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LAWS OF MOTION

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by syntax6

Chapter Twelve:  The Cookie Crumbles

An old black-and-white noir film played on Mulder's 
television.  He couldn't name the movie; he wasn't even 
watching.  But the atmosphere suited him just fine.

He was starring in his own noir picture, stripped to a black 
and white world where really everyone was just a shade of 
gray. He could no longer pick himself out as the hero.

He sat alone in his shadowed apartment, still smelling of 
smoke from the fire; all he needed was a slowly rotating 
ceiling fan and a cigarette to complete the frame.

The soft knock at his door made him sit upright and look to 
the clock.  His VCR flashed just "12:00" at him, in perfect 
symbolism for a life that never seemed to move forward.  
Mulder gave the machine a little symbolism back in the form 
of his middle finger as he moved to answer the door.

Scully stood in the muted light of the hallway with what 
looked like a VCR tape in her hands.  "Scully, what..." he 
started to say, but she pushed past him into the apartment.

He let the door drift shut behind her and rubbed his eyes.  
Scully knelt in front of his entertainment unit and turned on 
the offending VCR, sending his noir movie into white fuzz.

"Hey, I was watching that," he mumbled unconvincingly.

Scully stood up as the tape began playing and he walked to 
her side.  There was no sound, only the jittery motion of a 
hand-held camera as it tracked his younger self down the 
middle of a street.  Mulder recognized the take-out Chinese 
bag in his hand and the lost expression on his face.

As Ethan zoomed in for a close up, the image blurred 
momentarily and then came into sharp focus, revealing the 
stubble on his jaw and the smudges under his eyes.  

One month gone, Mulder thought to himself.  Everyone else had 
given up hope.

He reached out with one hand to touch the screen but let his 
arm fall away before he made contact.

"What about it?" he asked her finally.

"This wasn't a Superbowl tape, Mulder."

He backed up and sank down onto his coffee table.  "You're 
just figuring that out now?"

"Apparently," she said, sounding annoyed.  They both looked 
at the screen, where he was sitting on Skyland Mountain under 
the stars.

"You asked me how it was," he said.  "Now you know."

"I can't believe you never told me," she murmured, not 
annoyed anymore.

"I did tell you."

"Not this.  Mulder, you..."  She broke off and swallowed with 
difficulty.  "You never mentioned this."

He gestured at the screen.  "Picture's worth a thousand 
words, right?  I figured you had a million dollar speech 
right here.  Why do you think I gave it to you?"

She searched his face, but he wouldn't look at her.  "I don't 
know. If I had watched it earlier... if I had seen..."  She 
shook her head.  "Mulder, why did you put it in a Superbowl 
cover?"

"It was the first one I grabbed when the hospital called and 
told me you were awake."  He paused.  "I almost didn't 
answer.  I thought they were calling to say you had died."

Scully moved to sit next to him on the table.  She said 
nothing but put her hand on his bare forearm.  

"I'm not dead," she said at last.  "I'm not missing.  I'm 
right here."

"I know that."  He tried to pull his arm away, but she held 
fast.

"I saw you today, Mulder, after Diana, after Gibson was 
missing.  The office burned down and you started looking just 
like that again."  She pointed at the TV screen, where 
younger Mulder was slouched in a car, looking tired and 
alone.

"Scully, you said it yourself -- they're going to split us 
up.  They're going to close the X-files, and there's not a 
damn thing we can do about it."  Mulder sat back as her grip 
slackened.  "You were there, Scully.  The firefighters said 
the blaze started right at the file cabinets.  They knew 
exactly what they were doing. They destroyed everything."

"Not everything," she said quietly.  "That's what I came here 
to tell you."

On TV, he was walking an empty late-night street again, the 
black pavement slick with November rain.  It had been a cold, 
wet fall, he remembered, where drizzle trickled endlessly 
from the sky.

He reached for the remote and hit "pause," freezing his own 
image.

"I would have looked forever," he told her, still staring at 
the screen.

"I know."  Her hand found his.

"That's what I wanted you to know."

Scully leaned her cheek against his upper arm.  "I've always 
known it.  I don't need the tape for that."

"Ethan followed me around all the time, as I guess you can 
see.  I think he thought that any second I was going to find 
you, and he wanted to be there when it happened.  Eventually, 
he just gave up like everyone else."

"Not everyone." She rubbed her cheek against his T-shirt.  

"He was so angry at me.  I started wondering how much he knew 
about...what happened in Arecibo, but I figured if he knew, 
he'd probably just kill me."

"I don't think he knew."

Mulder drew away.  "Because you didn't tell him."

"But I would have."

He looked at her again, curious as to how she could sound so 
sure.  "You remember?"

"No, but I took his ring off, and now I know why."

Mulder shook his head and tapped the remote against his 
kneecap.  "Well, here we are again."

"What do you mean?"

He pointed at the TV with the remote.  "Let's recap, shall 
we?  Four years ago at this time, the X-Files were shut down, 
you and I had been split up, and we'd just slept together but 
weren't really speaking.  As Yogi would say, 'it's déjà vu 
all over again."

"They haven't split us up."

"Yet." He hung his head low and studied the floor.  Scully 
did not say anything for a long moment.

"Mulder, about... about the other thing.  I just wanted to 
say I think I understand why you couldn't tell me."

He turned his face to look at her.  Scully fidgeted with her 
hands in her lap.

"I mean, I wish you had told me, but in your place, I think I 
would have done the same thing."

"There wasn't going to be a happy ending no matter what I 
said or did."

"Not then, no."

Surprised, he put the remote aside and shifted to meet her 
eyes.  "And now?  You think things are different?"

"I think we haven't reached the ending yet," she said, taking 
his hand again.

He closed his fingers over hers and looked down at their 
joined hands.  "You know what the definition of insanity is, 
don't you? Doing the same thing and expecting a different 
result."

Scully smiled.  "I knew there was a reason I've stuck around 
for five years.  Insanity it is, then."

He leaned down until his nose nearly touched her cheek.  "No 
excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness," he said.

"Shakespeare?"

"Aristotle."

"Mmm."  She reached up and stroked the side of his face.  
"How about, 'I can predict the movement of heavenly bodies, 
but not the madness of men.'"

Mulder shivered at the whisper caress of 'heavenly bodies' 
across his cheek.  "Da Vinci?" he guessed as his mouth moved 
closer to hers.

"Issac Newton," she breathed, just before he kissed her.

Unlike their previous frantic encounters, this kiss was slow 
and measured, almost tentative.

She smelled faintly of sweat and bleach, the tip of her nose 
cold against cheek as he held his mouth gently over hers. The 
angle wasn't the best; he leaned on the coffee table with one 
arm and held her hip with the other as he craned his neck 
down to reach her lips.  She lifted her face to meet him 
halfway, her mouth warm, her breath barely a sigh.

He was dimly aware of their surroundings; the TV light 
filtered through his closed eyelids, water burbled in his 
fish tank and his refrigerator kicked in with a distant hum.  
Scully's mouth plumped up with each press and pull of his 
lips, and he leaned closer, straining for more.

She made a small murmur and her thumb slid across his 
cheekbone, grazing his ear and sending a flush of heat to his 
toes.  Her mouth opened slightly in invitation, but at that 
moment, he lost his balance and his right arm skidded out 
from under him.

