Whole
by Amanda Rex

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Rating: This story contains mature content. Suggested for those over 17 only.

The characters herein are the property of 1013, Fox and Chris Carter. No infringement on their copyright is intended. Their usage here is for entertainment purposes only.

Thanks to: willa, who keeps me from having Mulder enter the same room twice in the same paragraph, and who hates extra-terrestrial green. Never again, I promise.

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Whole

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Scully stretched her legs under the table for a moment, rubbing the back of her neck as she did. It had been a long day, even by their usual standards. She was, in fact, barely awake, but if she could just finish her report before going to bed...well, it would be one step closer to the end of this 'case'. Rather, the end of this fruitless excursion into Mulder's imagination. The text on the screen of her laptop swam in front of her eyes as they struggled to focus. Perhaps the report could be done in the morning.

She brushed her teeth, and spent some time walking around her hotel room, her own little travel ritual. Some part of her was more comfortable sleeping in unfamiliar surroundings if she managed to acquaint herself with the place first. It was a strange procedure of staring at the color of the carpeting, at whatever ugly pattern graced the polyester comforter covering the bed, and at the inevitable watercolor portrait of a sailboat -- or some equally benign scene --hanging on the wall behind the television, making it all familiar.

She wondered if she would ever discover that she'd spent so much time in cheap motel rooms she'd have to actually decorate one of the rooms in her apartment similarly just to feel at home there.

"God, I hope not," she said to herself, "I can't come home to a print like that on the wall..."

A quiet rapping on the door connecting her room to Mulder's interrupted her redecorating plans.

"Scully, are you awake?"

"Yes, Mulder. But not for long."

"Wait. Before you go to bed -- I want to apologize."

Three steps closed the distance to the connecting door. Her hand was unlocking the bolt and twisting the doorknob before she was truly aware of what she was doing.

"Yes?" Her own voice sounded cold to her. She winced, picturing Mulder reacting similarly on the other side of the door. She'd tried to find something to say that didn't sound caustic and accusatory, but even her bland 'yes' hadn't come out as gently as she'd planned. "I'm sorry, Mulder. Please, go ahead."

"I...I just wanted to say, I'm sorry I dragged us out here. I know we have limited opportunities to get away from Kersh's watchful eye, and I think I may have wasted one of them this weekend. I appreciate you coming with me, but I should have listened to you."

A moment of silence passed as she again groped for the appropriate words. "Mulder, it's okay. It's impossible to tell how the facts will bear out until the investigation is complete. This...might have been a legitimate X-file."

"Instead, I just found myself being taken in by a man with multiple personality disorder."

"He was quite persuasive. You said it yourself. He thought he was telling you the truth. I think he truly believed the things he told you, about the experiments he thinks he's seen."

A pause passed between them, suddenly neither of them were sure how to end the conversation. Mulder began to examine the upper hinge, his nail tracing the 'x' shape of the Phillips-head screw.

"Well, Scully. Seven a.m. flight tomorrow morning. We'd better try to get some sleep."

"Yeah. Goodnight, Mulder."

He bowed his head a little, giving her an embarrassed little wave as he turned around, heading back into his room.

Scully turned away from the door, deciding she needed to rest. Perhaps a ten-minute nap would leave her more refreshed. She switched off the light, and found her way back to the bed in the now-darkened room. She pulled down the covers, settling her still fully clothed body between the too-crisply starched sheets, and tried to find some configuration of pillows that seemed even moderately comfortable. Sleep descended on her surprisingly fast. Finding Daniel Curtis and getting him back to the psychiatric hospital had been a long, tiring process.

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The scratching noise didn't begin until several hours later. It seemed out of place at first, but her mind accounted for it, incorporating that detail from reality into her dream. She didn't quite hear as the window at the far end of her room was carefully pushed upwards, after the flimsy lock was defeated by a coat hanger and some persistence.

At the sound of footsteps crossing the low-pile carpeting, she finally awoke.

"Mulder, this had better be important," she said, rubbing her eyes and turning to check the clock. But the drowsiness left her as she realized the dark form at the foot of her bed was not her partner. She reached for her gun on the night table, only to find it missing. A somewhat familiar voice spoke to her from the shadows.

"You won't need your sidearm. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to prove this to you." Daniel Curtis spoke softly, trying to calm her. This was his last chance to get someone to listen to his story.

"Mulder!" She cried out, trying to get her partner's attention, and she found Curtis's hand covering her mouth.

"I'm sorry it's come to this, but you wouldn't listen."

She fought him, nearly breaking from his grasp, but she couldn't get any leverage from her reclining position. He managed to hold her left arm steady, and he finally took his hand away from her mouth. She started to call out to Mulder again, but was interrupted by the horror of feeling the pinprick of a needle as it penetrated the skin of her upper arm.

She was coming apart -- literally. She could feel her body ripping apart in ways she couldn't ever have imagined. It was indescribable. The pain wasn't physical, she couldn't pinpoint a specific place on her body where the pain began or ended. And then she slumped, losing consciousness. Her full weight fell into Curtis's arms, and he reclined her against the pillows again, moving back into the corner of the room to watch the transformation.

One Scully got up, regarded the identical form sleeping on the bed, shrugged, and left. And he watched as this happened four more times, each of them leaving until the woman who was still asleep in the bed was alone. Then he slipped out the same window he'd used to enter the room, pulling it closed behind him.

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Mulder groggily opened his eyes, wondering just for a moment if Scully's voice had been real or simply a figment of his wishful-thinking dreaming mind. But as he awoke, he recalled what he'd heard -- Scully's voice urgently calling out his name.

He rose from the bed, his hand effortlessly closing around the grip of his gun. He moved to the connecting door, entering Scully's room cautiously. He soundlessly turned the doorknob, and swept his eyes over the room, scouring it for any potential hazards. He could see Scully's sleeping form, and he watched as the covers almost imperceptibly rose and fell in rhythm with her breathing. All seemed well, but he wasn't willing to take any chances. He ventured further into her room, checking the far side of her bed, and then underneath. She certainly seemed alone, unthreatened by anything that would cause her to call out for him.

"Mulder?" Scully's sleepy voice was even deeper than her normal voice, less guarded, just a little vulnerable. He loved that sound. "Is that you?"

"Yeah. I thought I heard something in here. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And you are, so I'll be on my way."

"This is strange. I think I dreamed about you coming in here, just before you woke me up." She cocked her head, trying to remember the details. Had it been Mulder in the dream, or was it someone else? Just when it seemed she was about to remember, it disappeared from her mind entirely.

"Oh, really, Scully? What was I wearing?"

His wisecrack wasn't really worthy of a response, so it didn't get one.

"Actually, I thought it was you...I think...and then maybe it wasn't." She shrugged. "I don't know. I can't quite remember."

"Maybe you were talking in your sleep, and that's what I heard. Sorry to wake you."

"It's okay, Mulder. See you in the morning."

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Back in his room, Mulder found himself thinking about the case again. He'd been so certain the story he'd been told was true. Curtis had seemed so earnest, and so clear about his decision to avoid integrating his different 'selves', as he referred to them. That, in and of itself, proved nothing about Curtis's sanity. Mulder had taken the time to re-acquaint himself with the disorder before dragging Scully out to Milwaukee, and had found it wasn't entirely uncommon for someone with multiple personality disorder to allow the personalities to remain distinct. Mulder had truly felt, after speaking with Curtis, that he was being held unnecessarily at the psychiatric hospital where he'd lived for the past ten years. And Mulder had truly believed Curtis's assertions about the experiments he'd witnessed.

It bothered him.

It bothered him that his judgment had been so poor.

A timid knock pulled him away from his thoughts, and he found, to his surprise, that the sound didn't come from the connecting door. He walked cautiously toward the sound, wondering if Daniel Curtis had managed to escape from the facility yet again.

A look through the peephole yielded another surprise. Scully, fully dressed and looking furtively around, stood expectantly at the door. He ushered her in quickly, watching as she took a last, almost paranoid, look before the door closed behind her.

"Scully, what were you doing out there?"

"Shhhhh...it doesn't matter. Listen...you have to listen. I don't have much time."

Confusion colored his features. He couldn't imagine what had gotten into her.

"What do you mean, you don't have much -- "

"Dammit, Mulder, listen to me. The doctors at the hospital we spoke to, they were covering up for someone. Lying to us, I know it. I bet those men are behind it somehow, the ones who always seem to turn up whenever something goes wrong in one of our cases."

"Who was lying to us? Who are you talking about?"

"The doctors from the psychiatric hospital, Mulder," she said, annoyed. "I don't know what I was thinking earlier, but it's so obvious."

"How do you know?"

