~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Nine: Father Figure

By syntax6


Christmas Eve day arrived chilly and gray, not cold enough 
for snow but the kind of damp that seeped straight to the 
bones.  Scully slipped into her long wool coat.  As she 
adjusted the collar from under her hair, she saw Ethan 
putting his coat on too.  

"You're coming?" she asked.  "Without a camera?"

"Would it be so bad if I did bring one?  I mean, can you 
look me in the eye and honestly say you're not going there 
to work?"

"No," she admitted.  She looked at the floor.  

It was Patty Waeleski's fourteenth birthday.  Her parents 
had arranged a gathering at their church in Patty's honor.

"So why are you going?" Scully asked.

"Her parents said it was for anyone who wanted to bring 
Patty home."  He smiled and Scully smiled back.  She 
squeezed his hand with gloved fingers.  He held on.

"When I was little," he said, "about ten, this kid in my 
neighborhood disappeared.  Bobby Callender.  He was older 
than me, already in junior high.  I didn't know him that 
well, but all of us kids used to ride our bikes around, 
back and forth to the park.  One night after dinner, Bobby 
rode his bike down the street and never came home."

Scully squeezed his hand again.  "That's awful."

"What I mainly remember is my mom's fear.  Me and Kenny and 
Ruth weren't allowed out of her sight for the rest of the 
summer.  Drove us crazy.  By the next summer everything was 
back to normal, except Bobby was still missing.  Last I 
heard his mom was still living in the same house at the end 
of the street -- just in case he ever came home."  He shook 
his head.  "Funny, what you remember."

"Yeah."  She tugged him towards the door.  "Let's go then."


Parking was a problem.  Ethan finally found them a spot 
three blocks away, and they hurried down the wet street to 
the giant stone church.  People sat shoulder-to-shoulder in 
the main sanctuary, talking quietly.  Scully scanned the 
crowd and easily picked out Mulder just from the tilt of 
his head.

"There," she said, grabbing Ethan and making her way to the 
pews on the left side.  

Mulder saw them and lifted a hymnal from the bench next to 
him.  "Hey, I saved you a seat."  His gaze slid to Ethan.  
"Might be a bit tight for two."

"We'll manage," Scully said as she took the spot next to 
him.  Everyone pushed down a bit to make room.

Up close Scully could see Mulder had just had a haircut.  
It was too short by his ears and stuck up a little in the 
back.  She fought the urge to smooth it back down.

"Mulder," Ethan said, sticking out his hand across Scully.  
"Good to see you."

Mulder looked at Ethan's hand a moment before shaking it.  
"Ethan."

"Happy holidays."

"Yeah.  Happy."  They let go and settled back on either 
side of Scully as Patty's mother approached the tall 
podium.

She wore a simple navy dress with a red heart pin affixed 
to the front.  "Thank you all for coming today," she said.  
"Wherever Patty is right now, I'm sure she would take 
comfort in knowing how much you all care."

Mulder leaned into Scully.  "Somehow I don't think it will 
be as easy to pick out the killer in this crowd," he 
whispered.

Scully craned her neck to study the rows of people.  "Most 
of them aren't even out of high school."

"You see Coach Matlock over there?"

For once, Matlock did not wear athletic clothes.  He looked 
subdued in a dark sweater and slicked-back hair.

"Pretty daring of him to show up here if he's the killer," 
Scully murmured.

"He has to.  Can you imagine if he failed to show?  
Eyebrows would go up all over town."

Scully indicated a girl near the front.  "That's his number 
one prodigy now, Lindsey Beckwith."

"Yeah?  She doesn't look that happy about it."

Ethan elbowed Scully.  "Hey, you two.  No talking during 
class."

"One of these boys is the one Patty had a crush on," Mulder 
said, ignoring him.  "Evan Yearling."

Scully let her eyes linger over the little boys dressed in 
serious suits.  Many of them, too, sported Christmas 
haircuts.  She spotted one young man tugging at his tie.  
He had dirty-blond hair, clear skin and an 
uncharacteristically well-balanced shape for a teenage boy.  
"That one," Scully said.  "I'd bet on it."

"Really?  Seems kind of shrimpy."

