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Chapter Eight

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Jake wasn't sure if the hospital had visiting hours because 
such restrictions did not apply to him.  He had long ago 
discovered the loose basement window by the staff parking 
lot.  It was no big thing to pry it all the way open with his 
switchblade and lower himself inside.  

The room was some sort of storage for useless or broken 
hospital equipment -- spare parts, he guessed.  There was a 
wheel chair with a busted footrest, a few tangled IV poles 
and a bunch of old monitors that he had no idea what they 
did.  Keyboards, binders, an ancient Mac IIe -- he had pawed 
through most of the junk by now and declared it useless.  
Though on one occasion, he had taken the wheelchair for a 
little spin down the hallway.

This night, however, he bypassed it all and skulked along the 
dim hall, past the boiler room, past the service elevator 
until he reached the emergency staircase.  He jogged up five 
flights until he reached the appropriate floor and then poked 
his head out for the all clear.  The hallway was lit because 
it was always lit, even after eleven at night on a Wednesday.  
But no one was around.

He slipped from the stairwell and tiptoed three doors down, 
where he cracked the door to peer inside.  From the darkness, 
he heard, "I'm awake."

He let the door slide closed behind him as his eyes adjusted 
to the dark.  "Hey," he said, "how are you doing?"

"Okay."  She struggled to sit up for him, and he moved to 
join her on the bed.  "I haven't seen you for a few days.  
You know, they would let you come in through the front door."

He elbowed her.  "Where's the fun in that?"

"Mom's worried about you."

He shook his head, toying with the edge of her blanket.  "I'm 
all right.  She just worries too much."

"I'm worried about you too," she said, taking his hand.  He 
could feel every one of her bones.  "You don't look good."

"This from a girl in the hospital.  I'm fine."

"Mom says you don't even talk to her anymore."

"Kayla, I said I'm fine.  Leave it alone, okay?"

She settled back onto the pillows, her bald head making a 
shadowed dent in the white cotton.  "Fine, forget I even 
asked."

"I didn't come here to argue with you."

"Why did you come?"

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and felt the smooth 
edge of his switchblade.  "I couldn't sleep."

"Me either.  I don't think I'll ever get used to sleeping in 
here, the way you can hear people walking in the halls at all 
hours of the night.  I can't get them to leave the curtain 
open, either.  Mom says it makes a draft."

"Here, I'll get it."  He jumped up from the bed and went to 
the window, where he drew back the heavy beige curtain.  
White light from the street lamps streamed into the room, 
illuminating her pale face.

"I can see the snow," she said.

So he left it open and returned to the bed with her.  She 
patted the space next to her hip, and he reluctantly shifted 
so they were shoulder-to-shoulder.  She snuggled into his 
arm, her gaze still on the window.

"Let's pretend we're inside a snow globe," she said.

They used to pretend all sorts of things when they were 
little.  They pretended the dog was a man-eating lion escaped 
from the zoo.  They pretended their couch was a pirate ship, 
sailing the seven seas in search of fresh bounty.  After 
their father died, they used to pretend he was watching from 
heaven.

Kayla still pretended.  Jake knew better now.

For years, they'd had a pretend sibling whose name began with 
"L." It was a game they had started before kindergarten, when 
Jake was learning his letters for the first time and he had 
shown her on the fridge.

"This is for me," he'd said, showing her a purple "J."  "I'm 
Jake and my name begins with J.  You're K for Kayla.  See?  
We're right next to each other in the alphabet."

Kayla, eighteen months younger, had not really grasped the 
concept of letters yet, but she was pleased to find out that 
they were together.  "Together!" she had echoed, helping him 
push the magnets so close that they'd touched.

"Next is L," Jake had said.  "Mom and Dad need to have 
another baby and name it something L."

"L," she had repeated.  "L-L-L-L! Lollipop?"

"You can't name a baby Lollipop.  How about Larry?"

"Larry!"

The name had changed off and on over the years, but the joke 
always remained the same:  Hey, mom, can we put out an extra 
stocking for Laurel?  I was going to take out the trash, but 
Lonny said he'd do it!

