could get tiresome if she allowed it to continue. "We'll learn the truth eventually," she informed him, certain of this fact. "When we do, people will be angry." "But they'll know you got the information on your own." "Are these men still after you?" she asked. "Not actively. But if they find out I'm giving you information..." She nodded. "If you don't tell me anything, I don't think I can trust you." "I hate that you don't trust me now." "I hate that too. It's tearing me up inside," she told him. At the same time, he had to understand that she would walk away. She had to be willing to walk away, no matter how much it would hurt her. Because there was no future if she couldn't trust him. As she stood there looking deeply into his eyes, her cellular phone rang. The moment went on between them for one second longer and then she tore away, looking for her things and finally locating the phone, which was on its fifth screaming ring. "Scully," she said, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. "Sorry," said Mulder, not sounding sorry at all. "Am I interrupting anything?" "Well..." she began, but she knew he didn't really care. In fact, he sounded hopeful that he was...but she was just reading that in to what he'd said, right? she thought, trying to convince herself that she was wrong. "You didn't answer your phone all night and I was worried." Scully rolled her eyes. "You checked up on me?" "I needed to talk to you," he mumbled, sounding sorry. And needy. She never could resist that tone. "I wasn't home last night. I'm sorry if that concerned you." "The boyfriend." He didn't sound happy. "It shouldn't surprise you, Mulder," she pointed out. "What's going on?" She was eager to draw the conversation away from her personal life. "I need you to come into the office for this," he said. "I don't really want to discuss it over the phone. Is that going to be a problem?" "I don't see why it should be, I come into the office every day," she reminded him. "I know that, Scully," he said softly and his tone made a smile tug at her lips, that half-teasing, half- seductive way he had. It made her feel warm inside. "It's just that it's after ten, and I didn't know if I could expect you." Her eyes widened and she whirled around to look at Krycek. "It's after ten?" she cried. "You didn't know?" Mulder sounded perplexed and she expected his next question to involve missing time. "I'll be there as soon as I can," she said quickly into the phone and hung up. Then she advanced on Krycek. "You didn't get me up in time for work." "You had a rough night last night, Dana," he said apologetically. "Just when you were finally sleeping peacefully, it was...I didn't have the heart to wake you." Something in the notion that he'd been watching her sleep touched her. He'd been watching over her, and she smiled, wanting to kiss him, but she had to get ready for work. She spotted the clock on the wall finally and saw it was almost ten-fifteen; it would be eleven by the time she got downtown. She got into motion, sprinting up the stairs and gathering her clothing from the floor. She didn't have time for a shower, and she had to use Krycek's brush. Short as his hair was, she considered herself lucky he even had a brush. "I'm sorry I have to run," she said as she hurried down the stairs from the loft on the way out the door. Krycek caught her in his arms, stopping her. "No good-morning, good-bye kiss?" he asked. "I haven't got -" Her protest was prematurely silenced as his lips claimed hers and for the next moment, she was completely involved in kissing him. When he released her, she remained close, smiling at him. She loved the dark, sexy look in his eyes. "I'll give you a name," he told her. For a second she was confused, until her mind was able to go back to their unfinished conversation. "Okay," she said, feeling her heart begin to beat more quickly, both with the promise of the information and because if it panned out, it would mean she could trust him. She could be with him. "Miranda Pierce," he said. She stood there as though waiting for more. "I can't give you any more. But you should be able to find out plenty," he promised her. "Thank you," she said. "Think of me," he requested, capturing her lips again. Then he let her slip out the door to begin her work day. Mulder called her once in the car while she was driving in, presumably to ask her what was taking so long. She didn't know for sure because she didn't answer the call. It felt as though he were checking up on her, and she hated it. "What's so important?" she asked, completely business-like as she strode into their office as a quarter past eleven. "It took you a while to get here," Mulder commented, looking over the top of his glasses to the clock on the wall. "I had to finish what I was doing," she said coldly and watched all the amusement drain from his face. She felt a flicker of remorse, but only a flicker. Why was her sex life any of his business? She supposed it had become his business when it made her late for work, but by the same token, he had been late or absent from the office on any number of occasions and she had never wondered if he was out bedding a blonde. And she didn't think she'd ever acted so bitter or possessive about it. "What's going on?" "I don't want to close the book on the voices in that field. Not just yet." "That's what you couldn't tell me over the telephone?" Mulder plowed over her as usual. "I have another witness who claims to have heard the voices. His testimony checks out. And you said yourself you wanted to run bloodwork on people who'd heard the voices. We could leave now, if you like." "Do they have a doctor in the town?" she asked. "Yes," Mulder answered tentatively, as though he was wondering where she was going with this. She looked at him and wondered for a moment when he'd taken his glasses off without her noticing. His eyes looked bright and intense and seemed to be burning a hole through her. She felt an odd urge to walk over and feel his forehead to see if he had a fever. "Ask the doctor to draw some blood from your witness as part of your questioning, and bring it to me to analyze." Mulder's face fell, like a child who'd just been told his skating birthday party with the clown and the big cake had been canceled due to lack of interest. "Where are you going to be?" he asked with a slight tremor in his voice that gave her chills. She was hurting him, and she sincerely didn't want to do that. If there was another way, she wished she could see it. "I have some information I need to check up on." "What kind of information?" He perked up a little, but he was still pouting at her. She felt like she'd popped his balloon when he'd been trusting her to hold it for him. "The name of someone who may be involved in a governmental cover-up." His eyes lit up. She'd said the magic words. He leaned forward, eager to hear what else she had to say. "What kind of a cover-up?" "*The* cover-up," she said. Mulder's jaw didn't drop and she was disappointed. "Where did you get this information, Scully?" "You're not the only one who has secret informants," she teased him. "Is that where you were last night?" he asked. As though he was anxious to hear she had been anywhere but lying in the arms of her lover. Why should he care? Scully had to ask herself again. She didn't do anything, which he took to be an affirmative answer. "Is it a source you can trust?" he asked, sounding a lot more like the old, paranoid Mulder she knew. "I'm not certain," she admitted. "I'm hoping they'll pass the test." "Who is it?" he asked. "I can't say." To her relief, he didn't press her any farther. She was terrified she was going to say too much and let the truth slip out. "Be careful," he warned, holding her eyes with his. "I will." She returned the look. "What's the information?" "It's a name. Miranda Pierce." Mulder shook his head. "It doesn't ring a bell." "I thought I'd begin with a standard search and go from there." She moved toward her desk and dropped her bag into its place in the bottom drawer. She switched on the computer and sat down, waiting for it to boot up. She looked across the room at Mulder, who was sitting at his desk, watching all of her movements with intense interest. "What happened to your trip back out to the field to interview your witness?" she asked. "That can wait. I want to help you with this." "I don't really need your help." "You don't know what this could turn into." "I think I do, Mulder," she informed him wryly, striving to keep her tone light because she didn't want this to blossom into an argument. She could already feel the tension building and she knew it had that potential. "This is more important," he told her. "Suit yourself," she shrugged and set the computer to work searching through the federal databases for Social Security and state information as well as for evidence of a criminal record. As she did this, she continued to feel Mulder's eyes on her. "Are you going to keep watching me?" she glanced up to ask him. A slow, teasing smile that warmed her blood spread across his face. "I like watching you, Scully," he said. She couldn't help smiling back, but she rolled her eyes jokingly back at him. She loved it when they got along and could kid around with each other. The computer search was going extremely slowly, she thought, checking the screen again. She could feel the anticipation building inside her and she really wanted to know what they were going to come up with on this. What Krycek had given her. "That suit looks mighty familiar," Mulder pointed out. "And wrinkled." "Couldn't be helped," she murmured. How often did Mulder come in to work in dirty, wrinkled clothes, she thought. But because he was a man, it was acceptable, because men and laundry had some kind of biological problem that kept them from combining successfully. If a woman comes in dressed in such a way, it can only mean she's a slut, Scully knew, and the double standard made her angry. She wished she'd had time to go home and shower and change. She wished Krycek had woken her on time. "What's your informant's agenda?" Mulder asked. She looked at him, surprised by the question and feeling suddenly as though she were in water over her head. "It's something you need to consider," he warned her. She disliked his patronizing tone, but bit her tongue on a retort. She didn't want to fight with him, no matter how much he seemed to be purposely trying to goad her. Mulder wasn't like other people and she knew it; sometimes he didn't consider the way the things he said could be interpreted. "You always have to ask yourself, what's in it for them." She sighed and stared at the unchanging computer screen, which was still searching out and sorting through information. What's in it for him, she thought. He earns my trust. An important step in earning my love. Something he seems very much to want. She couldn't help feeling immensely flattered by that; a man who was in love with her for no apparent reason, in spite of the problems it would cause. She wanted to be able to trust him. She wanted to be able to let herself love him. She hadn't realized Mulder was asking her a question with his last statement until he spoke again. "Sometimes, if you're trying to figure out what's in it for them, it helps to ask what they're getting in exchange for the information they gave you," he offered helpfully, as though he was teaching Informants 101. "Is it a man or a woman, by the way?" "Man," Scully answered without thinking, completely distracted. His words had all the impact of a physical blow and she felt sick. Because she knew what Krycek had gotten in exchange for the information he'd given her - sex. Which made her little better than a prostitute for the cause, didn't it? Mulder was on his feet in an instant. "Scully, are you all right?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern for her. "You look pale all of a sudden." "I'm just tired," she said, feeling unable to cope and wishing he would leave her alone. She scooted her chair in closer to the desk and propped her head against her hand, leaning in close to the monitor so Mulder couldn't see the unwelcome tears she felt burning in her eyes. All she wanted to do was go home and take a shower because she felt dirty. And used. And despicable. How much is the truth worth to you, Dana? she asked herself derisively. "Let me get you a cup of coffee," Mulder offered. It wasn't like him to fuss, but she didn't argue because she was glad to be left alone in the room by herself, even if only for a few moments. "Oh, God!" she said aloud, despising herself. She rubbed her eyes and buried her face in her hands for a moment, savoring the darkness. She really was tired. She was tired of being confused and wondering what the hell she was doing. Maybe it would be best if she just told Mulder everything, got it out into the open. Honesty was the best policy, wasn't it? she thought. But she knew she couldn't do it. Especially not now. What would he think of her if he knew? How would he look at her? She'd felt so powerful in the kitchen, demanding that Krycek give her the information. She'd thought she was blackmailing him into giving it up. Now she saw that she'd been a complete fool. He was just paying her back for what she'd given him. Because she'd been good? Because he felt sorry for her? Stop it! she told herself. If she didn't stop thinking about it, she was really going to be sick. She jumped at the feel of Mulder's hand heavy on her shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked again. Her head came up and she saw that he was crouching next to the desk, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand as an offering. There was genuine concern for her in his worried eyes. She blinked. "I'm fine," she told him. He raised his eyebrows at her, giving her a searching look. He was trying to tell her that if something was wrong, she could tell him what it was. She could trust him. And she knew that she could trust him. Just not with this. Never with this. Honesty might be the best policy, but this would kill him. She could never tell him, and it only made the secret weigh heavier on her heart. She took the coffee from him and sipped it gratefully, feeling its warmth spread through her and knowing the caffeine would give her strength. "Thank you," she said. "For what? It's only coffee," he said playfully. "For caring," she said seriously, placing her hand over his. Such strong, capable hands, she thought, comparing them with her own small hands and short fingers. It brought an odd smile to her face. She looked up at him and found him staring at her with a strange look in his eyes. It made her breath catch in alarm, even as it made her stomach feel warm and funny to have him looking at her this way. There wasn't very much space between them, she realized suddenly, feeling slightly panicked, but she wouldn't acknowledge why she was feeling that way. "What is it?" she murmured, her voice barely filling the inches between them. She was intensely conscious of that gaze. He opened his mouth and she couldn't help the downward drift of her gaze. The moment seemed to stretch on and on as she listened to her heart pound in her