Scully gasped in surprise as he came crashing down against 
her.  Her shoulder caught him squarely in the breastbone, and 
Mulder panted as he righted himself again.  Their eyes met, 
neither saying anything, but then Scully let out an 
embarrassed laugh and wiped her mouth with the back of her 
hand.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Are you okay?"

Nothing wounded but his pride.  "Did I get you?" he asked as 
he touched the side of her jaw where he had hit her with his 
head.

Scully opened and closed her mouth beneath his touch.  "I'm 
all right."  Mulder's fingers gentled to a caress, and Scully 
reached up and pulled his hand into both of her own.  

He used his free arm to pull her into a loose hug.  "You 
know, I'm really not that bad at this.  At least I didn't 
used to be."

Scully snickered and kissed the center of his chest.  "You 
want to take a break while you compose your list of 
references?"

"Hey, you had no complaints the first time."  He said the 
words lightly, but the minute they left his mouth he 
regretted it.  He tensed as Scully raised her head.

"Oh, sure, the amnesia defense," she said, amusement in her 
eye.  "How convenient.  I think I'm beginning to understand 
why you never told me."

He tugged her closer and let his hands wander under her top 
so that his fingertips just tickled the bare skin at her 
waist.  "If you'd care to join me in the other room," he 
said, his voice low, "I'll be happy to show you exactly how 
it was."

Scully paused and then reached for his hand again.  "I have a 
better idea," she said as she stood up.  "Why don't you show 
me how it's going to be instead?"

She started walking away, her hand threatening to slip from 
his, so he did the only sensible thing and held on tight.  

He let her lead him into his dark bedroom, the only light 
coming from the street lamps shining through the open blinds.  
Scully stopped near the foot of the bed, seeming suddenly 
uncertain in this strange terrain.

He could no longer see her face, and he was torn between 
turning on a light and leaving them off so she couldn't tell 
what a wreck his place was.  Laundry spilled from the chair 
onto the floor, and he had about a half-dozen shoes scattered 
around the room.  Two empty beer bottles sat on the 
nightstand next to a used Kleenex.

The bed was unmade but the sheets were semi-clean.  He heard 
her breathing, saw the white light slice across the top of 
her red head.  She seemed to be expecting him to make the 
next move, which he guessed was only fair since she had 
nearly had to drag him by his hair into the cave.

Say something, he ordered himself.  Make it nice.

"I haven't had anyone back here in a really long time."

"Oh, yeah?  Exactly how long are we talking?"

He squinted in thought, trying to count back, and Scully 
laughed.

"That's long enough," she said tugging him towards her with 
her fingers through his belt loops. 

He found her mouth easily in the darkness; all those 
maddening hours of staring at her face as she said "you're 
crazy, Mulder" or "Mulder, do you honestly believe that..." 
finally paid off.  He just leaned his head down and there she 
was.

Her body he knew only in jigsaw puzzle pieces -- a glimpse 
here, a hand on her back there.  He had touched her 
everywhere but never all at once.  As they kissed he put the 
mental pieces together, mapping the hard edge of her shoulder 
bones and the soft slope of her waist.  

He cupped the back of her warm head, her hair thick in his 
fingers as her mouth parted under his.  His world narrowed to 
the slide of her tongue and her heated breath against his 
cheek.  Scully quivered, her mouth falling further open as he 
kissed her with increasing urgency. Her fingers caught the 
end of his T-shirt and he thought she'd try to remove it, but 
instead she grabbed fistfuls of material as her breathing 
quickened.

Mulder felt the same rising urgency.  His heartbeat thundered 
in his ears.  He grabbed her hips and pulled her tight.  
Scully gasped, her mouth coming free from his as her hips 
jerked several times against his lower body.  

He flailed behind him with one arm, searching for the end of 
the bed as he tried to kiss her again.  Scully was agreeable, 
but when he stepped backwards, she stumbled.

"Oops," he said as he held her up.  "You want to turn on a 
light?"

Her breathing was ragged in the dark.  "Do you?"

"How about a small one?"  He reluctantly dropped his hands 
from her to go turn on the reading light next to his bed.  
The effect was an interrogation-bright halo over one pillow 
as the rest of the room filled with shadow.

Scully squinted at him as her eyes adjusted.  Her hair was 
thoroughly tousled and her lips were swollen.  Somehow, the 
top two buttons on her shirt had come undone, and Mulder 
couldn't help but stare at the curve of breast visible 
beneath.

"Mulder, maybe..." She made some motion with her hands that 
he barely registered.  "Mulder?"

"Hmm?"  He made himself look at her face again.

She smiled and repeated the hand gesture.  "Maybe flip the 
light up to the ceiling?"

"Oh. Yeah.  Good idea."  The spotlight shifted to the ceiling 
so neither one of them would go blind in bed.

Scully reached down and touched her fingers to his rumpled 
sheets.  Mulder bit his lip, now unsure of his next move.  
His rhythm was broken. 

She looked at the floor as he ambled over to her.  He stopped 
just inches in front of her and waited until she met his 
eyes.  Without breaking her gaze, he reached out and began 
unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up.

Her breathing became uneven again; he could feel the heat 
coming off her skin but he did not touch her, only her 
blouse.  When he had freed all the buttons, he gently parted 
the material.

They both looked down at her simple white bra, and he watched 
her breasts rise and fall several times, his mouth going dry.  
He resisted he urge to reach out with both hands and grab as 
if he were testing melons.  Instead, he took one finger and 
traced the top wavy edge of her bra from one side to the 
other.  Scully held her breath.

"I never got to see before," he whispered as he repeated the 
motion against her skin.  "Wow."

Scully flushed a little, but she looked pleased.  "Wow?"

"Oh, yeah. I'd say even a wow-plus."  He drew the shirt off 
of her shoulders and set it on the end of the bed. 

Scully tugged his shirt up and he obediently shed it to the 
ground.  His skin burned where she pressed her palms to his 
chest.  He kissed her again, but it was mainly an excuse to 
slip his hands around her back and try to divest her of the 
bra.

He was out of practice, though, and not very subtle about it.  
Scully broke the kiss and helped him out.  He sucked in his 
stomach as he got his first look at her naked breasts, their 
nipples poked out like two chocolate kisses.  

There was no way he could get his mouth on them from this 
angle, so he stroked them both with his fingers.  Scully made 
a choked sound near his neck as her fingers found his ribs.  

Slow, he reminded himself.  Their last two attempts had been 
over by this time.

They divested each other of their remaining clothing, and 
Scully climbed onto his bed.  He stood there a moment, his 
penis pointing at her like a divining rod.  Scully held out 
her hand and he took it, crawling over until he was hovering 
over her.

He trailed his fingertips lightly over her face and pressed 
his lips to her brow.  Scully, seeming shy, tucked her face 
into his shoulder and wound her arms around his neck.  He 
returned the hug and tried not to rut against her like a dog.  
His penis lay trapped between them against the soft swell of 
her stomach.

Mulder felt her quick breathing at his neck.  He dropped a 
hand to her breast, where her heart thundered.  "You okay?" 
he asked as he attempted to meet her eyes.

"Yes."  She did not sound unsure, but he ducked down until he 
was able to see her face.  He brushed the hair out of her 
eyes.

"It's just me."  He touched his forehead to hers and smiled 
at her.