Eventually the L came along, all right, but it wasn't Larry 
or Lauren or Lisa.  It was leukemia.

Kayla leaned her head against his shoulder and he could feel 
she was getting tired.  "Tell me about school," she murmured 
wistfully. 

"What's to tell?  It sucks.  They make you sit there all day 
in uncomfortable chairs, the heating never works right, and 
the teachers talk about stuff you'll never need to know."

"Okay, then tell me something else."

"Like what?"

"Tell me a story, like you used to."

He shifted, looking away from her.  "I don't know any 
stories."

"Yes, you do.  Tell me that poem again, the one from Alice 
and Wonderland."

The Jabberwocky.  He'd used to scare her with it back when 
they were kids.  "I don't know if I remember it," he said 
with a sigh.

"Try and see."  She settled in, her eyes slipping closed.

He tucked the covers up over her shoulder. "Twas brillig, and 
the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe," he 
whispered, and the ends of her mouth curled up in a smile. 
"All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws 
that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious 
Bandersnatch!

"He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe 
he sought -- So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood 
awhile in thought.

"And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with 
eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And 
burbled as it came!

"One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade 
went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He 
went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my 
beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' He chortled in 
his joy."

Kayla did not stir as he finished, so he eased away from her 
and went back out the way he'd come, through the fiery belly 
of the building with images of a monster still dancing 
through his head.


///////


Mulder was too keyed up to sleep so he went to Mallory's bar 
instead of the hotel.  His cheeks tingled from the cold, and 
he paused at the door to remove his gloves.  The freezing 
temperatures and light snow had kept most customers away.  
SportsCenter played on the TVs as the barkeeper restocked the 
rows of glasses over his head.  Mulder hung his coat along 
the row of wooden pegs and froze as he recognized a 
particular long black wool coat with gold buttons.  Diana.

He turned around slowly and spotted her at the bar.  She 
appeared to be the only woman in the place, and he didn't 
know any of the half-dozen other patrons.  He suppressed a 
sigh and went to join her.

"Fox," she said, leaning back in welcome.  She had what 
looked like the remains of a scotch on the rocks on a napkin 
in front of her.  "This is a surprise."

"You know me.  I aim to keep people guessing."

The bartender threw a towel over his shoulder and asked 
Mulder what he wanted to drink.  "I'll have what she's 
having," he said, with a nod in Diana's direction.  "And 
another one for the lady, please.  On me."

"Yes, sir. Coming right up."

Diana brushed her hair back with a sweeping motion.  "I 
enjoyed your little show today."

"Hmm?  Oh, yeah, the press conference.  I guess we have to 
hope the killer buys it."

"Not that show.  The one with Scully."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please, that extended mating dance you put on for us 
today?  I wanted to stand up and applaud."  She accepted the 
fresh drink from the bartender and took a sip.  "Actually, I 
should applaud.  It's a brilliant move, trying to lure him 
out by pretending you're in a relationship with her."

"How do you know it's pretending?"  The liquor went down warm 
and smooth.  He curled his fingers around the glass and 
stared at the amber liquid.

Diana laughed a bit, and he glanced at her.  The lines around 
her eyes crinkled now when she smiled; perhaps she was 
vulnerable to the effects of time as much as the rest of 
them.

"Well?" he demanded, and she shook her head in an amused 
gesture.

"I could go on about how I've seen the two of you interact 
for months now, and how I find it incredible that you would 
suddenly be acting like lovebirds in front everyone in the 
midst of a serial murder investigation.  But that's not 
really it.  I do have to give you both credit, though, for 
being reasonably convincing.  I think Ray and the Chief both 
bought it hook, line and sinker."

"But not you."

"I know you, Fox.  Once burned, twice shy.  Very shy, if your 
recent romantic past is any evidence."

"What do you know about my romantic past?"

She hid a smile with the glass.  "The Bureau is one big water 
cooler," she said at last.  "You know that better than 
anyone.  You must have heard the buzzing we generated upon my 
return."