ears. And he said, "Looks like your computer search came up with something." End of part nine. __________________________ The Secret Life of Dana Scully by Megan Reilly eponine@prodigy.net __________________________ -10- It took her a moment to comprehend his words beyond the buzzing in her ears, she was so distracted by him. She blinked and pulled back a few inches, the space allowing her to breathe again. Then, still aware of Mulder's eyes on her, she looked at the screen. There were several Miranda Pierces listed, but it was easy to narrow the list to the one most likely to be their informant. "Miranda Pierce," read Scully, "Department of Defense. Aeronautical engineer." "Aeronautics," echoed Mulder, taking the same tone she'd used - interested and reserved, because they already had an idea of what they were dealing with. Scully shot a quick glance at him because she knew what was in his mind. If the DOD was involved with the conspiracy, aeronautics had to equal spaceships in Mulder's estimation. She knew from the way he was looking at her that she was right. "You ready to go now?" he asked her, his eyes shining. "Give me a minute," she answered, turning her attention back to the computer screen and scrolling through the records she'd accessed. Miss Pierce, never married, age thirty five, paid her taxes on time and had never had so much as a parking ticket. Her record was impeccable. It made Scully wonder. Scully believed in the law so strongly that she'd sworn to uphold it, but even she had a couple of notations on her record. That sort of thing couldn't be helped, she thought. It just made her wonder. She glanced at her watch. "Why don't you grab some lunch, Mulder, and give me half an hour?" she suggested. "To do what?" he looked stricken, as though she'd told him she needed to meet Krycek in the park for a quickie. The look on his face startled her. "Go home. Take a shower and change my clothes. You can pick me up in half an hour and then we'll go see what the real story is on Ms. Pierce." "You suspect something." Mulder's eyes held hers. Nothing interested him more than a lead. Scully just nodded, then looked away. He was staring at her too much today, and it made her uncomfortable. It almost made her feel as though he was searching to see if he could see what her boyfriend saw. Was Mulder wondering why anyone would want to go out with her? It was weirding her out, and she decided not to think about it any more. "Okay, then, let's go," said Mulder, tossing his keys in the air once, intending to catch them in an impressive display of manual dexterity. He missed and the keys crashed onto the floor. He grinned foolishly at her as he bent to pick them up. At least he didn't say 'I meant to do that,' she thought. "You sure you won't need any help scrubbing your back?" he asked lightly when he pulled up in front of her apartment building. "Nope, thanks though," she said with a smile, taking the comment in the manner which it was intended. "See you in half an hour," she said, preparing to close the door so he could drive away. He nodded seriously and she shut the door just as she thought he said something. She looked at him, but he made no move to repeat it. He pulled away from the curb and she figured she'd imagined it. The red light on her answering machine was blinking and she pressed the play button, undressing in the dim light of her curtained living room. It was almost like night in there with the curtains drawn. "Dana. I'm having a few people over this Sunday, after church. If you'd like to come...?" It was her mother, sounding hopeful and tentative. Scully sighed. She loved her mother dearly, but she just didn't understand sometimes. She made a mental note to phone her mom back when she got the time. Figuring she'd have to mention Krycek in some manner, she wasn't looking forward to it. Her mother would probably know she was seeing someone before they finished saying hello. Scully didn't know how she did it...some spooky mother thing. There was a beep and then Mulder's voice filled the room. "Hey, Scully," he said, sounding bright but then his tone faltered. "I'm beginning to wonder if this answering machine is my new partner and you just forgot to tell me," he said softly, an attempt at a joke. It didn't work to cover the hurt, maybe because she knew him so well. "Anyway, I need to talk to you. So give me a call when you get in, all right? Please? It doesn't matter what time it is." There was a long pause as though he was searching for the words to say something else, and then a soft click as he'd broken the connection. Scully just stared sadly down at the machine as the timestamp announced the call had come on "Thursday, seven-fifteen, p.m." Another beep. She knew it was going to be Mulder again. Was he really the only person who ever called her? she thought suddenly. "Hi," he said, very very softly. "Dana, I -" [he'd called her Dana??? she was thinking] "I was hoping you'd be home by now. I wanted to talk to you about the case. I think there's something more to be discovered in the field, with the voices...I just want to hear your voice. I, um, I hope you're well, wherever you are. And that he's making you happy. I don't guess you'll feel like returning this message when you hear it, so I'll see you tomorrow morning." Another gentle pause, this one in keeping with the slow softness of his words. And then the timestamp. "Friday, two-oh-five, a.m." There was a double beep as the machine reset itself. He'd called her at two a.m? she thought, staring. She didn't know what to think. How the night changed people. She couldn't really picture Mulder sitting in his dim, lonely apartment in the middle of the night, pouring out his heart to her answering machine. But that had to be the way it had happened. A knock on the door startled her. She checked her watch - Mulder had only given her fifteen minutes. What was he trying to do, catch her? she thought, but she knew she was being unfair. He was probably just anxious to get their investigation started. He certainly hadn't been happy at the thought of taking the time for her to stop home. Aware that she was standing unclothed in her living room, she headed for the bathroom and started up the shower. Mulder would just have to wait. He had a key; he could let himself in. She hadn't realized how tense or tired she was until the hot water beat down on her skin, relaxing her. It was a delicious feeling, one that she savored for a long moment before turning off the water and stepping out into the steamy bathroom. She wrapped herself up in her robe and knotted the belt before walking out into the hallway. Mulder's eyes fixed on her the moment she emerged, as though he was instantly drawn to look at her. "I'm sorry," she told him, "I guess I'm running a little bit late." "No, it didn't take me long to pick up some sandwiches," he admitted, still looking at her. "Although I guess we could have eaten something here, since we're here." An image of Mulder cooking for her collided with the memory of Krycek doing so. "Sandwiches are fine, Mulder," she told him. "I'll be quick." "Take your time," he told her, tearing his eyes away and looking down at the magazine he must have picked up from her coffee table. She nodded and headed for the bedroom, running her hands through her wet hair. She didn't have time to dry it, and she didn't want to keep Mulder waiting for something so seemingly trivial. Sharing a thousand walls in a thousand motels across the country, he had to know that she blow dried her hair, but wanting to avoid the illusion of vanity was too strong. He'd just have to suffer through her natural look, she thought, putting on her blue suit quickly and just a touch of makeup. She felt immensely better. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting," she said again when she emerged from the bedroom. He looked at her and then looked away. "It's all right. This was interesting." He indicated the magazine he'd been reading and then placed it back on the coffee table. "Completely wrong, but at least now I know where you get your ideas." He'd been reading -The Skeptical Inquirer- which her brother had jokingly bought her a subscription to the previous Christmas. Charlie had told her she should write an article for it. She said as soon as she thought of a good pseudonym, she would. It was a family joke. She walked over to the coffee table and tweaked the magazine. "I think for myself, Mulder," she said, unable to hold back some of the intensity of the statement. His eyes went to her face again. "Of course you do," he said. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise." She nodded and looked down, feeling like she'd done something wrong. "Let's go," she said. "You look nice," he told her. One corner of her mouth came up for half a second. "Same old tired suit, Mulder." "Still. I don't say it enough." "Last time I looked, you weren't my fashion consultant." Not with that tie anyway, thought Scully. "I was trying to give you a compliment," said Mulder and she could tell she'd hurt his feelings again. Which brought the count up to close to a million times in the past three days. "Thank you," she said, although it was much too late to sound gracious. She paused by the answering machine, seeing that the red light was still blinking. The messages hadn't erased properly. Mulder noticed she was no longer by his side and looked back. Seeing the blinking light, he said, a little embarrassed, "Those are just from me. Not important. You don't have to bother." "I already listened to them," she said plainly. "I guess I didn't hit the erase button." She shrugged, knowing she couldn't replay the messages with him standing in the room. She wouldn't be able to listen to those words again with him looking at her. "I'll do it later." Mulder looked relieved and they went out to the car. He assumed the wheel, as usual, and she removed the take out bag from her seat and climbed in. "Which one's yours?" she asked him, opening the bag. "They're both the same. I got light turkey and cheese." She couldn't help smiling. Her favorite. "Thanks, Mulder," she said and handed him his lunch, even though she wished he wouldn't drive and eat at the same time. She knew if he didn't, he would probably never get to eat at all. "It's just a sandwich," he said, taking a bite. "I don't say it often enough," she echoed his words. His eyes slid over to her, but she looked away, out the window at the passing scenery. They ate in silence and soon reached the Department of Defense, where their badges were enough to grant them entry, even though they also attracted more attention than Scully was really comfortable with. "I'll handle this," said the tall brunette woman who rushed over to shoo away the guards who had accompanied them within the building. "I'm Miranda Pierce, what can I do for you?" she asked, looking from Mulder to Scully. "I'm Agent Scully, and this is Agent Mulder; we're with the FBI. We wanted to ask you some questions about your experience in aeronautics," said Scully, glad that Mulder was allowing her to take the lead on this one. Miranda laughed. "What did you want to know?" Scully's mind went pitifully blank. "What sorts of projects have you worked on here at the Dept. of Defense?" Mulder jumped in and saved her. "Top secret ones," said Miranda and Scully detected a hint of bitterness in the other woman's tone that she didn't entirely understand. "Stealth technology to improve the speed and endurance of America's air and space crafts." "Air *and* space," said Mulder. Of course he's thinking of UFOs, thought Scully. She loved his predictability. She figured he thought she was out reverse engineering from the Roswell craft. Miranda nodded. "What are you working on now?" "I type," she said. "Excuse me," said Scully, caught off guard. "You type?" "I type," she confirmed. "You have a degree in engineering - why do you type?" asked Scully. "What do you type?" "Letters. Because I disagreed with what they were doing, and I said so." "Why do you stay on?" asked Mulder. "Because they let me live," said Miranda. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?" Lots, thought Scully. "We're investigating a governmental conspiracy of silence," Mulder began and Scully watched Miranda's eyes. The woman looked interested, but as though she was resisting saying anything to them. Which would be completely understandable, especially since they both knew she had the threat of death hanging over her head. "We believe you may have been involved with some men whom we'd like to expose." "I'd really like to help," said Miranda, "but this is my life we're talking about. I'm acutely aware of the consequences of my actions. And I don't think I should say anything about them." "If we are able to expose these men and what they've been doing, there would be nothing for you to fear," said Mulder quite convincingly. "You can't really believe that," Miranda snapped. "If you do, you have no idea how deep this thing goes. They're letting me stay on here so they can keep an eye on me. I know that. I can live with that. I don't think I'll be doing much living if I give you two the answers you're seeking. I'm really sorry." She turned and began to walk away. "Just one more thing," said Mulder, and Miranda paused. "Are they involved in the reverse engineering of recovered alien spacecraft?" Miranda didn't deny it. Instead, she looked at Scully, ignoring Mulder's question completely. "Did you say your name was Scully?" she asked. She nodded, wondering what was going on. Her heart began to thud with dread, remembering women in Allentown, PA who had claimed to 'recognize' her. "Dana Scully," she answered. "I'm really sorry," said Miranda and Scully felt her eyes widen. "What are you talking about?" she asked shakily. "I didn't realize that was what you'd come about." "What?" cried Scully. "Whoever gave you my name gave you the wrong information," explained Miranda with a hardened sad look on her face. "I think the person you'll want to speak with is my sister. Ariel." She turned and began to walk back to her desk. Scully stopped her, touching her arm and looking into her face. "I'm afraid I don't understand what just happened here," she said honestly. "Do you know me in some way?" "Not you," said Miranda. "Your sister." Scully drew in a hard breath, turning the muscles in her abdomen to steel as though to deflect any more blows. "Melissa," she said. "I'm sorry, I thought that was why you were here," explained Miranda. "I can understand why you'd still be looking for an explanation about your sister's death. It was unexpected and remains so unexplained. It took all of us by surprise, as well." "You knew Melissa?" asked Scully, feeling breathless with fear that she could not name and was determined not to show. Miranda shook her head. "Not directly." She looked down, as though she was ashamed of what she was about to say. "My sister - Ariel - was involved with a man named Luis Cardinale. The man who shot your sister, and then was murdered himself." Scully could only stare at the woman, who obviously wanted to be somewhere else. "Thank you," Scully said quietly. Miranda nodded and walked away. Scully let her go