She held his head in her hands.  "I know.  I just didn't 
expect it to feel so..."

"So...?"

"Much," she finished softly.

"Yeah."  He kissed her long and slow, her thighs falling open 
under the urging of his wandering hand.  They had not done 
this enough for him to know exactly how to touch her.

He stroked around with the pads of his fingers until he found 
a spot she seemed to like.  Her knees fell wide and she 
hissed against his neck.  His fingers grew slick as Scully 
started rocking with his hand.  He wasn't sure how much 
longer he could last.

As if reading his mind, Scully reached between them for his 
penis.  It bucked when she touched it, and Mulder gritted his 
teeth.  "Uh, no," he said, tilting his hips away from her.

Scully grabbed her hands back and looked down.  "Sorry."

"No, no."  He kissed her cheek, her eye.  "You do that I 
won't last thirty seconds."

He did not want a repeat performance of their hotel coupling.

"Then let's not wait," she said, trying to maneuver herself 
under him.

Mulder stretched an arm out toward the nightstand.  "Just a 
second," he said as he tugged the drawer open.  He fished 
around until he connected with a condom.

Scully's eyes glittered in the half-light.  "It's a little 
late for that," she said.  

"Humor me," he said as he put it on.  He figured dulling the 
sensation just a bit could increase his chances of sustaining 
the action.  "You might enjoy it better this way."

He settled between her legs again and positioned himself for 
entry.  Scully stopped him with a palm to his chest.  "Slow," 
she said, and then smiled, borrowing his earlier phrase:  "I 
haven't had anyone back here in a long time."

Mulder winced a little, remembering how he had thrust hard 
into her the last time without even thinking.

"As slow as you want," he replied, hoping he could keep the 
promise.

He pushed just the head in and checked for her reaction.  
Scully's cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes were dark.  
She curled her fingers around his biceps and nodded, so 
Mulder eased in a bit further.

He let out a long breath, willing control.  Her inner muscles 
clenched and relaxed around him several times in quick 
succession.  "Still okay?" he asked her tightly.

"Mmm, yes."  She kissed him and he lost control over his 
lower body as his hips thrust forward in one final push.  

He panted, prepared to apologize, but Scully was hugging him 
with her thighs and planting kisses along his jaw.  She felt 
so hot and tight and good that he was not at all sure he was 
going to make it much longer.

The bed rocked gently with their movements, the only sound in 
the room the creak of the headboard and the sweet slide of 
his penis between her legs.  A fine sheen of sweat broke out 
over his brow as he tried to keep his thrusts even and slow.  
He ran one hand over her hip to pull her closer, and Scully 
sighed against his cheek.

Mulder's orgasm was bearing down on him like a freight train; 
he heard its warning whistle and felt the vibrating hum of 
the tracks.  His hips picked up the chugga-chugga rhythm, 
increasing speed.

"Scully?" he said uncertainly.  He looked down, trying to 
judge how close she was.  Her hair spread across the pillow; 
her eyes were closed and her mouth parted.

When she dragged her lids open, he expected to see his own 
desperate, glassy need, but her gaze was warm and calm.  
"Mmm, nice," she said as she caressed the side of his face.

Nice?  She was only at "nice"?  He had left nice in the dust 
about two seconds after she'd removed her shirt.  The memory 
made him glance down at her small, round breasts again.  They 
jiggled a bit with each thrust of his body and Mulder 
clenched his eyes so tight he saw stars.

Just a bit longer, he coached himself.  Hold on.  Hold on.

"Argh," he said with a strangled groan as control slipped 
from his mental grasp.  Orgasm tore from him, causing him to 
spasm indefinitely above her.  Scully held him to her with 
arms and legs as he buried his face in her hair.

Aw, fuck, he thought the tremors subsided.  He lay heavy on 
her, his heart thudding, his skin sticking to hers wherever 
they touched.  Scully rubbed the back of one of his legs with 
her own.

He pushed up on one shaky arm to look into her eyes.  She 
smiled tenderly at him and touched her fingertips to his 
face.

"God, I'm sorry," he said, feeling like a selfish bastard.  
"I tried to wait."

"It's okay."  Her voice came out scratchy, whether from sex 
or from the fact that it was four in the morning, he did not 
know.  "Really," she insisted, turning his chin to look at 
her again.  "I'm glad you... enjoyed it."

He leaned down to press his face into her hot neck.  
"Always," he whispered, and she hugged him tightly.  "But I 
wanted you to enjoy it too."

"I did.  I am."  She rubbed his back and his penis softened, 
starting to slip out of her.

He kissed the hollow where her neck met her shoulder.  "Be 
right back," he whispered.  He went to the bathroom to 
dispose of the condom, and when he returned, Scully was 
tucked demurely beneath the sheet again.  

"You want anything?" he asked.  "Maybe some water?"

"Water would be good."

So he went naked to the kitchen for two tall glasses of cold 
water.  Okay, so I can't give you an orgasm, he thought with 
disgust, but I sure can pour water.

Scully sat up to accept the glass as he slid in next to her.  
"I can't believe how late it is," she said in between long 
sips.  "The sun will be up soon."

"Yeah."

She set her glass on the nightstand and settled back into the 
pillows.  "We should get some sleep."

Mulder's hopes fell.  He had wanted a chance to redeem 
himself.  Reaching over her, he set down his glass and turned 
off the light. "Um, are you sure that's all you need?"  

"Hmm?" She sounded half-asleep already.

He lay down next to her and stroked her from shoulder to hip.  
She snuggled closer and draped an arm loosely around his 
waist.  He kissed her head.  "You sure there's nothing else I 
can do for you?" he murmured.  With his eyes closed, fatigue 
suddenly caught up with him, too.

"No."  She traced idle patterns on his skin.  "It's okay, 
Mulder.  I don't always... it doesn't always happen for me, 
and that's okay."

He was pretty sure he'd managed to give her an orgasm in 
Arecibo, but maybe that had just been dumb luck.  If he had 
known he was going to need to repeat the technique, he would 
have paid more attention.  "Unfortunately for you, right now 
my average kind of sucks," he said by way of rueful apology. 

He felt her smile against his shoulder.  "You haven't had 
many at-bats."

"So that's what I'm saying," he said, trailing his hand down 
to the valley of her thighs.  "Let me try again.  Show me 
what to do."

"Mulder, no."

"I want to make you feel good."

"You did," she said, starting to sound anxious as she tensed 
and tried to pull away from him.

He trapped her before she could get too far.  "Okay, okay.  I 
got it.  No more tonight."  He kissed her cheek, nuzzling her 
in the darkness, but it took several long moments before she 
relaxed again.

"It's not you," she whispered, turning her face toward his 
neck.  Her eyelashes tickled his skin in a butterfly kiss.  
"You did everything right."

Apparently not everything, he thought to himself, but he 
didn't want to give her the impression that she had somehow 
disappointed *him*.  He rested his cheek against the top of 
her head and swept his hand down her back in long, slow 
strokes.

Okay, so maybe he had made her come in Arecibo, but this 
after part was much, much better.  He resolved to keep his 
mouth shut and not mess it up any further.

As if reading his thoughts, Scully shifted to look up at him.  
"That night in Arecibo," she said, "who started it?"

"You did."

She nodded as if to herself and rested her head against him 
again.

