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Mystery Rating: PG Summary: Dana Scully doesn't know what to think of her partner Spoilers: none, this is very early season 1 Dana entered the café and looked around. As usual, every table was filled with government employees, hurrying to finish lunch and get back to their 9 to 5 grind. She spotted red hair and a hand waving, and smiled as she crossed the shop. "Hey Dana - I thought you'd never get here. Here, let me help you with that." Dana slipped off her coat and turned to hug her sister. "I'm so glad to see you, Melissa! Have you been waiting long?" "Only a couple of cups of coffee. The waiter was getting ready to kick me out!" The sisters laughed as they perused the menus. After making their selections and placing the orders, they settled down for some "girl talk." "Well, so how does my baby sister like her new assignment? Tell me about this mysterious partner." Dana picked at her salad. "I don't know Melissa. It's certainly interesting, but I just can't see it lasting long. I mean, how long will they want me to hang around and debunk this poor guy's theories? Besides, Ethan doesn't like me running off on these odd trips to who knows where." Melissa made a face at Ethan. "Dana, I just don't know what you see in that guy. He is so wishy-washy. Besides, you aren't committed to him - whose business is it if you go off with some other good-looking guy. You did say this Mulder guy was a hunk, didn't you?" Dana smiled at Melissa. "I know you don't like Ethan - to tell you the truth, I really don't think he'll be around much longer - and it doesn't have anything to do with my partner - other than I'm a little tired of Ethan being so jealous. And I wouldn't call Mulder a hunk - more like a fallen angel." Melissa stirred her coffee. "Well, that's an odd way to describe someone. What do you mean?" "It's hard to describe. He's so . . . tragic. Besides his story of his sister's disappearance, there's something else there. Something in this personal life that's not quite right. Not that he's ever going to share that with me." She shrugged her shoulders and changed the subject. On her way back to the office, she thought about Mulder and wondered just what it was that made him seem so tragic. As she entered the basement office, Mulder quickly scooped up some papers on his desk and dumped them into a manila envelope. "Nice lunch, Scully?" "Yes, Mulder, thanks for asking. I met my sister, Melissa, for lunch. You should have come with us." "Uh, that's okay, I got a sandwich from Typhoid Tom." Scully laughed. "Mulder, you live dangerously. That guy is going to poison us all some day with his lukewarm tuna sandwiches." "Danger is my middle name, Scully." Mulder flipped off the lights and turned on the slide projector, briefing Scully on their next case. Over the next few weeks Scully noticed that Mulder was even more morose than usual. Her attempts to find out the problem were brushed off. Several times she walked in and caught him reading papers that he hurriedly stuffed into an envelope. One day he was on the phone when she came in, and didn't notice her behind him. She heard only a few words before he turned and saw her, but what she heard was intriguing. "and the address is . . . okay, I'll be watching for it . . . yes, I'm sure I can use the diary." She noticed he was using his new cellphone for the call instead of the office phone. "What's up, Mulder? We have a new case?" "Uh, no, sorry Scully. That was personal." He quickly gathered up his notes and put them in the mysterious envelope. "Okay, come on, Mulder. What's going on? I thought I was your partner, and obviously, you are hiding something from me. This has been going on for weeks!" Mulder stared at her. She blushed. Finally he spoke. "Scully, I know you are assigned to check on my work. Just don't tell me you are also checking on my personal life." He picked up his coat and papers and left the room. Scully groaned and sat down in his chair. How did she always put her foot in it? She should never have said anything. As she turned around in the chair, she noticed a slip of paper on the floor. Picking it up, she read . . . cheating with another woman . . . motel bills . . . checks to a florist . . .gone at nights and not at work . . . She stared at the note. What could it mean? It sounded more like a case for a private investigator - not an X-File. Was Mulder running a side business? Shaking her head, she decided not to worry about it. Whatever Fox Mulder was doing, it was none of her business. One Saturday, she was on her way to the birthday party of her godson, and stopped at a drugstore in an unfamiliar part of town. As she came