and just stood there, drawing in one deep breath after another because she did not intend to cry about this here in the hallway of the Department of Defense. She felt, rather than heard, Mulder's approach and she could feel that he was going to touch her even as the thoughts must have been appearing in his mind. She turned on him as he stood close behind her, his eyes intense on her. His hand came up, as she'd known it would, and she flinched. "Don't," she told him. "Just...don't." "Scully," said Mulder, pleading with her...for what? Did he even know himself? "I'm fine," she snapped at him, knowing that she wasn't and knowing that he knew it as well. "Scully," Mulder whispered, and his hand came down on her shoulder, rubbing her arm reassuringly. It didn't made her feel any better. It made her want to collapse into tears and sob while he held her. But she couldn't do that. She had to get to the bottom of this. She looked up at Mulder, wanting to ask him to leave her alone, but she couldn't say the words. He nodded, though, understanding, and turned away, looking years older suddenly and tired. He started after Miranda and she knew he was going to ask her where they could contact Ariel. Scully remained in the hallway, leaning against the wall. At least now she knew one thing. The information had panned out. Krycek had given this to her. He had given her insight into her sister's death where she had imagined there would never be any. She could trust him now. Mulder returned momentarily and looked into her face. "Are you all right?" he asked her. "Fine," insisted Scully, striding toward the exit. Mulder followed her a few steps behind, although his longer strides could easily have caught up with her. He let her into the car and she threw herself into the passenger seat, reaching for the seatbelt and fastening it before he even got into the car, meeting his look with one of her own that said, "I'm ready to go." Mulder didn't put the key into the ignition. He didn't reach for his seatbelt. He just sat in the car and looked at her. "You found out where she is, didn't you?" Scully demanded. She heard the note of irrationality in her voice but she knew she couldn't control it. "Scully, are you sure you're ready to deal with this today?" Mulder asked gently. "I'm ready. Let's go," she said, crossing her arms and looking out through the windshield, waiting for the car to be set into motion. "Scully," his voice wheedled at her. "You need time to process this. You didn't know this was going to be brought up again, and I want you to be sure you're emotionally ready to deal with anything we might find out." She yearned to tell him to stick his psychologist crap back up his butt, but another deep breath reminded her that she could not strike out at him just because he was the only one there, when she really wished she could hurt the men who had done this. The man who'd shot her sister and the bastards who'd killed him before he could ever be brought to court. He'd gotten his due at their hands and not hers and it had left a gaping hole in her, one that she thought if she ignored long enough, it would eventually heal and go away. As a doctor, she should have known better. But it didn't mean she could try to hurt Mulder just because he cared about her and was trying to help. "Mulder, if you were faced with information about the men who took your sister - who murdered your father - you would want to go after it immediately. You wouldn't want to wait, even if maybe you weren't 'emotionally ready' to deal with it." "That's true," he admitted. "And ultimately, I believe we will find it was the same men who were responsible for your sister's death." She nodded. She knew this as well. "If we wait, they might not be there." "The truth will always be there, Scully," Mulder told her. She wanted to scream that it was just a fucking platitude and it didn't make her feel better, but she couldn't. Of course she couldn't. "If you were faced with the man who shot your father, you would want to ask him why." "But I have been faced with him, Scully," Mulder reminded her. "And I didn't get a chance to ask him why. He wouldn't have answered anyway. And luckily, I had someone there to stop me and make me see reason and not kill him." "I can see reason," Scully informed him. "The man who did this is dead. I had my chance to kill him and I didn't do it. I couldn't." "I could have," Mulder told her, referring to his own opportunity to get revenge on the man who'd killed his father. "But you stopped me." She'd saved Krycek's life and look where she was now, she thought. "I appreciate your concern for me and my emotional health," she said slowly. "But I assure you that I am fine and I would like to go and speak with Ariel Pierce now." Mulder sighed, his eyes lingering on her. She had to look away so he wouldn't see the tears burning in her eyes. Finally he started the car and they were on their way. End of part ten. __________________________ The Secret Life of Dana Scully by Megan Reilly eponine@prodigy.net __________________________ -11- It was a short, tensely silent drive. Scully felt instant regret washing over her for the way she'd treated Mulder, and wanted to apologize, but at the same time, there weren't really any words for her to say. She'd lashed out because she was hurting and he was there. None of this was his fault and she knew that. She also knew how easy it was for him to blame himself for Melissa's death. But Scully knew it wasn't his fault. If it was anyone's, it was hers. And that was a very hard thing for her to have to live with. The car stopped in front of a large white building. Scully turned and looked at Mulder, and he nodded in answer to her unasked question - this is really the place? It was a mental institution. "Do you need a minute?" Mulder asked her, studying her face. She shook her head, even though she thought she would like to stay in the quiet of the car for a moment and try to sort out her thoughts. "I'll be okay." "I know this is hard," he told her. She nodded. "I want answers." They got out of the car and she walked close to him up the sidewalk to the door. Before he opened it, she reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "Thank you for being here with me," she said to him. "Always," he promised, an earnest look in his eyes. It meant everything to her at that moment. He opened the door and held it for her while she walked inside. She wished he would put his arm around her, and wondered where the thought had come from. Maybe because it felt to her like he wanted to, but was resisting. Who could blame him after the way she had acted? "We need to speak to Ariel Roberts," Mulder said quietly to the nurse at the front desk. Scully gave him a questioning look that he noticed and turned to her to explain, "She and Miranda had different fathers. They were estranged for many years as well." Scully nodded, feeling that knife go a few inches deeper into her heart as she remembered her own estrangement from her sister. "I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to return tomorrow during visiting hours," said the nurse. "We're federal agents," Scully snapped, conscious that her tone was too loud and her voice too harsh, but she was unable to do anything about it. She opened her badge on the desk in front of the woman. Mulder placed a cautionary hand on her arm, but it barely drew her back. "I'm sorry," said the nurse with all sincerity. "This is a mental institution and interruptions tend to upset the routine we've established for our patients. That routine is vital to them." "It's very important that we speak to her." Scully wished she could threaten the woman with impeding a criminal investigation, but she knew she could not do so. The criminal investigation had been closed long ago, when she arrested Luis Cardinale. This was personal and she never should have mentioned they were federal agents - it could be considered a misuse of her badge. "I'm sorry," the woman said again. They were not going to speak to Ariel Roberts today. "Visiting hours are from ten a.m. until noon." The nurse then walked away from the counter. Scully remained standing there, her emotions flying in a hundred different directions at once. She wanted to scream, cry, yell, break something, threaten...but she did none of those things. She merely remained standing there until Mulder tugged on her arm. Usually, she thought, it would be her pulling him away from an emotional confrontation. She looked at him, gathering herself together again. "I'm with you," she told him and they walked out to the car. He didn't release her arm. She didn't know what she would have done if he had. She was depending on his steadiness in ways she couldn't even begin to explain. He opened the door for her and she got into the car gratefully, letting her head drop forward between her shoulders as though it were suddenly too heavy for her neck to support. She felt like a mess. She wanted to go home and sleep for a week. Mulder's hand caught her chin and brought her face up, gently as though he were afraid she might break. His eyes were soft and caring on hers. "Are you all right, Scully? Really?" he asked. She could feel her lower lip beginning to tremble and she knew that she was going to cry. "Uh-huh," she mumbled, and her voice broke in the middle. His arms went around her, strong and reassuring as he clasped her against his chest. She went willingly, grateful to him for knowing exactly what she needed and giving it to her, no matter how mean or horrible or cold she had been. She cried as he rubbed her back and she could feel love in his touch. The love of a mother who hated to see a child hurting. The love of a man... She raised her head from his white shirt and the odd rough texture of his tie. His fingers on one hand were cupping the back of her neck while his other arm continued to hold her close. She opened her mouth but there were no words. She realized she could feel how fast his heart was beating. His eyes were dark and slightly unfocused as they looked at her from inches away. She knew what that look was. It wasn't a look she'd ever expected to see on Mulder's face. And for a moment she absolutely panicked. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away from her, finding no graceful way to extricate herself from his arms. "I'm sorry," she said, moving back to her own side of the car, feeling cold without his body against hers. "It's a perfectly natural reaction," Mulder said gently. He thought she was sorry for crying in front of him. Not for pushing him away when he looked like a man in love who wanted to kiss her. When she wanted to kiss him too... "I'd be worried about you if you didn't cry," he told her. Then, awkwardly, he started up the car and pulled out on the street, like he needed something to be doing to take the attention of of him and her and what had just happened. "I mean, you never do cry and I - it's not a sign of weakness, Scully." "I know," she said. Except that it was. Women were always crying and whining about something and it was not the way to survive in a man's world. She had to be strong. If she didn't, if she let any of this get to her, she would fall apart. "But now is not the place or the time." "When is the place and time for tears if not now?" he asked her. "Later. At home. By myself." In bed in the middle of the night when she'd been dreaming or when she couldn't sleep for the thoughts that wouldn't leave her. "Isn't it better to not be alone?" he asked. She closed her eyes. "Infinitely better." She'd felt so safe in his arms, so right. She had belonged there. But she couldn't say that. He was her partner, not her lover. He would never be her lover. Would Krycek hold her like Mulder had? she wondered. She already knew the answer - he had held her without a word the night before when she had been crying for no reason. He'd put his arms around her and held her till she slept. As though he understood. Or didn't care. She knew that Mulder understood. He knew exactly what she was feeling, and why. Irritating as his damned questions were, they only meant that he cared about her. And she could feel that. A crazy, irrational part of her wanted to crawl into his arms and curl up and listen to him talk to her. Because she knew he would talk to her, unlike Krycek. When she closed her eyes, she could feel it all the way into her being. She could feel him. But she opened her eyes because it was wrong. They were friends. He hadn't really been wanting to kiss her. It was something she'd imagined. And if she was smart, she'd figure out why she was having these odd yearnings for Mulder now that she was sleeping with his enemy. Even as she thought it, she could hear his voice on her answering machine, uncloaked in the honesty of the night. The car stopped and she looked up. They were parked in front of a restaurant. "What's this?" she asked, looking at Mulder, startled. "I'm buying you dinner," he told her. "No arguments." "But why?" she asked when they were both out of the car. She refused to approach the restaurant until she had her answer. "Because you need to be out among people instead of in your apartment all alone. Because I want to. I want to spend time with you, Scully. I want to have dinner with you. What's wrong with that?" asked Mulder. "Nothing," she agreed. "We split the bill." "No," he said. "We go dutch or we don't go," she informed him. "Why?" he asked. "Why not?" she countered. "I want to take you out; I want to do something nice for you." "This is nice, but you don't have to pay for me." "You can pick up the tab next time, okay?" he asked, exasperation showing in his voice. She didn't want to argue with him, so she let it go and they went inside. It was dim and the tables were small. There were a lot of people eating there, but it was almost quiet inside, as though the diners felt hushed by their environment. Most of them seemed to be whispering sweet nothings to each other, Scully noted as they were led by a waiter through a maze of tables. And none of them seemed to be young couples. She didn't see anyone who looked like they were on a first date. Everyone looked as though they knew their partner intimately, as though they had lived with each other's habits for so long that they had become one person. "Would you like champagne or something from the wine list?" asked the waiter. Scully just looked at him incredulously, then looked at Mulder to see what his reaction was. He didn't look surprised. He ordered a bottle of wine and the waiter went away. "You didn't have to do that," Scully whispered. "I wanted to," he told her. "Why?" He shrugged off her question. "I think a lot of the people here are celebrating anniversaries," he observed. "That would explain why the waiter offered champagne," said Scully, then realized what she'd just said. Did they look like the rest of the couples around them, she wondered? Did they look like an old married couple? The waiter returned with the wine and she wanted to ask him. But of course she couldn't without appearing ridiculously self-conscious and delusional as well. Mulder reached for her glass and she said, "None for me." "Why not?" He looked mildly insulted. She didn't really have an answer. The words, 'I'm on duty' sprang instantly to her mind, but just because she was with Mulder. They weren't actually on duty any more. So she just shook her head, lacking a better reason. He poured it anyway. "What's one glass?" he asked her. She set it aside. "Have all you like," she told him. "This way, I can drive home." "I'll be all right," he told her as though he was offended she was questioning his judgment now. "One glass can't hurt." She knew he was right and she didn't know why she'd turned it into such an issue. She could smell it and it smelled good. She realized she was hungry, and she hadn't thought she would ever be hungry. She'd been too upset. "Then again," said Mulder, staring at her again, "You're so tiny..." He put his hand over hers on the table. "I can hold my liquor," she told him, to cover the fact that his words were doing strange things to her head. Why would he be thinking of her that way? Protective. And why didn't it truly upset her? Why did she find it endearing? "You need to relax," he said softly to her, turning her hand over in his and stroking her palm. The sensations were intensely pleasurable and she felt each touch like lightning shooting through her stomach. Finally she jerked her hand away. Nervously she reached for the glass and took a sip of the wine. Mulder was right; she was tense and acting high-strung. There was no other explanation for the way she was reacting to things. "It's good," she said, and tried to think of something else to say. Her mind was blank. Had she ever run out of topics to talk about to Mulder before? This was strange, she thought. It felt strangely like a first date. The waiter returned and they ordered, and then stared at each other some more. "I'll go with you tomorrow to see Ariel," Mulder offered. "Of course," she said. She'd never imagined going without him by her side. "I mean...if she knows something, you'll want to be there." He nodded. "What do you do for fun, Scully?