Keywords:  None.

XxXxXxXxXxX
Chapter Six
XxXxXxXxXxX

When Scully fled the interrogation room, Mulder did not 
follow.  Tina Appleby was there, still talking, and on the 
other side of the one-way mirror Sheriff Seaver watched her 
and Mulder equally, waiting for a satisfactory explanation as 
to why Jared Rentham had ended up decorating Sanctuary House 
with his brains on Mulder's watch.  "This is not how we do 
things around here, son," had been Seaver's words on the 
topic.  "What the hell did you bring Chet on up there for, 
anyway?"

Mulder forced his attention back to Tina's narrative. "Damned 
if I know," she was saying.  "I could have been gone two 
weeks or two hours.  Rudy said he woke up and I was just 
gone."

Mulder glanced at the door and made a humming noise in his 
throat.  Scully didn't reappear.

Tina continued, "I came to in the park across the street from 
my apartment.  My legs were all wobbly, like when you've been 
on a boat drinking, and I couldn't remember much at first."

Mulder turned his attention back to her, really seeing her 
for the first time since they had brought her down to the 
station.  Her nails were down to the quick but still she 
chewed at them.  She wore baggy pants and an over-sized T-
shirt that hid most of her body.  No makeup.  Tears streaked 
her round, smooth face, and she hunched in her chair as 
though she were the guilty criminal.  Wet, haunted eyes 
looked around the room, everywhere at once.

Fuck, Mulder thought. 

He raised his fist as though to slam it on the table, but 
caught the fear in Tina's eyes and brought it down gently 
instead.  "Excuse me," he said.

He threaded his way through the narrow hall, dodging 
officers, feeling sweaty and cold at the same time.  
Adrenaline was wearing off.  He could find her in the ladies' 
bathroom, he knew, but he stopped outside without knocking.  
Leaning his head on the door, he closed his eyes and let his 
ragged breath steam the peeling paint.  

Scully was more like him than most people knew.  She, too, 
carried her pain forward, refusing to diminish it by letting 
go.  But whereas he waved his around like a red flag in front 
of the bull, Scully scrunched hers into a silent, heavy mass. 
He ran head-forward while she ran straight away, but really, 
they were chasing the same thing.  Mulder found this thought 
both unsettling and oddly comforting.

The door jerked open and he righted himself, blinking as 
Scully appeared in front of him.  Like Tina, her face had 
been wiped clean, but her hair was combed and her eyes were 
clear.  "Mulder," she said with a frown.  "What's going on?  
Where's Tina Appleby?"

"Still in interrogation."  He noticed she had her cellular 
phone in her hand.  "Everything okay?"

"I have to go back to D.C.  Savioshy needs me for a lineup."

He leaned in, pulse spiking again.  "They got the guy?"

"Apparently red-handed."  She looked at his chest as she 
spoke.  "They arrested him in a parking lot with a knife."

"That's great, Scully," he said, and then realized how that 
had sounded.  "I mean, I'm glad they got him."

"Yeah."  She hesitated, smoothing her jacket with her palms.  
"Anyway, I have to get back as soon as possible.  They want 
to do the lineup before he's arraigned."

"You're leaving now?"

"My flight's in four hours."

"What about Tina Appleby?"

"What about her, Mulder?  We came out here to investigate her 
brother's claim that she had been abducted by Jared Rentham.  
Clearly, there was no abduction; she was with him of her own 
volition.  As for any cult that Rentham may or may not have 
been involved in, well, it seems rather moot now, doesn't 
it?"

"Because he's dead."  It came out as an accusation, against 
whom he wasn't sure.

"And that's..."  Scully stumbled.  "Unfortunate.  But it 
doesn't change the fact that our involvement in this case is 
finished.  Rentham's dead.  Chet Appleby is in jail, and Tina 
Appleby is a free woman.  What more do you hope to accomplish 
here?"

"Her story, Scully, didn't it sound familiar?"

"Actually, it sounded fragmented and incoherent.  I'll grant 
you that there were elements in her narrative that we've 
heard before."

"And that doesn't mean anything to you?"