Scully snorted.  "Look at him.  Put him on TV and all the 
girls would be hanging posters in their rooms.  Besides, 
look at his brother and his father.  Those genes age well.  
You're looking at three guys who are used to getting 
anything they want just by smiling."

"I wouldn't know anything about that."

Scully gave him a sideways glance. "No, I'm sure not," she 
said, lips curving upwards.

There were songs and prayers for Patty's return.  Both her 
mother and her father spoke.  But the last to say anything 
was her six year-old brother, Timothy.  They got him a 
footstool behind the lectern, and he climbed up and put 
both hands out in front.  His chin stuck out as he worked 
to reach the microphone.

"Hi, my name is Timmy and Patty is my sister and I want to 
say a prayer for her to come home soon."  He spoke in a 
high, breathy voice, fidgeting with each word.  The 
congregation bowed their heads for him.  "Dear God, I know 
tomorrow is the day you sent baby Jesus to us.  I think it 
would be a good day to send Patty home because we really 
miss her a lot.  I even got her a Christmas present.  So 
promise me you'll think about it, okay God?  Thanks.  
Amen."

Scully sucked in a slow breath.  "Wow," she said as the 
piano started up for a last hymn.

"Wonder how he'll feel about God tomorrow when Patty 
doesn't show up," Mulder replied.

The congregation stood and sang together.  "A mighty 
fortress is our God..."

Afterward, Ethan waited at the back of the church as Mulder 
and Scully worked their way to the front to speak to 
Patty's parents.  Her mother was surrounded by well-
wishers.  Mulder pressed his hand to Scully's back and led 
her towards Tom Waeleski.

"Agents," he said, hugging his son to his side.  "Thank you 
for coming."

Scully smiled down at Timmy.  "That was very brave of you 
to get up in front of all these people today."

He shrugged and hid his face in father's hip.  Tom ruffled 
the boy's hair.  "He's a good brother."  He looked from 
Scully to Mulder.  "Anything new on the case?"

"Afraid not," Mulder said.  "But we're still looking.  I 
wanted to ask you again about your daughter's arm."

Tom's features darkened.  "If you're trying to say I hurt 
her--"

"Who said that?"

"I've heard talk.  But it damn well isn't true.  Ask Timmy.  
He'll tell you.  I've never even spanked my kids."

Timmy clung tighter.

"What would you say if I told you Patty didn't sprain her 
arm falling out of the tree?" Mulder asked.

Tom went blank.  "What?  Who said that?"

"It's true, Dad."  Timmy tugged on Tom's jacket.  "Patty 
and me made up the tree story.  She was already hurt when 
she got home from school."

Tom knelt in front of his son.  "Who hurt her?"

"I don't know.  Patty didn't tell me."

"What about you, Mr. Waeleski?" Mulder asked.  "Any ideas?"

"No, this is the first I'm hearing about this.  Maybe-maybe 
her mother would know."  But he did not sound sure.

"In her notebook," Mulder continued, "Patty had written, 'I 
hate her. I hate her.  I hate her.' Any idea what that 
could be about?"

"God."  He rubbed his face.  "No.  I mean, Barbara and 
Patty had squabbles, but hate?"

"Patty didn't like Lindseyoh," Timmy offered.

"Yeah?  How come?" Mulder asked.

"She said she was mean.  She used to play tricks on Patty 
at the gym."

"How come I never heard about this?" Tom demanded. 

Timmy shrugged.  "Patty must've not told you."

"But I'm her father."  He turned to Mulder and Scully.  
"How could she not have told me?"

"She was thirteen," Mulder said gently.  "Teenagers often 
keep secrets from their parents."

"We talked every day."  He sounded truly bewildered.

"Tom?" Barbara called from across the room.  "Could you 
come here please?"

"It's okay," Mulder said.  "If you think of anything, if 
you hear anything, just let us know."

Tom still had not moved.  Timmy tugged on his hand.  
"Daddy?"

"Yeah," he said.  "I'm coming."

Scully stepped closer to Mulder as they both watched Tom 
Waeleski walk to his wife.  "It must be hard for parents 
when they realize their kids have their own lives."