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows, surprised by the question. "I don't know. The same thing as anyone, I guess." "I never hear a sound from your room when we're on the road. Sometimes I wonder what you do to fill the hours." He was listening? she thought, surprised, having always figured Mulder had hundreds of better things to think about than her. She tried to think what she did do once they'd parted ways and she was in her room by herself. "Sometimes I read," she told him. "But there's not usually a lot of time for anything. Most of the time I'm trying to catch up on sleep." He nodded. "I always feel like I'm making a lot of noise and I'm disturbing you." "You're not." "But you can hear me?" "I'm used to it by now," she told him. "I used to worry about you because I'd hear the TV on all night, and hear you walking around. Now I think I'd worry if I didn't hear it coming through the wall." "Still, you must be glad when we're at home and you can sleep in your own bed." "Of course," she admitted because it was the normal thing to say. "No noise to keep you up." "Sometimes it's almost too quiet," she said. "Especially when we've been away for a long time. I get used to it. And when I get home, I can't sleep without it." When she looked at him, she suddenly felt self-conscious, as though she'd said too much. "No, I know what you mean," he told her. "My apartment never feels like home after all the endless motels. And I know you're not just on the other side of the wall if I think of something. You're all the way across town." "Do you think that's normal?" she asked him. "Do you think other agents feel the same way?" "I don't think other partners have the same bond we have, Scully," he said solemnly. Seriously. "I always wonder," she admitted. "Because I never had another partner. I was teaching before the X Files. I wonder if everyone feels this way." "No," said Mulder. "My other partners, the other guys I worked with, they were like...cousins. Nothing in common, no friendly feelings, but you have to be together because it came down from the people in charge. Some of them were good guys, but we all went our separate ways. None of them ever tried to understand. And I never tried to understand them." "Never cried on their shoulder," she said, mocking herself gently. "What we have is very special," he told her. The waiter arrived just then and looked embarrassed as though he was aware he was interrupting something. He set their plates in front of them and then he asked, "Are you sure you won't be requiring any champagne, sir?" "Nothing to celebrate," Mulder told him. "The young lady has not accepted yet?" he asked. "No," said Mulder, closing the subject. The waiter scurried away. "I can't believe he thinks you were asking me to marry you," said Scully, trying to make light of a situation that had increased exponentially in intensity. Maybe it was the soft music or the candlelight, she thought. Maybe those things worked magic on anyone. Mulder was quiet for a minute and she began to eat her dinner. It tasted bland and she didn't really want it, she thought. "How about it?" he asked her. "What?" She almost dropped her fork. He wasn't asking her... "Am I going to be seeing a ring on your finger soon?" "What are you talking about?" she asked, her heart racing and she really didn't know why. "Things seem to be moving quickly between you and your boyfriend," Mulder hinted, almost fishing for information. It wasn't like him to be so indirect when he wanted to know something. "Do you think you might marry him?" "I don't know," she told him honestly. "I guess it depends on if he asks me." "Do you think he will?" She had to consider it. "He might. I don't know." "Would you agree if he asked?" She didn't know. She honestly didn't. It was what she had been thinking about the night before. She could live happily ever after with Krycek, she knew, especially since she'd learned today that he was telling the truth and she could trust him. But what would happen to her career? What would happen to Mulder? "It's complicated." "You said that before. What does that mean?' asked Mulder. "He's completely different from me. His life is completely different from mine." "Isn't it the differences that make things special?" he asked. "You wouldn't fall in love with someone exactly like yourself." "That would make things easier, though, wouldn't it?" she asked rhetorically. "I don't know where it's heading, Mulder, I really don't." "Do you think he's serious?" "I know he is." "Are you not serious then?" Was she imagining that he sounded hopeful? "I could be happy with him," she admitted. "But I don't know if it's right." "What could be more right than being happy?" She was beginning to feel like he was interrogating her, or analyzing her, and she didn't know why. It was merely beginning to be uncomfortable. "I think those are two completely different things," she told him. "I agree," he said. "What about you, Mulder?" "What about me?" "What are you looking for in a woman?" "Nothing." "You said that to me the other night but I didn't believe you." "I think I'm destined to die alone," he told her. She didn't want to talk about dying. She wanted to talk about something more cheerful, but what was there? "That sounds lonely." "Were you lonely before you met...him?" "I still feel lonely, Mulder," she admitted. "I don't think that's ever going to change." "Even if you marry him, and you're happy?" "Even then." "Why?" he asked. She shrugged. "I don't know. I think it's something we all carry within ourselves. It doesn't matter if we're alone or we're with people. Some of us are just...alone. It sounds so morose." "I used to dream that someone would come along and break through that," he confessed. "Maybe someone will." "I think even when I found the right person...I think I'd be too afraid to do anything about it." "What are you afraid of?" "Losing her." With a chill, Scully remembered the voices in the field. Mulder had said his had warned him 'you will lose her.' He had thought the voices meant her, even though she thought it was perfectly obvious they were referring to Samantha. Poor Mulder, she thought. She wanted to give him a hug and tell him things would be all right and speak of happier things. But like the lack of light in the dark restaurant, there was a stark lack of happier things in their lives. "But I've had my entire life to learn not to trust," Mulder continued after a long pause. "You're not like that. You care about people. You're not meant to be alone." "I think I've learned the same things you have," she told him. "I hope not." She finished off the glass of wine. "Are you ready to go?" she asked him. He nodded and signaled the waiter to bring their check. "I'm sorry I didn't cheer you up," he said. "I'm not," Scully answered. Mulder looked surprised. "I'm not in the mood to be cheered up. And anyone else would have forced me to pretend everything's all right when it isn't. I can talk to you, Mulder. I can be myself with you." "Isn't that all that matters?" he asked her quietly. He left money on the table to cover the bill and took her arm to escort her out of the restaurant. She found she liked having him there. He was always so gentlemanly and considerate. And he understood her like no one else did. "Thank you for tonight," she said when he pulled up in front of her apartment building. "Thank you for spending the time with me and not running home to be with him," Mulder said, and she noticed the harshness in his words. What did he mean by it? she wondered. "Are you seeing him tonight?" "I don't know," she said honestly. "We didn't have plans. And I'm tired. It's been...a really bad day." Mulder looked hurt at that, as though their dinner together made it a bad day and she wanted to further explain her words, but she refused to let herself. "Let me walk you inside," he requested. "I'm all right." "Just in case." He wasn't particularly convincing, but Scully was beginning to realize that she didn't really want to go to her apartment alone. She didn't want to be alone with her thoughts, which would surely turn to nightmares. She didn't want to have to think, or feel afraid. With Mulder she knew that she was safe. He made her feel that way. Too often when she was home alone, she thought she heard noises even when there was nothing there. She didn't say anything and he walked with her into the building. She opened the door wide and turned on the light, while remaining in the hallway with him. "See? Everything's fine." She said it to convince herself as much as to convince him. "You don't want to be alone." It was as though he read her mind, although it had to be plain to see in every gesture and every word. "I don't," she said and she wondered just what she was admitting. She looked up at him and suddenly it seemed like he was standing very close her her. And then his arms were around her. She knew she should go inside but she didn't move. She knew she should say no because she felt turmoil welling up inside her but she couldn't. She let him hold her and leaned in closer and shut her eyes as he kissed her. End of part eleven. ++"Yesterday I cried Must have been relieved to see the softer side" Bitch - Meredith Brooks++ __________________________ The Secret Life of Dana Scully by Megan Reilly eponine@prodigy.net __________________________ -12- Her hands came up to try to push him away, but the thought disappeared from her mind halfway, and she took the fabric of his shirt in her fingers, making loose fists as she clung to him. She tried to pull him down, to pull herself up, so she could kiss him better. She wanted this. She had wanted this for an impossibly long time. They stumbled into her apartment together, unwilling to break away from each other. She had no idea how they ended up on her couch with her lying on top of him. Time had disappeared into the void of being wrapped in his arms, finally. She was breathless and she had to let him go. She opened her eyes and found him watching her. His fingers toyed with a lock of her hair, skimming her forehead. Every whispering touch sent another jolt of desire for him through her. "What are we doing?" she whispered, not sure if she was feeling agony or joy. He brushed her lips with his in answer. She wanted to kiss him back, but she turned her face away. "What's wrong?" he murmured. "How can you ask me that?" she said. It was agony. She could feel it now strongly enough to know. His face changed. His fingers stopped touching her hair. "This is right," he told her fiercely. "Why now?" she asked. She was so scared she could hardly breathe. She knew she was handling this badly. She didn't want to hurt him. But wouldn't it hurt him more in the long run if she went on kissing him? Where could that lead, except into her bed? She wasn't ready to make love with him. She'd loved him for years, but she wasn't ready for that. And she couldn't, not when twelve hours ago she'd been lying in another man's arms. She couldn't do that to him. "Because I -" He had no reasons. Because today was the day? That wasn't what she wanted to hear. Because three times today, or more, he'd wanted to kiss her and finally he'd been able to do it. Because he was afraid of losing her. "Why not yesterday or two weeks ago or two years from now?" "Because it's today," he said calmly. "I can't do this, not now." Then why don't you get off of him? a voice in her mind suggested, but she didn't want to move. She liked his body. She liked the way it felt underneath hers. She liked their legs twined together. She liked having his eyes so close there was nowhere else she could look. She liked his warmth and his smell and his skin. "Because of him." "Yes," she cried pitifully. She wanted to hate him - them - for doing this to her, but she couldn't. She'd done it herself. She should have run away as fast as she could when she saw Krycek in that alley. She shouldn't have listened or let herself fall in love. And she should have turned away when she saw that look in Mulder's eyes. She shouldn't have let herself kiss him. She shouldn't have let him see all of her naked desires and feelings. She shouldn't have opened herself up to this hurt. "You said you don't love him." "I didn't say that!" "What did you say, then?" "I said I could be happy with him. He loves me. He *loves* me, do you know how that makes me feel?" "No," said Mulder, coldly. And her heart wrenched because in that simple one word statement was an accusation that she didn't love him, Mulder, the way that he wanted her to. Except that she did, and what was she supposed to do about it? "Everything's changing," she sighed. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I want everything to stay the same, forever." "But it's change for the better." "Was it so bad the way things were?" she asked herself. Was being lonely so much worse than this? "I want you to leave him, Scully." "Of course you do," she said absently. He called her Scully. Not Dana. Was there even a difference? Both were her name. Both were her. He was touching her hair again. "Why can't you?" he asked her. "I -" She didn't know why not. The answer should have been simple. "The way he makes me feel." He made her feel soft, and feminine and loved, and sexual. He made her feel high. He made her feel alive. But Mulder made her feel good and safe and comfortable. He made her feel like the way she was supposed to feel, not that she'd been altered somehow. "But you make me feel..." She was too confused to be having this conversation with him. "I don't know, Mulder. I don't know." She pulled herself out of his arms and sat back on the couch, leaving him sprawled as though he'd been knocked down. She could feel her body beginning to shake and she felt like she was beginning to come apart. "I think you should go." Slowly Mulder sat up. His eyes were burning into her, but she couldn't look at him. "I don't know who he is, Scully," he told her seriously. "But he doesn't know you the way I know you. He may have you, he may have gotten you so easily as simply asking, but I want you. And I will fight him for you. Because I know that we should be together." He sounded angry. As though they were arguing, but they weren't. "Because I love you, Scully. And nothing is going to change that. Nothing." He didn't touch her and she heard the door close behind him. Tears were running down her face and she turned and looked at the back of the door. She hadn't seen the look in his eyes when he told her that he loved her. She'd missed it. And now she worried that she'd missed him entirely. Her body felt like a limp rag as she rose from the couch and went into the bathroom, starting the hot water running for a bath almost without thinking. She had to make a decision that could not be made. All her questions were ones that had no answers. Why did this happen now? Why did Mulder suddenly want her because he knew she was loving someone else? What was she supposed to do? This could end their relationship. What would her life be like without Mulder? She couldn't imagine it and she couldn't remember what she had been like before. She'd been so different and she couldn't fathom the change. It was like the change that came over her when she was with Krycek. He made the world a different place - one with colors and sights and sounds. He made the world a place that might have happiness in it, somewhere. She sighed. She didn't want to have to make a decision. It was a decision that couldn't be made. How did you decide between the love of a friend and the love of a lover? How did she decide between ruining her work-life and ruining her private-life? They were both her life, how could she choose one over the other? There was a soft knock at the door and she dragged herself out of the water, noticing for the first time that it had grown cool. She dripped all over the bathroom as she pulled her robe around herself, but she didn't care. Blindly she went to the door and opened it. Krycek was leaning against the doorframe, looking uncertain of himself. "Hi," he said with an endearing smile. "Hi," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't call first, but I had to see you." His words alarmed her. "What is it?" "I missed you, Dana," he said, putting his mouth against hers. She didn't respond; she didn't have the energy or the will to be doing any of this right now. She took a step back, into the apartment and motioned for him to join her. Then she closed and bolted the door. "What's wrong?" he asked her, taking her hands in his. She just shook her head. "It's been a long, hard day. I'm really tired." "That's okay," he told her, brushing back her wet hair from where it was sticking to her face. "I just want to be with you. We don't have to go out anywhere." "I don't think I'm going to be much for conversation," she warned. "That's all right," he told her, his eyes luminous. "Go and get your pajamas on and we can just curl up on the couch and watch TV, or whatever. It doesn't matter to me, I just want to be with you." His smile was infectious. "You're too good to me," she told him, sort of a joke, but not really as she went back into her bedroom. She had no qualms about pulling on her old, beaten up, comfy blue pajamas and joining him back in the living room. He'd turned on the TV with its volume low and found an old movie on. He patted the couch next to him and she cuddled up next to him. For a long time, they didn't speak. "Did you look into the information?" he asked at last. "Yes." She didn't want to say anything more than that. And she wished he'd leave it there, but she knew that he wouldn't. "Did it pan out?" "Uh-huh," she confirmed. "What happened?" he asked her. "We talked to Miranda Pierce. She knows a lot, but she didn't tell us much. It turns out her sister Ariel was involved with the man who shot Melissa...my sister. We didn't get to talk to her this afternoon, so we're going back tomorrow." His arm tightened around her. "Do you feel that you can trust me now?" She closed her eyes and all she saw was Mulder's face, so she opened them again and stared at the people in the movie. "I always - something in my heart always told me that I could trust you. But I didn't want to believe it. Like with everything else, I thought I needed proof to back up what was merely a feeling. And you've given me that proof." "Do you think we have a future together?" he asked hesitantly. "Maybe. You say that like you're not sure." "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I don't know what goes on in that brilliant brain of yours." "I'm not brilliant," she told him. "You are," he said, and it sounded like pride in his voice. "You're amazing. I told you that I love you, Dana. I want to be with you. I will do anything it takes. I will do whatever you want me to do. I changed so I could be with you. Whatever the future brings, you're all I want." His words were Mulder's words, only twisted around and flipped over. His tone was gentle, instead of angry. She could hear love and not war in his voice. It was almost as though he knew she had to make a choice, and he was trying to state a case for himself. "What about my job?" she asked him. There was a long pause. "Your job makes me afraid for you," he told her. And when she tensed and began to protest, he quieted her. "I know what these men are capable of. They're vile, more so than you ever dreamed. Your life is in danger. And I don't like that." "You want me to leave." She almost said, 'You want me to leave _him_,' but she managed to stop herself. "I can't tell you what to do. I walked away and left those men and their agendas behind. I wasn't going to be a slave to them any longer. If I could walk away, so could you. It wouldn't be nearly so hard. They wanted to kill me for walking away and they want to kill you because you won't." "It would be giving in." "Does it matter to you that much?" he asked her. "What are you really fighting for here? Something you believe in - or something Mulder does?" He said Mulder's name like it was a dirty word, something he didn't want to say in front of her but he had to. "It matters to me," she told him. "It's not just Mulder's crusade. Even if he walked away from it, I don't know if I could do the same. These men abducted me, and did unspeakable things to my body. I don't even know all of what they did. And I don't know if I can make you understand what that feels like." "I know," he told her savagely and at that moment, she believed he did know. "But that was Mulder's fault." "None of the choices I have made have been Mulder's fault. I am in charge of my life. Not Mulder," she informed him. "I know," he whispered, pressing a calming kiss on her neck. "I have to find out what they did to me. Why they killed my sister in my place. I have to find out what they are hiding. Or none of it will mean a thing. I would be letting them win, and I can't let them do that." "I understand." Another kiss. "It doesn't have anything to do with us." "Doesn't it?" she asked. "I'm not involved with them now. They can't touch me. And they won't hurt you for being with me, if that's what you're afraid of." "It is," she admitted, and they fell into silence, staring at the flickering images on the television screen. Her eyes began to drift closed and even with his arms around her, she could feel that she was going to have nightmares. The same old terrifying dreams she always had but could never get used to. Dreams that she could remember what had been done to her during her abduction. Dreams that little grey men had come and spirited her away. Dreams that she was there when her sister was shot, and she could do nothing to prevent it, only watch her die. Krycek kissed the back of her neck and she jumped, her eyes open and her body fully awake. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said, half-laughing at the way she had jumped. "I thought you were asleep." "I think I almost was." She turned on the couch and lay on her back so she could look up into his eyes. So pretty, and so full of caring for her. She smiled at him. "I was going to go," he admitted sheepishly. "Let you get your rest." "Do you want to go?" she asked him, unable to look away from his eyes. He had her mesmerized. He shook his head slightly, almost unnoticeably. She put her hand against the side of his face. He was real. He loved her. He wanted to be with her. "I don't want you to go," she whispered to him. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to hear the strange creakings of the floor and know it was her imagination but be terrified at the same time, wondering who was coming to get her. She pulled him down to kiss her. "I want you," she whispered to him. "I want you too," he told her, drawing back to sit up. "Where are you going?" she asked, not letting him get too far away. "To the bedroom. With you." "Here," she said urgently, giving into the dark, intense places in her soul and unbuttoning her pajama top. "Let's do it here." He watched as she began to undress herself and soon he reached down to take over where she left off. He didn't argue with her choice, and she didn't think about Mulder. The sound of the telephone woke her from a sound, dreamless slumber some hours later. It was dark in the living room. She sat up and grabbed the phone immediately, her eyes on Krycek. He didn't stir. She didn't want to wake him and she didn't want to let Mulder leave another of his plaintive, soulful messages on her answering machine. "Hello," she said softly. There was no answer on the other end of the line. But it wasn't a dial tone, either. There was someone there, they just weren't saying anything. "Hello?" she said again, a little bit louder, watching Krycek stir in his sleep at the sound of her voice, but he didn't fully wake. There was no answer and she waited. Finally the caller grew tired of her silence and hung up. She replaced the phone, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. It hadn't been Mulder. If it had been, he would have said something. He wouldn't have listened to her in menacing silence. Mulder wouldn't do that to her. Her heart didn't slow and she found it impossible to relax. She just sat there, looking at the telephone as though it could tell her something, and remembered all of the other calls like that she'd received in the past. A ring followed by a series of clicks. Representative of a wiretap or something equally threatening. She took a deep breath and told herself she was being silly, even though the dread she felt heavy on her heart told her it wasn't silly. Too much had happened for her to brush it off as nothing. Especially with the subject of Melissa's death so prominent in her mind. Especially considering who the man lying on her couch was. He said they wouldn't threaten her because of him. Much as she wanted to trust him, how could she believe him? She tried lying back down next to him but his body was too warm next to hers. The couch was too...something...and she couldn't find a comfortable position. She considered going back to her bed alone. But she didn't want to be alone. She was afraid, and she knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep again that night. The clock told her it was three thirty in the morning. That left a lot of hours to lie unsleeping in bed. It left a lot of unfilled time until ten o'clock when she could go and speak to Ariel Roberts about her sister's murderer. She considered waking Krycek and asking him to make love to her again, to take her mind away from all of the terrible thoughts in her head, to keep her from thinking at all. But she couldn't do it. She got up again and walked silently around her living room. She peeked out through the drapes on the windows. It was a quiet night in her neighborhood. There were no mysterious or unfamiliar vehicles parked out on the street. No one was lurking out in the bushes. Everything was normal. Everything but the remnants of fear she felt. She lingered at the window, staring at the moon and the stars. What a lot of mysteries there were out there, she thought. How life had begun, what it all meant, where souls came from and where they went back to when the body died. She'd studied medicine and forensics because she wanted to know, but over the years she'd realized it was unknowable. If humans ever learned the answers to their questions, would they be able to go on? Or was that the true meaning of life - that quest for knowledge? What would Mulder do if he ever learned there really were no extraterrestrials? She knew science was against her on that score - nothing could ever be proven not to exist; things could be only proved to exist, if they did. Until then, they remained in question. Krycek said he wanted her forever. Even though he didn't use the word, he was talking about marriage. Mulder couldn't offer that. What was she going to do about Mulder's kisses? And his words? She'd liked them both, but she knew she couldn't do anything more about them. If she was honest, she would tell Mulder about Krycek. But she couldn't do that, not unless she was ready to lose him forever. She didn't think there would ever be such a day. Was her choice made, then? she asked herself, turning from the window, holding the curtains parted so the moonlight and the streetlights fell across Krycek's face, peaceful in sleep. Was he worthy of her love and the sacrifice that had to accompany it? How strong was the loyalty of Mulder's friendship compared to the strength of how Krycek made her feel? She stared out of the window for a long, long time. No answers came to her. Only emptiness. And she wondered again who had telephoned and then hung up at three o'clock in the morning and she found herself thinking about the strange voices she'd heard in the field. The ones she had ruled hallucinations, but even she didn't fully believe that explanation. It felt wrong, but she had no other answers. "He'll kill you," it had warned her. A chill went through her and she moved away from the window. She thought she was going back to join Krycek, but she didn't. She went into her bedroom and pulled on clothes - black jeans, a grey sweater, her black jacket. All black, she realized as she stood in the darkness and looked in the mirror to comb her hair. She grabbed her gun and her badge and her cell phone and her keys and slipped out of the apartment as silently as possible. Not wanting to wake Krycek. Not wanting him