"Because there's always someone lying to us, Mulder. What if Curtis was telling the truth? Wouldn't it be awful?"

"Well, yes. That's why we came to investigate. But you were the one who picked up on the inaccuracies in what Curtis was telling us. Hell, Scully, you're the one who caught up to him and turned him back in."

"None of that matters now. We have to go back there and get him out."

"Scully...this isn't like you..."

"Stop it, Mulder! I've got to go, I'm going now. Are you going to come with me? You're not, are you?"

"No, Scully. If you're sure, I'll go with you."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why did you change your mind so suddenly?"

"Because I trust you, Scully. I trust your instincts."

"No, Mulder. We need to stop talking about this. We're probably being monitored now." She backed away from him, into a shadow, hiding her face from him. "Are you listening, you bastards? What are you planning this time?"

"Scully..."

She walked forward again, terror playing over her face, her chest heaving in hyperventilation. "No, Mulder. We can't fight them. They always win, they're always manipulating us. They're coming, I know they're coming. For you, or for me, or for both of us. I...I can't...not again...please..." She was babbling, rubbing her hands together, pacing around in the entryway of his hotel room.

"Scully, calm down. We can figure this out. I'll protect you."

"You can't protect me. No one can. Not if They've made up their minds. I've got to get out of here. I've got to run." Without another word, she turned, yanked open the door, and ran into the night. The door automatically and rapidly closed behind her.

In his shock, it took a few seconds before he was even able to move. What in the hell had gotten into her? He ran to the door, cursing as his hands fumbled around the doorknob. It seemed like hours later when he finally got out of the room, and her name was ripped from his throat. He listened as it echoed through the darkness of the night, and he cursed again when he realized there was no sign of her in any direction. Their rental car was still parked where they'd left it earlier in the evening. So she hadn't taken the car...she could have gone back into her room. He decided he should check there first, before assuming she'd left.

He was just about to knock on the front door of her hotel room when her voice stayed him. He turned just in time to see her walking out of the darkness.

"Scully!" He turned, happy to see she hadn't gotten too far, and overjoyed to have another opportunity to talk her out of going out there on her own. "Listen, I don't know what's going on, but I want to help you find out."

"Mulder, where are you going?"

"What?"

"Looks to me like you were just trying to wake me up," she said, leaning up against the door of her room, folding her arms behind her, and shuffling her feet on the pavement. "You really shouldn't interrupt me in the middle of the night, Mulder."

His mouth dropped open, unable to understand the change she'd undergone in the past few seconds.

"That isn't to say I don't enjoy seeing you, Mulder. But I would appreciate it if you gave a girl a chance to get prepared."

"Wait. Before you say anything else, just wait. Are you, or are you not, trying to re-open the case we closed earlier today?"

"Of course not, Mulder. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You did!"

"Oh, I'm sure you misunderstood me."

"Did I misunderstand you running away from here?"

"Oh, Mulder, you're overreacting. Let's go back inside. I've got a surprise for you."

"You mean this isn't it?"

She walked over to him, and reached out to take his hand. He flinched away, his eyes wide with disbelief. She pulled back, waiting for him to relax, and then reached for his hand again.

"Mulder, come on." She led him back to his room, and he followed. As the door clicked closed, she took off her jacket, and reached into her pocket. She brought out a piece of paper, and handed it to him, shyly. "Just promise me you'll listen to what I have to say."

Mulder shrugged, giving up any intention to try and figure out her erratic behavior. He flopped into the easy chair, and unfolded the paper she'd given him.

It was a detailed, and from what he could tell, accurate, sketch of the human heart. Each of the major and minor arteries were labeled, and there were some notes along the side of the paper, apparently relating to an autopsy Scully had performed.

"What's this, Scully?"

"I don't think you're looking closely enough, Mulder. Look at the lines along the left ventricle."

He brought the paper closer to his face, squinting at the area Scully had directed him to. Finally, he saw it, very small lettering, but very clear. 'Mulder'.

"What does this mean?"

"Well, I didn't know until it came to me earlier tonight. I made that sketch to supplement a photograph I took of some cardiac irregularities a few weeks ago during an autopsy, and then I noticed later I'd written your name there. I couldn't figure out why, and I tried to forget about it. But I couldn't...I just kept thinking about it. I had to make a copy of it, so I could leave the original in the autopsy report -- I scratched your name out of that one. Anyway...I had to know why I'd done it. So I've carried it with me for the last sixteen days, and it just came to me."

"What came to you?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, I didn't see it right away, myself. I guess I shouldn't expect you to understand immediately." She paused, still watching Mulder's face for any hint of epiphany.

"Scully?"

"Oh, okay. I'll tell you. It's a heart, Mulder, don't you see? And I wrote your name on it, right next to the irregular slash I found."

"You thought I killed him?"

"No, of course not, Mulder. Don't you see what it means about me?"

"You like to doodle?"

"Mulder, you're not really making this any easier," she shook her head, laughing just a little. "But then again, if you did make this easier for me, well, you just wouldn't be Mulder. I'm trying to tell you I have feelings for you. I think...I know...I'm in love with you." She pulled him to his feet from the chair, and took both of his hands in hers. "I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I had to tell you. I just had to."

She had managed to shock him yet again, although he still wasn't sure what had hit him. When he finally found his voice, he began to speak, unsure what words were about to come out of his mouth.

"Listen, Scully. I don't know what's gotten into you tonight, but I'm going to forget about that for right now. Of course I feel the same way. I have for quite some time." He let himself forget about his earlier confusion, just as he'd just promised her he would. He simply concentrated on the feel of her in his arms, about the faint smell of her shampoo that came to him every time he inhaled.

"Oh, Mulder."

He was reluctant to enjoy this as much as he wanted to. Nothing ever went this smoothly for them, and there was still the issue of her behavior earlier that night.

"Scully, I know I just promised you I would forget about...about earlier. But I can't. I have to know what was going on."

"Whatever it was, Mulder, I'm sorry. You have to believe me." She pulled her head away from his chest for a moment, looking deeply and earnestly into his eyes. "I didn't mean to confuse you. Please just disregard what I did and I promise it won't happen again. I think I was just tired. I feel tired, anyway."

"I hope you're not too tired for this," he said, suddenly feeling more comfortable with their declarations of love. He began to bend his head toward hers, wondering what her lips would feel like, wondering what sort of rhythm they would find together. Would they be slow, languid kisses, or would they be frantic, searching, desperate. And after all these years, he was about to discover...

Her cheek. At the last second, Scully had turned her head, redirecting his kiss to just below her cheekbone.

"Scully..."

She backed away, out of his embrace. "I don't think we should rush into anything, Mulder."

"Well, I...no, I agree, I just thought..." he stammered. She brought her index finger to his lips, silencing him.

"Tomorrow. Let's just sleep on it, let it sink in. I don't want us to do anything rash."

"Well, certainly. If...that's what you think we should do. I guess it couldn't do any harm."

"Goodnight, then, Mulder." She moved back to the door.

"Goodnight, Scully." He watched as she left, and shook his head at the surreality of this evening's activities. And then he heard something that turned everything about his own personal universe 180 degrees out of alignment. He heard Scully outside his door. More precisely, he heard her giggle. Just a little. In fact, it was so quick, so fleeting, he nearly convinced himself he hadn't heard it at all. Nearly.

"That's it, Scully, there is definitely something going on here, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it." He opened the door, searching for his partner for the second time that night. "Scully?" he called, tentatively.

And he suddenly couldn't breathe. He looked down, finding a hand around his throat, as he felt himself being pushed roughly backwards into the brick of the hotel's outer wall.

"You stay away from me, Mulder. I'm warning you."

"Scul...Scul...ly..."

"I'm going to let go, but you have to promise to stay back."

With difficulty, he nodded his assent. She finally released her grip, restoring his ability to speak.

"Scully, what's the matter? I'm not trying to follow you or stop you from continuing the investigation of the case, I swear. You're free to do whatever you want to do."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Mulder?" She looked at him, anger still flashing in her eyes, and gave him the most insincere apology he'd ever heard. "I'm sorry, Mulder. This case was...to say the least, trying."

He rubbed at the skin that had been under her grip, trying to adjust to yet another of her mood swings.

"But I guess we should count ourselves lucky -- we actually made it through a case and neither of us got hurt, or kidnapped, or killed."

"Well, of course we didn't. This case was pretty routine, even if it was basically a waste of time. Does this mean you've decided not to continue to pursue the case?"

"Oh, come on, Mulder. How many of our cases can you truly say weren't a waste of time?"

"Scully, for the last damn time tonight, what has gotten into you?"