"You don't seem surprised," he observed as he ran one finger 
lightly over her naked shoulder.

"I don't remember that night, Mulder, but I remember other 
things.  I remember wanting you."

He remembered the moment before she'd kissed him, how he'd 
felt her face growing nearer, felt her breath on his lips.  
He hadn't believed it was happening until they finally 
touched.

"I never knew," he told her.

"Mulder, can I ask you something?  And maybe I don't want the 
answer, but I have to know."

Wary, he replied, "Okay..."

"Just how in the hell did Byers find out?"

"Oh."  He rubbed one hand over his face in the darkness.  "I 
kind of told him.  I was asking for advice right after it 
happened.  Not that I mentioned your name, but he guessed 
anyway."

"You didn't have a lot of FBI partners, Mulder.  I don't 
imagine it took a Mensa membership to deduce my identity."  

To his relief, she sounded amused.  "I didn't say you were my 
partner.  I, um, I kind of used a metaphor."

"Oh, God. Exactly what kind of metaphor are we talking about 
here?"

"Well, I was me.  You were, um... you were a cookie."

"A cookie?" she repeated in incredulity.

"Yes, and I ate you."

Scully hid her face in his arm.  "You said I was a cookie," 
she muttered.  "I can't believe you, Mulder."

"You were a good cookie," he told the back of her head.  
"Very tasty."

She looked up.  "So what advice did Byers give you?"

"I said the situation was a mess.  He said he thought maybe 
you were worth it." 

"I always knew he was the smart one."  She settled against 
his side again, her hand rubbing over his stomach in an 
affectionate caress.  He felt her yawn.  "Good night, 
Mulder."

He kissed her head and hugged her close.  "Good night, 
cookie."

~*~*~*~

Scully slept well, considering she was in a foreign bed, and 
awoke past ten to find Mulder reading the paper beside her.  
He gave her a mug of coffee and a good-morning kiss, but the 
kiss was hot so her coffee grew cold as he took his java-
flavored tongue on a tour of her body.

Soon she was lying with her legs spread wide and his head 
between them.  Her clit popped out like a Vegas showgirl from 
behind the curtain, eager to bathe in the attention of his 
talented mouth.

She hummed a sound that was part pleasure, part nervous 
energy.  He felt so good, but she worried what would happen 
if she couldn't climax again, and the worry made it hard to 
let go.

Through glazed eyes, she looked down and saw her erect 
nipples, swollen and darkened from his earlier attention.  
She saw his tan hands on her white thighs, holding her open 
for his busy mouth.  His hair, uncombed, tickled the tender 
skin of her upper thighs.  He licked and licked until she 
thought she was going to die.

Eating me, she thought dazedly, like a cookie.

He found a spot on the left side that made her gasp.  Her 
hips jerked but her held her in place.  Scully uttered a 
strangled sound of frustration as Mulder licked even faster.  
She was so close, so close, but couldn't quite make it.

She turned her cheek against the pillow, her eyes shut, her 
mouth locked in a perfect "O" as orgasm continued to hover 
just out of reach.

I need... I need... she thought, but did not know how to 
complete the sentence. 

She was about to drag him up her body when his hand crept up 
to find hers.  He took it gently, interweaving their fingers 
as if they were holding hands at the movies instead of making 
love in his bed; it was a gesture they had shared a dozen 
times before, however briefly, and this small but powerful 
reminder of their shared history did the trick.

This was Mulder licking her, getting her off.  Loving her.

She cried out once as orgasm hit and then shook for what 
seemed like an eternity.  Only when it was over and she was 
trembling weakly in Mulder's arms did she realize how much 
she had needed the release.

He petted and soothed her, murmuring words she barely 
comprehended near her ear.  If he made some crack about 
batting averages now, she thought she might kill him.  But 
when she pushed the hair out of her eyes to look at him, he 
appeared as awed and humbled by the experience as she was.

"Wow, Scully," he said, smiling at her as he helped smooth 
her hair.  "Can we do that again?"

She laughed softly and rested her forehead against his 
breastbone.  "After I've had an IV transfusion, maybe."

"Will you settle for some coffee?  I've still got hot stuff 
in the kitchen."

And you're not too bad in the bedroom either, she thought, 
but kept the quip to herself.

Mulder pulled on a pair of boxers as she cast a glance at the 
floor in search of her clothes.  "We're ridiculously late for 
work," she said.  "I hope you have a good excuse prepared."

He stopped in the doorway.  "We don't have work.  Hell, we 
don't even have jobs right now.  Skinner called this morning 
while you were asleep and said not to bother coming in 
today."

"Today, or just don't bother coming back at all?"

He shrugged, looking less upset than she might have imagined.  
"Since we saw fit to contribute so robustly to the office 
barbecue, I imagine they'll use it as the perfect excuse to 
shut the X-files.  How are we supposed to work cases without 
any files?"

"We can build them up again."

He smiled at her and shook his head as if bemused.

"What?" she demanded with as much authority as one could 
muster while wearing only a sheet.

"I was just thinking... a few years ago you probably would 
have been glad to have the whole thing go up in flames.  You 
might have even lit the match."

"That's not fair," she said, rising from the pillows in 
protest, but Mulder waved her back down.

"Relax, Scully.  I just mean it's surprising how much has 
changed in five years."  He looked her over appraisingly.  
"We aren't the same people anymore, either of us."

She realized then that he must have been thinking back on 
their night in Arecibo, to memories she didn't have.  From 
the descriptions he had given her, it sounded like their 
relationship had gone up in flames back then.

*who started it*

*you did*

*you wouldn't even look at me afterwards*

*a few years ago you probably would have been glad to have 
the whole thing go up in flames.  You might have even lit the 
match*

"You're right," she said to him with effort.  "We're not the 
same."

It did not matter that she could not remember the past.  She 
wasn't that person anymore.

He smiled softly, apparently glad she understood, and ran his 
hand over the doorjamb.  "I'll get the coffee," he said.

She dressed while he was gone, surveying the damage in the 
mirror.  Her shirt was wrinkled from its night on the floor, 
and her hair poked out at six different angles.  She would 
need a shower and a change before she went anywhere, which 
meant returning to her place.

Mulder returned and set the fresh mug on the sink next to her 
as she tried to straighten her hair.  Their eyes met in the 
mirror.  

"Skinner also said that Diana is awake."  He seemed to choose 
his words carefully.  "She doesn't remember anything about 
the shooting."

"She'll be okay, then?"

"The doctors seem to think so."  He sipped from his mug and 
watched her reaction.

"Good."  She finished pinning her hair back and tucked away 
the remaining pins in her purse.

"I, uh, I thought I might go and see her today."

Scully touched his bare stomach as she passed him on her way 
to the bedroom.  "I think you should."

"You do?"

She stopped gathering her things and looked at him seriously.  
"She's your friend, Mulder, and she's had a serious injury.  
Of course you should go and see her."

He toed away a sneaker that was lying in front of him.  "She 
was more than a friend, once," he confessed.

"I know."

"You know?"

Her mouth curled in a smile.  "Byers told me," she said 
sweetly, and his jaw fell open in shock.  "Well, Byers and 
the other two.  They weren't sure why you and Diana split up, 
though."

"There's a limit to how much I'll kiss and tell."