"What do you want it to mean, Mulder?  Suppose you're right.  
Let's just agree for the sake of argument that everything 
Tina Appleby said was true:  that she was abducted by 
extraterrestrials, experimented on by men on a train, and 
returned some uncertain amount of time later.  How does this 
help us?  What have we learned?"

"You're saying you believe her."

"I'm saying it doesn't make a difference whether I believe 
her." 

He shook his head.  "How can you think that?" he asked 
softly, searching her face.
 
Scully looked at the floor for a long minute before 
answering.  "She's a victim, Mulder.  She's confused; she's 
scared.  Tina Appleby has no more insight into what happened 
to her or who is behind it than the cows in the field from 
which she vanished."

"But you agreed," he said, "that we've heard this story 
before."

"Yes.  And where has it gotten us?"  When he didn't answer, 
she sighed.  "Take her statement, Mulder.  Tell her we'll try 
our best.  Then tell her--"

"What?"

"Tell her to get on with her life."  She walked away, heels 
clicking briskly, not waiting for him to follow.


XxXxX


Even at two in the morning, Scully's plane faced delays.  
They sat at the gate endlessly while the airport cleared an 
obstruction from the runway.  Scully pinched the bridge of 
her nose between her fingers and was glad for the stillness.  
She hunkered down in the shadows at the rear of the cabin, 
away from the others.  Her clothes smelled of cigarette 
smoke, of desperation and dead things. The explosive gunshot 
still echoed in her head, but when she closed her eyes it was 
Tina Appleby's pale face she saw.

Too tired to read, too wired to sleep, Scully dug out her 
cell phone, intending to switch it off for the duration of 
the flight.  Mulder's unread messages glowed back at her from 
the tiny screen.  Scully selected the button to play them and 
hesitantly put the phone to her ear.  The first message was 
brief:

"Hey, Scully, it's me.  I know it's late, but call me if you 
get this, okay?"

He sounded more tired by the second one.  "I guess your phone 
must be off.  I feel terrible about what happened, Scully.  
Please call me."

Scully's eyes welled from the day's unrelenting tension.  She 
covered her mouth with her hand as Mulder's final message 
played.  "I know you're not answering.  I just wanted to 
say..."  Silence stretched for several seconds.  "I thought I 
could handle it, but I guess it's obvious by now that I 
couldn't. I kept thinking about what happened, what you must 
have been through."

She flashed on parking lot, the hard ground, the man shoving 
himself inside her.  It took her breath away.  

"I'm sorry about everything," Mulder finished hoarsely.  
"It's my fault, and I'm so sorry."

Scully gulped in air as she snapped the phone shut.  Fuck 
you, she thought, tears escaping the corner of her eyes. What 
the fuck have you got to be sorry about?

The captain told them to turn off all electronic devices as 
the plane started rolling toward the runway.  Soon the roar 
of the engines obliterated everything, Scully thrown back 
against the seat under their power as she was lifted away, 
away, the world disappearing beneath the clouds.

XxXxX

Scully had consumed two cups of coffee, stared the print off 
the newspaper, and dissected out the rims of the Styrofoam 
cups using just her thumbnail when at last Detective Savioshy 
came through the door again.  "Sorry to keep you waiting so 
long," he said as he wedged himself into the small, 
windowless room.  "The kid's family hired an expensive lawyer 
who's been busting our chops all afternoon.  We should be set 
to go in just a few minutes."

"That's what ADA Clark said two hours ago."

The conference table wobbled as Savioshy lowered himself onto 
one corner.  "Bellamy -- that's the lawyer -- has been 
questioning every step of the lineup, from the lighting to 
the people who get to be in the observation room.  But the 
delay is really for your benefit."

"How do you mean?"

"They want you to get nervous while you wait, maybe even 
change your mind. It's happened before.  Witnesses get a 
little too much time to think about things, and they get 
spooked."

"I don't spook that easily," Scully told him.

"No, ma'am, I don't imagine you do."  He smiled and shoved 
off from the table.  Scully took a deep breath.

"But I didn't see much," she said.  "It was dark and he had 
the stocking over his face.  I don't know how much help I can 
be."

