Circumstantial Evidence TITLE: Circumstantial Evidence AUTHOR: Donna Hartnett EMAIL: IDanaKScullyI@aol.com RATING: NC17ish, for sex and reference to RAPE. SUMMARY: Mulder has one of * those* weekends. KEYWORD: I'm not really sure. Angst, MSR. ARCHIVE: I'd be thrilled if anyone wanted it. Thrilled and confused, but thrilled, nonetheless. SPOILERS: A bit for Emily. Can't think of much else. AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first X-Files Fanfic, and the first smutfest I've ever written…be gentle with me. (This is a story I started posting as a WIP. After seven chapters, I real life interrupted and it's been a couple of months since anything was posted. Instead of posting the last part (which finally has the smut!), I'm going to post it in its entirety. I'm sure some of you weren't even on the list when I started posting this, and many probably forgot what this story's all about. I also took this opportunity to fix a few grammatical errors. The Mulder In Jeopardy list is getting this for the first time. I hope this doesn't cause any problems for anyone, or in any way break any list rules.) All constructive criticism, suggestions, and comments welcome at above email address. I had no beta, so any typos or glaring anomalies are mine all mine. DISCLAIMER: (This is the thing my therapist and I work on three times a week. ::Sigh::)I don't own the X-Files, the surfer dude from hell (Chris Carter), Fox, 1013, and probably a million other people have a stake in the X-Files, but not me ::sob::. Mulder's Apartment Saturday, June 12 9:21 AM He came to consciousness to the sound of heavy pounding. It took him a moment to realize the sound wasn't just that of the blood rushing through his tortured head. As he made his way from the couch to the door, a wave of nausea swept him. He glanced back and groaned as he took in the empty liquor bottle and beer cans littering his coffee table. He wasn't usually a drinker. As soon as his head cleared, maybe he'd figure out why he started now. He still hadn't managed to figure it out by the time he reached the door. The moment his blurry vision focused on the two uniformed police officers standing outside in the hall, it came back to him. "Scully," he muttered to himself. They'd had another argument, and this one had been a doozy. He felt a tingle of dread run down his spine. He opened the door to the officers, and a random thought that they looked like Abbott and Costello ran through his mind. The one on the left was tall and thin with a slightly pinched expression on his face. The other was short and squat. It was this man who spoke. "I'm Officer Ericson, and this is Officer Abrams," he began, motioning to his partner. "We're with the DC Police," he added unnecessarily. "Are you Mr. Fox Mulder?" "Um, yeah, can I help you officers," he asked feeling his sense of disquiet grow as he regarded both men's serious faces. Officer Abrams spoke up. "There was a woman assaulted last night," he began to explain. Mulder's voice was anxiety-tinged as he broke in and said, "A woman?" Mistaking his concern for self-preserving fear, Abrams exchanged a glance with Ericson. "Yes, Mr. Mulder. A woman was assaulted in Georgetown last night, and…" Abrams stopped dead when Mulder put a hand to his head and turned away from the officer. He and Ericson exchanged another, more grave look behind his back. Mulder felt his face blanch. His knees felt weak, and he staggered back to the couch to sit down. The two officers followed him into the apartment. Abrams had paused to close the door, but Ericson followed closely enough to hear Mulder whisper something. It was too low for the man to make out clearly, but from the hissing sibilant sound and the guilty droop of Mulder's shoulders, he thought the word might just have been, "sorry". "Mr. Mulder, where were you last night at approximately 9:00 pm," Ericson asked, suddenly on alert. Mulder hadn't heard the question at all. He was lost in guilty thoughts of the harsh words he'd said to Scully the day before. His last memories of her couldn't be of that stupid argument. She had to be okay. She just had to be. "Is she dead," Mulder cried, grabbing Ericson by the shirt. Abrams immediately drew his weapon. Pointing it at Mulder, he shouted, "Get your hands off of him…NOW!!" Mulder quickly released Ericson's shirt. He was at a loss to explain Abrams actions. Sure, he'd grabbed his partner's shirt, but they couldn't see him as a threat, could they? "Fox Mulder, you are under arrest for sexual assault, and assault with a deadly weapon. You have the right to remain silent," Ericson began. "Wait! What the hell is going on?" Mulder had no idea what the two officers were trying to say. Surely he hadn't attacked Scully. He'd remember that, surely. He'd add every second of it to is mental scrapbook of guilt and suffering if he'd done something like that…wouldn't he? He felt his already rolling stomach start to heave as he muttered, "Bathroom," and ran to throw up. Abrams followed closely behind. Standing at the door to the bathroom, he regarded Mulder with obvious contempt. Mulder vomited until his stomach was empty, but his body continued to heave. He had to know what had happened to Scully. With a monumental effort he forced himself under tenuous control and moaned to the officer, "Just tell me if she's okay. I have to know." He couldn't bring himself to look up at the thin man, and he was horrified when he heard the words the man spat at him. "Well, Mr. Mulder, she was brutally raped and beaten into unconsciousness…by YOU, most likely, according to witnesses. She hasn't regained consciousness yet, so we don't have her official statement. Do you honestly think she'd be 'okay'?" Mulder walked back into the living room on deadened legs and listened to Ericson reiterate the charges leveled against him again. The officer then read him his Miranda Rights from the beginning. A thought flitted through Mulder's mind that they started from the beginning to be sure he couldn't get off on a technicality. No worries there, if he really ra…did what they said to Scully he wanted to pay for it. He wanted to pay for it a hundred times, or the rest of his miserable life, whichever came first. When he was asked, "Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you," Mulder mutely nodded. He'd brutalized Scully. What was there not to understand? As he slid into the cruiser's back seat, he found himself hoping they'd forget to take his belt from him in Processing. After guiding Mulder into the cruiser, Abrams slid behind the wheel, and as soon as Ericson had swung the passenger side door shut, the car spun away. Mulder sat in the back staring off into space, trying to figure out what had started this nightmarish avalanche. J. Edgar Hoover Building Friday, June 12 2:49 PM "Dammit, Mulder, this girl was impregnated by good ole fashioned sex with someone. There was no physical evidence of her being abducted. She had no implant, no one reported her missing, and her 'memories' read like a really bad sci-fi novel." Scully threw her hands up, clearly exasperated. "Come on, Scully, why do you refuse to see it?" He didn't care for the condescension in her tone, and his temper was getting the best of him. "Her parents verify her claim that she didn't have the opportunity to get pregnant 'the good ole fashioned' way. Hell, Scully, you saw how strict her parents were. Do you really think they let their fifteen- year-old daughter out of their sight? She even had the missing time, and…" He broke off suddenly as she rolled her eyes at him…again. "Mulder," she began, but got no farther. "Jesus, Scully, after everything that's happened to you, why can't you believe this? Do you think Emily just fell out of the sky?" The minute the words were out he wanted to rip out his own tongue. For a split second, she allowed the pain his words had caused to shine like a beacon on her face. She turned away from him, squaring her shoulders, and taking a deep breath. She looked for all the world as if she were steeling herself for battle. He'd begun to stammer an apology, when she whirled on him, eyes glaring. "Don't, Mulder, just…just don't," she said in a dangerously cold voice. With that, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the office. He was debating the merits of following her now versus letting her calm down before trying to smooth things over when the phone rang. After a split-second of consideration, he decided this was fate's way of telling him she needed to cool off a little. He picked up the phone and groaned inwardly when the man on the phone identified himself as the psychologist of the young girl with the pregnancy of unknown origin. It turned out that the girl had concocted the abduction story to avoid the wrath of her rigid Christian Fundamentalist parents. The father of the mystery baby was a 47-year-old man of the same church who had been deemed "godly", and therefore safe, by her parents. The girl had been baby-sitting for him for six months. She had admitted to the psychologist that they'd been having sex for five-and-a-half of those six months. Even though his heart wasn't in it, he asked all the right questions. Yes, the state would press charges against the man. No, the parents weren't very happy about that. Why? Well, because the parents blamed their daughter's "willful disregard for the Lord" as the reason the "godly" pervert was lead astray. No, I'm not kidding. Yes, the girl was in foster care for the time being at her own request. As Mulder hung up the phone a truly horrid thought