Part 4/5

***

Mulder glanced over at Scully as she navigated her car through the
streets of Alexandria. "Hey, Scully, how about grabbing some dinner?"

"You have all that food in your refrigerator, Mulder,"

"OK," he said agreeably. "Let's eat that."

"Umm... Actually, I'm a little tired," she said. "I've been getting up
very early the last few weeks, and I tend to crash a lot earlier in the
evening."

"That breakfast shift must be hell, Scully. I told you I'd loan you the
money to pay off the fine Kersh slapped on you," he said.

"And I told you, I don't need your money, Mulder. I've just been working
on... something. A special project," she said.

"Ooh, nobody's ever knitted me a sweater before," he said.

She smiled as she rolled the car to a stop in front of his apartment
building. "I'll have to have you over for a fitting soon."

Oh, Scully, he thought, with a small, private smile of his own,
sometimes you make this just too easy. Just as well, since you make
everything else so difficult.

"My time is yours," he said. "I'd like nothing better than to stand
still while you take my measurements." As expected, he got no reaction.
He was still intrigued by what might be keeping her occupied, but for
some reason, didn't feel like pushing her further.

"Have a good evening, Mulder," Scully said, watching as he stepped out
of the car. "Try to get some more rest, you need it to heal."

He leaned back into the car. "I think I need to take a rest from
resting, Scully. After the last two days of resting, I feel as if I need
a vacation."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," she said. "After we get the X-Files back--"

"What makes you so sure we'll get them back?" he asked.

"I'm sure because I know you, Mulder," she said. "You're the most
determined man I've ever met. You'll never give up trying to get what
you want."

He shut the car door and watched her drive out of sight. No, he thought,
as he turned toward his building, I never will.

Mulder spent his evening somewhat productively -- a run, a shower, some
laundry. It's no life, but it's my life, he thought, as he flipped on
the television. Wandering into the kitchen, he realized that he was
hungrier than he'd been in days, though the edge was dulled a bit by the
idea of eating alone. He stopped stock still with the refrigerator door
open. He'd lived alone for years. He'd eaten hundreds of solitary meals.
Those facts had never been worth even a passing thought... till now.

Fixing a solitary, late night supper, he considered methods of
persuasion. How could he make Scully understand what he was trying to
tell her? Traditional symbolic gestures wouldn't work. For one thing,
with their past history, flowers customarily meant 'Get well soon', so
they were out. She had a love/hate relationship with chocolate, and it
would be just his luck to give her some during a down cycle. She wasn't
easy to manipulate, like Frohike -- she didn't like cheesesteaks, and
she certainly wouldn't accept the loan of a videotape. Except, maybe the
one about... No. Nope. He sighed. If he wanted to keep this evening
productive, any thoughts along those lines would have to keep till
later.

He walked back to the living room, with a microwaved plate of lasagna in
one hand and a beer in the other. Sitting on the couch, he stared at the
television, trying to place the wicked looking brunette before him. Joan
Crawford? He took a huge bite of lasagna, and a swig of beer, while
eyeing the bottle of pills. His headache was better, and he wasn't
supposed to take those with alcohol. Pass.

Moving to the desk, he booted up his computer and accessed his work
files. He spent three hours on a methodical review of Area 51's
purported use of reverse engineered technology and personnel hierarchy.
Eventually, the words started to dance in front of his tired eyes. He
stretched, reached for his beer, and smiled sardonically at his
reflection in the dark window behind the desk. These pathetic attempts
to make believe he was still investigating X-Files... well, whatever
gets you through the night, he thought. Looking back at the monitor, he
shook his head at the bottlenecks he seemed to be stuck in on all fronts
lately.

"What can I do?" he said aloud.

"You can start by buying me a drink, darling," purred a voice behind
him.

***

He tensed and looked up. Diana was standing behind him, reflected in the
elegant mirror behind the bar. The black feathers in her hat swept
across the back of his neck as she leaned over his shoulder. He almost
dropped the tall beer glass he was holding.

"Darling, I've been looking forward to seeing you again. It's been such
a long time," she said. She moved back and captured the arm of the man
standing beside her. "And now my new friend here tells me you might have
something interesting to tell me." Mulder's eyes shifted to his left and
took in an uncomfortable looking Walter Skinner.

A hand reached across from his right, and gently removed the beer glass
from his grasp. "Actually, my friend and I were just about to dance,"
said a sweet, low voice. He turned his head and his gaze settled on
Scully... No. Not Scully, he thought. I've been here before, and this is
not Scully, and that's not really Skinner, and I hope to God that's not
Diana, because I just don't want to deal with her right now, and how
come nobody's noticed that there's a six and a half foot tall rabbit in
a bow tie nursing a ginger ale at the end of the bar... and who the hell
am I supposed to be?