"You're here," he said.  "That counts for a lot.  Just go in, 
take a look, and tell us if anyone stands out."

"But you have enough to hold him without me, right?"

"Caught the sonofabitch red-handed," Savioshy said.  "He 
ain't going nowhere. Just sit tight for another few minutes, 
okay?"

He left, closing the door behind him, and a few minutes 
later, Christopher Clark stuck his head in the room.  "Dana, 
thanks for waiting.  We're ready for you now."

Scully stood and wiped her hands on her hips.  She hadn't, 
until that very moment, considered the fact that the man from 
the parking lot was in the same building with her. Barely a 
man.  A kid.  He had a family, Savioshy had said.  Parents 
who had probably kissed his little cheeks and bought him 
footy pajamas, and who now disbelieved their son could hide 
with a knife in the bushes or rape ten unsuspecting women.

Outside the door to the viewing room, Scully halted.  Clark 
touched his hand to the small of her back.  "You okay?"

She nodded, determined.  "Let's do it."

Clark opened the door for her, and Scully stepped inside a 
small, tense room filled with grim people.  Savioshy stood 
near the one-way mirror.  He had one of his younger officers 
with him as well.  Lining the back wall were two women and 
one man, all dressed in suits.

"Agent Scully, this is Armand Davis from the King County DA's 
office," Clark said of the first man.  "He's just here to 
observe in case they end up trying some of the cases up 
there."  

Scully could have guessed his role from the grateful look in 
his eyes.  "Pleased to meet you, Agent Scully," he said.  
"Thank you for coming."  She wondered if any of the King's 
County victims had decided to testify.

"And this," Clark continued, "is Nora Bellamy."

The rapist's lawyer stepped forward on high heels that 
rivaled Scully's own.  She was older, with papery skin and a 
mess of hair that was somewhere between blonde and gray.  It 
had been pinned on top her head but was threatening to break 
free.  She had the look of someone who had been around the 
block and then moved in:  this was her turf and she knew it.  

"Ms. Scully," she said, her voice pitched low and Southern, 
"it's lovely to meet you.  Thank you for your patience this 
afternoon."  She gave Scully's hand a quick, firm shake.  
"This is my associate, Fiona Hamill."

"If you'll just come over here to the window," Clark said, 
"we'll bring them in."

Scully allowed him to lead her over to where Savioshy stood 
with his hand already poised at the intercom.  The room on 
the other side of the glass was well lit and empty.  "Send 
'em in," Savioshy said into the speaker.

Scully braced herself on the hard wooden ledge as the door 
opened and a line of young men paraded in front of her.  Her 
heart beat high in her throat.  The men stopped on their 
marks, facing forward, and seemed to stare right through the 
glass.  All white and dark-haired, they wore jeans and T-
shirts and harmless, blank expressions.

"Take your time," Savioshy said gently.  

Scully nodded without looking at him.  Her eyes were glued to 
the five men on the other side of the window, seeing all of 
them and none of them at the same time.  She couldn't focus.  
A dark eye here; a big shoulder there.  Her gaze raced up and 
down the men like fingers over piano keys.  Which one?  Which 
one?  She felt the pressure of the room bearing down on her.

"Can they turn?" she whispered, buying time.

"Face right," Savioshy said through the speaker.  The sound 
of heavy feet on the floor echoed back as they complied.

Four's chin seemed too pointed.  Five wasn't tall enough?  Or 
maybe her memory was wrong.  

Put stockings on their heads, she wanted to say.  Then I'd 
know for sure.

The mashed angry features from her dreams were not visible in 
the light of day.  If her rapist was one of the men in the 
other room, she could have passed him on the street and never 
known.

"I think we've got our answer," Nora Bellamy said shortly.

"Give her time," Savioshy shot back.

"No," Scully replied, shaking her head.  She shuddered with 
her drawn breath.  "I can't tell.  I'm sorry."

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Scully.  Clark, I'll be in 
touch."  Bellamy flashed a smile and disappeared with her 
associate out the door.

"That's it," Savioshy said wearily into the speaker.  The men 
filed through the exit and the lights went out on the other 
side.  

"I'm sorry," Scully repeated, and Savioshy waved her off.