out of the store, she noticed a familiar silhouette across the street, coming out of a post office. Something stopped her from calling out to him, and she watched as he sat down on a bench and opened a large envelope. He was unaware of her as she crossed the street and sat down next to him. "Hey Mulder, what are you doing here?" She noticed that in his hands was what appeared to be a small ledger book. He turned and looked at her in shock. "What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here? You really are following me, aren't you?" He jumped up and quickly slid the book back in the envelope. "No, no, Mulder, I swear I wasn't - I was just on my way to a birthday party and I noticed you from across the street! "Yeah, sure, whatever." He quickly got up and sprinted to the next bus stop. She sighed and went back to her car. He really was strange, after all. After that, she didn't see any more of the manila envelopes in the office. He was careful to leave the room if his cellphone rang, and no stray slips of paper were ever left in the office. Until one day . . . They had been working on a particularly gruesome case involving the kidnapping of several small children, with no ransom demands or contacts. She had tossed and turned all night, and finally, about 4 a.m., she gave up and got dressed. Stopping at the coffee shop near the office, she entered the building around 5 a.m., to find Mulder asleep, head cradled on his arms on the desk. Scattered all around were notes and typewritten pages, along with several books like the one she had seen that day at the post office. She quickly backed out of the office, and pondered what to do. Outside in the hallway were several filing cabinets they used to store office supplies. She noisily opened a couple of them, banging them closed and rattling the handles. This time, when she walked through the door, Mulder was groggily looking around. "Hey, sleepyhead . . . did you work all night?" He looked at her in bewilderment. "Is it morning? What time is it?" "It's very early, Mulder. I just couldn't sleep and thought I'd come on in and work on the case. Here, you need this more than I do." She offered the coffee, and he gratefully accepted. "You should have time to go home and change." He looked down at his rumpled suit. "Yeah, I guess I should clean up." She watched as he noticed that his papers were spread out on the desk. He began to gather them up, glancing up at her as he stacked the books. "Scully, I think I should apologize for the way I've been acting. I've been a real jerk and I know it. This is just a bad time of year for me, on a personal basis. Let me go home and change, and I promise, I'll tell you soon what this is all about." She sighed in relief. "Okay, Mulder, I'm holding you to that." Nothing was said the rest of the day. They worked on their case, never mentioning the stacks of envelopes he had in a box near his feet. Finally, late in the afternoon, he leaned back in his chair. "That's enough X-Files for one day, Scully. How about we get a bite to eat somewhere, and I'll tell you a tale." He surprised her by carrying his box into the café. The dinner crowd was much smaller than the usual lunch crowd - mostly people who were working late. Most of the local workers were on their way home. They got a back booth with no one else close by. "Okay, Mulder, spill the beans. What are you doing - are you running your own PI business from the FBI building?" He looked at her in amazement. "Is that what you thought? No wonder you've been looking at me strangely lately! No, Scully, this is personal." He reached down into his box and brought out a couple of the small books. Stacking them on the table, he sighed. "Three years ago, around this time of year, I was betrayed by a woman . . . a woman I thought was in love with me. A woman I thought was the perfect one for me, someone I could live with the rest of my life." Mulder sighed and put down his drink. "She had a lot of problems, and eventually killed herself, and that's when I found out about the affair. I should have known something was wrong though, and it all started the day she came home with a pair of $200 Kenneth Cole red high heels . . . " Mulder slid a newspaper ad across the table to her. "That's me," he said. I'm collecting their stories." ++++++++++++++++ WOMEN Do you keep a diary? Have you ever been betrayed? Have you betrayed another? Man, 35, wounded and alone, recovering from loss of once in a lifetime love, searching for reasons why. Willing to pay top $ $ $ For your experiences Please send diaries to: RED SHOES All stories remain confidential The XFiles is the
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