"Jesus, Mulder, how many times do I have to answer that same basic question before you get the picture? I'm fine, Mulder. I'm perfectly fucking fine. Despite having lived in the shadows, hiding from my own government for the last six years, I'm just fine. I've been threatened, kidnapped, experimented on, butchered, and struck down by cancer. All in the pursuit of your truth. Yet here I still am, so I must be fine, don't you think?"

"Scully..."

"No, I think that's more than enough for one trip. I'll see you in the morning, Mulder. And don't you try to sneak into my room in some misguided attempt to get on my good side. I'm not sure I have one anymore. Good night," she paused, running her eyes over him, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, "Mulder." She began to walk away, not into her hotel room, but simply away from him.

"Fine, Scully...that's just fine. Listen, in case you care, I'm taking a walk of my own." He walked pointedly away in the opposite direction, trying to get a grip on his temper. Her mood swings were definitely starting to rub off on him. He looked around the streets of downtown Milwaukee, wondering if that pungent hops smell was real or if it was his imagination.

"So this is where Dahmer did his work, huh?" The streets were dark, and he began to appreciate the hand-to-hand combat skills he'd been taught at Quantico. Just try to mug me tonight, he thought. I just had a verbal skirmish with Dana Katherine Scully. Anything after that is cake.

But how could he even begin to explain her behavior this evening? It was almost as if she'd developed her own multiple personality disorder all of a sudden. She'd seemed fine -- herself -- when he'd spoken to her before they'd gone to sleep. And then she was a different person every time he saw her.

In fact, he thought, her behavior was stunningly similar to what Daniel Curtis had described to him -- it resembled it so closely that Mulder found himself heading back to the hotel. With every step he became more and more certain she'd been split into pieces.

First she'd seemed deeply troubled -- even paranoid. Then she'd disappeared, only to return to declare her love for him. And when he found her again, she was angry, bitter, unforgiving.

He tried not to think about what Curtis had told him about the other people he'd seen who had been forcibly split into different aspects of their personalities -- each of the split personas represented real aspects of the whole person. Instead, he concentrated on finding his way back to the hotel. He was completely unsure how he would restore her, but he'd find a way. He had to.

He turned right onto Wells Street, in the home stretch of his race to find his way back to his partner. He sped past three more buildings, jogging into the parking lot of their hotel. He made his way around a corner, and finally found himself staring at the room number on Scully's door. And then he froze. What was he supposed to do? Should he wake her up? Was she even there? If she was, would she believe him? Even if she did, what would they do then?

And as he felt the tapping of a finger on his shoulder, he started, then turned to find Scully standing behind him. He barely fought the urge to ask, "which one are you?" Instead, he waited for her to speak, hoping he could get an idea fairly quickly about who he was dealing with.

"Mulder, what's going on? The hospital just called to tell us Daniel Curtis has escaped again. When I went next door to get you, you were gone. And then, well, it was the strangest thing, Mulder. I could have sworn I heard my own voice out here. "

Relief flooded through him. She sounded like the Scully he knew.

"Scully, something is going on here. Daniel Curtis was telling us the truth, and somehow they've managed to do it to you."

"Mulder, let's go inside. This is crazy." She led him to his room, watching as he fumbled for the key, his eyes surveying the parking lot.

"Scully, keep your eyes open for, well, you," he said as he opened the door.

When they were inside, she took a moment to look at him, and then spoke. "What is it you think has happened to me?"

"Well, you must have been given an injection at some point, maybe at the hospital, maybe they broke into your room after we came back."

"Mulder, wouldn't I remember...any of this?"

"Not necessarily, Scully. Maybe something about the fragmentation process causes some sort of mild amnesia?"

"Do you listen to yourself when you talk? Mild amnesia?"

"Dammit, Scully, trust me. I can't explain it, but you have to help me. Help me. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Reluctantly, after hearing his appeal, she nodded, and said, "What is it you want to do?"

"Well, I'm not sure what we should do, but I think finding your alter egos is a good place to start."

"Mulder, I spent the better part of a day chasing after your latest theory, and now you want me to spend the rest of the night chasing...myself? I can't do it, Mulder, I just can't."

He narrowed his eyes, suddenly wondering if he was speaking to the true Scully. He was, in fact, starting to get an idea of whom he was actually speaking to. "Fair enough. Just answer a real quick question for me before we both go back to sleep. Do you think it's possible to have belief without proof?"

"Mulder, what are you talking about?"

"Just answer the question and I'll let you go to sleep."

"Belief without proof?"

He nodded. "Yep. Is there any chance, any situation, where you can just believe?"

She sighed heavily, and then apparently decided to humor him. "No, Mulder. I don't. Are you happy? Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Sure, Scully." He smiled at her, wondering if there was a polite way to restrain her. He was face-to-face with Scully's skepticism, and he knew from experience there was no chance of convincing her until he got some hard evidence. But he couldn't let her get away, of course. He still wasn't sure how many fragments she'd been split into, but he knew he had at least three other Scullies to find before the night was over. He couldn't afford to let this one get away from him.

"Well, I'm going back to my room then."

She turned her back to him as she walked toward the connecting door, and he saw his opportunity. Forgive me, Scully, he thought as he lunged toward her.

A second later, he found himself doubled over, his breath stuck in his throat after he'd caught the business end of Scully's elbow in his ribs.

"You couldn't expect me to believe you'd leave this alone," she said, leaning over to speak to his doubled-over form. She shook her head. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I'm hoping it will have worn off by tomorrow morning." With that, she left the room.

Mulder could only gape at her retreating form as she disappeared into the darkness. His only relief, as he listened to the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement, was that he hadn't heard the sound of the car's ignition. So far, none of the Scullies had taken the car, so they all had to be within a reasonable distance of the hotel.

When the pain in his chest finally began to subside, he opened the door to follow her, only to find himself driven backwards. He found his muscles tensing in anticipation of another confrontation with the embodiment of Scully's anger.

As her arms wrapped around his neck, he moved to knock them away. His hands found her wrists, hoping he could free his neck before she could choke him.

She squeezed him closer, and he panicked. Maybe she wasn't trying to choke him after all, maybe she was simply trying to break his neck. He shifted again, trying to push her away. As their bodies struggled against each other, he found himself, rather incongruously, becoming aroused.

And then it happened. She growled at him. And she most certainly did not sound angry. He pulled back, ceasing his struggle against her.

"It's about time, Mulder. I was starting to think you didn't want this as much as I did." She propelled him backwards again, and once his back was flat against the wall, she molded her body to his and kissed him. Hard.

He was drawn in, even though he knew it was wrong. He intended to stop her soon, just as soon as he could get a word in. And then her tongue found its way into his mouth. And then her right hand brushed along his chest, moving downwards until any thoughts in his head were removed completely, replaced with a deafening white static. It was impossible to concentrate on anything other than her. Somehow, he found some way to make the Herculean effort to speak.

"Scully," he said, his breath ragged as he caught just enough time in-between her kisses to speak, "we have to stop. You don't know what you're doing."

"I know it might seem that way at first, Mulder. It's been a long time, so I'm a little rusty. But I really do know what I'm doing."

"No, Scully. That's not what I mean. I -- oh, my god," he said, interrupting himself as her mouth found his earlobe. Her hands were inside his shirt -- when had she unbuttoned his shirt? "Scully, you have to stop."

She ignored him, of course, concentrating on using her hands to memorize the hard lines of his chest, her tongue to explore every detail of his neck. She broke away from him for a second, just long enough to pull her sweater over her head. As she came closer to him again, she pushed aside the unbuttoned halves of his shirt. Their nearly naked chests came into contact with each other as she slid her hands inside his shirt, resting on his back. As she rested her head over his heart, he found the strength to try once more to stop her.

"Please listen to me, Scully. You wouldn't be acting this way if you weren't just pure libido, without the benefit of your usual common sense. We've got to stop."

"Maybe you're looking at it the wrong way. Maybe I don't need more common sense, maybe you just need more libido." Before he could answer her, she punctuated her statement by swiftly finding his nipple with her mouth, teasing it with her tongue and between her teeth.

"Dammit, Scully," he growled, wondering what he'd done to deserve this. How long had he fantasized about this happening? And cruelly, when it finally had, he had to find some way of stopping her.

When he felt her hand undoing his belt, he gave up. Maybe he was strong enough to stop himself, and maybe he was strong enough to stop her.

But he just wasn't strong enough to stop both of them.

His hands slid down her back and found the catch of her bra. As if he'd spent the last few years practicing, he undid it in one smooth motion. He slid the straps down her arms, and then finally slipped the silk and lace barrier away, discarding it to the floor.