struck him. He'd just caused Scully pain worse than he would ever be able to imagine. He'd thrown her dead child in her face to win an argument. He hadn't done it out of some misguided need to protect a frightened young girl's innocent reputation. Even before the psychologists call he wasn't really sure he believed the girl's story. He'd done it because of The Eyeroll. He'd never cared what anyone else thought of him. For years he had prided himself on his ability to function outside the limits of societal and political niceties. He needed no one's approval….no one but hers. When Scully gave him The Eyeroll, (sometimes throwing in the matching Raised Eyebrow of Doom for good measure) he feared it meant she was finally starting to realize just how screwed up he really was. Once she figured that out, it was just a matter of time until she'd go. She'd leave, and then he'd have no one to trust. Worse yet, he'd have no one to trust him. "Oh shit, I gotta fix this somehow," he whispered into the empty office. The only question was…how? He really did want to give her some space, so he immediately wrote off the idea of driving to her apartment and begging forgiveness. He decided on a phone call first, and if the conversation went well, maybe then he'd beg for a face-to-face talk. He called her cell phone, and it went directly to her voice mail. Damn! She'd turned off her cell. He'd left a message for her to call him as soon as she could, but he was far from satisfied…what next? He called her at home. Shit! The answering machine picked up on the third ring. He left the same message he'd left on the voice mail. After much deliberation, he tried her mother's house. Fuck! Her mother was upset. After numerous reassurances that he was positive Scully was NOT missing had failed to calm Mrs. Scully, he'd had to admit that they had quarreled and he only wanted to speak to her to apologize. The bemusement in Margaret Scully's voice as she promised to pass the message along if she spoke to her daughter did not improve his rapidly spiraling mood. Giving up on the Device Formerly Known as Ma Bell, he left the office intending to swallow his pride and drive by her apartment on his way home. As he entered the parking garage, he noticed his car had a decidedly…crooked appearance. Oh holy fucking shit, don't tell me…yep…a flat. Three skinned knuckles, and half an hour later, he was on his way. His already bleak mood took yet another nose-dive when he pulled up in front of her apartment house. Her car wasn't there. He decided he'd try the door on the off chance that she had also had car trouble and had taken a cab home, or some such other frantic rationalization that his deluded mind just seemed to pluck out of thin air when she had driven him to distraction just because she had to put up with him all day and sometimes she just got tired of it and he didn't blame her and who the hell would how did she ever manage to stay sane around his insanity and how long was he going to stand here in front of the door talking to himself trying to stall the inevitable and why even bother when there isn't a light on in the place and why didn't he just leave her alone and let her get on with her life and career and why was he starting to hyperventilate just because she wasn't home and…He got a grip on his rambling mind, and rapped on the door. It took him a full five minutes of alternating knocking with calling her name through the door to decide she wasn't in there trying to avoid him. He might have stayed there longer, but a neighbor stuck her head out to see what the ruckus was all about. One look at Mulder's face, and she popped back in to her own apartment, slamming and locking the door behind her as if she'd seen Satan and all his imps running up and down the hall. He decided that the neighbor was probably already on the phone with the police, relating her story of a mad man trying to tear down doors in her apartment building. Mulder briefly entertained the thought of letting himself in with his key to wait for her, but decided against it. He really didn't want to push it. She'd call him and they'd straighten this out…he hoped. He slid a small notebook out of his suit jacket pocket, and scribbled a note asking her to call, and adding an, "I'm sorry" for good measure. After sliding it through the slot on her mailbox, he stalked back to his car to head for home. He was nearly home when he saw the liquor store. On impulse, he stopped and picked up a bottle of scotch and a six-pack of beer. The scotch should be enough, but he wanted the beer for insurance. He knew the alcohol wouldn't fix a thing, but he just couldn't bear the thought of replaying their argument over in his mind repeatedly until morning. He couldn't watch that instant of white-hot pain flare across her face over and over in his mind. At least alcohol would ensure oblivion, if he drank enough of it. He vaguely remembered tipping the dregs of the bottle down his throat, and opening the first beer before blacking out. J. Edgar Hoover Building Friday, June 12 2:58 PM Scully sat in her car, staring at the blank concrete wall of the parking garage. She knew Mulder was way out of line with his comment about Emily, but she also knew she'd overreacted. She understood his desire to win their argument. He was worried about that young pregnant girl. They had already discussed the all too likely possibility of child abuse on the part of her parents. Both of them were pretty sure the girl's ultra-religious parents took that "Spare the rod and spoil the child" stuff way too much to heart. Scully had done a physical exam on the girl and seen fading bruises on her back. She'd reported them to the local Sheriff, but he was as bad as the parents. The whole damned town was so religious, which in a perfect world, would be a good thing, but in this case, it was just scary. The bottom line was, Mulder was trying to save this girl. He was nearly obsessive in his desire to help people, but he was even more fanatical in regard to young girls. Scully suspected he felt that every girl he could help was some sort of penance for the loss of his sister. She suddenly wanted to go back down to the office and talk to him, but she couldn't. Right now she needed to be alone and try and figure out just why, after two and a half years, even the mention of her daughter's name still caused her heart to break. She couldn't end up like Mulder, still mourning the lost child just as fiercely almost thirty years from now. She turned off her cell phone, and pulled out of the parking garage. She had no destination, so she mentally tossed a coin and turned left. Scully's Apartment Friday, June 12 8:42 PM A couple hundred miles later, Scully turned into her parking spot in front of her home. Nearly six hours had passed in a kind of daze. She had no clear idea of where she'd driven. She'd only stopped once, at roadside café, for a quick bite to eat. She couldn't remember the name of the café, or even what she'd eaten. Even worse, she also had no new insights into her psyche. She was frustrated with herself, and exhausted, but she discovered she was no longer mad at Mulder. "Nothing like a healthy dose of self-flagellation to put things in perspective. Maybe that's why Mulder is always blaming himself for everything," she thought cynically. Before letting herself into the apartment, she stopped at her mailbox and gathered the various envelopes, catalogues, and advertising circulars. Stepping inside her apartment, she threw the mail down on the small table by the door. She tossed her keys next to the stack, and heard the sound of the mail slithering to the floor. Vowing to have herself removed from several mailing lists, she gathered the various pieces of mail. A small slip of paper immediately caught her attention. She knew it was from Mulder before she read a word. All those files she'd been through had made her intimately familiar with his handwriting. He always came here when he couldn't reach her by phone, but this was the first time he'd bothered to leave a message. Leaving the last few pieces of mail on the floor, she paused and quickly read the short note. Scully, Call me when you get in. It doesn't matter how late it is. I'm so damned sorry. M That last line sounded so sincerely remorseful, she sighed and shook her head. "Oh, Mulder, what am I gonna do with you," she whispered. Her quiet apartment had no answer for her. She picked up the remaining papers and envelopes from the floor and looked at her watch. It wasn't quite 9:00. She had time for a hot bath before she called him. Mulder never went to bed at a decent hour, and she felt grungy and stiff after having sat in the car for so long. She didn't want to spend all her time talking to him thinking about how sticky she felt. The water that had been near scalding was merely tepid by the time she managed to drag herself away from the tub. She always felt better after a nice hot soak. Her cramped muscles felt much better, and her shoulders didn't seem to be touching her earlobes anymore. She checked the time, and discovered she's been in the tub almost an hour. Still, 10:00 was practically afternoon for Mulder. She picked up the phone, and was mildly annoyed to discover that he was now apparently avoiding her. Would they ever be on the same page at the same time? She left a quick message, assuring him she'd call in the morning, and telling him to sleep well. She realized she hadn't checked her own machine, but the few messages there gave her no new information to his whereabouts. Her mom had