"You tried.  That's all that counts.  We knew going in it was 
a long shot.  If you'll excuse me, I have to make sure his 
ass goes back to jail and not out the front door."

"He won't be freed?" Scully asked Clark.

"Not yet.  But I am sure Bellamy will ask for bail on 
Monday."

"But he was arrested with the knife and mask," Scully said.  
"Surely that counts for something."

"It does.  But he wasn't arrested in the process of 
committing a crime.  We have no witnesses.  Bellamy will 
argue that he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong 
time."

"And that will work?"

"I'll do everything I can to see that it doesn't."  He 
touched her arm.  "You okay for a minute?  I want to catch 
her before she leaves."

"Sure, sure."  

She jerked at the hard slap of the door, left alone in the 
shadowed room.  Darkness yawned where the men had stood, and 
she began to feel him watching her from the black void, felt 
a  creeping sense of danger she had missed at the time.  She 
stared at the window, saw her own pale features reflected 
there, and backed up slowly until she hit the far wall.  He'd 
been inside her and she didn't even know his face.  Shaking, 
she held her hands out in front of her, palms up, and began 
sinking down to the floor.  It was real.  It happened.  It 
could never be undone.

"Dana?"  Clark reappeared, and instantly he was at her side.  
"My God, are you okay?"

"Yes," she said, struggling to her feet.  He took her arm and 
helped her up.  "I'm sorry."

"It's okay.  Take it easy.  I'm the one who's sorry.  We 
shouldn't have left you alone like that."

"No."  She swiped at her watery eyes.  "I've done lineups 
before.  It's all right."

He fumbled a wadded up tissue at her.  "Do you want some 
water?  Maybe some place to sit?"

"No, no.  I'm fine.  It's just been a long day."  She 
sniffed, hiding herself behind the tissue.

"Yeah," he said softly.  She saw him look at the door.  
"You're sure there's nothing I can get for you?  No one I can 
call?"

"Really, no."

"What about Mulder?"

She folded the tissue in half and in half again before 
answering.  "Mulder's still in Texas."

"Oh, right.  Your case."  She felt him studying her.  "Would 
I be correct in assuming it's a rough one?"

"You could say that."  Less than twenty-four hours ago, she'd 
been wearing Jared Rentham's blood spatter in her hair.  
Mulder hadn't called all day.  She had no idea when he 
planned to return.

"We owe you a greater debt, then," Clark said, "for leaving 
your work to come help us with this."

"I wasn't any help."  

"You were.  You showed up.  That's more than some of the 
other women have done."

Scully looked up.  "Did any of them ID him?"

"Not yet.  But we are just beginning to mount our case.  
Savioshy pulled his computer, his date book - they even took 
his car down to the CS labs."

Scully asked the one question she had wanted to ask since his 
call yesterday evening:  "How did you catch him?"

"Savioshy's taskforce has been running with the idea that 
this guy was a college student at a university with religious 
affiliation, most probably a Christian college.  They've been 
contacting these schools and asking them about their recently 
reported sexual assaults.  Saint Joseph's University in 
Philadelphia kicked out the name Gregory Watts.  Watts had a 
complaint filed against him for rape by a fellow student, but 
she later withdrew the allegation.  Turned out this guy Watts 
lives down here during the summer months.  His parents have a 
house in Fairfax.  A little more digging, and we found out 
that the Philly PD has a couple of unsolved rape cases from 
this past fall that bear an uncanny resemblance to the 
attacks in the DC area.  Savioshy went to find Watts, saw him 
leave the house, and followed him."

"To a parking lot," Scully said.  That much she knew already.

"That's right.  When he saw Watts put the stocking cap on, he 
busted his ass right then."

Scully nodded, letting it sink in.  "So he's definitely the 
guy."

"Oh, he's the guy, all right.  And we will put him away for a 
long, long time.  I promise you."

She chuffed and he looked at her curiously.  "I've made that 
promise myself over the years," Scully told him.  "The victim 
looks to you for assurance.  They want to believe in 
justice."

"You don't?"

"Does that shock you?" she asked, meeting his eyes.  He 
stared at her unblinking.