His hands replaced it, reverently caressing her soft skin. He finally dared to look down at her, and the sight overcame him. He moved his hands to her shoulders, turning her until her back was against the wall.

He bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth, repeating the treatment she'd given him a moment ago. She tasted almost unbearably sweet as his mouth played over her sensitive skin. Her hands kneaded his scalp, drawing him even closer to her. He was completely out of control, becoming less and less gentle as her fingers in his hair urged him on. He straightened up again, his mouth hungrily finding hers as their bodies began to move together. They found a rhythm, mimicking the more intimate rhythm they both knew they would soon share. They began to move faster, harder, pounding into the wall with such force that the ugly print hanging on the wall over Mulder's bed began to rattle. Just as some small part of Mulder's mind began to worry about the noise they'd started to make, the connecting door burst open.

Shocked, Mulder turned to the sudden noise to find Scully standing there. Gun drawn, mouth hanging open. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and she immediately began to stammer out an apology.

"Mulder...I'm...I'm sorry. It sounded like you might have been in trouble. Obviously, I was...wrong."

"Scully!"

"No, I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm going back to my -- " As the woman plastered against Mulder's body turned toward the connecting door, Scully's face once more stiffened in shock.

"Sweetie, don't look so surprised. It's not like you haven't seen me like this before."

Scully immediately outstretched her arms again, pointing the gun at the woman standing opposite her.

"Mulder, back away from her. That isn't me. I don't know what it is, but that isn't me."

"I know," he said, knowing she wouldn't understand him at all.

"Who is it, Mulder?"

"Well, she is you, but she's not all of you."

"Mulder, honey, why don't you get rid of her so we can get back to business?" Mulder put a hand over her mouth and bent to retrieve her bra and sweater, gesturing for her to put them on. She sat on the edge of the bed, and Mulder tried not to look as she arched her back as she started to put her bra back on.

"Why is she wearing the same clothes I am, Mulder?"

"Because she is you. Partially. I think she's -- your libido."

"I was, until the cop busted in on us," the woman sitting on the bed said, looking annoyed. "Every time we've ever started to get close to each other, she always stops us."

"That's enough out of you," Scully told her, pointing the gun at her again.

"See?" The woman on the bed pointed at Scully. "That's what I'm talking about. Why don't you go ahead and shoot me? You've been trying to get rid of me for the last few years, why don't you just take care of it now while you have the chance?"

"What are you talking about?" Scully asked, enraged.

"Every time I speak up, you push me down, you push me away. You indulge me in the shadows, guiltily, alone, and the guilt you push onto me afterward makes me wish you hadn't done anything in the first place. You want him," she said, pointing at Mulder, "and he wants you. Trust me, I know you were never sure of that, but he does. But I can see it in your eyes. Even though you know it, you still won't do it. You're afraid, and you're pathetic," she spat at her.

Scully furtively looked at Mulder, wishing he hadn't been there to overhear this. But as long as he'd heard this much, he might as well here the rest of the story.

"Of course I'm afraid. And yes, I've ignored you quite a bit over the past few years. But I had a good reason, and you know it. You know it as well as I do. It hasn't been the right time. It could never have been the way -- we need it to be. Not yet."

The figure on the bed looked down at the floor. "I know you're right." She looked back at Scully. "But I was so close."

Scully just nodded at her in silent agreement. The other woman got up, moving quickly toward Scully, and in a blinding light, the two women became one again.

The fifteen minutes Scully remained unconscious afforded him an abundance of time to reflect on his recent and widely varied glimpses into his partner's mind. After a little reflection, he decided it was best, at this point, to ignore them completely. He wasn't sure if he found the assault or the seduction more at odds with the woman he'd spent so much time with. Instead of continuing down that train of thought, he stared at the woman before him. If she was the 'real' Scully, did she retain any semblance of the pieces that had been ripped from her?

------------------------------------

"Scully?" He carefully tapped her on the cheek, hoping she'd finally wake up.

"Mulder?"

"Scully. You're okay. You just had a little fall. Do you...remember anything?"

"Oh, god."

"So, can I assume from your response that you do remember?"

She buried her face in her hands. "Tell me that didn't just happen, Mulder."

"I can tell you that, but I've found in the past you don't like it when I lie to you."

"Oh, god, Mulder."

"Scully, I'm not even sure how to go about this, but I need to know who you are -- if you're whole. When Curtis contacted me, he told me the experimenters seemed to be most careful to keep the fragmented personalities away from the 'whole', the term they used to refer to the original subject."

"How could I possibly tell? I'm still not even sure this is really happening."

"Listen, I thought I heard something in your room earlier."

"I remember. You came and woke me up, you were so sure you'd heard something."

"I'm betting that was when they did this to you. Someone must have broken into your room. Do you remember anything?"

"Well, I thought I had a dream about being attacked just before you woke me up." She felt along her upper arm, and then suddenly pushed up her sleeve, craning her neck to inspect a small area of skin.

"What is it?"

"There's a dull ache in my upper arm. Can you take a look at it?"

He looked at the area she indicated, quickly noticing the redness of her skin and the pinprick of dried blood.

"It looks like a needle stick," he said, gravely. Goddammit, she was right next door, and he still wasn't able to protect her.

"What's happened to me?"

"I'm not sure. Do you feel normal? Do you feel as if aspects of your personality are missing?"

She just looked at him, confused. "I feel like the same person I was when I went to bed last night."

"That corroborates Curtis' story. He said the original person remained intact. From what I saw here, a few minutes ago, as soon as the whole comes into contact with one of the fragments, re-integration is possible."

"And if we can't re-integrate?"

"Curtis said the whole didn't last more than a week after the disintegration had taken place. He didn't know exactly what killed them, but I don't think we should take any chances. We should keep trying to re-integrate."

"Mulder, I've got the memories of the -- whatever that was -- the woman who was here. I...I don't even know what to say."

"Scully, we'll have time to worry about this later. Right now, we've got to -- "

"Find the rest of my shattered personality?"

"Something like that."

He stood up, helped her up, and they left, unsure where they should go. "Scully, do you think we should put out an APB?"

"What do we tell them when they find ten of me?"

"I don't think there's ten of you. I've only run into five, not counting you."

"Only five, huh?" She shook her head. "Well, one down, at least four to go. Do you have any ideas?"

"I think maybe your paranoia -- "

"My paranoia?"

"It's just a...working title, Scully. We have to find some way to refer to the -- people -- we're looking for."

"Okay, what about her?"

"I think she meant to re-open the case. I'm assuming she's on her way back to the hospital."

"Without the car?"

"I think she was without the benefit of your more...logical...qualities." He led her away out of the room, looking up at the night sky. "The hospital is approximately...west of here. She must have gone," he pointed down Wells Street, "that way."

"Let's go."

"Scully...about what you saw back there -- "

"Mulder...don't. Just like you said, we don't have the time right now."

"Scully, I think it's important you understand -- "

"Mulder, I just came face-to-face with my own doppelganger -- my own half-naked doppelganger -- so it's safe to assume I don't understand any of this. This isn't the time."

"All right, Scully. Fair enough. So, where would you go?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we're looking for you. I was hoping you might be able to pinpoint where you might have gone."

"You sound crazy, Mulder. This is crazy. I couldn't possibly have seen what I thought I saw."

"Are you sure you're not the skeptical one?"

"How should I know? I'm still hoping this is a hallucination. Or a bad dream. A really bad dream." She looked down at the pavement as they walked. She wouldn't dream this, would she? "Ouch!" she yelped. "What the hell was that for?"

"So it's not a dream, then? That pinch would have woken you up if you were really asleep."

"I'm not asleep, Mulder. You're not this annoying in my dreams."

"Well, I'm flattered, Scully. I had no idea I was even in your dreams."

"Mulder, I -- "

"Wait, stop walking." Mulder held his arms out, his palms down in a theatrical gesture for silence. He turned to his left and cocked his head, as if listening for a sound whose source was miles away.

"What?" She'd whispered in a genuine effort to be quiet as Mulder had requested. This, of course, made it all the more infuriating when he answered her with a violent 'shush'.

"You're that way. A block down, maybe two, that way."

"I don't hear anything."

"That's the rhythm of your walk." He'd know that sound anywhere. It was more familiar to him than his own heartbeat.

Mulder set off in the direction of the sound, as if guided by an invisible divining rod. Scully followed, and was amazed when she began to hear the clicking sound of an eerily-familiar gait. How could he possibly have heard it?

They followed the sound, quickly finding themselves on the same street as the figure they pursued. They ducked back around the corner, giving themselves enough cover to watch her. Mulder had wondered why she hadn't gotten further away, but after a moment the reason was clear. They watched as she suddenly flattened against the marble wall of the building next to her. Her breath escaped from her mouth in quick, panicked puffs as her eyes darted around. Slowly, she began to slither along the surface of the wall, finally ducking into an alleyway. Five minutes later, she showed no sign of emerging.