Mulder shook his head.  "It's more than that.  He just 
realized Patty probably knew the person who abducted her.  
If Patty knew him, Tom probably knew him too.  Maybe let 
him into the house.  Maybe paid his salary.  And Tom never 
sensed a thing."

Scully looked toward the back, where Ethan waved at her.  
"I'd better get going," she said.  She touched his arm.  
"Merry Christmas, Mulder."

Mulder was watching the Waeleskis embrace.  "Yes," he said.  
"Merry Christmas, Scully."

~*~*~*~

The day before New Year's Eve Scully served her parents 
lasagna and salad in sight of her Christmas tree, which 
still sparkled with lights.  Growing up, her father had 
shipped out the tree on the morning of December twenty-
sixth.  It ended up on the curb wrapped in black plastic, 
like one of Scully's corpses from the morgue.  

"So tell me again where Ethan is," her mother said.

"Mexico," Scully replied, setting down her wine glass.  
Which was just as well.  The last thing she needed was her 
father using the restroom and seeing Ethan's shaving kit.  
The fewer reminders of their living arrangement, the 
better.  "He's doing a piece on a doctor who is providing 
alternative breast cancer treatment there."

"Maybe he'll fall in love with a senorita and stay down 
there," Captain Scully said.

"Bill!"

"I'm just joking.  Dana knows I'm kidding, right Dana?"

"Sure, Dad."

"You had a chance yet to hook up those remote control 
lights we got you?"

"Not yet."

"I can do it for you if you like."

"No, thanks.  I'll get to it soon."  Her parents had 
purchased her remote control attachments for her lamps.  
She didn't have the heart to tell them what she really 
longed for was some night-vision goggles.

Her mother helped her clear the table.  The forks had 
barely clattered into the sink when her father announced 
they should be shoving off.

At her mother's prompting, her father managed to grind out 
a last question.  "So how's work?  Good?"

"Yeah.  Good."

She hugged his familiar bulk and walked them to the door.  
Scully watched them head out into the cold night, watching 
Captain Scully view she knew best -- his back, retreating 
away from her.  Scully waved.  Only Maggie waved back.

Four hours later her mother called to say he was dead.

~*~*~*~

Their plane to Raleigh had barely retracted its wheels from 
takeoff when Scully nodded off against his shoulder.  
Mulder put aside his file and reached back to trace a 
finger along her arm.  She was still wearing her black suit 
from the funeral.

Mulder questioned the logic of going straight from a burial 
to a gruesome kidnapping case, but Scully said she wanted 
to work.  He decided to forge ahead and shield her as best 
he could.

Mulder picked up the file carefully so as not to jostle 
her.  Luther Lee Boggs's mug shot glared back him.  Boggs 
said he had information on the missing college kids, but 
Mulder knew the only way Boggs had that kind of inside 
scoop was if he had arranged their kidnapping himself.

They say everyone in prison needed a hobby.

Twenty minutes later, the plane hit a bad patch of 
turbulence and Scully jerked awake.

"You okay?" Mulder asked as she blinked at the sun 
streaming in through the oval window.

"Yeah."  She smoothed her wrinkled jacket.  "Sorry about 
that."  Leaning over, she peeked at the files spread out on 
his lap.  "Are those the kids who were abducted?"

"Elizabeth and Jim." He handed her the information.

"More missing kids," she sighed.

"At least we have a shot at finding them this time."

"It would be nice for a change."  She sounded wistful.  "Do 
you really think Boggs is behind this?"

"I wouldn't put anything past Boggs.  He gets high marks 
for creativity."

"You said he wasn't the product of abuse, that he kills 
because he likes it."

"Don't get me wrong -- Boggs had you classic white trash 
upbringing.  His father was the kind who drove a giant 
Chevy covered in Jesus bumper stickers but then parked in 
the handicapped spot at the supermarket.  His mother 
dressed the same for bingo as she did for church.  But they 
weren't abusive."

Scully leaned back and turned her face to the window.  
Mulder waited but she didn't say anything.

"What are you thinking?" he asked finally.

"Boggs's parents."  She looked at him.  "I was just 
wondering if they came up to see his execution.