called, and her brother, Bill. The last message was from Mulder, but it was just a quickly muttered, "Call me as soon as you can, Scully." She was reaching for the erase button when she heard his voice whisper, "please," from the speaker. His voice sounded so forlorn. She was tempted to get dressed and drive to his apartment, but she'd already spent too much time in her car today. Confident that he would hear her message and know from her tone she was no longer angry, she slipped into bed. Usually when there was something unresolved between Mulder and her, she had a hard time sleeping. After all the driving, she'd done, however, she was exhausted, and sleep came more quickly than she had expected. Scully's Apartment Saturday, June 13 9:45 AM Scully woke to find the sun much farther along the wall than it usually was on Saturday mornings. She was, as a rule, an early riser. It was almost unheard of for her to sleep this late. It was a bit disorienting, and she took a couple of extra minutes to stretch thoroughly before padding into the bathroom. She took a quick shower to wake herself up. As she was stepping from the tub, it occurred to her that it was unusual that Mulder hadn't returned her call yet. She quickly dressed and went to check her answering machine, thinking maybe she hadn't heard the phone for her fatigue last night. There were no messages. Surely Mulder hadn't suddenly become considerate enough to refrain from calling in the middle of the night. She decided that if hadn't heard from him by the time she finished with her breakfast, she'd call him. Halfway through her bowl of Corn Flakes, she heard a knock on her door. She was more relieved than she was willing to admit. That had to be Mulder. Her mother was the only other person who ever visited her here, and then only when the two of them had plans. Thankfully, her mom wasn't much for dropping by unannounced. She was disappointed when she checked the peephole to find Mrs. Franks standing on the other side of the door. What could her neighbor want? She'd seen the older woman in the hall more than once, but neither of them had bothered to strike up a conversation. Scully had intended to welcome the woman to the building, but before she had gotten the chance, she realized the woman was one of those nosey, gossipy types. Scully just couldn't bring herself to befriend the woman after that. Scully was such a private person, that busybodies grated on her nerves. Scully composed her face into what she hoped was a pleasant expression and opened the door. "Miss Scully," the woman began breathlessly. "I think you should know, there was a dangerous looking man trying to get into your apartment last night." "What did he look like, Mrs. Franks," Scully asked, trying her hardest to sound carefully concerned. "Well, he was tall, dark hair, and the most frightening eyes. He pounded on your door for so long, I thought he'd wear a hole in the wood," the old woman related excitingly. "I appreciate your concern Mrs. Franks. I'll keep an eye out for him." Maybe playing along would get rid of this prying woman. The woman rattled on a few more minutes, most of it going over Scully's head. She did catch the "I know you work for the FBI, Miss Scully, maybe they could put a man out front to keep an eye out for him." "I'll try that, ma'am," Scully interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I really have to go. I have important plans today" Scully said calmly, beginning to swing the door closed. Apparently Mrs. Franks felt Scully wasn't taking the demon-man seriously, because she raised her voice slightly and pronounced knowingly, "You better watch it, Missy. I know his type. He'd just as soon gobble you up as look at you." Scully couldn't suppress a quiet giggle at that last sentence. She suddenly pictured Mulder in the part of Little Red Riding Hood's big bad wolf, all dressed up in grandma's nightgown. By the time she managed to return to her breakfast, the cereal and milk had congealed to a thick paste. Annoyed at the disruption of her meal, she scraped the remains of her breakfast into the garbage disposal, turned on the water, and flipped the switch. She tried Mulder's apartment first, and got the machine again. Rather than leave another message, she tried his cell phone and immediately got the voicemail. She felt a mild unease as she picked up her keys and purse, and headed out the door. She was unpleasantly surprised to see Mrs. Franks outside talking with someone Scully thought she recognized from the building next door. She avoided the woman's eyes and picked up her pace. "I told you, Missy," the old woman grabbed Scully's upper arm. It took an almost Herculean effort for Scully to keep herself from pulling violently from the woman's grasp. She had never liked the woman, but she suddenly found herself almost loathing her over-bright, excited eyes. Even before the woman spoke, Scully knew she'd discovered a particularly nasty tidbit of information and couldn't wait to pass it on. "There was a woman nearly killed right down the street last night," the woman practically hissed at Scully. "They caught the man who did it, and I'd bet you money it was that man at your door last night." "I know that man, Mrs. Franks. He works with me. I assure you, he didn't attack that woman. I really have to go, now ma'am." She'd managed to keep her voice steady, but it was close. She was infuriated that the old witch would think Mulder capable of something like that. As she drove away from her home, she shoved the bothersome woman from her mind and focused on her driving. Mulder's Apartment Saturday, June 12 11:17 AM Scully entered Mulder's building still uncertain what she would say. She decided to take the stairs to allow herself extra time to gather her thoughts. Was he still upset with himself? Was he upset with her? Why did she care? She had no idea, so she'd just have to wing it. Mulder had an annoying way of catching her off guard. Icy hands clutched her heart as she opened the door to the fourth floor hallway and saw the yellow police tape across the closed door of Mulder's apartment. Iowa Avenue Second District Stationhouse 12:03 PM Mulder waived his right to wait for a lawyer to be questioned. He answered every question put to him, even though he knew some of them were worded to make sure a jury would convict him. After what he'd done, he wanted to be convicted. No punishment would ever be enough to make up for what he'd done. Being flayed alive wouldn't be enough, but, an ex-FBI agent in prison has an invisible target on his back, so Mulder figured justice would most likely prevail in his case. Abrams and Ericson were a bit disappointed with Mulder's answers, but they were still confident they had the right man. Neither of them had ever seen a suspect act guiltier. Even though he claimed not to remember any details of the brutal crime he committed, the officers' testimony of his behavior this morning, combined with the physical evidence they were sure to find once the forensics team was finished would assure an easy enough conviction in this case. Mulder was left to cool his heels in a private cell. He sat on the side of his bunk in a stupor. His head pounded and his stomach rolled from the aftereffects of the massive quantity of alcohol he'd ingested the night before, but he barely noticed. Nothing could distract him from the pain and guilt in his heart. Mulder started on an alphabetical list of punishments too good for him, and had made it to "Drawn and quartered" when a voice startled him out of his reverie. "Okay, Buddy, someone came to visit your sorry ass," a surly looking guard informed him. Mulder gave the man a slack-jawed look, and mumbled, "Who is it?" "I dunno his name, Pal, but he's a big one. For your sake, I hope it's not that lady's boyfriend." The guard gave a chuckle as if he were very pleased with his little joke. The guard led Mulder to a room. Before the door opened, Mulder knew who he'd see sitting there. He could only think of two "big guys" it could be, and there hadn't been time for Bill, Jr. to fly in from California yet. What a pity. Skinner'd be less likely to rip him apart. The guard pushed Mulder roughly into a chair and stood in the nearest corner. Skinner stood and motioned the guard to leave. When the man planted his feet and shook his head, Skinner took out his ID and growled, "Get out, now." Before the door had even snicked shut, Skinner was on his feet. "What the hell is going on, Mulder. Do you KNOW what they're saying you did?" "Yes, sir," Mulder replied miserably. "Don't worry, Mulder," Skinner began, "We'll get this straightened out.." "What's to straighten out, sir? I obviously did it," Mulder said in a dead voice. "Excuse me, Agent Mulder, what did you say," Skinner asked in a low dangerous voice. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm really not up for this conversation right now." Mulder stood, crossed to the door, and banged on it. The guard returned, and Mulder told him, "I'm ready to go back to my cell now." "Wait a minute," Skinner placed his hand on Mulder's arm, and looked into Mulder's eyes. "Scully's outside, what am I supposed to tell her?" The blood drained from Mulder's face, and Skinner led him back to the table, forcing him to sit down. After sending the guard away again, he turned back to Mulder and asked, "Tell me what's going on Agent Mulder." "Scully's here? I thought she was in the hospital. I…I don't understand, sir." "Well that makes two of us, Agent Mulder. Why don't you tell me exactly what happened this morning." Skinner felt like Alice down the rabbit hole, and his head was beginning to pound. Mulder related the morning's events to Skinner. "So, you see, sir, apparently I'm an even meaner drunk than my father," Mulder finished. "Agent Scully is perfectly fine, Mulder. Think about it. Did anyone actually say Agent Scully's name to you this morning?" Skinner had a good idea of what had happened. The only thing he couldn't figure out was why the police would have been looking for Mulder in the first place. "Well, no, sir, but I…," Mulder started and finished with a whispered, "Oh shit." "Yeah, Mulder, oh, shit." Skinner was at a loss to explain how Mulder had come to the conclusions he had, but he had a good idea how to undo the damage. "I have to go, Agent Mulder. Agent Scully and I will straighten this out. You'll be out of here in a few hours. Whatever you do, don't say another word to the police." With that, Skinner called for the guard and walked away. The relief and joy of finding out Scully was unhurt lasted until Mulder was once again alone in his cell. Upon finding out Scully wasn't the victim, Mulder knew with certainty he was innocent. Why would he be able to believe he could rape Scully, but not any other woman? What kind of sick bastard did that make him? God, when he was out of here, he was going find a way to make sure she left. If he couldn't drive her away, he'd leave himself. True, he hadn't touched her, but now he knew the potential was there. He'd do everything in his power to make sure he'd never be able to hurt her like that. He laid himself down on the lumpy mattress and began to formulate his plan. Iowa Avenue Second District Stationhouse Saturday, June 12 6:28 PM Mulder came awake to a banging sound he couldn't recognize and experienced a horrible moment of déjà vu. The last nine hours came back to him with a sickening jolt before he heard the voice say, "Okay, Mr. Mulder. You're free to go. Your ride's waiting in the squad room." The banging sound had been a nightstick on the bars of his cell. The voice belonged to the guard who had called him "Buddy" and "Pal" earlier. Mulder briefly wondered to himself just how bad an ass chewing Skinner had doled out to earn him this kind of renewed respect. Why he bothered was something Mulder would never understand. He had signed for his belongings, and was led out of the back. He was searching the room for Skinner, but felt his throat contract when he saw the back of her red hair. Scully had come to take him home. Why the hell did she do that? Panic fluttered in his chest, and he briefly entertained the notion of punching the nearest officer. Surely that would earn him a trip back to his cell. How was he supposed to face her knowing what he was capable of? He was still trying to find an escape route when she turned and saw him. She gave him a pleased smile and waved merrily. He waved back, but the smile he was attempting felt more like a grimace, so he let it drop. "Are you okay, Mulder," she asked, attempting to search his eyes. He couldn't meet her gaze or understand her solicitous behavior. "I'm fine, Scully," he snapped at her. "Oh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the cell this evening," she deadpanned. "I'm glad you think all of this is so funny, Scully," he said through gritted teeth. "Can we go now, please?" With that he stalked toward the door. Scully followed him out, and found him waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit." "Where's your car? I just want to go home," he growled. "Dammit, Mulder, don't do this. Don't shut me out," she said, touching his arm. Mulder pulled out of her grasp as if burned and hissed at her, "Don't touch me, Scully…ever again." "If you say so, Mulder," she said frostily. "The car is in the east lot." She turned and walked away; confused and hurt at the way he was treating her. The uncomfortably quiet drive to Mulder's apartment took twice as long as it should have. Summer road construction was everywhere, and even the relatively light Saturday evening traffic was snarled. Scully's concentration was split between the congested streets and the whirl of her confused thoughts. Scully had suspected Skinner wasn't telling her the whole story when he'd explained to her that Mulder was wrongly accused of attacking a woman, and asked her to see if she could put a rush on blood tests. Mulder's behavior made her certain that Skinner had held out on her. Mulder had an entirely different blood type than the attacker, so it was only a matter of hours before they had enough evidence to get him released. Scully had been worried that Mulder might have had to stay in that jail cell until DNA matches could be completed. That could have taken a few days, so she was feeling quite pleased with herself when she entered the stationhouse with the test results. She had expected Mulder to be pleased at being released so soon. His uncommunicative hostility left her totally perplexed. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn't talk until he was ready. If ever a more stubborn human being than Fox Mulder ever existed, Scully was sure she didn't want to meet them. Forty-five minutes after leaving the Second District Stationhouse, they finally pulled up in front of Mulder's building. Scully cut the engine, and reached for the door handle. "No, Scully," he said brusquely. "Let me come up, Mulder." She hated the pleading tone in her voice, but she was powerless to stop it. "No, Scully," he repeated and exited the car. She watched him walk into the building and sat there trying to interpret his unexpected behavior. Mulder's Apartment Saturday, June 13 7:35 PM Mulder sank down on his couch and cradled his head in his hands. His mind whirled with 'memories' of things that hadn't happened. His overactive imagination hadn't bothered creating pictures of anything but her face, creating a kind of hellishly clear Zapruder film behind his eyes. Even having seen Scully un-bruised and whole wasn't enough to stop the horrible images torturing his mind. Her blue eyes flashed with annoyance as she opened her door and took in his obviously inebriated state. Her brow furrowed in exasperation as he pushed his way past into her apartment. Resignation as she decided he was in no shape to leave anyway. More annoyance, this time mixed with surprise as he reached for her. Shocked indignation as he roughly captured her mouth with his. Righteous anger as his hands crudely roamed her body. Denial, mixed with the first stirrings of fear as he ignored her pleas for him to stop his assault. Shock and pain and fury as he struck her for the first time, causing her nose to bleed. Horrid acknowledgement as she realized she wasn't strong enough to stop this. Equal parts fiery agony and hellish betrayal as he invaded her body. Scully took the stairs two at a time. Mulder didn't want her there, but she'd be damned if she'd let him sit alone in his apartment and self- destruct. Something was horribly wrong, and she wasn't leaving until she found out what it was. She entered the forth floor hallway, and as the fire door snicked closed she heard a bone-chilling cry and the sound of breaking glass come from his apartment. Mulder's Apartment Saturday, June 13 8:12 PM Scully fumbled desperately with the tangle of keys on the key ring. The keening moans coming from behind the door turned her usually nimble fingers into useless hunks of wood. An explosive crash as something heavy fell or was thrown inside the apartment gave her the incentive she needed to find the correct key and slam it into the keyhole. The door opened a couple of inches and was stopped by the chain lock. Putting her shoulder against the door, Scully gave a couple of hard shoves and practically fell into the apartment as the chain gave way. The mayhem that greeted her eyes left her completely staggered. The room was totally destroyed. She suspected that the loud crash she'd heard had been the desk going over. In the midst of the destruction, Mulder was on his knees, oblivious to the broken glass he was kneeling on. He was bent over himself, rocking and whimpering, tears streaming down his face. Scully felt her heart break for him. Unshed tears burned her eyes, and she vowed she'd find a way to fix this…this whatever it was. Making her way gingerly over the remains of the coffee table, Scully crossed the room and laid her hand on his shoulder. Mulder's head snapped up, a frantic terror in his eyes. "Go, Scully, get out of here before it's too late," he cried, as he brushed her hand aside and sprang away from her. "Too late for what, Mulder?" She was totally unable to explain the fear and despair she saw in his face. He leapt to his feet and pushed past her. He ran through the bedroom to lock himself in the bathroom. "Dammit, Mulder, stop it! You're scaring the hell outta me," she begged. She could hear him gasping behind the door, and felt her resolve to make things right strengthen. "Jesus, Lady, you okay," an unexpected voice said from behind her. The man looked familiar, and her harried brain immediately identified him as a neighbor she'd seen on a previous trip to the building. "Everything's fine, thank you. My friend's just upset. I can take care of this." She hoped her voice was more convincing to him than it sounded to her. "Are you sure, I mean, the other room looks like a tornado went through it. This guy's kinda wacko, yanno. Strange shit happens here all the time." His skeptical look had a thoughtful cast to it, and she knew this man was contemplating calling the police. "Really, everything