"Why did she go in there, Mulder?"

"It is possible she noticed we were following her. But I think it's more likely she's just acting irrationally."

"So that's my -- "

"Your paranoia. And I have no idea what to do."

"We've got to catch up with her. Do you think she's got a gun?"

"I'm not sure. I think we'd better assume she has, just to be on the safe side."

"Okay. Why don't we split up. I'll go around the block and head back this way. That way we'll have a good chance of stopping her if she tries to run."

He started to nod, but as Scully turned to cut around the block, her knees started to buckle. He lunged for her arm, barely in time to keep her upright. He pulled her closer, gripping her shoulders to support her more securely.

"Scully, are you okay?" Her eyes were closed, and she hung limply from his grasp. "Scully..." Her face was so pale, and her features were trapped in an expression of pain. The sound of his own blood rushing through his body in a panic filled his ears with a deafening white noise. He tried to force his brain away from the thoughts of Daniel Curtis' words, that each of the earlier subjects had died in a matter of days after the experiment had begun. "Fight, Scully. I know you're weak, but you have to help me. We still have some time left. Just don't give up." And miraculously, her eyes fluttered open in response to his plea. "Hey, Scully. Are you okay?"

She smiled weakly at him. "Yeah. You can't get rid of me this easy."

"Listen, you wait here. I'll go and..."

"No, I have to be there. I think I have to be there in order to put this right. I'm starting to feel stronger." She squared her shoulders under his hands as a show of her newly regained strength.

"I should be the one to run around the block, at least."

"Okay, you win. Go ahead. I'll walk slowly toward the next cross-street." She watched as he disappeared quietly into the shadow of the building on the corner, and concentrated on walking soundlessly toward the opening of the alleyway her alter ego had disappeared into. What was she hiding from? What safety could she possibly think she'd found in a dark, unfamiliar alley? Once Mulder appeared on the opposite corner, she began to walk faster. When she was about five feet away from the opening of the alley, he motioned for her to stop. He turned into the dark opening between buildings on his own, softly calling her name. She heard her own voice respond to him, and was shocked at the sound. Her voice was tight, almost brassy with fear.

"Stay back."

"I came here to help you."

"I don't think you can help me. No one can. I just have to run. I have to get away, don't you see that? You should do the same. They're going to come for us, Mulder, there's no stopping them."

"Together, Scully, we can do it. We can stop them. That's what all of this has been about. I know we can do it. Just come back to the hotel with me, and we'll be fine." He spoke slowly, the tone of his voice soft and open.

"I can't let you talk me into this again. Every time we do this, something happens. They hurt you, or they hurt me. I can't -- I won't let it happen again."

Scully heard her counterpart break into a run, and then heard the muffled sounds of a struggle. Suddenly, her own form appeared in the mouth of the alleyway, staring at her.

"What are you doing? Don't you see you should be running too?"

"No," Scully told her, "we have to finish what we've begun. There is so much more than just our fate at stake here. Someone has to stand against them. Regardless of the consequences. We've never backed down before. We can't now."

"They'll just take us again."

"Not if we expose them first."

"What if they kill Mulder?"

"Then we'll fight in his honor, for his memory. But we're -- I'm -- not going to let that happen. I've always found the strength to go on, and I'm not about to stop now."

"But it would be easier, safer."

"No. I don't believe that."

From the darkness of the alley, Mulder saw a flash of light from the street where Scully had stood, and he rushed forward. Scully's singular form was motionless on the pavement, but it appeared she'd won her battle and managed to re-integrate another fragment. He carefully scooped her into his arms and quickly decided he should return her to the hotel to recover before they set out again. They'd lose some time, but he had to preserve some of her strength.

------------------------------------

Mulder was thankful for the lateness of the hour as he carried Scully back toward the hotel. They managed to cover the three blocks without running into anyone who would be suspicious of a man carrying an unconscious woman. He fumbled for his hotel key as he approached his room, until finally his fingers closed around the chilled metal. He bent forward, trying to use his right hand to open the door, a task made more difficult because his right arm was braced securely under Scully's knees.

He was horrified as he caught the flash of a brisk movement in his peripheral vision, coming from his left. He tried to brace himself against the inevitable impact, but it was stronger than he'd anticipated. He was helpless to stop Scully's frame from flying from the cradle of his arms, and the image of her body's collision with the pavement burned indelibly into his memory. He rolled, trying to avoid falling directly onto her, and was relieved when he realized he'd narrowly missed her. His roll made it easier to get back onto his feet, and the person he faced didn't come as a surprise to him.

"You leave her alone," she hissed at him.

"She's hurt. If you care what happens to her, you have to let me check her."

"If you'd just stayed away from her, she wouldn't have been hurt at all."

"Mulder?" Scully's voice, small and strained with pain, called out his name. The effect that sound had on the face of the woman across from Mulder was immediate.

"Listen to her. Calling out for you. No matter what happens to her as a result of this crazy quest you're on, she still comes back to you. It's pathetic. Why does she do it?"

Mulder was caught short by her question, one he'd asked himself many times. There wasn't any point in lying. He wasn't even sure if he could look into Scully's eyes -- even just a fragment of her -- and lie. "I honestly don't know."

"Then how can you let her do it?"

"Because he doesn't control me. And you know it." Scully's voice, still small, but stronger now, rose from the ground again. Mulder turned, and watched as she struggled back to her feet. A new, fresh cut had appeared on her cheekbone, and she appeared to be favoring her right leg, but she still managed to arrange herself into her usual, no-nonsense posture.

"It's his fault," her double argued back, and suddenly lunged at Mulder. He'd always secretly wondered if Scully's hand-to-hand fighting skills were superior to his, and he quickly found that she was a much quicker and more agile fighter than he was. He could have subdued her, but he couldn't bring himself to fight with her. He tried halfheartedly to grab her by the wrist or the arm, simply trying to restrain her, but he found her to be too quick. She continually managed to circle or duck away each time he tried to end their fight. She ducked to the side of him, and he barely managed to avoid her as she kicked at his knees, a blow that might have knocked him completely off his feet. He turned to face her again, and caught another movement out of the corner of his eye.

The fragment continued to attack Mulder and turned her back to Scully, who had begun to inch up toward the combatants. Mulder dropped his guard, hoping his opponent's white-hot rage would impair her judgment enough to give her a false sense of security. He saw a renewed, intensified anger burning in her eyes just before she turned jerkily and attempted to land a poorly-executed sidekick in Mulder's midsection. Scully immediately recognized that this incarnation of her own anger had begun to fight sloppily, just as Scully did herself when she fought more with her anger than with her intellect.

Mulder watched as his injured partner grabbed his attacker while her balance was off, making it easy to push her to the ground. Just seconds later, Scully held her securely against the pavement.

"What are you doing?" the restrained figure demanded.

"Stopping you. You're out of control."

"Why do you always protect him from me?"

"Because you're wrong. You're irrational. And you don't take responsibility for your own actions. You act like a petulant child, looking for someone to blame for all the things that have happened to you. You're bitter, and you're ugly, and I wish you didn't exist at all."

"You need me. You need your anger. You don't want to admit it, but it helps you focus."

"But you're focusing on the wrong person. Mulder didn't do any of the things you're blaming him for. You know that. He's just a more convenient target. When you fixate on him, it's just because you don't want to acknowledge you're afraid we'll never find the people who really did all those things, that we'll never be able to make them pay. You have to let go of the fear. It interferes with our judgment, and it's dangerous."

"It's so hard, all this waiting, the uncertainty. What if we never find them?"

"You can't think that way. And you couldn't blame Mulder, in any case. But you know that." The woman Scully restrained nodded, and Scully eased the pressure she exerted against her. Mulder was again blinded by a now familiar flash of white light, and when the light cleared, he gathered the singular form of his partner from the pavement and took her into his hotel room to recuperate.

-------------------------------

"Mulder," she whispered, waking to hear the faint sound of rushing water in the background. Soon, his face appeared above her, and he lowered a cool, damp washcloth to her forehead.

"Your face was warm, Scully. I'm afraid you may have quite a fever. Are you still feeling fatigued?"

"A little, Mulder." She hesitated, then continued. "Shouldn't I be getting stronger as we succeed in the re-integrations?"

"I don't know, Scully. Curtis said the subjects he observed during the experiments got progressively weaker, and they certainly didn't do the running around you've done in the past hour. He never saw any of the fragments return to the whole, so we're in unprecedented territory. Are you getting weaker?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm just not getting stronger."

