~~~ October 13, 1993 ~~~~

"I'm afraid we're closed, sir."  The woman in the blue vest 
looked up at them from behind the counter at Liberty Bell 
Center.

"The sign out front says you close at five," Mulder replied. 
He pointed at the black and white clock that hung on the 
wall.  "It's two minutes to five."

"We don't let anyone in after four forty-five.  That's 
policy.  Besides, you wouldn't have time to see anything in 
two minutes, now would you?"

"Mulder," Scully said from behind him.  "Why don't we..."

Mulder took out his ID.  "I'm afraid I'm going to have to 
insist," he told the woman.  "Government business."

She blinked at him owlishly.  "You have government business 
with the Liberty Bell?"

"That's right."  He glanced back at Scully.  "There was a 
report of suspicious activity here earlier in the day, and we 
need to make sure the bell is secure."

"I can assure you it is.  I saw it myself just five minutes 
ago.  Who called in this suspicious activity?  I've been here 
all day and I haven't seen anything--"

"We need to see the bell," Mulder said.  "For our report."

The woman frowned at Mulder and his ID for another second 
before relenting.  "Go on back then," she said with a sigh.  
"You'll see that's everything is in place."  She held out a 
pamphlet over the counter.  "Brochure?"

Mulder snatched it up.  "Thanks."

Scully fell into step with him as they walked back towards 
the bell.  "I can't believe you did that," she whispered.  
"I've seen you use your FBI credentials to strong arm your 
way past military security, Mulder, but to gain entrance to a 
piece of government kitsch?"

"This isn't kitsch, Scully."  He read from the brochure.  
"It's symbolic of the birth of our nation.  Representing 
freedom to all."

"It's an old bell with a crack in it."

He grinned down at her.  "Where's your sense of history?"

"I told you.  I've seen it before.  When I was twelve, my 
father crammed the whole family into the station wagon and 
drove us up here."

Mulder did the math.  "For the bi-centennial?"

"That's right."  She sounded surprised and a little pleased.  
"He gave us a grand tour of a bunch of US monuments that 
year.  Bill took notes like there was going to be a quiz, 
Charlie got car sick, and Melissa wanted to go to the White 
House to try to find Lincoln's ghost."

"And what about you?"

"I wished we could have gone to the beach like we usually 
did."

They reached the bell's exhibit and Mulder drew up short.  He 
looked at the brochure and back at the bell, which hung 
between two brick columns.

"What?" Scully asked him.

"I thought it would be bigger than this."

"I told you it wasn't that exciting."

Mulder circled the exhibit.  "I've got lampshades bigger than 
this thing.  They were representing political and social 
freedom, Scully -- you would think they could have gone all 
out."

Her lips curved in a tolerant smile.  "It's a symbol, Mulder, 
not freedom itself.  You could never capture such a grand 
ideal in metal casting and do it any justice."

He folded the brochure and stuffed it into the pocket of his 
overcoat before leaning against the exhibit wall.  Scully 
joined him.

"I'm sorry the bell didn't live up to your expectations," she 
said.

He shrugged.  "I wanted to see it and I saw it.  Now I know."

"One more truth uncovered?" she asked, her voice teasing.

"I guess you were right to prefer the beach."

She craned around him to see the bell again.  "I don't know.  
It has a certain charm -- more now that it's cracked, I 
think.  It's a better representation of freedom, a reminder 
that it's fragile and requires care and thought to hold it 
together."

"So if the ghosts of the founding fathers were hanging 
around..."

"There's no such thing as ghosts, Mulder."

"Tell that to Lauren Kyte, who was haunted by one.  Or better 
yet, tell Howard Graves, who was doing the haunting."

"So you say."

"You were in the car with me!  You're telling me it drove 
itself?"

"Mechanical failure."

He threw his head back and closed his eyes.  After six months 
of her, one would think he'd be used to this by now, but her 
ability to rationalize and deny never failed to surprise him.  

"If the founding fathers' ghosts *were* here," she said, and 
his eyes popped open.  "I'd think they would be too 
overwhelmed by the cars and tall buildings to worry about a 
little crack in the bell."

"And the freedom?  What about that?"

She considered.  "I'd say they'd be pleased that we still 
agree on one thing at least -- some truths are self-evident."
 
He answered with a slow smile.

She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out an 
envelope.  "I've been carrying this around all day," she 
said.  "This seems as good a time as any."

He raised his eyebrows as he accepted the card.  It had a 
Hallmark imprint on the back.  

"Happy birthday," she said.

"Oh, um.  Thanks."  He felt like he had four thumbs as he 
struggled to rip the envelope open.  "How did you...?"

"Your medical records."  She waited as he paused with the 
card.  "I'm sorry if I overstepped," she said, trailing off.

"No, no.  It's, uh, very nice of you."  He pulled out the 
card and made himself look at it.  

The front depicted a birthday cake with pink frosting and 
sparkling candles.  "Dear friend," it read, and then on the 
inside, it continued, "Wishing you the happiest of 
birthdays."

Dear friend.  Was this how she thought of him?  He hadn't 
really considered if they were friends.  They didn't hang 
out.  They didn't socialize.  If someone had asked him, he 
would have said she was his work colleague, his partner.

He hadn't really expected to take on partner, let alone a 
friend.

She was looking at him with a strange expression, waiting for 
him to react.

"Thanks."  He managed to force a smile.  "It's nice."

"Okay," she said, sounding totally awkward now.  

Good job, he congratulated himself. "We should get going," he 
told her, "before we're the ones reported for suspicious 
activity.

Scully pushed herself away from the monument as he shoved the 
card into his pocket along with the folded brochure.  His 
fingers hit the cheap camera he carried with him at all 
times, in case he was called upon to photograph secret 
government files or lights in the sky.

"Wait a second," he said, and Scully stopped.  He took out 
the camera.  "Let me get a picture of you with the bell."

"Mulder..."

"Just a quick one."

She put her hands on her hips but looked marginally less 
annoyed. "I should take one of you," she said.  "This is your 
trip, Mulder.  Don't you want to prove you've been here?"

"I was here because I'm the one taking the picture.  Now hold 
still."

He did not develop it until almost a year later, after she 
had vanished in front of him into the shining night sky.  He 
kept the print propped up on his dresser where he saw it 
every morning as he was choosing his clothes.  

Proof that she'd been here.