is under control now." She needed to get rid of this guy and focus on Mulder, but he still looked unconvinced. She was racking her brain to come up with something that would appease him when the bathroom door opened. "Everything's fine, Paul. I just had a little snit." Mulder sheepishly regarded his neighbor, ignoring Scully's bewildered expression completely. "Well, as long as you're sure, Mulder…I'll be across the hall if you need anything, Lady." The menacing tone of his offer was unmistakable, but he turned and let himself out of the apartment. "Scully, I told you I didn't want you here. Please just go." Mulder's shoulders had a defeated slope and he wasn't able to meet her eyes. "No way, Mulder, not until I know what's going on." She was relieved to have Mulder coherent again, but the quiet despondency he was projecting now wasn't much better. He shook his head and tried to usher her out the door. It wasn't an easy thing to do considering her stubborn nature, and his inability to let himself touch her. "Just tell me what I've done, Mulder…please." She felt the tears threaten again, this time more insistent. She finally captured his haunted eyes and was staggered by the pain and fear she saw in them. "I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you, Scully," whispered miserably, lowering his eyes. "Hurt me?" She hadn't known what to expect, but that wasn't it. "I still don't understand, Mulder." "Scully, why do you put so much trust in me? I'm twice your size. I could kill you with my bear hands. I could…" he trailed off and swung the door shut. "Mulder, what are you talking about, you've never laid a finger on me." She took a step toward him, but stopped as he quickly backed away from her. "No, but I could, Scully. Any time I could just…just do anything." The gaze he had returned to hers was intense and mildly alarming. Projecting all the trust and confidence she'd ever felt for him into her own eyes she replied, "You could, but you wouldn't…you…would… not." "You don't know that, Scully," he railed at her. "I do, Mulder. I do know it, and so do you." She wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him, but he refused to let her approach him. He stubbornly shook his head. "What did Skinner tell you, Scully?" "That you'd been arrested for a rape you didn't commit, why?" She knew she was getting close to the core of the matter now. "I got drunk and blacked out last night, Scully. Until I talked to Skinner, I thought I really had done it. Do you know what made me decide it wasn't me?" His voice had that flat quality that he affected when his guilt was eating him alive. She shook her head, but realized he was no longer looking at her, so she simply said, "No." "I knew I hadn't done it when Skinner told me you weren't the victim." She saw the shudder go through him at his confession. "Oh…uh…I…I still don't understand, Mulder." She was stalling for time to process this new information. She thought maybe she was beginning to understand all too well. "I new I wasn't capable of attacking some woman I grabbed off the street, but I was completely convinced I had raped you. I'm a sick fuck, Scully, and you aren't safe around me." He turned toward her and was relieved to see her reaching for the door. To his dismay, she only turned the deadbolt and walked over to sit on the arm of the couch. "What made you think I was the one attacked?" "Well, the police said the woman was attacked in Georgetown. They had witnesses…they said…" He trailed off searching for the memories. The hangover coupled with the alcohol still in his system had cast haze on his mind. "The police said 'Woman in Georgetown', and you assumed it was me, right?" She had pieced everything together. She could see what had happened as if she'd been there. When he nodded, she continued. "When you heard that, you were visibly upset, I'm sure. Now, think very carefully. What was the next thing you said to those officers?" "I said, 'Is she dead?', why?" He couldn't figure out where she was going with this. "Think about it, Mulder. Someone reported seeing you at my apartment last night. Those policemen came to ask you if you'd seen anything. Your reaction made you look guilty as sin. They started treating you like a criminal, and your all too healthy sense of self-abuse took over. It was a really bad coincidence, Mulder, nothing more." She knew any argument from here, no matter how good, was subject to being shot down due to his overly emotional state. She mentally crossed her fingers and hoped for the best. "No, Scully, it's more than that." He brushed past her and bolted out of the apartment. Scully sighed and headed out the door after him. Mulder's Apartment Saturday, June 13 8:39 PM Mulder's mad dash out the door caught her by surprise. Scully gathered her wits quickly, but was dismayed when she realized he wasn't in the hallway. When she reached the hallway, the door to the stairwell was just sliding shut. She hit the door at a run, and started quickly down the stairs. The stairwell acoustics doubled and trebled the sound of her heels. When she reached the street with no sign of him, she realized her mistake. He'd gone up the stairs and waited for her to exit before doubling back and going God knew where. She'd been so thrown by his behavior, that she fell for what was probably the oldest trick in the book. She groaned and looked quickly around with no results. An elderly gentleman she vaguely remembered passing on her way in, was sitting in a lawn chair at the edge of the sidewalk. The aged man assured Scully that he hadn't seen, 'That nice Mr. Mulder.' The old man looked disapprovingly up at her as she stood running a hand through her hair and muttered, "Fuck!" As she ran back into the building, Mr. Campbell shook his head, thinking to himself, He resolved to talk to the younger man about just that thing the next time they passed in the hall. Scully made her way back to the fourth floor more cautiously. She stopped several times and let the echoes of her own steps die down, listening for signs of movement from above. There were no sounds forthcoming, unfortunately. Returning to his apartment and finding it empty, she reluctantly crossed the hall, knocking on the door of Apartment 41. "Sir," she started before the man had the door open more than a crack, "Have you seen Mr. Mulder since you left his apartment?" The man's eyes were having a field day on the front of her blouse, and she began to regret her decision to talk to him. "Name's Paul, Sweet Cheeks," He leered; unaware just how close to death he was at that moment. Scully's patience had been stretched to the limit, and she snarled, "Oh yeah? Well the name's AGENT Scully, Pecker Head. Just answer the damned question!" The shocked look on his face was priceless, but he slammed the door in her face before answering. As Paul's door closed, she heard him mutter, "Dyke," and wished desperately, that she were wearing her weapon. She was in Mulder's apartment, staring vacantly out the window, unsure what to do next, when she saw his car drive off. "Fuck…Me…RUNNIN'!" She briefly wondered to herself just where she'd heard that phrase, but dismissed it. If this day didn't get better, she would be saying it again before long. By the time she reached her own car, she knew she didn't have much chance of catching him. She gave it a try anyway, heading in the direction she'd seen him go. She'd driven several blocks with no sign of his car before she pulled over and flipped open her cell phone. She called the gunmen first. They hadn't seen or heard from Mulder, but they promised to sit on him and call her if he did show up. She tried Skinner's home phone and got a busy signal. Cursing under her breath, she searched her brain for Skinner's cell number. It came to her, and she quickly punched it into the phone. Fuck, fuck, fuck!! His cell was turned off. Her patience was wearing anorexicly thin, when she decided to take a shot and call her mother. Even though her mother hadn't heard from Mulder, her voice was mildly calming to Scully. She was enjoying the brief comfort when she heard her mother say, "Is this the same argument you two were having yesterday, or a new one, dear?" "What? Mom, how…uh…how did you know about that?" Scully was half convinced the woman was psychic before her mother replied, "Why, Fox told me, of course." This conversation was getting too weird for Scully's tastes, but she had to ask, "When, Mom?" "He called here looking for you yesterday, honey. Is Fox okay, Dana?" "Oh, God, Mom, I gotta go, I'll call you later. Love you. Bye." She hung up before her mother had a chance to reply. Scully had almost forgotten about the argument they'd had over the young mother-to-be. Her damned sore spot about Emily had started this God-forsaken mess! She tried Skinner's number again. It was still busy, so she pulled back into traffic and started for his home. Skinner's House Saturday, June 13 9:27 PM Skinner wondered if he'd done the right thing by sending Scully to pick Mulder up. He wasn't entirely positive of Mulder's train of thought at their last meeting, but Skinner was pretty sure the Self-Recrimination Express had been pulling out of the station for yet another guilt trip. Mulder was brilliant when it came to getting into the minds of psychotic criminals, but when it came to his own psyche, he could be as dumber than a box of rocks. When he was like that, only Scully could talk any sense into him. He had done the right thing…he was almost positive. Skinner's reverie