"I think we should take the car from now on. We can cover more ground and it should help you retain your strength."

"Mulder, how will we know when we're done?"

"Hopefully, when you get your strength back. I think you'll be restored to normal when the last fragment is returned to you."

Scully removed the washcloth from her forehead, and pushed back the covers of Mulder's bed. "I think we should go. I'm not going to feel any stronger than this, and we can't waste any time."

"At least let me help you to the car." Scully looked down at the floor, and Mulder assumed she was struggling with her desire to rely on her own strength. Wordlessly, she stood and offered her left forearm to him to support. He helped her to the door, and just as Mulder put his hand on the doorknob, a soft knock resonated through the thick wood of the door.

Scully looked inquisitively at him, and he bent to look through the peephole. He motioned for her to back away. When she'd crossed to the far end of the room, he opened the door to let another Scully double into the room. The woman's eyes were bright, showing the excitement that rang in her voice as she began to speak.

"Mulder, I know I said we should take it slow, but I didn't want to be without you. I've spent so much time trying to deny I wanted to be with you, and I'm just tired of it. Could I just stay here tonight? I've never had the strength to ask you before. I thought it was a weakness, but I was wrong."

Realizing she still hadn't seen Scully standing in the corner of the room, Mulder circled behind her, effectively blocking the door as he answered her. "Of course, Scully. You were always welcome."

"I knew that. I was just scared. Scared you wouldn't respect me, that you'd think I was weak."

Mulder waited for Scully to speak, waiting for her to talk some sense into her alter ego, just as she'd done three times that night. But only silence came from her end of the room. Mulder tried to surreptitiously sneak a look, finding her mouth open in an expression of soft surprise. His glance caught the attention of their new guest, and she turned to see Scully standing there.

"Oh, no. Please, don't talk us out of this. Nothing's going to happen, I just wanted to sleep here, close to him."

"Why? Were you frightened?"

"No. But why are you asking? You know why. You've felt it. I know you have. Needing his support, needing his love -- it's not a weakness. Don't you believe that by now?"

Scully answered her, speaking at first haltingly, with difficulty, then with more fluency. "Everything you're saying is true. But your timing is wrong."

"You promise you believe me? Are you finally listening?"

"Yes. I've heard you. I won't ignore you anymore."

Scully and her double began to walk towards each other, serenely re-joining with a softer, less severe spark of white light. Mulder rushed forward, catching her as she gently slid toward the floor. He returned her to the bed, where she'd rested only minutes ago.

He paced the floor, helpless to do anything until Scully regained consciousness again. He tried to delay any thoughts of the things he'd heard that night until a more appropriate time, but it was difficult to do in this moment of inactivity.

He was brought out of his thoughts by another knocking, this time coming from the connecting door. He looked helplessly at Scully, still unconscious and showing no sign of imminent re-awakening. He walked to the door, choosing to speak through it, rather than opening it.

"Yes?" he said, tentatively.

"Mulder, I wanted to apologize for elbowing you earlier. You had the strength to apologize to me earlier, and I felt I should do the same. But I do need to know if you've still believe I've been fragmented."

"I honestly wasn't sure. But we should talk about it, don't you think? Why don't you come in, Scully?" He heard her heavy sigh through the thick wood of the door, and he wondered if he'd scared her away.

"Okay, Mulder. But we have to get some sleep sometime before the flight tomorrow morning."

Mulder opened the door, carefully letting her in while still blocking her view of the bed. When she'd entered, he quickly turned the lock on the other side of the connecting door and shut it, closing off any chance she could disappear back to Scully's room. He moved again, putting his body between hers and the main door, hopefully cutting off her last mode of escape.

"Mulder, who is that?" She said, pointing at the bed.

"It's you. All of you. You're just the skepticism, so convincing you is going to be an uphill battle, I know."

"Oh, Mulder, I thought you'd given up this theory of yours."

"Then how do you explain that?" he asked, pointing at Scully as she continued to sleep.

"Just because we don't have an explanation, it doesn't mean your crazy theory is true, Mulder."

"We don't have time for this, Scully. You have to believe me. Once and for all, you have to trust me."

"I do trust you, Mulder. But that doesn't mean I can abandon my reason. There is a rational explanation for this. She probably just looks a lot like me. We've seen this sort of thing before. This is probably just a freak coincidence."

"No, it's not. I'm you. You're me. And I didn't want to believe it either." Scully's voice suddenly filled the room, and she sat up in bed to face yet another of her twins.

"You're a fraud," she said, circling Mulder to face her own form.

"No, I'm not," Scully told her, "and neither are you. You just have to accept it. We can't solve this until you do."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm wasting away. My strength is leaving me. Mulder says this is what happened to the others, the people Daniel Curtis told him about. I'll continue to waste away unless you listen to him -- to us."

"This is ridiculous."

"Of course it is. It's just another day working with Mulder. Just another argument, just another impossible theory. But you have to believe this time. You have to take the leap of faith, or you'll kill us -- me -- yourself. I know it sounds unbelievable. But there are times to doubt and there are times to believe, and this time you just have to trust him. You have to turn around, look into his eyes, and tell him you believe him."

The woman hesitated, and Scully tried one last time to convince her.

"Don't think. Just do it." Scully fell backwards onto the pillows Mulder had earlier placed behind her, finally exhausting the last of her strength. She wasn't able to hear when the woman she'd spoken to moments ago did what she'd been begged to do, and she did not see the final, blinding flash of white light.

Mulder shielded his eyes, waiting until the brightness subsided before he dared to look around the room. His breath had caught when he watched Scully lose the last of her strength, and he'd barely heard as the mere fragment of the woman he loved had turned to him and spoken the words Scully had begged her to say to him. He almost couldn't bear to uncover his eyes. They'd just encountered the last of the fragments Mulder knew of, and he was filled with the desperate hope that Scully's ordeal was finally over. He didn't find the courage to look at her until he heard her call to him.

"Mulder. I'm feeling better. I think it's over."

He looked at her, and she'd already swung her legs around to the side of the bed. The color had returned to her face, and before he knew it, he was at her side.

"Are you sure you're back to normal?"

"Absolutely."

"And I'm more than willing to trust your expert medical opinion. What do you think we should do about Daniel Curtis, and his allegations?"

"We should reschedule our flight, go back over there, and uncover the truth."

------------------------------------

Mulder smiled as he shut off the car's engine in the parking lot of the psychiatric hospital. Their work on this case had just begun, now that they believed Curtis' story, but he couldn't help just being relieved to have Scully returned to normal. She'd been trying to keep them engaged in casual conversation, no doubt trying to keep the subject away from the evening's experiences. She'd spent five full minutes wondering aloud how anyone could live in the same neighborhood as the breweries, which had only reminded Mulder of his walk earlier that evening when he'd made the same observation. They'd passed the site of the new, nearly fully-constructed baseball stadium, which had inspired her to begin speculating on the total cost of a project such as that. He was content to play along, knowing she wouldn't be comfortable talking about what had occurred that evening until she decided she was ready.

A half hour later, Mulder reflected on the futility of their trip as they drove back to the hotel. They'd walked into the facility, greeted the night desk nurse, and asked to speak to any of the doctors they'd spoken to in the preceding days. One by one, the nurse denied that any doctors by those names had ever been affiliated with their hospital. They'd inquired about Daniel Curtis, only to be told there had never been a patient there by that name. He'd asked again and again, only giving up when several security guards forced them out of the facility altogether.

"Maybe we can trace them, Mulder. With the resources of the Bureau at our disposal...or maybe the gunmen..."

"Scully, I think we both know these people have just dropped off the face of the earth, and we'll never see them again. I should care, but I guess I'm too tired. I'll be mad about it tomorrow, after we finally get some sleep."

"You were worried about me, weren't you?"

He looked at her, surprised she would initiate this conversation. "Yes, of course I was."

"Thank you, Mulder. For helping me." Her voice was raw and vulnerable as she thanked him. He could hear that she needed to say this, yet she still needed time before she could really talk about what had happened. Such shows of emotion, for her, were rare. He sensed she needed him to react lightly, so he tried to keep the atmosphere in the car casual.

"Hey, Scully, it's all in a day's work." He turned his attention towards her for a second, shrugging his shoulders, as if to say, "Weren't nothin', ma'am," like some sort of silly, chivalrous cowboy out of a romance novel.

"Mulder, I have to ask you something." She took a deep breath, and then let it go in a quick, noisy exhalation. "Can we just forget about everything that happened tonight? I mean, we can pursue the case, but I'm talking about the specifics."