~*~*~*~

Luther Lee Boggs in person did not really look like a 
serial murderer.  He was barely bigger than Scully herself, 
with stringy hair and a bony chin.  Only his eyes, small 
like pits, and the cold edge in his Southern drawl gave him 
away.

He put on quite a show for Mulder, claiming psychic powers 
told him where the kids were.  A waterfall that wasn't 
water.  A stone angel.  They were held in a warehouse where 
the killer tormented them with a wire clothes hanger.

For once, Mulder did not believe.  Scully moved to follow 
him out of the cell.

Boggs started singing.  "Somewhere, beyond the sea..."

Her father's song.  Scully froze. She turned in slow 
motion, and there he was in Boggs's place.  Scully recoiled 
in horror at her father's face.

"Did you get my message, Starbuck?"

Scully fled the cell, but Mulder caught up with her.  
"Scully, are you all right?  Did Boggs say something to 
you?"

"No.  You were right, Mulder.  It's my father.  I'm sorry."

"It's okay.  Why don't you just go back to the motel?  
We've exposed Boggs for a fraud."

Scully left, intending to go back and climb into a hot 
shower.  But she stopped a red light and there it was.

A waterfall that wasn't water.  A stone angel.

Scully took a detour.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She found the scene of the crime but not the criminal.  
Scully sat alone in her motel room on the hard-backed 
chair.  She had the lights blazing and the TV off.  
Everywhere she looked, she saw her father.

A knock at the door jolted her from her trance.  "It's 
Mulder," Mulder said from the other side.  She let him in, 
and he told her Liz's parents had ID'd the bracelet from 
the warehouse.

"Did Boggs confess?" she asked.

"No, just five hours of Boggs's channeling. After three 
hours, I asked him to summon up the soul of Jimi Hendrix 
and requested 'All Along the Watchtower.  You know the 
guy's been dead for twenty years and he still hasn't lost 
his edge."

"I lied to the police about how I found the warehouse," 
Scully blurted.  Her heart pounded as she said the words 
aloud.

Mulder looked at her curiously.  "Then how did you find 
it?"

"It was right where Boggs said it would be."

"Scully, I told you about Boggs."

"I thought it would be a better explanation under the 
circumstances."

Mulder narrowed his eyes.  "What you're really saying is 
that you didn't want to go on record admitting that you 
believed in Boggs.  The bureau would expect something like 
that from 'Spooky' Mulder, but not Dana Scully."

"Does this have to do with your father?"

Scully shook her head, unable to look at him.  Her throat 
ached with tears.

"You said he didn't approve of you becoming an FBI agent," 
Mulder continued.  "Now, if being on the job now makes you 
feel guilty or uncomfortable or uneasy, I think you should 
back away because if it's clouding your judgment, you're 
putting yourself in danger."

Scully finally raised her eyes to his.  "I love this job."

Mulder's answer was infinitely gentle.  "You love your 
father."

~*~*~*~*~*~

At eleven that night, Mulder was walking past her room with 
a pizza when something made him stop at the door.  He 
listened in and heard the TV playing on the other side.  
Mulder rapped softly.

Scully answered wearing her pajamas and her trademark messy 
ponytail.  She also sported red-rimmed eyes behind her wire 
glasses.

"Heard the TV on and figured you were up," Mulder 
explained.  "Hungry?"

Scully widened her door to let him in.  "I can't remember 
the last time I ate."

"Then it's good I'm here."  He flopped on the side of the 
bed where she had not turned down the covers.

"Dominos," she said as she took the side opposite him. 

"Best I could do around here on short notice."

"It's fine.  You know, it's funny.  My father really liked 
Dominos."  She smiled.  "I think it was the prompt delivery 
service.  My father was a big fan of being on time."

"I guess the Navy would that to you."

"Actually, the really funny part was the way he was so 
loyal to a brand.  My mom's always been a big coupon 
clipper.  She was loyal to whatever was on sale.  My dad, 
he felt like if Tide always got your clothes clean, you 
should stick with Tide.  They once fought for two days over 
hot dogs.  Can you imagine?"

"Oscar Myer all the way."  Mulder leaned back against the 
pillows and took another bite of pizza.