was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He headed for the door already suspecting he knew who would be on the other side of the door. So, maybe blindsiding her hadn't been his best idea. In fact, judging from the furious look on her face, it might have been the worst idea he'd ever had. He had time for a brief thought about where one could find steel plated jock straps on the Internet before she lit in to him. "Dammit, Sir, you knew! You knew Mulder thought he…I can't even say it! Jesus CHRIST, why didn't you tell me," she demanded, eyes blazing. "I'm sorry Agent Scully, I thought…ah…that is….um…" He might have been an ex-marine and an Assistant Director for the FBI, but that didn't mean he wanted to go up against Scully in her current state. "You thought?!? All due respect, Sir, but I doubt you thought at all!" This had been her last stop. She had no idea nowhere left to look for Mulder, and she felt tears of frustration pricking at the corners of her eyes. Skinner could remember every time he'd seen the woman before him in tears, and every occasion had been grave. To have her standing in his living room nearly crying shook him, badly. "Other than my obvious lack of common sense, is something else bothering you, Agent Scully?" "He's gone, Sir." She hung her head in resignation. "What do you mean, 'gone', Agent Scully?" He wasn't sure when he'd put his hand on her shoulder, but she hadn't shrugged it off yet, so he let it remain. "He was quite…upset, Sir," she began. "He tried to get me to leave, but I refused. When he realized I wasn't going anywhere, he left. I lost him in…I don't know if you'll want an agent who'd fall for this, Sir, but he lost me in the stair well. I've called everyone I can think of, and no one's seen or heard from him." A thought suddenly occurred to Skinner. "Agent Scully, why are you here?" "I'm sorry, Sir, I thought perhaps you could help me locate Agent Mulder. Obviously it was presumptuous of me." Her spine had straightened, and her eyes burned into him as she spun on her heel. "Agent Scully," he barked, using his best AD voice. He continued when she stopped with her back still to him. "What I meant was, why are you here in person when you could have called?" "Oh," Scully felt her face flush at her overreaction. She turned back to him; relieved he wasn't refusing to help her. "I'm sorry, Sir. Uh…your phone was busy." Skinner frowned and crossed to the phone. He picked up the handset, and frowned. "I'll be right back, Scully. Sit down and make yourself comfortable." He gestured toward his couch and left the room. Skinner returned shortly with a sheepish look on his face. "Apparently the phone in my office was off the hook. Now tell me, how can I help?" Scully thought for a moment before she began speaking. "I don't have any idea where to look for him, Sir. I assume he'll return to his apartment eventually. I would wait there for him, but I'm afraid he'd just leave again if I were there." "Would you like me to go to his apartment, Agent Scully?" Skinner had to remind himself that he had penance to do for his part in all of this. An evening in Mulder's apartment wasn't exactly what he'd call an appealing prospect. "Well, if you don't mind, Sir…and I could go to my apartment in case he shows up there." Scully knew she was asking a lot of Skinner, but she didn't know where else to turn. "Agent Scully, I'd be happy to." "Thank you, Sir." The relief in her tone was nearly palpable. "Oh, and, Sir, one more thing. Agent Mulder's apartment was a bit…traumatized." "Excuse me?" How did an apartment get "traumatized"? "You'll see, Sir," she replied with an enigmatic little half smile. Mulder's Apartment 10:27 PM Saturday, June 13 "Holy shit! Traumatized? More like Hiroshima after the fucking bomb." Skinner spoke the words in a nearly reverent whisper. Seeing the state of Mulder's living room made Skinner fully appreciate Scully's level of concern for her partner. The remnants of what might have been a coffee table was heaped in one corner. The desk had been overturned, and the computer monitor lay on its side with a broken screen. The printer, phone, and answering machine combined to make a pile of plastic and wire rubble next to the monitor. The middle of the living room floor was a litter of broken glass and strewn papers. The only things left whole were the couch, the television, and the fish tank. Skinner suspected perhaps Scully had saved those things with a well-timed entrance. Had she really stood up to a man Mulder's size in such an obvious rage? Skinner knew she had. She wouldn't have pulled such a potentially deadly stunt if the man had been anyone other than Mulder. She'd had no doubt that whatever his emotional state; he would never harm her. Skinner sighed to himself as he wondered why Agent Mulder always underestimated himself so badly. Skinner gingerly made his way through the debris and sank down on the couch to begin the thing he hated most…waiting. Mulder's Apartment 1:49 AM Sunday, June 15 Mulder let himself in to his dark apartment. The events of the last two days played themselves over and over behind his eyes. He didn't know whether to be relieved or incredibly sad that Scully wasn't there. She was always there for him. Her absence now indicated he'd achieved his goal of pushing her away all too well. Mission accomplished. His hand reached for the light switch as he heard a familiar vice say, "Are you quite done being an ass, Agent Mulder?" Mulder threw the switch and found Skinner sitting on his couch. Skinner had been in his apartment once or twice, but never on non-bureau related business. Mulder had no idea what was going on. "What are you doing here, Sir?" Mulder had to struggle to keep his voice non-confrontational. "Agent Scully asked me to wait here in case you should decide to show up." Mulder felt a bit uneasy at the fact that Scully felt close enough to Skinner to ask him for favors. "Well, I'm home, safe and sound, Sir. You can file your report with my keepers now." Mulder wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but Skinner was showing no signs of leaving. "Actually, Agent Mulder, I got them impression she didn't really expect you here. I think she thought she was giving me the grunt work. She also said something about not wanting to deal with the…what were here words? Oh yes, 'the lecherous prick across the hall'." Skinner noticed the fire flash in Mulder's eyes and he had what could be a really good idea, or a really, REALLY bad idea. "If he laid a fucking finger on her, I'll kill him," Mulder sneered. Skinner took a last moment to ponder if the man before him would recognize a manipulation tactic and said, "What's the matter, Agent Mulder? Do you want to keep her all to yourself?" Mulder's face showed his confusion. Skinner braced himself and went in for the kill. "I don't blame you." Skinner swallowed before forcing himself to continue. Could he even say it? Would anything else shock Mulder back to himself? "No, I don't blame you at all, Mulder. She is quite…fuckable." Before Skinner had a chance to finish the last word, Mulder was across the room, pinning the AD against the arm of the couch. "What…did…you…say?" The murderous look on Mulder's face made Skinner wonder if he'd made his new biggest --and perhaps last-mistake. Mulder was holding his shirt in a death grip and the two men's noses were nearly touching. Skinner knew whatever he said next had to work. He wouldn't get a second chance to defuse this situation. "I said what I had to say to get your attention." "You have my attention…Sir," Mulder growled. "Look at yourself, Mulder. Look what you're doing. You just attacked your AD because he made a tasteless comment about Agent Scully. Do you honestly believe you could harm her in any way? Jesus, Mulder, think about it!" Mulder still had him by the shirt, but his grip had loosened, and Skinner saw realization begin to dawn in his eyes. "Agent Mulder, would you mind letting me go?" Skinner breathed a sigh of relief as Mulder released his shirt and stood, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you, Sir," Mulder said sheepishly. "My pleasure, Agent Mulder. But I should warn you, if you ever lay a finger on me again, I'll suspend you so fast you won't know what hit you." Mulder thought the AD was looking a bit too pleased with himself. "You sir, and if I ever hear you say anything like that about Agent Scully again, I'll shoot you." Skinner chuckled and said, "Hell, Mulder, if I ever say anything like that about Agent Scully again, I'll shoot myself. I have a feeling I'd aim higher than you would." Mulder stood surveying the room as if just noticing the destruction. "Christ, I'm an idiot," Mulder murmured to himself. "You'll get no argument from me on that, Agent Mulder." Skinner laughed at Mulder's look of mock pain. "If you'll excuse me, Sir, I think I have some housekeeping to attend to." Skinner shook his head. "Yeah, Mulder, but this'll keep. I think you and Agent Scully have some things to discuss." "But it's so late. I should let her sleep." Mulder knew that sounded lame, but the thought of facing her after all of this made him slightly queasy. "Bullshit, Mulder. She's not sleeping any more than you are, and you know it. Call her." Skinner knew he was treading dangerously close to encouraging his agents to break bureau policy, but in this case, policy be damned, these two needed each other. Mulder's Apartment Sunday, June 15 2:23 AM Mulder had wasted no time getting rid of Skinner. The Assistant Director had been reluctant to leave until Mulder actually