Scully swallowed a last gulp of coffee and handed him the mug 
as she moved to leave.  "In that case," she said, stretching 
up on tiptoe to reach his mouth.  "I know you won't say a 
word about this."

She kissed him warmly and thoroughly before sliding back 
down.  He looked dazed with the half-empty coffee mugs 
sloshing in his hands. 

Scully brushed the lipstick smudge off the corner of his 
mouth with one finger. 

"See you later," she said, feeling satisfied that he was 
unable to summon a reply.

At long last, she thought, a way to shut him up.

~*~*~*~

Diana was still in intensive care but the doctors agreed to 
let Mulder talk with her for a few minutes.  "The bullet 
punctured her left lung," they explained.  "It's hard for her 
to breathe, let alone speak."

"I won't stay long," Mulder promised.

Diana had a private room with a guard posted outside the 
door, just in case the shooter decided to try again.  Mulder 
showed his ID and entered quietly.  She turned her head 
immediately, summoning a smile as he shut the door behind 
him.

He could see a bandage sticking out from the wide collar of 
her gown, and she was hooked up to some sort of monitor as 
well as an IV.  "Hi," he said as he took her hand.  "They say 
you're doing much better."

She nodded, her dark eyes tired and dull.  "Sorry," she 
whispered, "about the boy."

"Don't worry about that.  We'll find him."

"It's my fault.  I should have seen the shooter."

"We should have given you more protection."

She smiled as if she didn't believe him.  "Too kind."

"You just concentrate on getting better, okay?"  He patted 
her hand.  "Let us worry about the rest of it."

"Us," she repeated hoarsely.  "You mean you and Scully."

He did not want to get into the fire and the state of the X-
Files with her, not in an ICU ward.  "Scully says hi.  She 
wants you to get well too."

Diana narrowed her eyes at him and she shook her head on the 
pillow.  "She was sent to spy on you, to shut you down."

"What makes you think that?"

An unreadable expression flashed across her face and she 
seemed momentarily agitated, her hand twisting free from his.  
"Because they asked me first."

The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he risked a 
glance at the door.  "What do you mean they asked you first?"

"Just what I told you.  I refused, of course.  I would never 
do that to you.  It was my work too.  But they wanted a 
woman, someone who wouldn't arouse your suspicions.  I got 
the feeling seduction was optional."

"Why are you telling me this now?  Why didn't you tell me 
years ago if you were so concerned?"

She blinked rapidly.  "Because," she said, "I didn't think it 
would ever work.  If you would never let me near the X-Files, 
how was she supposed to earn your trust?  I didn't think you 
would even give her the opportunity."

"I didn't have a choice.  It was the only way they would let 
me keep the X-files.  But you're wrong about Scully."

"Am I?  Are you really so sure?"

He was somewhat surprised to find the answer was yes.  He 
really was a changed person from five years ago.  "Whatever 
they may have sent her to be, it doesn't matter.  Scully is 
incapable of being anything other than herself.  I can 
promise you the men upstairs are every bit as disappointed in 
her as they are in me."

"And the seduction?" she asked, her voice raw.  "Still 
optional?"

Mulder looked down for a long minute, contemplating a biting 
answer.  Instead, he just patted her leg as he rose to leave.  
"Get well soon, Diana."

~*~*~*~*~

Back at home, Scully laid out thick towels for her shower and 
a new set of clothes.  She changed into her robe, but before 
stepping under the spray, she made one phone call.

"Detective Franklin," said the man on the other end.

"Detective Franklin, this is Agent Dana Scully.  Do you 
remember me?"

She heard the sound of his chair creaking.  "I tend not to 
forget people who come into my workplace and accuse me of 
shirking my duty."

"Yes, well, you still have the wrong man behind bars.  What 
does that tell you?"

"What would you say if I told you I was starting to agree 
with that assessment?"

Scully gripped the phone tighter.  "Really?  You agree?"

His voice lowered and she heard other phones ringing in the 
background.  "They never could find that witness, the 
neighbor who supposedly heard Melinda McKenn screaming early 
in the morning.  I canvassed that building myself -- twice.  
Not only did no one call, nobody remembered hearing anything 
from Minette's apartment that night.  And another thing... 
the ME put time of death shortly after one AM.  Now, I know 
that these estimates can be off somewhat, but I can't help 
but wonder how a dead woman was screaming bloody murder."

Thank god, Scully thought, sagging in relief.  Finally 
someone in a position of power who was prepared to believe 
them. "And?"

"And what?  I asked these questions in a meeting six weeks 
ago and suddenly I got assigned a new case."

"I don't understand.  Why do they want to frame Ethan for 
these murders?"

"I think they'd be happy framing my dog at this point.  
Anything to get the story off the front pages."

"So that's it?  You're content to let an innocent man get 
railroaded for murders he did not commit?"

"Hey, I can't prove he didn't do it.  For all I know, he did 
do it and we just have the timeline wrong.  All I know is the 
story that is being scripted here has some big holes, and no 
one seems to want to fill them in."

"I may have a way to get some answers, if you're interested."

"I'm interested."

"You have access to Melinda McKenn's notes on Rachel 
Campenella's death.  I need to know if the name Katherine -- 
or Kitty -- Hill is included in those notes anywhere."

"Doesn't ring a bell, but it's been a while since I've looked 
through those notes.  I don't have them anymore, obviously, 
but I might have a way to get a look at them.  Who is this 
Katherine Hill?"

"She's a possible link between Melinda McKenn and Rachel 
Campenella, and she's missing." 

He gave a low whistle.  "You think we're looking for another 
body?"

"I hope not.  How soon do you think you can have an answer 
for me about the notes?"

"Give me two hours at least.  I'll call you when I've got 
something."

Scully ducked under the hot shower spray, closing her eyes as 
the water relaxed away pleasant aches from muscles she had 
not used in a long time.  Once clean and changed, she powered 
up her laptop to do a little investigating into Katherine 
Hill.

Graduated from Columbia with honors and then moved to D.C. to 
sign on with the Brigham House as a junior staff member.  
There was no hint of trouble in her past, not even a parking 
ticket.

Scully did a little more digging and found Katherine Hill's 
parents living in Maryland.  Perhaps Kitty had gone home to 
mom and dad?  Scully left Mulder a voicemail message that she 
was driving to Baltimore to check it out.

She found Peter and Penny Hill living in a large house 
outside the city, with a lush green lawn and fresh white 
shutters.  Large potted urns filled with cheery red geraniums 
flanked the front stairs.  It did not look like a house that 
knew trouble.

Scully lifted the brass knocker and rapped several times.  A 
few minutes later, the door opened to reveal a tall, trim 
woman who looked to be in her late forties.  She wore a 
tailored blouse and round glasses that showed off her owl-
like eyes.  "Yes?  Can I help you?"

"My name is Dana Scully and I work at the FBI."  Scully 
showed her identification and the woman's expression became 
more guarded.  "Are you Penelope Hill?"

"Yes, I am.  Is there something wrong?"

"I'd just like to talk with you for a few minutes.  May I 
come in?"

The woman looked over her shoulder once.  "Now is not really 
a good time.  What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"It's about your daughter, Katherine.  You're sure you can't 
make time?"

"What do you want with Katherine?"

Scully looked pointedly inside the house.  "I can explain 
everything inside."