Scully bent her head, ponytail tickling the back of her 
naked neck.  "I'm sorry.  You probably don't want to hear 
all this."

"No."  He touched her knee.  "Tell me."

She shook her head, dismissing the idea.  For a minute or 
so, she chewed her pizza thoughtfully.  "Mulder, what about 
your parents?" she asked at length.  "You've never really 
talked about them."

"Not much to say.  They're divorced.  Both live in New 
England."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, New England's not that bad," he said, and she smiled.

"I mean about the divorce."

He shrugged.  "They split when I was fifteen.  I went with 
my mom and my dad went off by himself.  He's been that way 
ever since."

"So your mom lives on Martha's Vineyard?"

"No.  They sold the house in the divorce."  He slapped the 
pizza crust against his palm.  "I guess that's when I 
knew."

"Knew?"

"Samantha.  They didn't think she was ever coming home."

"Mulder..."  Her eyes filled with sympathy.

"Forget it.  Tell me more about your dad."

"I don't know what to say."  She sighed.  "All my life I 
wanted to be just like him.  Now he's gone and I'm not sure 
I knew who he was.  I guess I just thought there would be 
more time."

"Yeah."  He grazed her knee again.  "You tell Ethan yet?"

Scully colored noticeably.  "Actually, no."  She licked her 
lips.  "He's so busy.  I've only talked to him once.  I 
just--I don't want to say it over the phone."

"I can understand that."

Scully stared at her lap.  "No, that's a lie."  Mulder 
waited.  She took a deep breath, twisting the blanket with 
her fingers.  "My father didn't like Ethan very much.  Vice 
versa too as you can probably imagine.  I just don't think 
I could take him saying, 'I'm so sorry' right now."

"He would be sorry for you."

"I don't want that.  I don't want anyone feeling sorry for 
me."

"Of course not."  He hoped she did not think this was a 
pizza pity party.

Scully closed the lid and slipped back underneath the 
covers.  She lay on her side, facing him, with one arm 
tucked beneath her head.  Mulder checked out the TV.

"Hey, 'Bringing Up Baby.'  I love this movie."

"Feel free to watch."  Scully's eyes were drifting closed.

Mulder ate a last slice of pizza and watched Kathryn 
Hepburn chase her leopard around.  He smothered a yawn with 
his arm.  The bedside clock read nearly midnight.  

Mulder clicked off the TV and the room was engulfed in 
quiet.  He could hear the soft breath coming from Scully as 
she slept.  Grabbing the pizza box, Mulder crept from the 
bed.

He went to her side intending to shut off the light.  As he 
reached her, he stopped for a moment and watched her sleep.  
Then, setting aside the box, he bent down and gently 
removed her glasses.  After another moment's thought, he 
tugged the tie from her ponytail as well.  Her hair slipped 
like silk through his hand.

Mulder touched his fingertips to her warm head.  "Sweet 
dreams," he murmured.

~*~*~*~*~

Mulder and Scully shared a hurried cup of coffee in the 
front seat of their rented Taurus.  The stone fortress of 
Raleigh Central Prison loomed over them.  Inside, Boggs had 
three days left to die.

"Let's go," Mulder said as the dashboard clock turned over 
to seven AM.
 
Scully took her half-finished cardboard cup with her.  
"What if he still refuses to talk?"

"Haven't you noticed?  All Boggs wants to do is talk.  We 
just have to give him enough rope and let him hang 
himself."

They paused as the guard moved to let them in through the 
iron gate.  "So long as he doesn't hang Liz Hawley and Jim 
Summers along with him," Scully replied.

Hours stretched by.  Time on Liz and Jim's survival clock 
was ticking down.  Scully tried not to watch the second 
hand sweep around and around as Mulder paced the narrow 
room.

"How come you don't believe me?" Boggs asked over the 
closed-circuit TV. "Agent Scully believes me."

"Agent Scully believes what we all believe. That you have 
the kids. Now where are they?"

Boggs dropped the phone and all communication.  They heard 
him moaning on the other side.

"Mulder," Scully said, "Even if he is setting us up, we 
have to follow because in three days... "

"Liz Hawley and Jim Summers will be dead," Mulder finished 
grimly.

"We have to deal."