Actually, he had long ago tuned out the buzz. "Is that what 
the water cooler is saying?  I'm still pining away for you 
and that's why I haven't been involved with anyone?"

She gave a little shrug and her hair fell forward again, 
obscuring part of her face.  "It's just idle talk."

"You missed most of the talk when you left," he said before 
taking another swallow.  "You went to Europe and I'm the one 
who got stuck with the prying eyes."

"And that still makes you angry."

"No."  He set the glass on the bar.  "To tell you the truth, 
I don't much feel anything about it anymore."

She looked him over searchingly and then gave an odd smile.  
"You were always a quick learner, Fox, and I figure that our 
history would have been a powerful lesson.  I couldn't 
imagine you trying to mix sex and FBI politics again."

"Meaning I wouldn't sleep with my partner."

"You said it.  I didn't."

Mulder rubbed his temples with one hand.  In way, perhaps she 
was right.  That first case with Scully, when she had come to 
his room half-naked and the thrown herself against him, that 
night he had picked partner over sex.  And he had been 
picking partner ever since.  Maybe Scully sensed that 
ambivalence? Maybe this was why she always found a way not to 
hear him when he tried to make his feelings clear.

"Still," Diana said, "it was great while it lasted, wasn't 
it?  You and me?"

He raised his head.  "It was so long ago, it's hard to 
remember."

"Fox." She swiveled her stool to face him.  "Come on now," 
she said as she reached out to touch his tie.  "We both know 
you have a terrific memory."

He looked down at her long fingers as they stroked over his 
tie.  "So which is it, Diana?  Are you after sex or a 
partnership this time?"  She met his eyes.  "You're so sure I 
won't do both."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, and she dropped his 
tie.  "You know very well I've put in for the X-files 
position."

"Then maybe you'd better keep your hands to yourself.  We 
wouldn't want to give the wrong impression."

"Excuse me," the bartender said.  "Either of you mind if I 
smoke?"  He dragged an ashtray down the bar.

Mulder motioned a "go right ahead" gesture, and the guy took 
out a pack from his breast pocket.  "You want one?" he asked 
them.

"No," Mulder said.  "Thanks."

"I don't smoke," Diana replied.

Mulder turned to her.  "You've got Morleys at your house," he 
said, and she arched an eyebrow.

"Agent Mulder. You went through my things.  Without a search 
warrant, no less."

Crap, Mulder thought.  Busted.

"My intimate things," Diana continued.  "Find anything in 
particular that interested you?"

"No."

"Care to share the reason behind your search?"

He shrugged and she gave a knowing smile.

"It was Scully, wasn't it.  She doesn't trust me.  Funny 
though, that you would listen to her.  I wouldn't have 
expected that."

"You mistake agreement for interest," he said.  "Just because 
I don't always agree with Scully doesn't mean I'm 
uninterested in what she has to say."

Diana rolled an ice cube around in her mouth.  "And yet," she 
said, "here you are with me."


//////


Scully left the office very late.  The only sound in the long 
hallway was her heels echoing on the hard floor with each 
hurried step.  The door to the parking lot opened with a 
great crash, flinging wide in the icy wind.  She forced it 
shut and pulled her collar up to her ears as she started 
across the lot.

A streetlamp flickered, weakening, and she quickened her 
pace.  Mulder's words about making herself a target came back 
to her as she fumbled for her keys.  She was up to her shins 
in snow and the cold had already numbed her fingers through 
her gloves.  She dropped the keys and cursed as she stooped 
to search for them in the snow.

At last her fingers met the keys, and she leaned against the 
car for help in getting up.  Her abdominal muscles complained 
at the effort, and she told them mentally to hang on.

The door had frozen shut.

She was forced to set her briefcase in the snow and tug on 
the handle with all the force she could muster.  It came free 
with a crackling sound, sending her staggering backwards.  
She shivered, the wind biting at her ears as she retrieved 
her things and climbed inside the car.  

"Please, God, let this thing turn over," she said as she 
stuck the key in the ignition.  The engine did not sound 
happy, but it came to life.  "Thank you, thank you," she 
muttered.