"Nothing shocks me.  But I don't believe you."

"You don't know me," she countered.

"I know that you're here," he said.  "That has to mean 
something."

She smiled a bit.  "Yes, well, I do believe in prisons," she 
said, and he smiled with her.

"Fair enough."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment until Scully tried to 
walk past him toward the door.  "I should get going," she 
said.

"Oh, of course."  He shifted at the same time she did and 
ended up blocking her path again.  "Sorry," he said, but he 
didn't move further.  She looked up at him, expectant.  "Have 
dinner with me."

Scully had not thought of food all day.  Her fridge probably 
held a carton of expired low-fat milk and a few limp 
vegetables.  And now he was asking her out?  "Oh, no.  I 
couldn't."

"Not like that," he cut her off swiftly.  "I mean, you've 
been here all afternoon.  You must be starving.  You said 
Mulder wasn't around, so I just figured..."

"You figured what?"  Her guard was still up.

"Maybe you would like some company."  

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are."  She hugged her arms close to her chest, 
and he said nothing for a moment.  "Okay, it's me. I hate 
eating in restaurants alone."  She gave him a look of 
disbelief.  "It's true.  The waitresses, they come over and 
want to talk."

"Oh, I'm sure that must be so painful for you," she said, but 
she was beginning to smile again.

"I end up with three bread baskets."  He patted his middle.  
"Please, you'd be doing my waistline a favor."

It was either this or go home to her silent apartment.  
Still, she hesitated.  "I don't know..."

"We don't have to talk about the case," he said gently.

"What will we talk about?"

He considered.  "Our misspent youth tipping cows in Farmer 
Mcgillicuddy's pasture."

"I don't believe I've ever tipped a single cow."

"Oh."  He heaved a dramatic sigh as he pulled the door open 
for her.  "Looks like I'll have to start the conversation 
then."


XxXxX

Mulder came of age skulking in the basement with a 
flashlight, so the bunker-style rooms beneath Sanctuary House 
felt instantly familiar.  He hadn't realized, however, how 
accustomed he'd grown to the second lance of light that 
usually played along side his.  It seemed too dark without 
her.

Dust and lack of sleep had dried his eyes.  He walked alone 
down the hall until he reached the record room, where earlier 
he had spread Jared Rentham's files across the floor.  
Computer printouts from an old dot-matrix printer told each 
person's story.  Where possible, Rentham had photographed the 
site of the abduction.   Mulder had spent the afternoon 
staring at cornfields, duck ponds, stretches of empty 
highway, and, in the case of one Emmett Lincoln, a Wal-Mart 
parking lot.

He remembered Skyland Mountain, with its clean pine air and 
sharp white stars, the way the wind had stolen breath from 
his body and whisked it into the night.  This is the way the 
world ends, they'd told him: one small redhead at a time.

Rentham had included photographs of the abductees as well - 
black and white close-ups of unsmiling faces, young and old.  
They reminded Mulder of growing up in Massachusetts 
surrounded by images of Revolutionary War soldiers, who had 
fought the enemy with nothing more than grim determination 
and a musket from the basement.  We've seen you now, their 
eyes seemed to say.  Just try to take us again.

This was his biggest worry for her, that all the denial 
equaled unpreparedness, that she would never see them coming.

Mulder leaned back against the hard wall, his spine scraping 
the concrete as he rubbed his tired eyes.  Until then he 
would keep looking for the both of them.

XxXxX

They ended up sharing a bottle of Chianti and a giant thin-
crust pizza topped with proscuitto, capers, olives and fresh 
mozzarella.  The candle was fake but the food was delicious.  
"I begin to understand why the city is in a budget crisis," 
Scully said, "if you take all your witnesses out to dinner."

"Yes, thanks to the tax cuts, the Tiramisu is out.  The best 
I can offer is one of those mints at the door."

She smiled and shook her head.  "I'll remember this at 
election time."

"Actually," he said, "I confess my motives were not entirely 
pure."

Scully felt her stomach lurch.  "Oh?" she managed.