to know where she was going. End of part twelve. ++"Kissing you was not what I had planned And now I'm not so sure just where I stand." All I Need - Jack Wagner++ __________________________ The Secret Life of Dana Scully by Megan Reilly eponine@prodigy.net __________________________ -13- She made the hour and a half drive to the field in just under an hour. When she parked the car at the side of the road, she realized she'd forgotten to bring a flashlight. And it was dark out in the countryside with no streetlights or lights from house windows or businesses. It was still, too, and profoundly silent. A complete change from city life. Scully considered for a split second leaving the headlights of her car turned on to light her way. But she remembered Mulder saying he'd passed out when he'd come up to investigate on his own. That scared her. The last thing she wanted up here was a dead car battery and no way back to town. And she felt fear at being up here alone. Did Mulder feel afraid when he did stupid things like this? she wondered. But this wasn't stupid. This was something she had to do. There was something more for her to discover here and she had to find out what it was. There were answers in this field. Not metaphysical, magical answers. Real answers. She'd been wrong to dismiss the phenomena so quickly. She was there to remedy that. Still, she hung back on the edge of the large crop circle, feeling unwilling to enter its boundaries. The voices had frightened her. Thinking of experiencing them again frightened her. Losing control of herself and her senses as she was overwhelmed by a mysterious voice in her head was one of the most horrible things she could think of. And yet hadn't she already lost control over so many aspects in her life? She knew that was why she'd come up here again. To do some soul-searching. And maybe whatever the voices in the field called forth from an outside source or from her own mind, it could help her. She began to walk to the center of the circle. She reached it and nothing happened. She heard the gentle rushing of the wind, which was cool despite the jacket she was wearing. She sat down and looked up at the sky. It was clear and starry. There were no odd lights as she'd seen the night she heard the voices. She breathed in deep breaths of the cold, clean air and thought. After a while she yawned and looked away from the sky, thinking that she heard something. It sounded like whispering. She supposed it could be the wind through the trees, but it didn't sound like wind. She spotted a glowing light off in the distance making its way towards her and she watched it, feeling oddly calm. As it grew closer, she saw that it was a group of people with candles. They had on long, flowing garments and were wearing flowers and twigs in their hair. They were not young people, she saw as they walked right past her as though they didn't see her. They formed a circle in the midst of the crop indentation and joined hands. The people did much the same things she had - they looked up at the sky serenely and waited. She watched them for a time, interested. They seemed to be seeking some sort of holy guidance from the lights and the voices. But that had long been the way of human nature - trying to convene with higher forces in any way that those forces seemed to present themselves. Man was so desperate for guidance, she thought. Wasn't that why she herself was there? She was looking for answers, the same as these people. Finding an explanation for what was happening here didn't matter to them; it only mattered to her. As much as the choice she was going to have to make mattered to her. Waffling back and forth was making her sick. She couldn't stand to live that way for any longer. She knew she was either going to have to be honest with Mulder and face losing him, or end her relationship with Krycek. Those were her only two choices. She could not put it off any longer. Even if she didn't know what to do, a feeling she hated. Her mother would counsel her to follow her heart. But her heart didn't know. When she was with Krycek, he was the only man in the world for her. When she was with Mulder, the world was back on its proper axis. Having things off kilter was a new experience for her, and it was uncomfortable. But did that make it wrong? She didn't know. She began to feel the buzzing in her ears. When she looked up, she saw the lights whirling in the sky, making her dizzy. She remembered when she was a little girl, she used to spin around in circles in the yard until she was so dizzy she couldn't stand up any longer. It was the same feeling now. She couldn't keep her eyes open. And that was when the voices began, whispering to her almost inaudibly but at the same time unbearably loud underneath the bones in her head. She could feel the sound as pressure. It was the same warning as before. "He loves you....He'll kill you..." What did it mean? She didn't know. Images began to dance on the inside of her eyelids - a psychedelic music video of recent memories. Krycek, in the club. That look in Mulder's eyes that was so exciting full of love she couldn't breathe. Krycek holding a gun on her...when had that happened?....in the alley outside Mulder's apartment those months ago, when Mulder thought Krycek had killed his father? Mulder with a gun on her...Mulder not in his right mind...Mulder under the control of a killer, struggling to remember who he was and not to shoot her. She remembered pleading with him for her life. She remembered being ashamed of that. All she could remember was the barrel of the gun. It looked huge because it was pointed at her and it was all she could see. It seemed to be growing closer to her and she couldn't see the face of the man who was holding it. But it was a man she knew. The barrel grew larger and larger, the dark chamber for the bullet seeming to swallow her and she thought she could hear her scream reverberating off its walls... When she opened her eyes it was dawn. The first pale rays of the sun were beginning to gleam in the sky. For a moment she didn't know where she was. Her mouth was dry and she felt shaky as though she'd been sick. She had to swallow hard to keep the taste of bile back in her stomach where it belonged. She drew a deep breath and raised her head from the grass where she was lying. Her equilibrium went haywire for a moment and the ground seemed to be trying to throw her up into the air. But then everything settled. She felt less ill and she got to her feet. Nothing had changed in the field. The lights were gone from the sky with the coming of the dawn. The hippies she recalled seeing were gone...if she could even be certain they had ever been there. Her memory was startlingly hazy. She remembered the dream and nothing more. A gun held by a faceless man who wanted her to be dead. She walked out of the circle. Why had she thought she would find answers here? she wondered. All she had found was a deeper confusion. She had experienced the full power of the phenomena and while that convinced her of why Mulder was so certain there was something her to investigate, it didn't tell her what it was. Unless there was something to cause such intense sound waves that it vibrated the bones in the ear and the head and caused intense auditory and visual hallucinations until it overwhelmed the experiencer. But what would cause such sound waves? A weapon, perhaps, as Mulder had suggested. Why only in the middle of the circle? Could sound waves have caused the circle to form? She didn't know. She didn't think so, but at the moment she found anything could be possible. She got into the car and began the long drive home, her mind working on these problems. It was after eight when she arrived back at her apartment. She made a quick stop off to buy muffins and coffee for breakfast for her and Krycek. But the apartment was empty when she arrived. There was no note or any sign that Krycek had ever been there. She sat down on the couch and contemplated her coffee for two. He must have been upset to find her gone. That's life, she thought, but she wished she could call him to try to explain. But even so she knew there were no words to explain. She ate her breakfast in silence and saved the other muffin for Mulder, picking up a book to read until he came and picked her up. She didn't see a word of it. She couldn't concentrate with so much on her mind. Giving up, she began to straighten up the apartment - unconsciously moving through the rooms to erase any trace that anyone had ever been there with her. She straightened and replaced the cushions on the couch and gathered up her clothes that had found their way into various places on the living room floor. She wondered where Krycek had gone, and if he had been angry that she had left him. She played the messages on her answering machine, but they were the same two from the day before and she erased them. Her hand lingered on the phone as she thought that she should return her mother's call, but she couldn't do it. Not right now. Her mother would want to know what was going on and there was nothing Scully could tell her. "Sorry, Mom," she murmured but she didn't know if she was apologizing for not calling, or for taking up with such an inappropriate man. Who was society to tell her who she should fall in love with? she thought, but her heart wasn't in the rebellion. She was very strongly a member of that society. Her life's work was getting scum like Krycek off the streets...but when he was with her, she forgot the things he had done. She didn't know how it was possible but it was true. How many of Melissa's boyfriends growing up had she scoffed at because they were lying, stealing punks? She'd wondered what the hell her sister could ever have seen in them. Now she knew. It felt good. It felt dangerous. Not the kind of danger that knocked you down a flight of stairs or held a gun to your head; just the kind that started your blood flowing through your body. But if the voices in the field were to be believed, a gun would be held to her head. And the world would end, too, if they were right. She took a deep breath. The world would end eventually anyway and she knew there was nothing anyone could do about that except hope that it didn't happen in their lifetime. And people died. She didn't want to die, but she knew she could defend herself. That confidence was a part of her daily life. Facing death shook her to her soul, but she'd come through it. If she started to believe that the next time she wouldn't, it would become a self-fulfilling prophesy. She'd been waiting for Mulder to arrive, but when she heard the soft knock on the door, suddenly she didn't want to have to face him. She didn't know what to say to him and she didn't want things to be awkward. She wouldn't admit it, but she was scared. Scared of messing up, and scared of what Ariel Roberts might be able to tell her. That it was her fault Melissa was dead. That that was the attack she wouldn't have been able to fend off. She opened the door. "Hi," she said, and couldn't help the smile that came to her face when she saw Mulder standing there. Her smile made him smile, and it only made her feel happier inside. "Are you ready to go?" he asked her. His fingers twitched like he wanted to touch her, but he restrained the urge. She nodded and joined him in the hallway, locking the door behind her. They went down to the car and she felt no strain between them. She was grateful. Until Mulder said, "Did you think about what I said last night?" "Yes," she answered, but said no more. "And...did you decide anything?" He was trying not to push, but it was impossible for him. She shook her head, know that she was disappointing him terribly. This is when you should tell him, she thought, but she couldn't make herself. She didn't want Mulder to know. She didn't want to hurt him that way. What does it matter if he knows? You're betraying him just by doing it. Every time Krycek touches you and you like it. Every time you send Mulder home and then let Krycek in. "Mulder, I -" "Scully, I -" They'd spoken at the same time. "You go first," she said. He shook his head, "Ladies first." She waited, refusing, but then decided having a stand off over who got to talk was ridiculous. She opened her mouth to say, "Mulder, the man I've been seeing is Alex Krycek." But what she really said was, "Mulder, I went to the field last night. What were you going to say?" "I....called you last night. In the middle of the night. And when you answered the phone, I could hear in your voice that you'd been with him so I didn't say anything." Mulder looked guilty. "That was you!" she cried, startling him. He glanced at her with hooded eyes and she felt terrible. "Why didn't you say anything!" "I didn't know what to say," he admitted. "All I could picture was you lying in his arms and I was just thinking that you should have been in mine." "That isn't fair." It was fair, though, because she was hurting him. This was all her fault. She just had to protest because he was trying to rip her heart out over this and it was working. "I thought that they were after me again, Mulder. Like before, hearing strange clicks on the line. I couldn't go back to sleep. I stood by the window looking for vans that might be filled with listening devices or hired killers." "I'm sorry," he said and it was sincere. "Why did you go out to the field?" "There's something going on out there, Mulder." "That's what I seem to remember telling you, but you said it was hallucinations. Did you hear the voices again?" "Yeah. If it's hallucinations, something has to be causing them. Do you think it's possible that vibrations could cause the reactions we experienced out there?" "What kind of vibrations?" "I don't know. I just thought that maybe something could cause such intense physical discomfort that this is the brain's only way of dealing with it. And maybe it could have caused the circle too? Maybe it is some new government weapon like you thought." "We'll find out, Scully," he told her. "I wanted to find out some concrete answers," she told him. "I wanted to have evidence for you." "Why?" he asked, too casually. "You don't owe me anything." That hurt. "I do," she said quietly. "Let's get this straight, Scully," he informed her. "I don't want your work or any other kind of professional offering to try to make it up to me. If you don't love me, if you don't give a flying fuck about what happens to me, why can't you just be honest about that? Why don't you just tell me what's really going on here, because I can handle it." She didn't look up even though -because - she knew his eyes were on her. "Are you sure?" she asked softly, as though she didn't want him to hear her. In the long silence that followed, she realized she'd said the wrong thing. Again. The only way he could interpret that was that she was saying she *didn't* care about him. Which was about as far from the truth as they could get. "We're here," he snapped. "I know." They'd been parked in front of the mental institution for several minutes already while they were talking. Scully got out of the car, wondering if Mulder would follow or if he would drive off as soon as she slammed the