Reluctantly, Penny Hill widened the door and let Scully into 
the entryway.  There was a red and gold oriental rug covering 
the marble floor, and a sweeping staircase running up the 
back wall.  Scully looked up at the leaded-glass chandelier.  
"You have a lovely home," she said as she looked about for 
any trace of Katherine.

"Thank you.  If you'll just follow me to the sitting room..."

The sitting room boasted a large fireplace and expensive 
furniture.  On one wall, there was a framed portrait of 
Katherine as a teenager.  "We had that painted for her high 
school graduation," Mrs. Hill explained when she caught 
Scully looking at it.

"She's very beautiful."

"Yes, she is.  Now if you please tell me what interest the 
FBI has in my daughter..."

"We tried to reach her at her address in D.C., but her 
roommate told us she had left quite suddenly without giving 
any forwarding information.  Were you aware of this?"

"Yes, Katherine decided she needed a change of scenery."

"All in one weekend?"

Mrs. Hill frowned.  "Why did you want to speak to Katherine?"

"We wanted to ask her about Rachel Campenella," Scully said, 
watching closely for any reaction.

The woman froze momentarily but recovered with ease.  "Who?"

"You must have seen the papers.  She's the Congressional aide 
who was murdered last year."

"Oh, yes, now that you mention it, her name is familiar.  But 
I don't see what Katherine has to do with any of this."

"Rachel worked for Senator Ryerson.  I understand Katherine 
used to date Ryerson's younger son, Seth."

"That was years and years ago.  I'm quite sure Kitty hasn't 
spoken to Seth since high school."

"Why did they break up?  Do you know?"

Mrs. Hill gave an awkward shrug.  "Who knows why teenagers do 
anything?  The bloom was off the rose, I suppose.  They were 
young.  No one expected it to last forever.  I don't see how 
a high school romance of my daughter's would be of any 
interest to the FBI."

"There are rumors she got pregnant," Scully said quietly, and 
the other woman blanched.

"I don't deal in rumors."

"Did she have a baby?  Seth's baby?"

"I don't think I want to continue this conversation," replied 
Mrs. Hill as she stood up.  "I think you should leave now."

"You sent Kitty away that year."  Scully pressed on even as 
she rose to go.  "Was it to hide the baby?"

"Please leave.  I--I can't help you."

"Can't or won't?"

Mrs. Hill was visibly upset as she wrenched open the heavy 
front door.  "Just leave us alone.  Please."

"Where is Kitty now, Mrs. Hill?  Is she here?"

"She's traveling in Europe with friends."

A lie, Scully could tell immediately.

"There is some possibility she could be in danger," she told 
the woman gently.  "We really should talk with her."

"Katherine is just fine.  I'll thank you not to bother us 
again on this matter."  With that, she shut the door in 
Scully's face.

Scully walked slowly back down the brick path.  None of this 
really made sense to her.  The family clearly treasured 
Katherine; it did not seem likely that they would send her 
away because she got pregnant in high school.

Maybe they thought she would ruin her future, Scully mused, 
but she couldn't imagine Mrs. Hill sending a grandchild away 
for someone else to raise.

Scully started her car but did not travel far.  She parked it 
again at the end of the street, out of the view of the Hill 
House, but near the mouth of the cul-de-sac road.  The Hills 
could not leave without passing her.

She opened a bottle of water and settled back to watch when 
her cell phone rang.  It was Detective Franklin.

"Katherine Eileen Hill," he said and rattled off an address.  

"Yeah, we've been there," answered Scully.  "Katherine left 
months ago."

"Well, that's how she was listed in Melinda's notes."

"Anything else besides her name?"

"Not that I saw.  You want to tell me what's going on here?"

"As soon as I know myself.  Thanks for checking."

A few minutes later, Scully nearly choked on her water as a 
dark blue Mercedes sedan flew past her with Penny Hill at the 
wheel.  Scully slipped the water into her cup holder and 
fired up her engine in pursuit.

She tailed the woman at a good distance, figuring Mrs. Hill 
might expect her to be following.  Wherever the woman was 
going, she was in a hurry.  They did at least ten miles over 
the speed limit the entire trip.

Eventually, Mrs. Hill came to a stop clear across the other 
side of the city, in front of a small, boxy house with a 
chain-link fence around it.  Scully watched as she opened the 
gate and rushed up the front walkway.  Mrs. Hill opened the 
door with her own key and disappeared inside.

Scully observed the car in the driveway: a red Toyota 
Corolla. 

She picked up her phone and called Mulder.  "I think I may 
have found Kitty Hill," she said, and gave him the address.

"I'm on my way," he replied.

Peter Hill beat Mulder to the meeting.  Scully sunk low in 
her car seat as he parked behind her and went jogging toward 
the house.  The gang's all here, she thought, wondering what 
was going on inside.  If she had to guess, she would bet that 
they were planning on moving Katherine again, possibly 
arranging for her to make that European tour.

She checked the clock on the dash and mentally urged Mulder 
to hurry.  She wasn't sure what she could do if the Hills 
decided to leave before he got there.

Finally, she saw his car pull up on the other side of the 
road.  He got out and joined her inside her car.  "Rush hour 
traffic is a bitch," he said, eyeing the house.  "What's 
going on?"

"Don't know.  Mr. and Mrs. Hill are both in there, and I 
expect Katherine is as well.  That's her car in the drive."

"So we... what, go up and knock?"

Scully recalled her chilly reception at the Hill house.  
"They aren't likely to just hand her over to us."

"And we can't make them.  She's not charged with anything.  
She's not even a witness that we know of."  He looked at her.  
"You want to know something interesting?  I did a little 
checking on my way down.  Turns out Seth Ryerson is on leave 
from Princeton this year."

"He was set to graduate."

"Not anymore.  They wouldn't tell me the reason he left."

"Did they tell you the time?"

"He left for Christmas break and never returned."

"We need to talk to Katherine," Scully said as she opened her 
car door.  "We'll just have to make them understand."

Mulder followed her the front door and poked the bell.  She 
heard footsteps on the other side but no one immediately 
answered.  At length, a man's voice called through the door: 
"What do you want?"

"FBI," Mulder said, and held his ID up to the peephole. "We 
need to talk to Katherine."

"She's not here."

"We have reason to believe she is," Scully called back.  "Her 
car is in the driveway."

"We can get a warrant," Mulder said, "but it would be easier 
if you'd just let us in."

Scully looked at him, hoping the man wouldn't call their 
bluff.  After a long wait and some muffled conversation, the 
man opened the door.  He had thinning gray hair and a neat 
beard.  "Come in, then, if you must," he said.  

He led them into a cramped living room, where Mrs. Hill and 
Katherine sat holding hands on an overstuffed pink sofa.  
"Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?" asked Mrs. Hill.  
She stroked her daughter's dark hair.  "Haven't we been 
through enough?"

"Tell us," Scully said.  "What happened with Seth Ryerson 
back in high school?"

Katherine raised her eyes and Scully noted the girl had not 
been crying.  "Everyone thought Seth was so wonderful," she 
said.  "Connor was the bad boy, the one who was in trouble 
all the time.  Seth got good grades and was polite to his 
teachers.  He was confident -- fullback on the soccer team, 
captain of the debate squad.  Everyone knew he was going 
places.  All the girls in school wanted him, and he wanted 
me."