But when she tried to back out of the space, the rear wheels 
were stuck.  The wind had piled drifts high behind the tires, 
and the previous snow had created a layer of ice beneath the 
snow.

"No, no, no," Scully said, and desperately tried it again.  
The wheels made an awful squealing noise but her car stayed 
in place.  "No," repeated Scully in despair as she leaned her 
head on her arm over the steering wheel.

A sharp rap on the window made her jerk upright.  There was a 
large man outside, his face wrapped in a dark scarf.  He 
rapped again and Scully reached for her gun.

"Dana," the man yelled.  "Do you need some help?"

The voice registered in her brain just as her fingers touched 
the gun.  It was Ray.

She opened the car door and looked up at him.  Only his eyes 
were visible over the scarf. "Need some help?"

"Ray, you about scared the life out of me.  What are you 
doing here?"

"Sorry.  I just saw you down here from my makeshift office up 
there." He turned and indicated a lighted room on the third 
floor.  "I thought you might need some help digging out."

"Thank you, that would be wonderful," she said as she stepped 
out into the snow.  "I appear to be stuck."

"Happens a lot around here this time of year," he said.  His 
breath puffed out in white bursts from behind the scarf.  She 
followed him to the back of the car, where he set to work 
removing the packed snow from beneath her tires.  "You 
shouldn't be walking around by yourself," he told her.  "Not 
after what Mulder said today."

"I imagine the killer is pretty unhappy with him," Scully 
agreed.  She hugged herself to try to keep warm.   Her teeth 
were starting to chatter.

"You too, considering."  He stopped shoveling and looked her 
up and down.  "How come you didn't tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"About you and Mulder."

Scully shifted her feet back and forth.  "We don't tell many 
people.  It's not something we like to advertise."

"Funny, I thought you sure wanted someone to get the message 
today."  He turned his back to her and resumed shoveling.  
Scully stepped out of the way to avoid getting hit with the 
snow.  "I would have thought the Bureau'd have a policy 
against that sort of thing," he called back.  "You know, 
against partners getting involved."

"They don't," she said.  She knew because she had looked it 
up once.

He stood up and leaned on his shovel.  "I guess that's good 
for you, then."  He indicated her tires.  "You should be good 
to go now.  Be careful of this big ice patch here."

"Where?"  She moved in closer to see.

"Right down there on the left."

She ducked down for a look, but his shadow was looming over 
her.  "I can't see."

"Here," he said, and she saw the shadow of the shovel lift 
over his head.  Her heart lurched to her throat and she 
scrambled out of the way.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, breathless.  Behind him, 
the parking lot grew brighter as a new car pulled in, its 
headlights shining right at them.

Ray stood poised with the shovel high over his head.  "I'm 
going to break up the ice for you," he said.

"That's okay, really."

The car glided up close to them, leaving deep tire tracks in 
its wake.  Mulder got out but left the engine running.  
"Scully?" he said.

"Mulder."

"I was just driving by on my way home to see if you were 
still here."

"My car is stuck.  Ray was just helping me get it free."

Ray jabbed at the ice behind her left tire.  "I've cracked it 
some.  You should be okay now."

"Just leave it," Mulder called.  "I'll give you a lift, and 
then we can drive back together in the morning."

Scully knew a good offer when she heard one.  She was not 
relishing the drive back through the snow on unfamiliar and 
semi-ploughed streets.  "Perfect," she said as she got her 
briefcase from her car.  

Ray was still standing there with his shovel and a strange 
expression in his eyes.  "I guess I'll see you both 
tomorrow," he said.

"Thanks again for the help," Scully replied as she hurried to 
Mulder's car.

They both got in and she immediately put her hands over the 
vents.  Her joints were so cold they ached.  "You okay?" 
Mulder asked over the roar of the heater.

She nodded.  "Just cold."

"It's twenty below out there."  He reached for her hands and 
took them between his.  "Jesus, you're like a block of ice."