"Savioshy told me a little bit about the kind of work you do.  
Now, the man can spin a fish story like you wouldn't believe, 
but he swore up and down this was the God's honest truth:  
you investigate aliens?"

Scully put down her wine glass.  "Reports of extraterrestrial 
activity, yes.  Among other things.  The X-Files division 
handles a wide variety of cases."

"Division?  How many agents are assigned to this kind of 
work?"

"Just--just two."

"Oh," he said, and Scully squirmed inwardly at the 
implication.  She knew it was a cliche to most people, male 
and female partners falling into bed together, but it was the 
most unconventional relationship of her life.  She wasn't 
about to justify it to this man.  "So these reports," he 
asked, "is there anything to them?  Are we truly not alone?"

You've been among them, Rentham had said.  She could still 
feel the slide of his cold fingers over her skin.

"I've seen things I can't explain any other way," she said, 
watching for Chris's reaction.  If there were a trial, he 
would hear all the gory details.  He stopped with his fork 
halfway to his mouth.

"Really?"  She nodded.  "Huh," he said, and put the fork 
down.

"That's it?"

"Well, you know how I was telling you about Farmer 
Mcgillicuddy's field?  One night I was out there with some 
friends of mine, back in high school this was, and we were 
just hanging and drinking beer when all of a sudden this 
light flew over us.  It was bright blue, not white like the 
stars, and it disappeared down behind the mountains.  As it 
passed over us, all our hair stood up on end."

She raised her eyebrows.  "And you think it was a UFO?"

"Like you said, I can't explain it any other way."  He 
smiled.  "I don't usually tell that story to most of my 
dinner dates."

"What do you tell them?" she asked, grasping for a change of 
subject.

"Oh, um."  He looked chagrined.  "The word 'usually' implies 
a certain amount of frequency, doesn't it?  Well, let's see.  
The last time I was out with a woman I spent the entire 
evening regaling her with my lawyerly prowess.  She was 
polite enough to listen the whole time, but when I called her 
for a second date she declined, saying she thought perhaps I 
had too much of myself invested in my work right now."

"Ouch," Scully said.

"Yeah, but she was right."  He finished off his wine.  

"I guess that's good for me, then."

"Yes." He smiled at her again.  "Unlike that poor woman, 
you're stuck with me for a while."

"How soon until trial, do you think?"

"Months."  He leaned back in his seat with a sigh.  "Bellamy 
does not move quickly, but a lot will depend on whether she 
fights us on our decision to try the cases jointly."

"Is that likely?"

He took his time in answering.  "I would make a motion to 
sever, if I were her.  We don't have the same level of 
evidence against Watts in every case."

"I see."

"Hey, don't worry about it, okay?"  He scooted in his chair 
until his knees bumped her under the table.  "That's my 
problem, if and when it happens."

Instead of one rape, he'd gotten ten by proxy.  She wondered 
how many he had already lived through.  "So you still 
believe, then," she said, "in justice."

He drummed his fingers on the tablecloth and looked at her.  
"Have you got a bit more time?"

"Why?"

"I want to show you something."

He took her out of the city, over dark hills and vales, where 
a pregnant moon hung low in the sky.  Thick summer trees 
waved in the wind, and the air from the open windows grew 
cool and sweet.  He turned off the main road into blackness 
and rolled the car to a stop on some grass.  "Here we are," 
he announced.  The slam of their car door broke the perfect 
silence. 

"And where is that, exactly?"  Scully squinted at her murky 
surroundings.  They were in the middle of nowhere, as far as 
she could tell.  Her heart sped up, and she held her bag with 
the gun in it a little bit closer.

You're fine, she told herself, but she jerked a bit when 
Clark spoke.

"This way.  Watch your step."  He led her down a path through 
the trees to a clearing with some sort of building on it.  
His keys jangled in the darkness.  "I only rent half of it," 
he said as she followed him closer.  "The rest belongs to the 
guy whose farm it's on."  

He unlocked the door and hit the lights.  Scully blinked as 
her eyes adjusted.  "It's a greenhouse."

"Yeah, come on inside."  He rubbed his hands together and 
moved aside so she could enter.
 