"Go on," her father said, his jaw clenched.  "Tell them."

"He was sweet at first, the same boy I knew in school.  He 
planned grown-up dates to the symphony when other kids I knew 
went out to the video arcade.  But it seemed like the more 
time I spent with him, the more time he wanted from me.  He 
was jealous of my friends, even my family."

"We told her to stop seeing him," Mr. Hill said tightly.  
"She was too young to be tied down like that."

"Did you stop seeing him?" Scully asked.

"I tried.  I told him I wanted us to take a break, maybe date 
other people.  He accused me of sleeping around on him and 
said I was trying to humiliate him in front of the whole 
school.  We had an awful fight."

"Did he hit you?" Scully asked.

"Not--not then."  She swallowed.  "This is the part I'm not 
supposed to talk about."

Her father gave a short nod.  "Go ahead and tell them."

"Daddy, the money."

"We'll it give back!  We'll give it all back.  Just tell them 
what he did to you."

Katherine paled and took an unsteady breath.  "He came over 
after school a few days later when I was the only one home.  
He was acting all nice about everything and said he 
understood why I had wanted to break up with him.  He said he 
wanted to be friends.  I let him inside and went to get us 
some Cokes.  He... he followed me to the kitchen."

Her mother gripped her daughter's hands tightly, her head 
bowed.

Katherine continued: "I was opening the refrigerator when I 
felt him behind me.  He had a knife.  He made me lie down on 
the kitchen floor and he took my pants off.  His face was so 
angry, I thought he was going to kill me.  He--he raped me.  
The knife cut my neck.  I remember he seemed to like that 
part, like the blood made him more excited.  Afterward, he 
let me up and let me put my clothes back on.  I was shaking 
so badly I could barely button my pants.  He acted like 
nothing had happened.  He washed off the knife, kissed me 
good-bye and said he would see me around school the next day.  
He even took the Coke with him."

"By the time we got home," her mother said, "Kitty had 
showered a dozen times and burned her clothes in the 
fireplace."

"I didn't want to go to the police," said Kitty.  "I just 
wanted to sleep."

"We didn't know what to do," Mr. Hill said.  "I wanted to go 
over there and kill the little SOB."

"You did go over there, didn't you?" Mulder guessed.  "You 
told Senator Ryerson what happened."

"Actually the Senator wasn't home at the time.  I told his 
wife.  She begged me not to go to the police, said that her 
son was sick and they would get him help.  She didn't seem 
surprised by what I was telling her."

"She offered you money," Mulder said.

Mr. Hill nodded.  "A million dollars.  I didn't want to take 
it at first, but Penny said we should think about it."

"I was thinking of Kitty," Mrs. Hill protested.  "A trial 
would have been ugly and public, and what evidence did we 
have?  It was her word against that of a Ryerson boy -- the 
good Ryerson boy, the one everyone adored." 

"I signed a contract," Katherine said, "promising I would 
never talk to anyone about the Ryerson family again, and then 
I went to finish school out in California."

"But you did tell someone what happened, didn't you?" Scully 
asked.  "Maybe Rachel Campenella at the Brigham House?"

"No, I never told her.  I never told anyone what happened."

"But you did say something."

Katherine hugged herself with slim arms.  "I didn't even want 
to be there that night, knowing the Senator was going to be 
speaking, but the staff needed me.  I couldn't say no.  Turns 
out I was worried for nothing.  Ryerson didn't even recognize 
me.  He talked about how every woman should have a right to 
feel safe in her home.  I had to leave and go to the bathroom 
or I thought I might just start screaming.  Rachel was 
there."

She broke off, hesitant.  "Later, when I saw she had been 
stabbed to death, I thought about Seth and what he'd done to 
me.  But I couldn't believe it.  I told myself it was just a 
horrible coincidence."

"What did you say to Rachel that night?" Scully asked.

"I just said I couldn't believe she swallowed all his B.S. 
about women's rights.  I said it would make me sick to work 
for a man like him."

"And did she answer?"

"She wanted to know why I thought it was B.S.  I said she 
would surely find out for herself in time."

"That's it?"

"That's it.  I didn't think it would matter.  It's not like I 
said a word about what had happened between me and Seth, but 
I guess she must have found out somehow.  At least she 
started asking questions."

"How do you know?" Mulder asked.

"Because he found me.  He came to my apartment one night and 
started pounding on my door.  I hid in the closet and 
pretended I wasn't home, and finally he went away."

Her mother smoothed her hair back.  "She left that night."

"What about Melinda McKenn?  Did you ever speak with her?" 
Scully inquired.

"She called my apartment but I never got the chance to call 
her back.  My roommate took the message.  I was long gone by 
then."

"Why didn't any of you ever contact the police through all 
this?" Mulder asked.

"With what?" Mr. Hill replied.  "We have no proof of anything 
at all."

"Well that's one area in which we might be able to help you," 
Mulder told him.  "Leave the proof to us."

Later, as they left, Scully asked Mulder, "Are you thinking 
what I'm thinking?"

"That the black eye Mrs. Ryerson sustained back in Illinois 
might have been courtesy of her son and not her husband?"

"If it was Seth, they're never going to give him up.  They've 
been protecting him for years."

"If I'm right, they might not have a choice."

"Right about what?"  She stopped at her car and looked up at 
him.  "Mulder, do you really have some sort of proof?"

"That anonymous 9-1-1 call the morning of Melinda's murder.  
It's only anonymous if you don't have a suspect to match it 
to."

She reached up and grabbed both sides of his face.  "Mulder, 
you're a genius," she said, before pecking him on the lips.

"You know, Scully, I'm really liking this new turn in our 
relationship," he said, but she was already getting into her 
car.

~*~*~

Detective Franklin was preparing to go off-duty when they 
arrived at the station.  "We think we may have a new suspect 
for you," Scully told him, "but we need to listen to the 9-1-
1 call from Melinda's murder."

"I don't know that I can get back into the evidence twice in 
one day," Franklin replied.  "What's up?"

"We have reason to believe that Seth Ryerson may have made 
the call," said Mulder.

Franklin's eyebrows rose.  "The Senator's kid?  That's a big 
fish you're trying to fry.  But if you're expecting to hear 
him on the tape, I can tell you right now you're going to be 
disappointed."

Scully's hopes fell.  "Are you sure?"

"Pretty damn sure.  It was a woman who made the call."

Scully looked at Mulder and knew he was having the same 
thought: Julianne Ryerson had lied for years to protect her 
boy from rape and assault charges.  What was a little murder 
thrown into the mix?

"We need to listen to that tape," Scully said.  "And fast."

~*~*~

Night fell before they reached the Ryerson mansion in D.C..  
The street was quiet and the only sound was Scully's heels 
against the pavement as they walked up the lighted path.  
Mulder knocked and a housekeeper answered.

"We need to speak to Julianne Ryerson," Mulder said as they 
showed their identification.

"I'll see if she's in," the woman replied, preparing to close 
the door, but Mulder stopped her with the flat of his hand.

"We'll check with you," he told her.

She looked pained and uncertain.  "You must wait here..."

"Nanette?  Who's at the door at this hour?" Senator Ryerson's 
voice boomed through the front hall.  He scowled when he saw 
it was them.

"I thought I told you to leave my family the hell alone."