door. He got out to accompany her. She steeled herself looking at the building. She didn't know what she was going to learn in there. Maybe Ariel Roberts wouldn't make any sense and she would learn nothing. Or maybe she would know a great deal and they'd be able to crack the conspiracy wide open. Scully doubted that. All she wanted to know was if Cardinale had talked about her sister's death. She wanted to know why. Even though she knew why - because Melissa had opened the door instead of her. Because she and Mulder had come too close to the truth with the DAT tape, as that man had warned her in the cemetery at Bill Mulder's funeral. When she thought Mulder was dead, and she was next because they - whoever they were - were cleaning house. Why had they decided not to kill them since then? It couldn't really be because of the deal they'd turned through Skinner, giving back the tape, could it? She felt Mulder's hand fall tentatively on her shoulder, as though he both didn't want to touch her and desperately had to. It was time to go inside and face this. He held the door for her but then he hung back. Letting her take charge of the situation. She was grateful to him for that. The building's foyer was filled with noise. Somewhere, people were laughing. And in the background, someone was wailing as though their heart would break. It sounded like a kindergarten gone horribly wrong. There was no one at the front desk and she wondered if they were supposed to be able to find their own way. She glanced at Mulder and then looked around the room. He'd already spotted the two police officers who were standing with a doctor over by the stairway. She could feel that was something was wrong, but she wanted to deny that those police officers could have anything to do with the reason why they were there. She glanced at Mulder again and he was looking at her. Without a word, they walked over to the police officers. "What's going on here?" Mulder asked, making it sound like the question of a curious bystander and not an FBI agent who would take over the matter. They'd had enough experience with unhappy police to know a light touch was usually best; bringing out their badges would end the flow of information. The officer hesitated and Scully looked from his face to the doctor's. Something bad had happened. Because they took an interest in Ariel Roberts, she'd been murdered, she just knew it. Were they watching ever move she and Mulder made, or had they just picked up the trail when they spoke to Miranda Pierce? "A patient's gone missing," the officer said quietly, his tone conveying confidentiality. "This sort of thing happens something...hide and seek, you know...we'll find her. It's not serious." Scully and Mulder both nodded. The doctor and the police looked at them like they wanted to continue their conversation in private. Scully didn't want to ask, but she had to. Trying to keep her voice from showing that she feared the worst, she asked, "We're here to talk with Ariel Roberts. Could you..." She saw their faces when she said the name and she knew. But she had to pretend she didn't. "What is it?" "That's our missing patient," said the doctor. "We're certain Ariel isn't in any danger. It's part of her psychosis - sometimes she thinks there are people after her and hides. We keep a close eye on her, but things must have gotten out of hand last night. We will find her." "Was there a disturbance last night?" Mulder asked. "Some of the patients did experience some distress. Nothing out too out of the ordinary, though." She and Mulder exchanged a look and out came the badges. "We're with the FBI. Do you mind if we have a look at Miss Roberts' room?" "What are you doing here?" asked the policeman. "We received some information that Ariel might be able to cast some insight into a murder," said Mulder. "We came to ask her about it last night, but the nurse wouldn't allow us to see her. And now she's gone." The doctor turned on them. "If this is your fault...if you upset her and made her run and harm comes of her..." "Miss Roberts had no idea that we wished to see her," Scully told her. "Now may we look at the scene?" The police and the doctor stood back to grant them passage. Once they went up the stairs, it was easy to tell which room had been hers. The door was open and a third officer stood inside, examining the windowframe. Mulder walked over and looked over the man's shoulder. "There's signs of tampering here," he called to Scully. "Of course there are," said the doctor angrily, trying to keep her voice down. "Ariel had to have used that method to escape." "I think Ariel may have been abducted," Mulder offered, turning back to examine the marks around the window. Then he leaned out to try to get a look at the turf below. "Are you saying that a mental patient was kidnapped because the two of you showed interest in what she knew?" It was a stark accusation from the officer who seemed to be in charge. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to bust a couple of FBI agents. Scully wondered what charges he could bring them up on, but she had no doubts that he'd be able to think of something. "No, of course not," Mulder said blandly. "I'm sure she just...escaped." It was plain none of them believed it. Scully watched the officer in charge and began to wonder if he was in on it. How far did the conspiracy reach? They could murder a man in jail awaiting arraignment. They certainly had to own a couple of cops. Mulder nodded to Scully and she began to look through Ariel's few belongings, most of which seemed to be scattered on the floor. Mulder pulled the officers into conference and she knew it was so she could look around without their rapt attention. She made quick work of it, sorting through the stuff on the floor. It looked like the room had been carefully tossed and made to look as though it had been done by a mentally disturbed person. It was only a few moments before Mulder came over and touched her on the shoulder. "Come on, Scully, let's go." They walked out of the institution in silence, walking quickly but trying not to appear as though they were trying to escape. They got into the car and Mulder drove away a little too quickly, but they didn't speak until they were several blocks away, as though the police or the men responsible for Ariel's disappearance would somehow be able to hear them. "That was weird," Mulder said, the master of understatement as usual. "They took her because we wanted to talk to her," Scully said, feeling terrible. "Well, now you know your informant knew what he was talking about." "Yeah." "I want to know why this happened, Scully." Why did it sound like he was asking her? "Because she knew something." "What did she know, Scully?" "If we'd gotten to talk to her, maybe I'd know that," she said, a little too harshly. "You know more than you're telling me." He was angry and she didn't answer. Krycek had been right about everything. They were still in danger. Just then Mulder's cell phone rang and he answered it, keeping one hand on the wheel. "Mulder," he said, and then he listened. He didn't say anything else and a few moments later, he hung up. Scully stared at him, waiting for an explanation. He made a U-turn at the next light and pressed harder on the gas pedal. "Who was that?" she asked. "*My* informant," he told her. Oh God, if someone's been watching our every move, then they have to know about Krycek, she thought. And they could tell Mulder. So you'd better say something and explain before it's too late, she told herself. But she couldn't do it. "What's happened?" she asked, shaken by the realization. "Miranda Pierce is dead." End of part thirteen. __________________________ The Secret Life of Dana Scully by Megan Reilly eponine@prodigy.net __________________________ -14- Miranda Pierce's small suburban house looked like a crime scene. There was no quiet air of cover-up as there had been at the mental institution. A couple of police cars were parked on the lawn, one with its lights still lit and turning. The front door of the house stood open and there were men moving like ants through the rooms in a frenzy of activity. Her body was in the bedroom. It hadn't yet been draped with a sheet because the photographer was still moving around. The flash from his camera seemed too bright. She'd been shot once in the head. There was a large puddle of blood staining the floor. Scully had to turn away, even though she knew that Mulder was watching her. This was a sight she'd seen too often in her dreams. She knew that puddle of blood...she'd tried in vain to scrub it up from the floor in front of her door. This was like Melissa...because she'd wanted to know about Melissa. Another woman had died because of her. Two sisters, she thought. Both gone on the same day. Ariel disappeared and Miranda was murdered. Which had come first? She could hear the police officers discussing that very thing - perhaps Ariel had escaped, across town, and killed her sister? But Scully was certain Miranda had been killed first. One fast shot, execution style, before the killer moved on. She turned and started to walk out of the house. "Scully!" She didn't stop when she heard Mulder calling to her, so he ran after her. "Are you all right?" He put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her, keeping her there and making her look at him. "I'm fine, Mulder," she said. She wasn't at all, but he didn't have to know that. She was a professional. "I was just going to take a look around outside." "There's a lot of trace evidence here. They're going to get the man who did this." She nodded. "I just wanted to see if there was anything outside." "Why?" "Because I don't want to be in that house any more," she answered honestly, breaking away from him and going outside into the fresh air and the sunshine. She could feel its warmth on her skin, but the feeling left her cold. Where was the light when this woman had been murdered last night? Where was the sunlight when Ariel Roberts had been taken from her bed? There had only been darkness...darkness always covered for these men. She had no doubt it was the same men who were responsible for her sister's death, covering their tracks. She exposed the cracks and they filled them. She wanted to find the evidence that would nail them to the wall. "Scully, they don't need our help. We could actually go," he told her. He sounded anxious to leave the scene. "No," she said. "If you want to go, you can. I don't want the evidence to disappear. I don't want this to go unsolved. These men are not going to get away with this." With that she crossed into the backyard. Mulder was watching her, but he didn't follow. After a moment he went back into the house. The yard was quiet. There were signs that the police had already gone over the area and found everything there was to find. A couple of smeary footprints. A man, wearing boots. That was all they would be able to tell. She wandered around the area behind Miranda's window, the point of entry. It was broken, but the shattered glass had already been gathered for analysis. She turned and tried to see how the killer had come and gone from the scene. Not the gate. There was a wooden fence enclosing the yard and she walked over to it. The crossbars on the gate were placed in such a way that would facilitate climbing it. Scully stepped up on the first beam and peeked over the top of the fence. If the killer had gone this way, he was probably several inches taller than she was to easily scale the fence. Not really a revelation, she thought, climbing over the fence anyway. Behind Miranda Pierce's yard was an alley. Just wide enough to separate her space from the neighbor's. They wouldn't have been able to hear a struggle. She wondered if they'd heard the gunshot, or if the killer had used a silencer. There was enough room to leave a car back here. She walked down the alley, wondering how far away the killer would have parked. A few houses down, perhaps? Far enough to cover but not too far to run like a coward. A little yappy dog started barking two yards down when it noticed her presence. She was a little surprised that it didn't run up to the chain link fence to try to accost her, and it made her stop and look. The dog was attacking something it had found and it didn't look like a chew toy. That was when Scully noticed the impression in the dirt underneath the fence...just big enough for a little dog to get out if it wanted to. "Hey!" she shouted at the house. "Hey!" She rattled the fence and hoped the owners were home. After a moment of her screaming to accompany the dog barking, the back door opened cautiously. An elderly man poked his head out. "My name is Dana Scully and I'm with the FBI," she called to him, displaying her badge. "We're investigating a crime in the neighborhood. Can I see what your dog is chewing on there?" The man looked surprised and confused, but he scolded the dog and pulled the item away from it. He walked up to the fence and handed it to her. "What's going on?" "I think your dog might have found something we can use," she told him, looking at the soggy, torn object in her hand. "This isn't yours?" "No." "Thank you," she told him, slipping the item into her pocket and walking away without another word. The abuse and doggy slobber might have rendered the item useless, but she wanted to have it examined anyway. It looked like it was most of what had been a black leather glove. She didn't want to turn it back to the police because she knew the evidence in this case was going to conveniently disappear, as it so often did. She found Mulder inside the house. "Are you ready to go?" she asked him. Slowly he nodded and they went out to the car. "Did they find anything conclusive?" she asked. "Trace evidence, like I said, and a few muddy footprints in the yard that are probably useless." "They don't care who did this," she said. Mulder didn't argue. "It was one of them, Mulder. We got too close and they killed two people to cover up." "We don't know if Ariel Roberts is dead." Scully was certain that she was. "What did they know that was so important? What did they know that was worth killing them for?" They were useless questions that would never be answered now. "Miranda knew her life was in danger. She thought she'd gotten out. She should have known they wouldn't let her go. It may have little to do with us." Scully didn't believe that either. "Do you think we could ever get out, Mulder?" "What do you mean?" "We're tied to this thing almost as closely as they were. Maybe they only let us continue because they know they can control what we find out. They have all the power. If we wanted to walk away, would they let us?" "Are you thinking of walking away?" he asked her. "No." She felt sorry for bringing it up. Mulder was the only person she could discuss it with, but she hadn't considered that his emotions would keep him from ever thinking about the question. The only way he would finish this was in a pine box. That was the only way he would relent, if they killed him and he could ask no more questions. But when she asked him, all he heard was that she might leave him. "Drop me at the office," she requested when she saw him