Boggs fell for their bluff, giving up the location of the 
kids and the killer.  Mulder raced for the door as soon as 
they had the details.  Scully lingered.  It seemed to her 
that Boggs got interesting only when they were on their way 
out the door.

He didn't disappoint.

"Mulder," he called, a breathless, greasy Cassandra.  Both 
Scully and Mulder waited.

"Don't go near the white cross," Boggs warned.  "We see you 
down... and your blood spills on the white cross."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Afterwards, Scully recalled everything but a white cross. 
 
Not that she had really had time to look for one.  She 
couldn't see, could barely hear over the roar of blood in 
her ears.  Night hung like black crepe.  Dim light cast 
watery shadows across the dock.  The heavy footsteps of men 
behind her rocked the aging wooden planks, and the 
persistent slap of water gave the illusion of being at sea.
Scully lost track of Mulder in the darkness.  She had her 
gun drawn, ready to shoot at anything that moved funny.  
Sheets billowed.  Water dripped.

She heard running and shouting.  Then the shot.
"Mulder!"

Too late she saw it.  White pipes crossed at the middle.  
Mulder's blood smeared down the front.

After that, the only thing she heard was her own voice 
screaming.  "Officer down!  Officer down!"

Scully slouched in the waiting room chair, cheek propped on 
one hand.  She still wore her work boots and FBI 
windbreaker.  Her jeans were stained with Mulder's blood.

She must have closed her eyes because she had to open them 
again when the doctor called her name.  "Hmm?" Scully said, 
jerking upright.

"Agent Mulder came through surgery just fine," Dr. Adams 
said.  "He's in recovery now."

Scully rubbed the feeling back into her cheek.  "Can I see 
him?"

"He's not awake yet, but sure.  Go right in."

Scully entered quietly, but it was hard to imagine she 
could be more of a distraction than the blazing overhead 
lights and the repetitive beeping of the heart monitor.  
Mulder's skin matched the pillow beneath his head and he 
was still hooked up to an IV.  His injured leg stuck out 
from under the covers.

Scully stood by the bed and inspected the job they had done 
on his IV.  Grudgingly, she had to admit it looked pretty 
neat.  She smoothed the blankets and went to peek at his 
chart.

"Busted," he said as she peered over the numbers.

Scully jumped.  "You scared me!"

He gave her a slow, drugged smile.  "So what's the 
prognosis, doctor?  Am I going to live?"

"That's not funny."  Her hands were still shaking as she 
replaced his chart.  "Mulder, when I saw you lying there..."

"Hey."  She looked at him, and he held out his hand.  "Come 
here."

Reluctantly, she moved to his side, and he held her hand.  
It was reassuringly warm.

"Feel that?" he said, squeezing.  "I'm okay."

"That's good, because one funeral a week is my limit."  She 
took a shuddering breath.  He squeezed her again.  "How are 
you feeling?" she asked.

"Truthfully, I'm not feeling much of anything. It's a good 
thing getting shot hurts so much or I might be tempted to 
make a habit of it just for the drugs."

"Also not funny."

"Oh, come on.  It was a little funny.  It's not like I have 
my best material to work with here."

Scully smiled in spite of herself.  She felt her eyes 
crinkle with fatigue.   Mulder rubbed her hand as if to 
warm it.

"You look exhausted," he said.

"There's a reason for that."

"You should go back to the motel.  Get some rest."

She shook her head.  "I can't.  We've found Liz but Jim is 
still missing."  She pulled up a chair and sat down.  
"There's still no sign of Lucas Henry or Jim Summers. The 
Raleigh police said..."

"No matter what, don't believe him," Mulder ordered. "Boggs 
created this whole charade to get back at me for putting 
him on death row. You'd be the next best thing."

"Mulder, I never thought I'd say this... but what if 
there's another explanation?"

"Don't... deal with him. He could be trying to claim you as 
his last victim."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Boggs's last victim turned out to be himself, as his crimes 
finally sent him to the gas chamber.  They sent Mulder and 
Scully back to DC with a completed case and a mostly happy 
ending.  Liz and Jim were safe.  Boggs would never hurt 
anyone again.