placed a call to Scully, but Mulder steadfastly refused to make any move to call her until Skinner left. The moment the AD was out the door, Mulder was in the shower. Even if the telephone in his apartment weren't a heap of broken plastic and wire, and even if he knew what he'd done with his cell phone, he had no intention of calling her. He knew he'd fucked up bad this time. He needed to see her face when he apologized, but in deference to his partner's olfactory senses, he decided to eliminate the pungent aroma he could smell oozing out of his pores first. After a thorough, yet hurried scrubbing, he jumped out of the shower, toweled himself haphazardly, and forced some clothing onto his still damp frame. After running a comb quickly through his wet hair, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He located the missing cell phone on the passenger's seat of the car, and he briefly considered calling ahead to warn Scully he was on his way. He immediately dismissed this notion. Regardless of the late hour, he knew she'd be awake, and much less likely to refuse to see him if he were at her door. Scully's Apartment Sunday, June 15 2:37 AM Thanks to the late hour, and nearly nonexistent traffic, the trip to Scully's took half the time it would have during a weekday. Before he was really prepared, he found himself outside of Scully's building working up the nerve to face her. As he sat there staring at the brightly lit window he knew belonged to her bedroom, he felt his resolve falter. He took a few extra moments to argue with himself. That last thought settled it. He turned off the car's engine and exited the vehicle. Once the decision was made, his desire to see her urged him on faster with every step. In moments he was standing outside her door, listening for some indication she was still awake. He heard a soft thump followed by a muttered curse he couldn't quite hear, but the tone was unmistakable. Steeling himself, he softly rapped on the door. The door opened to reveal an obviously tired, and even more obviously cranky Scully. Mulder thought it might have been the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. "Christ, Mulder," she began without preamble. "You had me worried sick! Are you all right?" Her blue eyes deeply probed his own, and Mulder felt himself begin to blush with chagrin. "I'm sorry, Scully, I…ah…I'm just so damned sorry," he finished lamely. He searched her eyes, looking for some indication of forgiveness, or understanding. Even outright anger would be better than the sleepy annoyance he felt coming off of her in waves. "You're forgiven, Mulder. It's late, go home so I can get some sleep." she said in short, clipped syllables. Mulder tore his eyes from her face and took in the fact that she was indeed dressed in a robe. He felt a twinge of guilt as he realized the thought was unworthy of the deep respect he felt for the woman in front of him. He knew the smart thing to do would be to take her advice and leave, but he hadn't done anything else right in the last 36 hours, so he decided to go for a clean sweep. Instead of leaving, he asked quietly, "Can I come in?" She rolled her eyes, and opened the door wider to allow him into her home. As he stepped into her apartment, he felt the overwhelming urge to turn tail and run. The Eyeroll had broken their eye contact, and Mulder found himself having trouble working up the nerve to look at her for some reason. Instead, he opted to survey her apartment, trying to ascertain what had made the noise he'd heard before knocking. From the evidence at hand, Mulder quickly developed a working hypothesis. The afghan lying messily on the couch told him she'd probably been lying or sitting there with the afghan over her. A book lying half open against the wall opposite the couch had the unmistakable look of having been thrown. Apparently, she'd been on the couch reading, and thrown the book, most likely out of frustration at him. That was what had caused the noise he'd heard. He was feeling quite proud of his deductive reasoning, but his reveling was cut short by a forcefully exhaled breath coming from somewhere off to his left. Realizing he was standing in the middle of his partner's living room at nearly three o'clock in the morning, Mulder suddenly felt very foolish. "I'm sorry, Scully. This was a mistake. I should let you get to sleep." He had turned toward her, and was surprised to see a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth despite his thoughtlessness. "No, Mulder…stay. I think we need to talk." The smile had left her mouth, but she still wore an expression he couldn't quite put a name to. Her eyes had a sparkle to them that anyone who didn't know her well would have missed, and Mulder had no idea what could have put it there. "Is something funny, Scully?" She shook her head. "No, Mulder, not funny…it's just…you're so…predictable." The smile was back, but this time it seemed more like a smirk to Mulder's observational mind. "Predictable?" Mulder decided he preferred her earlier annoyance to this new, unknown emotion he was sensing. "Yes, predictable," she said enigmatically. Apparently he was going to have to drag an explanation out of her. "Exactly how am I predictable?" "Well, once you explained what had happened it was easy to figure out the rest. First you blamed yourself for hurting me; the fact that I wasn't hurt at all didn't change a thing, you still felt the need to take the blame. You were accusing yourself of things anyone close to you knows you aren't capable of. Once again, you underestimated yourself in the extreme. "Once you realized your mistake, you searched for another reason to blame yourself for some imagined slight against me. After that, you ran to 'protect' me. "You went back to your own apartment planning to avoid me, maybe even planning to dissolve our partnership. When you got there, you were glad I wasn't waiting for you, but also a little disappointed…am I right so far?" Mulder was stunned. It was frightening to discover another person knew you so well. He couldn't think of a reply, so he merely nodded. Scully continued. "So, when you got to your apartment and found Skinner there, you immediately went on the defensive. Being so predictable, Skinner didn't have a lot of trouble making you see the error of your ways. You immediately decided to ignore the lateness of the hour and hightail it over here." Mulder made an apologetic sound in the back of his throat and looked chagrined. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. I'm glad you came. I was worried about you. "Anyway...after you got here, you almost decided not to come in. Am I still on target?" "Perfectly, Scully. In fact, you're starting to scare me." Scully would have made an even better profile than he himself had, he decided. She gave him a moment to digest what she'd already said, and then pressed on. "I knew you'd end up parked in front of my building, I just wasn't positive you'd come to my door. You aren't totally predictable, after all." She smiled at him, obviously proud of herself. Mulder realized they were both still standing in the middle of her living room. "Can I sit down, Scully? I need to digest the fact that you've suddenly become psychic." Scully giggled and said, "I'm not psychic, Mulder. I told you, you're predictable." "People have called me many, many things, Scully, but never predictable." Mulder dropped down in an armchair, leaving the couch for Scully. He leaned forward in the chair, his forearms resting on his thighs and his hands hanging between his legs. "'People' don't know you as well as I do, Mulder." That pleased look was still on her face. She chose to sit, not on the couch, but on the end of the coffee table facing him, mimicking his posture. The furniture was placed so that with them sitting in those positions, their faces were less than a foot apart. "Am I really forgiven, Sully, or were you just trying to get rid of me?" He realized he was nearly whispering, but their proximity seemed to preclude a normal tone of voice. She gave him a so-rare-as-to-be-nearly-nonexistent smiles and whispered back, "You're really forgiven, Mulder." Mulder suddenly felt the all too familiar urge to kiss her. He'd felt it hundreds of times before, but he'd never given in to it. He tried to ride the mood out, like he always did, but that still-unidentified glint in her eyes was making it really difficult. He'd nearly won the battle of wills with himself when she did That Thing With Her Mouth. Scully had a habit of licking the corner of her mouth. Occasionally, especially when she was distracted or nervous, after her tongue had returned to her mouth, she would drag a bit of her lower lip between her teeth and nibble absently on it. It was totally unconscious, and in no way a calculated attempt at seduction, but that didn't make it any less sexy. He'd always held the secret surety that this little habit would be his downfall. He was right. Before he could give it any cognizant thought, he was kissing her. It took him a few seconds, but finally his thought process caught up with his actions and he pulled back stuttering an apology. "Jesus, Scully, I'm so sorry, I don't know why I…" "Shut up, Mulder." Despite the harshness of her words, she was looking at him with an expression that could only be termed pleased. For his part, Mulder had taken her words to heart. He was a bit perplexed by her behavior, and the rare inability to read her signals, so he opted for silence. He wasn't doing another thing until he was sure what she wanted. "Mulder, are