making the turns and following the streets that would take them to her house. He looked at her and she felt she had to explain. "I want to check into some things." "Like what?" "I don't know. It's just a feeling. And I want to do some research into what might be going on in that field. Probably won't come up with something." She didn't know why she didn't mention the glove. She had a terrible feeling of foreboding about it and something told her not to involve Mulder yet. "Want some company?" he offered. "I'm sure you have better things to do on a Saturday afternoon. Thanks for sticking with me this far. I appreciate your support." She was saying this was something she had to do on her own, and he could hear that. It was like when he ran off to investigate leads that might tell him what happened to Samantha, she realized. He needed to be alone with his thoughts until he knew what was going on. The only difference was, she was ditching him with his permission. "Be careful, Scully," he told her when he pulled into the parking garage. "I have an odd feeling about this whole situation. As though it's been set up somehow." Set up by me? she thought. He was wondering where the information had come from and how the pieces fit together. "I'll be careful," she promised. "I can't help thinking this has Krycek's dirty fingerprints all over it," he said. She looked at him, her heart going faster with alarm. "What makes you say that?" she asked steadily, barely able to hear herself over that cautionary voice in the back of mind urging her to tell him the truth now, before it was too late. He shook his head, making a face as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. "I don't know. Just a feeling." "Take care, Mulder," she said, getting out of the car. "Call me if anything comes up." "I will." She closed the door and he drove away slowly. When she looked back after him, she saw that he was watching her in his rearview mirror. Their eyes seemed to meet in the glass for a second. Then he turned the corner and was gone. Agent Pendrell was the only person she could find in the labs. "Is it some kind of holiday I don't know about?" she asked, walking in. He jerked up from the microscope eye he'd been looking into and turned to face her. "Agent Scully," he said with a smile that went on a little bit too long. "It's lunchtime," he told her. "Everyone will be back in about half an hour." She'd completely lost track of time. She found the clock on the wall with her eyes and saw that it was almost two-thirty. "Late lunch," she commented. "How come you didn't go with everyone else?" He shrugged. "What can I help you with?" he asked her. She pulled the torn glove out of her pocket. "The chances are pretty slim, but I wanted to find out if any fingerprints could be pulled from this." "What happened to it?" he asked, looking at it oddly. "I pulled it out of a dog's mouth. What do you think?" She looked at him and found him giving her that odd, admiring look she'd seen on his face before. After a second, he tore himself away and looked down at the torn glove again. "Well, it's leather, which could help us get a clear print. But...it's been through a lot." "Do your best?" she asked and started out of the lab. "Hey, uh -" Pendrell trailed after her. "If you want - Phil - er, the fingerprints guy - I could call him and get him in here. He said he was going golfing but..." "That's okay," Scully told him. "You can do it, right?" "Sure, but I -" "It would be a big favor to me," she said. "I want to know this is in the hands of someone I trust." "Is it very important?" "It could be, yes. I'll be in my office. Waiting to hear what you find." "Thanks, Agent Scully," he called after her and she couldn't help smiling. He was a great kid, she thought. But when she found herself thinking of a lab tech probably not even five years younger than her as a 'kid' it disturbed her. She sat in their office almost in the dark. The one light on her desk didn't even begin to reach into the shadowy corners of the basement, but it was all she needed to search on the computer. But everything she tried came up negative. If there was something that could cause the voices in the field, no one knew about it. Or if they knew, they weren't telling. After a while she gave up the pretense of concentrating and just stared into space. How long did it take to find and match a fingerprint? she wondered, but she knew it could be a lengthy process, especially for someone who didn't specialize in it. He knew enough. And she could trust him. That was the most important thing. She felt stifled sitting there in Mulder's space, surrounded by his things. She had a little workplace over in the corner, but this wasn't her space. Not really. She got up from the desk and walked over to the bulletin board. She'd never really looked at it before. It was papered with bizarre accounts from all over the world, overlapping and layered in spots. She looked at the picture of the astronaut and the 'I Want to Believe' poster, thinking that they meant anything to her only in terms of Mulder. As a kid, he'd wanted to be an astronaut. Like so many kids had, watching the moon landing. She'd only been five that year; it hadn't had much of an impression on her. But Mulder...it was a very Mulder dream. And he wanted to believe. But she knew that. It was his driving force. He wanted to know, but he wanted to believe more. She only wanted to know. The books stacked on the shelves were heavily coated with dust. They seemed important, but now she saw that he never touched them. Yet he could go directly to the one he wanted and pull out an account to try to prove something to her. She wondered if the answer was there in the books but she just didn't know where to look for it. She pulled the thick folder on crop circles out of the cabinet and sat down with it, but she wasn't really seeing it. She was thinking about Krycek. He had been Mulder's partner once. One of those guys Mulder had never really gotten to know or care about? she wondered. He'd been a better partner than she was. She remembered Mulder telling her so over the phone. She tried to remember what she'd thought of Krycek back then. She knew she'd met him, that Mulder had brought him over to show him off, but she hadn't paid any attention to him at the time. He was an irritation. Her replacement. All she'd wanted at the time was to be with Mulder. And now...she wanted both of them. In different ways that were oddly the same because they were mutually exclusive. She tried to put the thoughts out of her head and began looking at the file again. And she ended up staring into space, watching the door and waiting for Pendrell. For it take this long, he had to have found something. Otherwise he'd have come to tell her the glove was clean. Instead of anticipation, she was feeling dread. Why did Mulder think Krycek was involved? Was she sending out some kind of unconscious Krycek signal? There was a very light knock on the door and it opened. She looked up. "Uh, Agent Scully?" was Pendrell's entrance into the office. "Come in," she told him, "What have you got?" He looked at the office like he'd never seen anything like it before. He didn't know where to look first, she saw, as he tried to take it all in at once. Finally he gave up and looked at her. "I found a print on the glove." All right! She sat up straighter in her chair. "And were you able to identify the print?" He nodded. "Where did you find the glove? You didn't find it lying around here, did you?" Again his eyes slid over the clutter of the office. "No, I found it at a crime scene. Why?" Now she really was worried. Why would he ask her that specific question? Why did he look like that? Oh, please tell me you found the name of that weird cigarette smoking man from Skinner's office, she thought. What if it was Skinner's prints? But what would Skinner have to do with any of it? Cardinale had shot Skinner, they weren't working together on anything. Skinner wouldn't be covering his tracks. Her heart almost stopped. What if Mulder's prints were on the glove? It wasn't possible, but why else would Pendrell ask that? Mulder had known about both Miranda and Ariel. He could have gone back and...she was beginning to feel panicky. Why would Mulder do that? How could he? And how could he behave so calmly at the crime scenes if he had... "Agent Scully, are you still with me?" Pendrell's voice broke through her panic. He'd been explaining in detail the process and the problems he'd run into trying to pull the print from the glove. And how he'd run into problems finding out who it belonged to because of some computer thing...she hadn't really been listening. And he'd run the tests all twice, just to make sure. "Yeah. I'm here," she told him. "Whose print is it?" She knew before he said it that she didn't want to know the answer. "Someone who works here." "What?" She knew she was making him nervous. But his delaying was making her nervous. "Well...he did. It's Mulder's old partner. He disappeared and most of the files on his were deleted from the system...that's weird in itself. Alex Krycek...is that a name you know?" "Yes," she said quietly. "Is this bad news, Agent Scully?" She couldn't answer that. "Alex Krycek's prints were on that glove? And no one else's?" "Just his. They were at the base of the glove. Must've gotten there when he pulled it off. Why do you look like that, Agent Scully?" he asked. "I have to go," she told him, getting up. "Don't tell anyone about this." "I won't," he promised. And she strode out of the room. She knew what she had to do now. End of part fourteen. __________________________ The Secret Life of Dana Scully by Megan Reilly eponine@prodigy.net __________________________ -15- She'd had a long time to sit in the dark apartment and wait. She'd had a long time to think about things, to try to put the puzzle together, to strain her memory and come up with clues she hadn't known that she'd known. She didn't answer his bold knock at the door when it came. The door was unlatched and swung open under his hand. She could see his silhouette against the light from the hallway. "Dana?" "Come in and close the door," she ordered. He did as she said and the apartment went dark again. "What's going on?" he asked, trying to inject a note of playfulness into his tone, because he had to try to believe that she was merely playing a game with him. "I'm surprised to see you here. Where did you go last night?" "Wait...what? You're the one who was gone when I woke up, not the other way around," he reminded her. "You weren't here when I got back." "Dana, this is crazy." She didn't answer him and he went on, trying to explain. "I went home! I thought you needed some space. Can we turn on the lights now?" She reached up and switched on the lamp on the table next to the chair where she was sitting. The light hurt her eyes after so long in the darkness, but she didn't let it show. Krycek's eyes followed the light and he saw her sitting there with a gun in her hand. His eyes widened but he didn't say anything. "Tell me why I shouldn't shoot you right now," she requested, raising the gun to point it at him. She saw his gaze dart to the door. "Lock the door and come here." He did as she was told and approached her. "Sit down," she ordered, motioning carefully with the gun at the couch. He looked afraid. "What's going on here, Dana?" he asked again. She could tell he was trying not to sound like he was afraid of her. She held all the power now. He didn't have his gun with him - he'd never bring his gun when he came to see her. "Miranda Pierce and Ariel Roberts were both murdered last night. By you." "I -" "Shut up," she warned him. "I have evidence that places you at the scene. I know you did it. And I know why you did it. I'm not nearly so stupid as you've played me to be." "I never thought you were stupid." "You didn't know Ariel was Miranda's sister. They'd been estranged. Or else you knew and you forgot and sent me to see Miranda because you secretly wanted me to find out. Miranda was only supposed to tell me more lies about spacecrafts, leading things. She wasn't supposed to recognize my name and think I was there to ask about Melissa." "Dana, I can explain." "You killed them both because they could expose you. Because you know something about Melissa's death." "Maybe I should start from the beginning -" "I'm not in the mood for a long story, Krycek. You were there. You were there when he killed my sister! And then you came here and said you were in love with me! And I believed you. I was willing to put aside all the horrible things you'd done. Must have been pretty damn funny to you." "No," he said in that low tone that made her want to believe him. "It wasn't like that." "You were there!" she cried. "I didn't know he was going to kill her!" Krycek yelled back, trying to get her attention. "You," he revised. "We were there for you." "Don't stop there," she prompted coldly. "You were always the problem. You weren't doing your job, looking after Mulder -" "Spare me the fairy tale and just tell me the truth." "Mulder got his hands on the digital tape. So they had to get rid of him. Drugged his water, killed his father. It was supposed to drive him over the edge." "*You* killed his father." Krycek rolled his shoulder, shrugging it off. "But you knew about the tape, too. And you were willing to continue Mulder's crusade. So you had to be taken care of." "So you and Cardinale came here to kill me." "Not to kill you," he insisted. "Then what happened?" she accused sarcastically. "An innocent woman came in here and scared you two big bad killers so bad you ended up murdering her?" "I was told you were just going to be taken again. They weren't going to hurt you again. Not really." She made a soft noise at that. It tried to be a laugh but failed. He thought they hadn't hurt her when they took her? "We were supposed to grab you. But Cardinale's a bloodthirsty son of a bitch. Was. Maybe he thought he'd do them a favor and take you out. Or maybe those were the orders all along, I don't know." "And so you shot Melissa." "Not -" "You shot her! You can't argue with that, Krycek, it's true. You were there and she died. Say it's true. Say it!" "It's true," he admitted. "So what in God's name are you doing here? Why did you approach me in that club and tell me you loved me?" "Because it's true," he admitted softly. "Liar!" "It's true, Dana," he told her, still in that soft voice that she liked so much it was putting her teeth on edge. "I think I loved you from the moment I saw you. I could see why Mulder was so furious to lose you. And you ignored me. 'Cause you thought I was just a silly, green agent the same way Mulder did. And I didn't care. There was a light about you, Dana. A beauty and a grace and an intell-" "Stop it!" "I read about you. I researched you. It was part of my assignment. To find out if you were a problem. And you were. I had to impress them to keep my life. So I told them you had to be taken care of, that separating you from Mulder wasn't enough. I'm not proud of what I did, Dana." "Stop calling me that! So you're the one who caused my abduction." "That was their solution, not mine." "But th