"That's just not going to be possible anymore, sir," Mulder 
answered.  He waved an audio cassette tape at the man.  
"We've got your wife's greatest hits here, and I think you'll 
want to hear them."

Just then, the lady in question appeared. "Christopher? What 
is going on?"

"Stay out of this, Julianne.  Go back to the table."

"Too late for that too," Scully said.

"What are they doing here?" Julianne asked her husband.  "I 
thought you said they weren't going to be of any more 
trouble."

"The trouble's just starting," Mulder told her.  "We're just 
the messengers."

"We don't have to let them in," Julianne said.  "Let's just 
go back to dinner."

"They have a tape," he muttered at her.

"So they have a tape.  So what?"

"It's a 9-1-1 call from the morning of Melinda McKenn's 
murder," Scully supplied.  "The police haven't been able to 
identify the caller who claimed to be a neighbor."

"We were hoping you could help us," Mulder added.

"I'm quite sure we don't know anything," the Senator said, 
but his wife had gone deathly pale.

"How about your wife?" asked Scully.  "Maybe she can identify 
the voice."

"Make them go away," Julianne urged, her hand on her 
husband's arm.  "We don't have to take this."

"If we listen to this tape of yours, will you go away?" 
Ryerson asked.

"Chris, no--"

"Of course," Mulder agreed, already pushing his way into the 
house.  "We'll leave immediately if you don't know the 
voice."

"Chris, I really don't think this is a good idea."  
Julianne's shrill voice echoed off the high ceiling.

"Mom?"  Seth stuck his head into the hall.

"Seth, get back now!" she yelled at him.

"He might want to hear this too," Mulder said.

"He's not hearing anything," Ryerson said.  "Seth, do as your 
mother says."

Scully watched the young man disappear behind the double 
doors and wondered if he knew his time was running short.

"I have a tape player that I use for dictation in my office," 
Ryerson was saying.  "Come this way."

They all gathered around his desk, Ryerson looking annoyed, 
his wife looking ill.  Mulder handed over the cassette for 
the Senator to play.

After a second or two of static, the emergency operator's 
voice filled the room.  "Nine-one-one, what is your 
emergency?"

"A woman is screaming in my building," came a woman's voice.  
Ryerson whipped his head around to stare at his wife.  The 
tape continued: "It sounds like someone is hurting her very 
badly.  Please, send someone fast."

"What is your address, ma'am?"

The woman on the tape gave Ethan's address and then hung up.

Ryerson clicked off the machine.  "That could be anybody," he 
said.  "So what?"

"Voice print analysis is ongoing as we speak," Scully said.  
"Results will show your wife made that call."

"Cops are already watching the house," Mulder told them.  "So 
don't even think of running.  That won't look good in court."

"I want you out of here," Ryerson ordered.  "Now!"

Julianne had started weeping softly.

"Melinda McKenn had been dead for several hours by the time 
of that call," said Mulder.  "Our best guess is that Seth is 
the killer and mom here helped him clean up the mess.  But I 
suppose we could argue you did the murder yourself, Mrs. 
Ryerson.  First Rachel Campenella, then Melinda McKenn -- 
they were asking questions you didn't want answered."

"Out!" Ryerson repeated.  

Mulder and Scully started walking to the door.  "Someone 
moved Melinda's body to help frame Ethan Minette," Scully 
said.  "Was that you again, Mrs. Ryerson?  Did you help your 
son take a butchered woman back into the apartment?"

Ryerson flung open the door to expel them, but now there were 
six cruisers with lights flashing in his driveway.

"You can keep the tape," Mulder told him, clapping him on the 
arm.  "We've got copies."

~*~*~

Three weeks later, Scully and Mulder stood with Ethan at 
Melinda's grave on a breezy summer day.  Ethan held a bouquet 
of peach roses, the wind playing with his hair as he looked 
down at the stone marker.  "I wish I could have been there 
for the funeral," he said.  "I wish I'd had a chance to say 
good-bye."

Scully touched his arm in silent sympathy.

"I can't believe she's really under there," he whispered.  
"It's so quiet here.  Melinda was *never* quiet."  His 
shoulders, thinner now after seven months in jail, rose and 
fell in the confines of his suit.  

He stepped forward and knelt in front of the grave.  "I'm so 
sorry, sweetie," he said, stroking the stone.  He laid the 
flowers down.  "I miss you more than you could ever know."

He took a deep breath and pushed to his feet again.  "I know 
I've told you guys thank you already, but I don't think I can 
say it enough."

"Seeing you free again is all the thanks we need," Scully 
said.  Mulder squinted in the sun and nodded.

"The station asked if I want to cover the trials, Julianne's 
and Seth's.  I said no thanks."

"No?"

He shook his head and scuffed his shoe against the grass.  
"Having to sit there in the courtroom and listen while they 
talk about how he followed her out of my apartment, with my 
knife, and knowing I had a chance to stop it... I can't talk 
about that on television.  Not now, maybe not ever."

"They can't blame you for that."

"No.  To be truthful, the whole situation is kind of awkward.  
I was gone so long they had to hire someone to replace me, so 
my job isn't even really available.  But I'm a big story, so 
they don't want to let me go either."

"What are you going to do?" Scully asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I might just look elsewhere.  I don't know 
that I can work there without Melinda.  Too many memories, 
you know?"

"Yeah," she said softly, and reached for him. 

He enveloped her in a strong hug.  "Thank you," he whispered 
by her ear.  "For everything."

She nodded, too emotional to say anything.  As he lowered her 
back to her feet again, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve.  
Ethan shook Mulder's hand.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to make us even," Ethan 
said, "but maybe this is a start."  He pulled out an envelope 
from the inside of his coat pocket and handed it to Mulder.  
"Dana said you'd understand the meaning."

Scully watched as Mulder pulled out two open-ended tickets to 
Puerto Rico.  He smiled at her.  "Yeah, I understand."

"Good.  Dana tells me you two have some unwanted vacation 
time."

"Until they figure out exactly what to do with us, yeah."

"No more ghosts and aliens?"

Mulder slung an arm around her shoulder.  "Nope, we're just 
your garden variety fibbies now."

Ethan shook his head.  "If there is anything I can do to help 
you get your jobs back, let me know.  I can't do much, but I 
might be able to rustle you up some media attention."

"We might just take you up on that one day," Mulder said.  

They shook hands again and Ethan left.  Mulder still had his 
arm around Scully as he checked out the airplane tickets.  
"Puerto Rico, huh?"

"I figured this time we could skip the men with guns and just 
go for the food and the wildlife."

"I feel I must warn you," he said as they started walking for 
the exit.  "The jungle brings out the primal instincts in me, 
Scully."

She shivered.  "Primal?"

"Totally animal."

"And just what does that me--" She broke off in a yelp as his 
teeth found her neck.  "Mulder, you're crazy."

"How soon can we leave?"

"How soon can you pack?"

He started running for the car, daring her to catch up.  She 
arrived breathless and laughing and he already had the engine 
running.

By sunset, they were on a plane out of town.

~*~*~*~*~

End.

That's all there is; there ain't no more.

Thanks VERY much to Amanda for all her help with this story.
Any remaining mistakes are mine alone.

As ever, if you made it to the end, I'd love to know what you 
thought: syn_tax6@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading!

Cheers, syn