Diana, looking disappointed, said, "Save the next one for me, then, will
you, Fox?"

Mulder's shoulders slumped as he slid off his bar stool. It's my dream,
he thought. Why can't I be Mike, or Dirk, or Roger, just for once? He
took his second favorite redhead's hand, and let her lead him to the
dance floor. "Okay, what's going on?" he hissed, as they started to
dance.

"I thought you'd never get here," said his dance partner. "Do you
remember what you're supposed to do?"

He gave her his best blank look.

She rolled her eyes. "At the moment, that woman is working for Goering.
Things are heating up, and we think she's looking for fresh contacts.
We'd like to control the information she'll be sending to the
fatherland. Don't you remember this?"

"I'm supposed to... set a honey trap?" he asked distastefully.

"What's sauce for the goose, Moose," she said blithely.

He sighed. "Apparently, it's Mulder," he said. "Fox Mulder."

"That's right, you're the man she wanted to see, and you're the man we
got for her," she said. "She thinks you're an American intelligence
officer ready to be compromised -- she worked with you once before
right? Only then you thought you were both on the same side."

"We weren't?" he said.

"Her loyalties are... flexible, to say the least," she said. "Didn't you
ever figure that out? We think you can make her believe anything, do
anything you want, just by flashing those baby uh-- greens at her and
talking sweet."

Mulder had an unsettled moment of reflection on his past with Diana --
the Diana he knew -- and begged to differ. "She didn't-- doesn't always
do what I want her to do," he protested.

"How hard did you ever try to change her mind? Did you put your heart
into it?"

No, he thought, surprised at the realization. Not back then, when his
heart had been so empty. Certainly not now, when it was carrying a big,
flashing 'no vacancy' sign. He shook his head.

"So, go ahead," she said. "Make an effort. I bet she'd do anything you
wanted her to do."

His head was whirling. He contemplated the woman before him, and said
softly, "I bet you're not like that."

She looked at him sharply. "What makes you say that?"

"You remind me of someone, remember?" he said "And her loyalties are...
inflexible, to say the least. She believes what she believes, and who
she believes in, and no amount of sweet talk would ever make her change
her mind. No one can make her do, or say, or feel, anything she doesn't
want to. And that includes me," he added mournfully.

"A real pain, huh?" said the woman. "Good thing you're here with her
instead," she smiled, indicating the woman in black, lounging at the
bar.

"No!" said Mulder, "No I-- I need Scully to tell me the truth. It's the
reason I trust her. She'd never tell me anything just because I wanted
to hear it, or because I pushed her into saying it..." He stopped,
dumbfounded.

"Good for you," she said, smiling softly. "You finally figured it out.
Why don't you tell her that? I think she'd like to know."

"I will," he said, grinning now, bending his partner back in an
extravagant dip. "I will!"

"Okay, but hold on," she said, laughing, "here comes your chance to make
a contribution to the war effort."

Mulder felt a tap on his shoulder, and a sultry voice say, "May I cut
in?"

He stood the redhead up gently, and touched her cheek. "Thank you," he
said.

"Darling, isn't the next dance for me?" said the other woman,
impatiently.

"No," he said, shaking his head and backing away, "no, no, but... here's
someone who said he'd jump at the chance to dance with you. You should
see him fox-trot." He grabbed the paw of the tall white rabbit in the
bow tie, hovering at the edge of the crowd.

He thrust the rabbit at Diana, and ignored her muffled cries of "Fox!
Fox, I'll get you for this," as the strangely well matched couple
shuffled off to 'Chattanooga Choo-choo'.

He felt a hand on his arm. "Wait just a minute," said a gruff voice next
to his ear, "what about our plan?"

"It's OK," he hissed to the Skinner lookalike, "you've got her." He
placed his hands on the man's broad shoulders, and pointed him to face
the redhead. "What else do you need to win a war?"

Eager to reach his own secret weapon, he turned and hastened to the
exit, dodging whirling, hopping, swinging couples. Jeez, he thought,
looking down at the dance floor. What a stupid place to put a coffee
table.

***

Mulder rolled over on the floor of his apartment, trying to hold both
his aching left knee and sore right arm. He gave up, and lay flat back
on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Memories of dreams from the past
two days came flooding back. He glanced at his watch. Nearly five
o'clock in the morning. Scully, he thought. I have to find Scully.

***

End Part 4/5

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