She tried to answer, but her teeth were chattering.  Mulder 
tugged her closer until they met in the middle, the gearshift 
poking awkwardly between them.  He tucked her hands inside 
his coat and put his arms around her, rubbing her briskly 
like she was a dog fresh from the bath.

She tucked her nose against his wool coat and closed her 
eyes.  Gradually, feeling returned to her fingertips and the 
shell of her ears started to burn.  Tears stung her eyes and 
her nose ran.  She sniffed.

"Better?" Mulder asked, his voice a pleasant rumble beneath 
her ear.

"Yeah."  But they held each other a while longer, his chin 
resting atop her wet head.  "You smell like a sailor on shore 
leave," she said at last, "like alcohol and cigarettes."

His hand swept down her back.  "I was at the bar."

"Alone?"

"I just wanted a drink to unwind.  What were you doing here 
so late?"

"I was going through the Harris's financial records."  She 
drew back a bit and he took her hands again, rubbing them to 
further warm her.  "You want to know something interesting?  
They had their house painted last summer."

"I thought you decided there wasn't a link with the house 
painting."

"It's different companies, but I started thinking that maybe 
it could be one man who has worked for several companies."

"Worth checking out, definitely."  He squeezed her hands and 
smiled.  "I think you're almost thawed, Scully.  I've always 
wanted my own defrosted cave woman."

"I hate to break this to you, Mulder, but I am a thoroughly 
modern being.  I want a coffee maker, a hot shower, and 
expensive sheets.  Not necessarily in that order."

He tugged her closer again, his warm hands slipping beneath 
her coat.  She shuddered.  "You probably shouldn't be out by 
yourself right now, you know."

"Neither should you."

"Hey, I was at a bar, not hanging around in a lonely parking 
lot in the middle of the night."

"So you're saying you weren't alone."

"I'm saying no one was standing over me with a shovel in a 
back alley parking lot."

"Ray was just trying to help."  She leaned her forehead 
against his chest and closed her eyes again.  He felt so warm 
and good she was willing to stay like this forever.

"Yeah, I just bet he was."  His hands on her body became less 
rigorous, gentling from a rub to a caress.  He found the 
sides of ribcage and his thumbs brushed the edges of her 
breasts through her clothes.

Scully stopped breathing.  He repeated the motion and her 
fingers tightened on his shirt.

"He has a thing for you, you know," Mulder said.  Their 
breathing had completely fogged the car.  Scully was suddenly 
acutely aware of the vibrations of the gearshift against her 
leg.

"Don't be ridiculous," she murmured.

"You don't see how he looks at you.  Like he wants to put his 
hands all over you."  

Her skin rippled under Mulder's hands.  He was openly feeling 
her up now, through her clothes and his gloves.  She shifted 
to try to bring his hands up higher.  Mulder was saying 
something else but she barely heard him.

"He probably wishes it was him in this car right now."  His 
breath tickled the edge of her ear.  "He wishes he could be 
touching you like this."

She gasped as his thumbs found her nipples.  "Yes," she said, 
her eyes still closed.  She started rubbing her hand on his 
thigh.

"He wants to taste you," Mulder breathed a moment before his 
hot tongue touched the edge of her ear, and she bit back a 
whimper.  "He wants to put his hands here.  And here."

Scully strained to be closer through their many layers of 
clothes.  Her breasts felt full and heavy under his stroking, 
her nipples hardened into desperate peaks.  Her lips brushed 
the skin just above his collar.  "Mulder," she whispered, and 
immediately his hands stilled.

He withdrew, breathing hard, and wiped his mouth with his 
sleeve.  "That's what he wants, Scully," he told her.  "Don't 
you forget it."

She felt cold again, and dazed from their groping.  "I--I 
won't."

Mulder nodded and put the car into gear.  Scully settled back 
on her side, still trembling a bit as she pressed her 
forehead to the cold glass.  She wiped it clear with one hand 
and the snowy night came into view again.

Upstairs, from the glowing office, she could see a dark 
figure standing there.  Watching.

/////////// 

End chapter eight.  Continued in chapter nine.

Beta smooches of happiness to Amanda for all her help!

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