Against his better judgment, he said what he believed she needed to hear. "Scully, it is completely up to you. If you want to talk about it, anything, I'm here. If you want to forget about it, well, I won't bring it up." He wondered if he'd really be able to keep his promise as he heard himself forming the words.

"Good." In an abrupt change of conversation, she began, "I can't wait to get back to the hotel and go back to sleep. I feel like I've been up for weeks. Mulder, let's keep the later airplane reservations, if it's okay with you. I think I could stand to sleep in tomorrow morning."

"Scully, I hate to tell you this," he said, lifting his sleeve and looking theatrically at his watch, "but it is tomorrow morning."

"That, Mulder, is a temporal impossibility."

"I know. Some paradox, huh?" He said, actually beginning to enjoy their silly exchange. Their drive back to the hotel went quickly from that point, even though their case had just disintegrated around them, they both managed to keep their newly lighter mood until they told each other goodnight at their hotel room doors.

When Scully was alone inside her room, she found herself haunted by the conversations she'd had with herself, with the most disturbing parts of her own personality, earlier that evening. She remembered the hatred she'd seen in her own eyes as she'd watched her own body attack Mulder just outside the door. Right where she'd just smiled at him and wished him a good night and a restful sleep just a few minutes ago. Before she could push the thoughts from her mind, she saw the image of her own half-naked body pressed desperately against him, and remembered the stubborn desire she'd seen in her own eyes. She'd listened as her own voice had begged her to allow the already-begun seduction to continue. She remembered the ridiculous drawing another part of her had handed to Mulder, and could actually feel the memory of the heat of the blush that had colored her cheeks as she'd waited in anticipation of his reaction.

And she'd had to understand them all, embrace the embodiment of each of the parts of herself she'd struggled with. It had been a long, painful evening, filled with desperation, fear, and vulnerability. The intensity of each of the emotions she'd had to face that evening blended, their voices joining in her mind in a frantic, cacophonous chorus. It overcame her, unwanted tears fell down her face. In the back of her mind, she noticed when the pillow she used to muffle her sobs became uncomfortably wet. She continued to cry into the soft goosedown, the cold wetness of the cotton case clinging to her cheeks. Finally, the voices died down, allowing her to rest. She closed her reddened eyes, finally finding her peace.

Next door, Mulder impassively clicked a button on the remote control in a repetitive, almost robotic rhythm. Not even long enough to identify any of the programs as they flew past. The television was doing its job, its noise just distracting enough that he could almost ignore the sound of Scully's sobs coming from the next room. Somehow, he'd have to forget the things he'd seen that night. Scully would never mention them to him again -- of that he could be sure. She would pretend, just like she'd asked him to do, that none of this had ever happened. If he wanted her to be happy, he would grant her wish.

He concentrated on the sounds, how the static from one station blended into the fragment of background music from another, how all the sounds came together into one salient, almost hypnotic whole. He begged for sleep to come to him, but it was hours of repetitive clicks later before it came to rescue him.

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Mulder turned fitfully in his bed, the sheets twisting uncomfortably around his body, his eyes violently twitching as he fell into REM sleep.

"She hates you, you know..."

The words came to him all at once, echoing out of the darkness he'd suddenly found himself in.

"You should remember that -- the feel of her hand choking you, pressing you helplessly into the brick wall. She knew you'd never retaliate against her, that you wouldn't have the heart to fight back. You hardly had the guts to defend yourself." Scully's voice called out to him, her tone sharp enough to cut through him, her words carefully chosen to wound him.

"Where are you?" Mulder called into the darkness, and was answered only by the sound of nearing footsteps. Scully's face, twisted into anger and hatred, finally appeared out of the shadows. "Scully..."

"I'm not her. I'm not all of her. But I'm the part of her who understands you."

"I can't...I can't believe that. Just tonight, I heard her speak to you, tell you she didn't really believe in the things you say."

"But you know, don't you? You know what I say is true."

And he was free-falling. Terror gripped him as he felt wind rushing past him, his body being pulled inexorably downwards by some unseen force.

Did she really resent him, as he'd so often feared in the past? Whenever those thoughts had come to him before, he'd selfishly pushed them from his mind. He needed her so much, so desperately that he was willing to ignore his fear that her better judgment would someday tell her to leave him. But what about Scully? Could he really bear to see any more harm come to her? And could she keep forgiving him?

And he continued to fall, eternally and helplessly, towards that inevitability, the truth he'd known for so long, yet ignored. Scully really did resent him, at least a part of her did, and their quest had turned another part of her into a textbook example of paranoia. He'd altered her life, overwhelmingly for the worse, and the most disturbing part was that part of her even found some way to love him for it.

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Next door, Scully had fallen into a sleep just as unsettled as Mulder's. She'd confronted the parts of her she should find most terrifying -- her own anger and paranoia. She should have felt better after having the opportunity to deal with those feelings logically. She had found some peace after giving voice to her rejection of that small part of herself that harbored some childish feelings of blame toward Mulder. And although the experiences of the last six years had caused Scully to retain some residual paranoia, she'd had the opportunity to realize the depth of her own strength. Each time she'd nearly been ruled by her fear, she'd harnessed it, re-focused it into strength and determination. She had no doubts about her ability to do it again. She'd even successfully confronted the rigidity of her own skepticism.

The images that haunted her sleep didn't come from any of those confrontations. She knew each of those parts of her personality well. Those struggles had been familiar, a re-iteration of internal arguments she'd had with herself more often than she could count.

But the others -- those final two fragments -- they'd shocked her. Of course she loved Mulder. The intensity of their fierce devotion to each other could spring from no other source. Theirs was no mere professional working relationship. It ran so deep he was now a part of her, a part just as integral as those she'd spent the evening hunting down. But the nature of their relationship had always been unspoken, never acted upon.

She awoke suddenly, her widely-staring eyes greeted by the irregular pattern of chipped paint on the ceiling over her bed. Unbidden, she felt the words escape from her lips. "It's time."

She found herself getting up, walking quickly and resolutely towards the last part of herself she had to come to terms with, the last part of herself she needed before she could be truly whole.

She opened the door, finding him curled up on his bed, the covers untucked, wrinkled, some of them thrown to the floor. His pillows had also been pushed from the bed, leaving him no comforts, utterly alone.

She slipped onto the mattress beside him, all too aware of his nearly naked body. Only his heather gray boxer shorts preserved his modesty. Although she enjoyed the view, she began to feel like a voyeur, and covered him with the sheet before she tried to wake him. "Mulder," she whispered, trying not to startle him.

"No, Scully. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, his eyes still closed tight in sleep.

"Oh, Mulder, there's nothing to be sorry for," she whispered again, allowing her fingers to rub gently along his cheekbone, tracing the strength of his features.

His eyes came open slowly, reluctantly, widening as they found her so close to him.

"Scully, are you okay?" He questioned her, sitting up quickly, taking her hand.

"It's unfinished, Mulder. All these parts of myself I hadn't confronted, I had a chance to make them right. All of them but one."

He sat up straighter, running his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself up. "Scully, if you think we didn't complete the re-integration, we've got to get back out there. Something might happen to you. If you think there's a fragment still out there, we've got to find it."

"You're right. But I've already found the last fragment."

"Where is it?" he asked her, starting to move to the side of the bed.

"It's here, Mulder. You're here. It's you."

"Scully, I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"Mulder, tonight, I had to find each of those parts of myself. I had to find them, and I had to understand them. I had to accept them. And once I did, I realized what I was missing. When I denied any of their voices, I denied a part of myself. I realized what I'd been doing to myself, and I can't do it any longer." She took a deep breath as she reached out, put her hands on his shoulders, and nudged him to turn fully towards her. She looked deep into his eyes, and continued. "There's one more part I've been denying and pushing away. It's you. You've become a part of me, Mulder, and this ordeal tonight has shown me I have to acknowledge it."

"Scully, no. You're exhausted, you can't possibly realize what you're saying."

"I'm not exhausted. This is the strongest I've ever been."

"Scully, what about the anger, what about the blame you've so rightfully placed on my shoulders?"

"No, you're wrong. It should never have been directed at you. I won't deny there have been moments -- fleeting moments -- I've blamed you for what has happened to me, but I was wrong. All you've ever done is try to protect me. I came into our fight with my eyes open, and anything I've risked was my own decision to risk. When we find the people who are responsible, the blame will be theirs alone."

"But the fear I've caused you -- "

"It's necessary. Fear teamed with intellect is the only thing that keeps us safe. We are in danger, Mulder, so the fear is necessary, but you can't let it rule you. And I won't let it, never again."

"Scully...." he began, and she could see the hesitation in his eyes. He wanted to believe her, but he just couldn't let himself do it.