Scully conked out on the ride home, slumped like a rag doll 
against the side of the plane.  Mulder would have liked to 
join her but the lancing pain in his leg made it 
impossible. 

He grimaced and shifted his injured leg farther into the 
aisle.  Their heroics merited them accommodations in first 
class.  Mulder had welcomed the extra legroom while Scully 
had stroked the wide leather seats.

"I've never flown first class before," she'd said, 
wriggling in place like a little kid.

Mulder guessed if you were raising four children on a Navy 
salary, first class seats became an impossible luxury. 
"They'll give you champagne with your peanuts," Mulder told 
her affectionately.

He looked at her now, exhausted from chasing a killer and 
mourning her father at the same time, and figured Captain 
Scully could be proud of his legacy.

Riding through the night sky with a bullet wound in the leg 
gave a person the chance to contemplate his own mortality.  
A foot northward and Mulder might have been serving a life 
sentence underground. 

He touched his middle, imagining a hole there.  His mother 
would come to the funeral.  His father too, he supposed. 
They could sit on opposite sides -- he with the bottle, she 
with her pills -- and compete for the Most Tragic Parent 
award.

Frohike would probably moon the coffin.

Mulder smiled at the thought.  Scully sighed in her sleep, 
snuggling awkwardly against the plane.  He touched the back 
of his finger to her thigh and stroked her lightly until 
she settled again.

He wondered what she would do if he died.  Her homework 
assignment for the brass completed, she might get a bump 
upstairs.  Shed that spooky skin and climb back into the 
light.

He imagined her years later sitting behind a large desk and 
telling the young pups in dark suits what to do.  Maybe one 
of them would ask her about him.  Maybe she would say he'd 
been a crazy sonofabitch who believed in ghosts and 
goblins.  Maybe she would say, "He was my first partner."

Maybe she would call him a friend.

He woke her at the landing, causing her to sit up quickly 
as she took a long, deep breath.  "We're here?"

"We are very much here."  He grimaced as the plane bounced 
down, jostling his leg. 

Scully winced with him.  "You okay?"

"I think this pilot hates me."

"We'll be sure to leave a lousy tip then."

He swiveled his head, and she gave him a wry smile.  Mulder 
let her help him up onto his crutches and he hobbled down 
the aisle with Scully carrying all the luggage behind him.

"You have a future as a pack mule, Scully."

"Spoken like a man who wants his underwear accidentally 
spilled onto the gangway floor."

Scully drove him home and accompanied him to the fourth 
floor.  He leaned against the wall, dizzy with pain and 
fatigue, while Scully opened the door with his house key.

She poked her head in slowly, unfamiliar with his turf.  

"Light's on the left," he told her. 

Scully blinked as his apartment lit up.  He limped past 
her.  "Mulder, this is really nice."

"You sound surprised.  Were you expecting a hovel?"

"I don't know."  She set his bag down and continued to look 
around his living room.  "I expected at least a lava lamp 
or something."

Mulder eased himself onto the couch.  "I have to save 
something for the bedroom."

"You have fish," she said, sounding delighted.  She went to 
the tank and bent over to look at them.  "They look 
hungry."  Scully retrieved the fish food and sprinkled some 
over the top.  She dusted her hands.  "Well, I guess I'd 
better be going."

"Ethan awaits."

"Here's your key," she said, preparing to toss it to him.

He waved her off.  "Keep it.  I have another."

"Mulder..."

"You never know when I might need someone to feed my fish."

She ducked her chin, hiding a smile.

"Hell," he said, running his hand through his hair, "in the 
next few days, I might need you to come sprinkle some food 
over me.  I don't think I'm moving from this couch."

"Do you need help?" she asked, instantly concerned.

"I'm fine.  Go home, Scully."

"I can stay--"

"Go."

"Okay."  She took a deep breath and nodded.  "Call me if 
you need anything."

"I will."  He watched her slip his key into her back 
pocket.  "Night, Scully."

"Night."

He leaned back and closed his eyes, listening to her 
footsteps fade away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End chapter nine.  Continued in chapter ten.

Big smooches to Amanda for all her help with this one!

Feedback: it's what's for dinner!  Please?  
Syn_tax6@yahoo.com