you gonna leave me hangin' with just one kiss?" Scully had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the laugh that tried to escape at Mulder's stunned stare. "You…uh…you liked it," he asked shyly. Scully nodded and her full lips spread into a slow, almost predatory grin. She stood and offered Mulder her hand. Mulder, uncertain of her motives, but trusting her implicitly, slid his hand in hers and allowed her to pull him to his feet. As soon as he was fully upright, she began tugging him across the living room. Having been to her apartment more times than he could count, Mulder had a very good idea what lay in the direction she was leading him, but his mind refused to believe it until they reached the destination Scully had in mind. "Scully, ah…this is…um, why are we in your bedroom?" Mulder had no idea why his usually quick-witted mind insisted on making him sound like a high school boy all of a sudden. "Consider this your punishment, Agent Mulder." Scully kept a firm grip on his hand, as if afraid he'd bolt if she let go. "P-p-punishment?" Apparently he was regressing exponentially faster, because his voice now cracked like a prepubescent boy. "Yes, Mulder. Now kiss me again." She tilted her head back and looked at him challengingly. Mulder, stunned as he was, was more than happy to comply. Having been given a clear request to kiss Scully, Mulder went to it with the fervor he brought to all his pursuits. The kiss was a perfect reflection of their partnership. They both strove for dominance of the kiss; neither coming out a clear winner, but both of them feeling completely satisfied with the end results. As their lips parted, Scully's tongue darted out and slowly ran across Mulder's full lower lip. "You've always gotta get the last lick in, don't you, Scully?" Mulder hardly recognized the desire-laden voice as his own. Scully groaned theatrically and there was The Eyeroll again. Before Mulder could think to be irritated by the familiar gesture, Scully's hands gripped both his ass cheeks firmly and ground her hips into his jeans-clad erection. The electric surge that ran through his body made him realize he'd never be able to look at The Eyeroll the same way again. In fact, he was pretty sure The Eyeroll would bring him instantly erect from this day forward. Before he could even consider the logistical nightmare this could cause during future theory debates at work, he plunged his hands into her hair and kissed her again. When Scully pulled away from him he felt a momentary regret until she all but growled, "Too many clothes." She freed herself from his embrace, and as he pulled his T-shirt over his head, she untied the sash of her robe, and shrugged it off her shoulders. After freeing his head from the shirt, Mulder was stunned to see that Scully was already standing before him fully naked. He made very quick work of divesting himself of his remaining articles of clothing, and merely stood there a moment, taking in the sight of a very naked, very beautiful woman standing in front of him. As his eyes traveled over her body, Scully felt the weight of his gaze as surely as a caress and couldn't suppress a shiver of pleasure. Misinterpreting this, Mulder asked, "Cold, Scully?" Scully simply shook her head and stepped back into his arms. As good as the virtual caress of his gaze had felt, the actual feel of his hands on her body was infinitely better, and she couldn't suppress a quiet sigh as his hands slowly roamed over her slowly. When he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Tell me what you want, Scully," she felt a surge of wetness between her legs, and replied, "You." His hands stilled and he gave a shocked gasped. "God, Scully, you've had me for years. How can you not know that?" Despite the fact that he was still whispering into her ear, his words held a vehemence Scully found exhilarating. "But tonight I want all of you, Mulder." She pulled back to look into his face and was made weak by the happy awe she saw stamped clearly across his features. His smile was heartbreaking. It was the honest, slightly surprised smile of a man who's not used to having much to smile about, and Scully felt a fleeting sadness at all the hurt this good man had suffered in his lifetime. Sadness was slowly replaced by a fierce longing to erase all of that pain. She opened her mouth, not knowing what she was going to say, but was somehow not surprised by what came out. "I love you, Mulder." Mulder felt the aching knot of guilt and pain he always carried with him in the pit of his stomach begin to dissolve at her words and he was barely able to reply, "I love you too, Scully. Always have," around the lump in his throat. "What I want is for tonight to be for you, Mulder, so you tell me what *you* want." Mulder was about to argue, but the set of her shoulders told him she would brook no argument on this so he merely climbed onto her bed and propped himself into a sitting position against the headboard. He patted the space between his spread legs and said, "C'mere, Scully." Scully cocked an eyebrow at him quizzically, but readily climbed onto the bed. Kneeling between his legs, she bent to kiss him and was startled when he shook his head. "No, Scully. Turn around and sit." She turned slowly, and sat up between his legs. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her gently back until she was lying back against him, feeling his erection press into the sensitive skin at the small of her back. Still unsure what to expect, she simply lay there languidly running her hands up and down his thighs. Mulder slipped his hands under her own and said, "Show me how to touch you, Scully." The words, uttered in a throaty whisper, and the feel of his lips brushing her ear was the most erotic think Scully had ever experienced and she felt the wetness between her legs increase. She tangled her fingers in his and brought first one hand, then the other to her lips, placing a kiss on each of his palms. She then proceeded to show him all her secret places. The thought that what they were doing was little more than assisted masturbation only served to increase her pleasure. After what somehow managed to seem like both an eternity and a heartbeat, Scully felt the heat between her legs build to nearly unbearable levels and she whimpered, "Enough, Mulder." She couldn't see him, but could feel the brush of his face against her hair as he shook his head. "No, Scully. Never enough." His hands, continuing to follow her tutelage, suddenly increased their efforts, and she suddenly felt herself falling into the sweet abyss of an intense orgasm. As she came back to earth, she was aware of several things. The secure feeling of his arms around her. His lips moving against her neck as he murmured soothing nonsense sounds against her skin. The delicious rhythm of his hips thrusting his erection against her back. The fierce desire to have him inside of her. "God, Mulder, I need you. Now," she growled, and disentangled herself from his arms before he could protest. She turned to face him, straddling his hips and guided him inside of her. As she slowly lowered herself onto his throbbing cock a deep throaty moan escaped them both. When she had taken all of him into herself, she began to make love to him with a passion she'd never knew herself to be capable of. "Sculleeee," Mulder sighed, unable to articulate anything more. His hands were more expressive and roamed over her back and shoulders, as if committing the shape and feel of those muscles to tactile memory. As if satisfied he had gained sufficient knowledge of that area he ran his hands over her sides and cupped a breast in each one. He rubbed a thumb across each erect nipple and was pleased by the result. "Mmmmmulder, love you," she purred, and arched her back. "Ahh, God, love you too, Scully," he panted. He could feel his orgasm building and knew he couldn't last much longer. Still paying homage to a breast with one hand, he ran the other across her stomach and into the damp junction of their bodies. His thumb found her clit and began rubbing in firm, the firm quick circles she'd shown him she liked best. Scully's breathing was coming in small, quick gasps, and she could feel another orgasm looming. She was teetering on the brink as she leaned down to whisper, "Come for me, Mulder." Never able to deny her anything, Mulder was more than happy to comply. As he shuddered and emptied himself into her, he felt her nails dig into his shoulders and she quivered, signaling her own release. Scully was becoming aware of a painful throb in her knees, and Mulder felt the edge of the headboard digging uncomfortably into his shoulders, but neither of them were willing to break their bond. They remained as they were, sweat covered and sated for several minutes. Ultimately, it was Scully's overwhelming thirst that finally led her to give Mulder one last kiss and disentangle herself from his arms. As she rose and headed for the kitchen, not bothering to cover herself. Mulder called after her, "Scully, are you okay?" She stopped, turning to him and said, "I'm fine, Mulder. Better than fine, I'm wonderful, but if I don't get something to drink soon, I might just die of thirst." She gave him a brilliant smile and walked away. Mulder sat there for a few minutes, headboard still digging into his back and wondered at how much could change in so little time. Finally he got up and left the bedroom, eager to get on with his life for the first time in ages. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ END...finally!