The concrete floor was wet beneath her feet. Cautiously, she 
ducked a seven-foot plant with great hanging leaves.  Exotic 
tangles of greenery stretched from floor to ceiling; beds of 
riotous color spread over the tables, flowers split open like 
the sun.  Beautiful, yes, but Scully felt a little like a bug 
before the Venus Flytrap.  She stood hunched in, careful not 
to touch anything.  Chris sucked in a deep breath and smiled 
at her.

"All the oxygen concentrated in here," he said.  "Gives me a 
rush."

Scully breathed a bit deeper, taking in the primal scent of 
dirt and water and life.  She forced a smile even though she 
hadn't the slightest clue what she was doing there.  "It's--
quite something."

"Let me give you the tour."  He disappeared behind a sweep of 
fern and she hurried to keep up.  "This one here," he said, 
"is an Apache Plume."  The bush-like plant had long stems 
with pink, feathered ends.  "It's actually a member of the 
rose family, if you can believe it, but the name comes from 
the fact that the plumes look like old Apache war bonnets.  
Go ahead -- touch."

"I have a black thumb," she warned him, and he smiled.

"Really, it's okay.  You won't hurt it, see?"  Tentatively, 
Scully reached out and stroked the downy tufts.  They tickled 
like a laugh through her fingers.

"These are a kind of salvia," he told her as they moved down 
the narrow aisle.  Scully stooped to admire the delicate 
indigo flowers.

"They look sort of like wind chimes."

"Oh, check this one out," he said, waving a new stem at her 
from farther down the row.  It was long and sleek, with a 
giant teardrop-shaped bud at the end.  She could see from the 
buds that had bloomed already that it would become a medusa-
like flower -- a cloud of green snakes with tiny purple 
heads.  "This one always reminds me of 'Aliens'" Chris said 
as he twisted the fat bud around so she could see the other 
side.  Sure enough, it had split at the stomach and the 
snakes were starting to pop out.   Scully smiled and shook 
her head.

"You are very strange, you know that?"

He shrugged and let the flower bounce back into position.  
"You know how I told you about my dad, how we argued law all 
the time?"  She nodded.  "Well, we made a lot of noise.  Mom 
let us raise the roof because she spent all her time out in 
the yard taking care of her garden."

"Ahh," Scully said.  She fingered the pouched blossom on a 
pocket book plant.  "So that's where you get it from."

"In a way."  He leaned against the table, folding his arms so 
his dress shirt stretched across his chest.  "Mom got sick 
when I was in high school.  Cancer.  She was too sick during 
treatment to keep up with the garden.  Dad was spending sixty 
hours a week at work, and it fell on me to help her out."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he said softly.  "I miss her, but she sure taught me 
well."  He smiled.  "Some of these plants belonged to her."

"Really?"  Scully looked at the surrounding jungle with new 
eyes.

"Yeah.  The small Japanese Maple over there in the corner is 
one.  Oh, and this too."  He showed her a bucket full of 
branches with strange red flowers drooping from them.  
"Feel," he suggested.

"Oh."  Scully marveled as she rubbed the velvety flower 
between her finger and thumb.  "What is that?"

"Like it?  It's called Kangaroo Paw."

"It's fabulous."  She gave him her first genuine smile in 
days.  "Thank you for showing me all this."

"Happy to."  He bopped her on the arm with a lily.

"But I don't understand what it has to do with justice," she 
said.

"Nothing.  Sometimes it just helps to dig around in the 
dirt." He waggled his eyebrows at her until she laughed.  
"C'mere.  I need some help transferring these seedlings."  
Chris was already rolling up his sleeves, expecting her to 
follow.

"I can't," she protested.  "I'm, um, I'm not good with living 
things."

He grinned and handed her a clump of dirt with a tiny, tender 
green sprout.  "Here," he said.  "Start small."

XxXxXxX

In his black motel room, the clock glowed eight fifty-two -- 
nearly eleven back in DC.  Mulder lay on the bed with his arm 
across his eyes and the phone to his ear.  Two thousand miles 
away in Scully's apartment, hers rang on and on, unanswered.

XxXxX

End chapter six.  

All feedback welcomed at syn_tax6@yahoo.com