"Mulder, you have to let go of your own guilt. I don't blame you." She emphasized the last four words, trying to convince him. "You can't take the responsibility. It's our job to find the people responsible for this and bring them to justice. Deep down, you know it. But you have to trust me, you have to believe me."

Her hands slid from his shoulders to his back, bringing him into a close, desperate embrace. And he spoke, whispering in her ear.

"I believe you."

And they felt as if they were being basked in the same blinding, cleansing white light that had engulfed Scully earlier, each time she had managed to make herself more whole. Their eyes were closed tight in concentration as they both memorized the feel of the other.

"I do love you, Mulder. Not just a part of me. All of me."

"I thought earlier that nothing could be as important to me as your trust. I was wrong."

She got just a moment to smile before Mulder covered her lips with a kiss. Neither of them had time to wonder what sort of kiss it would be before it had become a reality. They moved together, slowly at first, then faster and more decisively after his hands moved to cup the back of her head. Their first true kiss kept going, neither of them willing to break the contact.

Her hands found the back of his neck, and she became greedy for every detail about him she could find. Her hands read the texture of his skin, the feel of the stubble-like hair that dusted the nape of his neck.

He finally lifted his lips from hers, but just for a fraction of a second. As her mouth opened in protest of the broken contact, he gently pulled on her bottom lip with his teeth. She retaliated, running the very tip of her tongue over his teeth, and she was quickly met by the sweet invasion of his tongue in return. They continued, breathless, searching for more and more contact. He pulled her closer to him, their bodies pressing urgently together.

It was such a strange feeling, desire, crossed with frustration, with just enough impatience to nearly drive them to move more quickly than they actually wanted to. Mulder's hands moved downwards, sliding over the cotton fabric of her shirt. He rubbed his hands against the softness of the T-shirt, feeling the warmth of her body radiating through it. How soft would her skin be? He imagined it, and then was overwhelmed by the thought that his imaginings would pale in comparison to the reality of her, of Scully. With him. Giving herself to him and accepting him in return.

His desperation began to overtake his gentleness, his hands gripping into fists, balling the material of her shirt within them.

She felt his need shift. At first, he'd tried to discover her slowly, to revel in the simplicity of a kiss -- so forbidden for so long, but already she couldn't imagine how they'd succeeded in denying it to themselves. She abandoned his mouth to continue her exploration of him, finding the soft skin of his earlobe first. She heard a quick, soft intake of breath as she alternately played over the lobe and the slight hollow just underneath it.

"Scully..." he whispered.

"Mulder..." she returned, speaking softly into his ear before continuing her trail of kisses down his neck, pushing the sheet aside. Her hands traced a line across his bare chest, and she felt her heartbeat accelerate wildly as his muscles twitched under her touch.

His hands slipped under her shirt, softly gliding over her skin. So perfect, so beautiful. The warmth of her body overlapped his, her sweet skin under his hand.

Scully lifted her arms, and he immediately recognized her invitation, offering to let him deeper into her trust, moving them closer toward the moment they'd been drawn to, closer and closer since the day they'd met. He slid the fabric upwards, immediately overtaken by the vision before him.

Every day, every second, she'd always been beautiful to him. Moments he knew she'd have thought she was a mess, he still thought she was beautiful. In strength and in need, in prosperity and adversity, this woman, his partner, his love, had always taken his breath away.

But never had she been more beautiful to him than this moment. He could finally give himself the permission to love her, and with that freedom came an entirely new appreciation of her. The intensity of her, her radiance, she was so overwhelming that he couldn't speak. He longed to tell her what this moment meant to him, how she'd made him feel alive.

But he looked into her eyes, and saw he didn't have to. She knew. He could see it. Her eyes sparkled in the dimness of his room, and she looked on him with the same awe, the same wondrous disbelief he'd felt for her. And they stared at each other. Mulder stared at her until he was sure that she glowed, glowed under his touch, under his glance, with every thought of her, of what she meant to him.

And then they moved together again, warm skin on warm skin, hands exploring. She traced his lips with her index finger, then followed with her lips. They shifted as she kissed him, and he covered her torso with his. She moaned, the gentle pressure of his weight against her was torturous. His hands found her breasts, moved along their gentle curves, teasing her nipples until they were impossibly, almost painfully tout.

He moved his mouth from hers to cover one of the pink tips of her breasts. He knelt over her, playing over her skin as if they'd practiced it for a lifetime. He stopped, and just before she could protest, his lips found a sensitive spot on her abdomen. It was as if he was awakening every inch of her skin. His hands drew patterns across her skin, and the heat of his mouth burned into her.

His tongue briefly found her navel, teasing her before moving downward again. She felt his hands on the waistband of her pajama bottoms, and she shifted, making it possible for him to remove them from her.

She watched as he stared at her, his eyes running over her body, finally and totally revealed and given to him. She should have been self-conscious, some part of her had expected to be embarrassed. But she looked at him, and felt none of that. She felt so many things, but no shame, no embarrassment, no trepidation. His head bowed again, and a moan began, involuntarily, deep in her throat as she felt his lips find the inside of her thigh, just above the back of her knee. His tongue found a sensitive hollow, stimulating every nerve to be found there. His hands ran protectively down her thigh, back up again towards her knee, the perfect combination of strength and gentleness. One final trip down the skin of her leg, and finally continuing toward her center, where she wanted him to be, where she needed him to be. The muscles in her stomach constricted involuntarily at his touch, at welcome intrusion of his hand, and finally his mouth.

She spoke his name as he took her clitoris into his mouth, the agonizing pressure sending waves of pleasure, of sensation through her. He let go, brushing his tongue against her, exploring downward, almost inside her, almost giving her what she needed from him. She had to feel him inside her. She tried to tell him as he stopped short, again and again. His hand, gentle pressure on her, so close, so close to what she knew would give her release. His tongue rubbed faster over her, a little harder, more insistent. Didn't he know, couldn't he feel what she sought from him? She fought the urge to beg, part of her knowing she couldn't find the words, the rest of her not willing to give up the torturous pleasure he gave to her, the anticipation. Her head pushed back into the pillow, and she found the strength to say his name again. Those two syllables contained everything she wanted from him, everything she needed him to know. His finger circled her, so close to coming inside her. She pushed her hips against him, trying to urge him ahead. Wordless sounds began to escape from her as his rhythm quickened, as the pressure of his mouth against her skin increased. His tongue moved downwards, and just for a second, he was inside her. She cried out in pleasure, and then again with loss when he was gone. She was greedy for him now, greedy for the feel of him inside her. She found the voice for her need, a shaky, raspy plea.

"Mulder, please. I need to feel you..."

He shut his eyes, savoring the sound of her voice, the feel of her body beneath his, warm and yielding, yet challenging, just as she always was. His equal, his soulmate. He needed her so much. He shifted, removing the final barrier of his clothing. He rose over her, seeing the wideness of her eyes, the flush on her cheeks. He kissed her breast as he moved upward, and then gasped as he felt her legs encircling him.

She was so near, her warmth immeasurably close to him. One slight movement of his hips and they would be together. He squared his face with hers, looking deep into her eyes, and he felt as if he were being drawn into her.

With one slow movement, he was inside her. Her chin inclined and her mouth dropped open in a slow, deep breath, but she didn't break their eye contact. He pulled away, just barely, and then pushed himself into her again. He nearly couldn't bear to leave her at all, but the instinct to move against her was overwhelming. As he found the strength to pull away again, they were both rewarded with a wash of sensation, an intensity made more real when they each saw it mirrored in the other's eyes. He kissed her, slow and deep as he entered her again, and they found a rhythm, their tongues imitating it as they kissed.

He held her tighter against him, and she buried her head against his shoulder, biting his skin as he entered her again, harder and faster. He whispered her name again, a word that now meant everything to him, truth, nobility, love, sacrifice, everything he valued, everything he'd found in her. His mouth again found hers, capturing her in a kiss as he felt her begin to constrict around him. His hand moved in-between them, touching her, sending her into waves of fulfillment, of pain and of pleasure, and then he followed her, moving deeply within her, holding her desperately against him, never intending to let her go.

She whimpered at the loss of his weight against her when he rolled onto his side, relenting only when he pulled her into a close embrace. The next thing she was aware of was his voice, close to her, wrapped around her as she leaned against him.

"I love you, Scully." He said it simply, as if it needed to be said, as if it hadn't been implicit in his every movement, in every word.

She squeezed him closer, returning the phrase to him, relishing the feel of his arms circling more protectively around her.

And now I'm whole, she thought, as she fell asleep in his arms.

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end

Thank you for reading.

Amanda Rex - February, 1999

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